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kisses-for-you · 2 months ago

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hunt || marlon twdg

pairing: marlon x fem!reader

summary: you go on a hunt with Aasim after Marlon reluctantly agrees to let you go, however, you get seriously injured by a walker. after returning to the school, Marlon stays by your side.

w/c: 3.2k

(a/n: i don't really like how this came out so pls don't judge 😭 also i apologise for the probably ooc Marlon - i find him slightly difficult to write considering he was only in one episode)

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You were going to volunteer to go hunting with Aasim that morning. You trudged across the courtyard to your boyfriend, Marlon. As he noticed you approaching, his face softened, a smile forming on his face. “Hey, angel,” he greeted you, pulling you in slightly by your waist.

You smiled up at him, the nickname never failing to make your heart do a little flip. “Hey, babe.” You gave him a peck on the cheek, but then your smile faded away as you thought carefully about your next words. Marlon noticed the shift immediately, he always did when something was bothering you. His arms stayed around your waist, but his brows knit together, concern flickering in his bright blue eyes. “What’s up?” he asked softly. “Something wrong?”

You paused for a beat, biting the inside of your cheek. “I was thinking about going hunting with Aasim this morning.”

He’d hesitated.

Of course he did. Marlon always hesitated when it came to you, like the idea of you setting foot outside the gates made his stomach twist. He never said it out loud, but it was written all over his face. The way his brows pulled together, the subtle clench of his jaw. He didn’t want anything to happen to you. He never did. “You sure you wanna go?” he asked, voice low, like he was trying not to let the worry slip through too much. “Aasim’s not bad company or anything, but… there’s been more walkers out lately. You heard what Louis said yesterday.”

You nodded slowly. “I know. But I’ve been practising. I’m not helpless, Mar.”

“I never said you were.” His reply was quick, too quick, and now his eyes dropped away from yours like he was ashamed of even sounding that way. He exhaled sharply through his nose and ran a hand through his blond hair, pushing it back.

You reached up, brushing your fingers against his jaw gently, trying to soften the tension. “Marlon,” you said quietly, “I’ll be fine, promise. I have a weapon and I know how to defend myself. Besides… Aasim will be with me even if something does happen.”

He caved, reluctantly, and sighed, “Fine, you’re right.” He let you go with a muttered, "Just... be careful, alright?"

You smiled gently, leaning up to kiss him again, this time on the lips, a soft press that lingered just long enough. “Always,” you whispered. But even as he nodded, you caught the way his eyes followed you when you turned to go.

You joined Aasim near the gate, him checking over his bow with that same focused look he always wore when he was about to go out. He glanced up as you approached, giving you a short nod.

“You ready?” he asked, handing you a knife he’d sharpened earlier. “Figured you’d wanna bring your own weapon too, but… can’t be too careful.”

You took it with a nod of thanks, tucking it into your belt. “Yeah. Let’s just get this over with as quick as possible.”

You both slipped through the gate, Ruby giving a quick wave from her post as you passed. The woods just outside the school felt heavier lately, less peaceful. Like the trees were holding their breath. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to give Marlon’s worry more ground than it already had in your head.

The crunch of leaves underfoot was the only sound for a while. Aasim kept glancing around like he was reading the forest, tracking something you couldn’t quite see yet. And right as you opened your mouth to speak, Aasim raised his hand to signal for you to stop. You froze, listening. There it was: a soft rustle. Something moving, low to the ground. Not heavy enough for a walker.

A rabbit darted from the bushes, and Aasim reacted instantly. One clean shot.

“You’re scary good at that,” you whispered as he retrieved the arrow and the catch.

He shrugged. “Been doing it a while.”

You decided to stray away a little from Aasim, hoping that if you were able to split up and cover more ground, you’d have a more successful hunt. Yet, you soon learned that wasn’t such a great idea.

The walker had come out of nowhere, completely silent until it was too late. You hadn’t even heard it until you felt its cold weight slam into you, knocking you to the ground. Your knife flew from your hand on impact, skidding just out of reach. Your breath caught in your throat as the walker snarled above you, its rotting face inches from yours, teeth snapping like it could already taste your skin. You shoved at its chest with both hands, trying to keep it back, but it was heavy, much heavier than you expected. Its decaying fingers clawed at you, and you barely had time to scream before its claws were digging into your side, dragging, as if it knew exactly how to cause you the most pain.

But then, suddenly, thwip.

The walker collapsed on top of you, an arrow jutting from its temple. Aasim came charging in just seconds after, panting slightly as he yanked the body off you and tossed it aside with a grunt. His eyes were wide as he scanned you up and down, adrenaline still clearly pulsing through him. “Shit- are you okay?”

You glanced down at your now torn shirt, which blood was quickly seeping into. You winced, your hand instinctively flying to the gash in your side. “Fuck,” you muttered, voice shaky. “Yeah. I think so. Just… grazed me.”

Aasim wasn’t convinced. “That’s not just a graze,” he said, voice sharp with worry. “You’re bleeding really badly. You need to keep pressing down on it.”

You did as he said, hissing through your teeth as the pain flared hotter. “Marlon’s gonna freak.”

Aasim paused, meeting your eyes. “Yeah. He is. But he’d freak a hell of a lot more if I came back without you.” He helped you up slowly, looping your arm around his shoulder.

You managed a weak smile, your breath shallow. “He’s gonna chew you out anyway.”

“Probably,” he muttered. “C’mon. We need to get back. Fast.”

The walk back was a blur of pain and half-conscious steps. You leaned heavily on Aasim, your head spinning, but he kept talking about dumb stuff, memories, jokes Louis had told recently, anything to just keep you awake as long as he could.

By the time you reached the school gates, someone was already shouting for Ruby. You caught a flash of red hair — Ruby jogging toward you. “Aasim, we have to get her to the nurse’s station. Now.”

Aasim didn’t waste time. He almost had to carry you the rest of the way as Ruby opened the door and guided you both inside. The brightness of the room made your eyes sting, and your knees buckled the second you let go of Aasim’s shoulder. He caught you just in time, helping lower you onto the bed.

“Okay, lie her down. Damn it, she’s burning up already,” Ruby muttered, snapping into medic mode as she grabbed gauze, antiseptic, and stitching supplies with shaky but practiced hands.

You winced as she lifted your shirt slightly to inspect the wound. “God, that looks nasty,” she mumbled, then louder, “You’re lucky that walker didn’t go any deeper.” Then, she picked up the antiseptic. “This is gonna hurt. Just hang in there, sugar.”

You barely had the energy to move, just about mustering enough energy up to nod your head, albeit sluggishly. Aasim knew he had to go tell Marlon, so he bolted out of the room, beginning his hunt for Marlon this time. Luckily (or at least for you, not so much Aasim), he found Marlon in the first place he’d thought to check. The headmaster’s office. Aasim didn’t even bother to knock; he just busted through the door, a panic-stricken expression on his face. Marlon’s head snapped over to Aasim, but before he could ask anything, Aasim blurted out the words, “It’s Y/N. She’s hurt.”

Marlon was on his feet before Aasim even finished the sentence. "What?" he snapped, the word practically tearing out of his throat.

Aasim held up his hands like it could slow Marlon down, but there was no stopping him now. “She got attacked. Walker came outta nowhere. I- I killed it, but-”

Marlon didn’t even wait for the rest. He was already bolting down the hallway, shoving past anyone in his way. Fear had him by the throat, squeezing tighter with every step. The second he saw you lying down on the bed, pale and trembling, he nearly lost it. "Y/N!" He was at your side in a blink, dropping to his knees beside the bed, his hands hovering over you like he wanted to touch you but was too scared to hurt you. "Shit, baby, no-"

“Marlon, you need to move. I need room to work,” Ruby told him, not unkindly, just sharp. She knew how fast things could go from bad to worse.

Marlon barely heard her at first. His whole world had narrowed down to the sight of you, your blood, your face twisted in pain, the way your hand weakly clutched at the side of your torn-up shirt. His heart was jackhammering in his chest, louder than Ruby's voice, louder than anything else in that moment.

“Marlon,” Ruby said again, more firmly this time, and that finally got through to him. He backed up a step, hands trembling as he watched her work. That was when Aasim reentered the room, watching anxiously from the doorway, wiping his clammy hands on his trousers.

Marlon snapped out of his train of thought, turning to face Aasim, his brows lowering and fist clenching. "I trusted you to watch her!" Marlon barked, voice breaking at the edges. His fist was clenched so hard his knuckles had gone white. “You had literally one job, Aasim!”

Aasim didn’t flinch, maybe from the adrenaline, maybe just because he knew Marlon’s anger wasn’t truly aimed at him. Still, his voice stayed even, though his guilt bled through every word. “I did watch her. She wandered off. I wasn’t far behind. I got there as fast as I could — saved her life.”

“That walker shouldn’t have touched her in the first place!” Marlon shot back, the words cutting deep, even if they weren’t totally fair. Actually, they weren’t fair at all. Marlon looked wrecked, like he couldn’t figure out whether he wanted to punch a wall or curl up and cry.

Aasim’s jaw tightened, but he held his ground. “You think I don’t know that? You think I’m not beating myself up already?” His voice rose slightly, sharp with frustration and guilt, but he didn’t shout. “She’s safe now. Ruby’s handling it. And, Marlon, you’d be burying her right now if I hadn’t gotten there when I did.”

That shut Marlon up for a second. Behind all of Marlon’s fury was fear. Cold, bone-deep fear. The kind that makes your breath short and your hands shake and your stomach twist so hard you feel sick. Ruby finally glanced over from where she was stitching you up, your body flinching slightly at every tug. “Enough,” she snapped. “If y’all wanna keep arguing, take it outside. She doesn’t need to hear that right now.”

Marlon’s anger fizzled almost instantly, replaced by an almost overwhelming sense of shame. He looked back at you. You weren’t unconscious, but your eyes were fluttering like you were barely holding on. Your skin had gone pale and clammy, your breath ragged from pain. You manage to murmur, “Mar..?”

His heart cracked right in half at the sound of your voice, so soft and weak it barely made it past your lips. Marlon was kneeling next to you again before Ruby could even protest, grabbing your hand gently in both of his like it was made of glass. “Hey, hey, I’m here,” he whispered, his voice thick and rough like he was choking on it. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, trembling. “I got you, angel. You’re okay. You’re okay, I swear.”

“Don’t… blame Aasim. It’s not… his fault,” Your words were barely a whisper, but they hit Marlon like a sledgehammer. His throat tightened, his eyes stinging as he stared down at you. Even like this, you were trying to ease his guilt, to make sure he didn’t tear into one of his friends when you were the one lying there torn up.

“Shh,” he hushed you gently, leaning closer. “Don’t… don’t waste your breath on that. You just focus on staying with me, okay?” His voice cracked on the last word, and he squeezed your hand a little tighter, his other hand brushing your hair back. “You scared the absolute shit outta me.”

Ruby cut the last stitch and pressed a clean bandage over your side. “She’s okay but she needs to rest now,” she said quietly. “You can stay. But keep it calm.”

Marlon gave a sharp nod, glancing at Ruby for a second, but his eyes went back to you almost straight away. Ruby then left the room, and Aasim shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, guilt plain in his features. “I’m sorry, man,” he says. “I really did try.”

Marlon didn’t even look at him at first. Then, after a long pause, he just said, “I know.” It was cold, not forgiving, not yet anyway. Aasim nodded silently and slipped out, giving you both space.

Marlon got up and let go of your hand for a moment to grab a chair, setting it down next to the bed. He then sat down, grabbing your cold hand in his own once again. His thumb brushed over your pulse point, desperate to feel it, weak, but steady enough to prove you were still here with him.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, blue eyes going glassy, though no actual tears fell. Marlon didn’t cry. He couldn’t. It felt like if he started, he’d never stop. He clenched your hand a little tighter, almost desperate. “I should’ve stopped you,” he whispered. “I should’ve made you stay. I should’ve gone with you. Anything. Just… not this.”

You shook your head weakly as best you could, though it was barely more than a twitch against the pillow. Your voice came out scratchy, thin, but insistent. “Not… your fault, Mar.”

His jaw clenched hard, and he leaned down, resting his forehead against the back of your hand, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. “Stop,” he muttered, almost like it hurt to hear you say that. “Stop… don’t- don’t do that. You’re lying here, bleeding, ‘cause I didn’t have the balls to tell you no. ‘Cause I was too much of a coward to make you stay when I knew it wasn’t safe out there.”

You could feel the guilt pouring off him in waves, but it wasn’t just about today. It never was with Marlon. Every encounter where something happened to somebody he cared about, it added up, adding to his feelings. And now, you felt as though you were just another weight on his shoulders.

“Marlon…” you rasped, voice breaking just like he was. “You didn’t… make me go. I wanted to. It was my choice.” He shook his head again, like he couldn’t accept that, like he couldn’t let himself off the hook. But you kept going, even if every word took effort. “You’re not a coward.”

Next thing you knew, you were drifting off again. Marlon sat back a little, his fingers brushing over your temple gently. He watched your eyes flutter shut, your breathing slowing to something steadier. Not great, but better. Yet, it felt like a punch to the gut. The room was too quiet now. All to be heard was the faint buzz of wind outside the window and the distant sounds of the others going about their routines. He stayed like that for a while, probably about two hours, just sitting there, watching you sleep.

And then you stirred again, eyelids fluttering open. He was instantly alert, sitting upright like he hadn’t even been resting. “You need anything? You cold? I can-”

“Can you…sleep with me?” you asked, voice weak, barely a whisper, “Not like… y’know. Just- here. Beside me. Please.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked torn — really torn. You could see the conflict on his face. Part of him was desperate to be close to you, to hold you and make sure you're okay, but the other part was screaming at him that he’ll hurt you if he so much as moves the wrong way. “I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea, angel,” he muttered, voice low. His eyes darted to the bandages wrapped around your waist. “I don’t wanna hurt you. Your side- if I move wrong, or you roll onto me, or-”

You cut him off with a small, tired smile. “Please. I just… don’t wanna be alone.”

And that’s all it took. The second those words left your lips, any resistance he had crumbled. Marlon’s jaw clenched like he was fighting himself for half a second, then he moved. He kicked off his boots and carefully crawled onto the bed beside you.

It was awkward at first, not because he didn't want to be there, but because he was so paranoid about touching your wound. His arms hovered, his whole body stiff. You gave a soft, amused breath. “You’re allowed to relax, y’know.”

He huffed a quiet, broken laugh. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s gotta explain to Ruby why you’re in worse shape in the morning ‘cause your dumbass boyfriend didn’t know how to sleep properly.”

You scooted closer, or at least, you tried to. Pain flashed across your face and you winced, and Marlon immediately panicked, his hands darting out to steady you. “Hey, hey- don’t move! Shit, I’m sorry, I should’ve just-”

You grabbed his wrist. “It’s okay. Just… hold me. Please.”

And so he did. He settled on his side, pulling you in gently, mindful of your injury. One arm curled around your shoulders, the other hand finding yours again under the blanket. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart.

Marlon didn't say anything for a while. His breathing was a little shaky, but he kept holding you like you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world. His hand brushed over your hair, slow and soft.

After a while, you murmured, “Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me. Just… get better, okay?”

You nodded sleepily against his chest, already drifting off again. Marlon stayed completely still, like moving even an inch might wake you or hurt you. He stayed awake most of the night, too scared to sleep in case you needed him.

But he also felt a sliver of peace for the first time all day. Because you were there. In his arms. Breathing. Alive.

#twdg marlon x reader #twdg marlon #marlon x reader #twdg #twdg s4 #the walking dead game #twdg x reader #x reader #imagine #walking dead game #reader insert #telltale twd #telltale the walking dead #twd telltale

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pxstelmxsings · 6 months ago

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He is rough around the edges. He'll snap and lash out when stressed or scared, or maybe he goes cold and distant. There is a wall reaching the heavens around him. You might not understand why that wall is there, but you respect that it exists. Emotional and mental walls do not happen over night after all.

Walls so tall come from countless nights of fear, of pain.

However there is a secret gateway past his walls, one that only a few selective souls have the key to. The holders of that key are the children in his life. No matter what they have his attention and care. There is a level of protection that radiates from so deep within him that you can feel across the room.

At first he is his normal self to everyone, but you notice slight differences. There is no over looking the way his normally gruff voice grows softer around the kids. He'll kneel down to their levels to show them respect when speaking. Every single little gift the kids give to him he keeps in a box hidden away under his bed.

Once everyone in the group notices, they all know no child shall ever be hurt under his watchful eye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

୨୧ Naruto: Obito, Kisame,

⁀➴ TWD: Daryl

ᯓᡣ SDV: Marlon

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Fire Emblem: Xander, Gregor, Jaffar

♡ APH: Germany, Russia

ᥫ᭡ JJK: Nanami

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parkvcrs · 1 year ago

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Dating Marlon Would Include…

NOTES: if you’re here just to hate on marlon, then just leave. 💀 this clearly wasn’t made for you. anyway, for those who actually like marlon, I hope you all enjoy!

• Marlon is the type of guy to be painstakingly obvious about his feelings — always wanting to be on rotation with you for keeping watch, stammering like there’s no tomorrow, always being close to you so he can keep an eye on you, laughing awkwardly and/or always fidgeting, you get the picture.

- It wasn’t until one night after dinner when Marlon pulled you off to the side to ask you the special question, “Y/n… can we…” he couldn’t finish his sentence because of how nervous he was. You knew what he was trying to ask but you still wanted to hear him say it, so you just looked at him, smiling as Marlon finally mustered up the courage to finish, “Can we be… y’know… boyfriend and girlfriend?”

- You said yes. I mean, why wouldn’t you? He’s fair and good-hearted. Marlon has his faults, sure, but who doesn’t? You accept him.

• You’re his first love

• How does Marlon show affection? A lot of ways! There are times when he won’t be upfront about it. Those times that he argued with you because you were being careless around walkers and almost got bit? It’s because Marlon cares for you and the last thing he wants is for you to get hurt…

• I’m convinced his love language is quality time and/or acts of service

• Because you’re bound to be around Marlon a lot, there is a high chance that you’ll end up being Rosie’s favorite person!

- (Except for Marlon, of course. No one tops him. Or at least in Rosie’s world).

• Marlon’s kisses are gentle and sweet

• I want to say that out of all the Ericson’s boys, Marlon is second when it comes to how lenient he is with PDA, being bested by Louis. It’s not like he has much competition though.

- He’s perfectly fine with kisses on the cheek, hand-holding, things like that. I would say he encourages it, but that’s more Louis’ forte. Marlon is more likely to get shy.

• You no longer have to sleep in your dorm. Instead, you moved yourself to be in Marlon’s room— which is in the old headmaster’s office— which he was elated about.

• He would love Walkman. You find him one on a run and he will marry you on the spot, no joke. I feel like Marlon would be into Metal the most (figures) but Alternative is a nice second.

• Does he get jealous of anybody? Yes… as much as he hates to admit it, there are times Marlon finds himself jealous of Mitch, Omar, and even Louis because he’s scared that he’ll never be good enough for you and that you’re better with someone else, though he wants you to be with him. The same can be said with you getting worked up over Brody but you and Marlon try to communicate about these things as much as possible, so they’re not a problem.

• What helps him calm down? You pull him into a hug, rubbing circles on his back, or running a hand through his hair. <33

• As for your first date, I think Marlon would try his best to be original. Because he wants things to be a bit more private, he’d take you to the shack where the group usually fishes, temporarily making Brody in charge and telling her only to bother you if it’s an emergency. From there, Marlon tried to organize a dinner. Emphasis on try (Omar helped him).

• You both ended up cuddling afterward. Marlon slowly wrapped an arm around you but when it’s time for you to leave— as someone needs you back at the school— Marlon held you for a second longer to kiss you.

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year ago

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Along with avatar requests y’all, PLEASE PLEASE IM BEGGIG

JUST SOME TWDG FICS PLEASE I MISS MY BABIES

OR ARCANE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ARCANE AND TWDG

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cael-salad · 7 months ago

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hi again

enjoy

#marlon x reader #stardew valley #fanfiction

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dollwrites · 1 year ago

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Just stumbled to your page, if you dont mind i wanna see you write for kaito again😭🙏 like the fic you made about him is so shskshsks🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶‼️‼️

— ⟡ dizzy drabbles disclaimer !!

all dizzy drabbles are written when i am extremely high ( or, dizzy ) and they don’t contain a trigger warnings list. if there’s no indication by the request, you can assume that the fic is nsfw + dark-leaning, if not blatantly dark. these pieces are never proof read so mistakes are probably present. < 3 enjoy your experience

thunk! thunk! thunk!

it was all you could do to keep your focus solely on the sound the desk made underneath you— the legs pounding against the solid floor in tandem with the judge’s rabid thrusting into you from behind— so that you didn’t have come to terms with what this was.

what you were.

a bribe.

the jingling of golden coins are muffled in the small purse as you grip it with one hand close to your chest, whilst the other tries desperately to hold on to the edge of his desk for some sort of stabilization. you bite your lip, in hopes to muffle the pathetic, humiliating mewling that seemed to seep out each time Gallerian bottomed out, filling you to his hilt, but it was no use.

you’d never been so roughly handled, nor had you been prepared for the judge you’d visited so late at night to bend you over, hike up your dress, and make your pussy part of the bargain.

struggling to stay balanced, pressing your balls of your feet and your toes against the floor in an attempt to plant yourself there, you can feel the harsh recoil of his hips when they snap against yours.

you would’ve simply dropped your head in shame, splayed your upper body across the desk in hapless submission but hid your pleasured expression from him if only he’d let you. if only his hands were both clasped around your neck, fingers locked at the front of your throat to keep you steady as he fucked you without remorse, or concern. the shame of being so exposed— dress pushed down around your waist to reveal your jiggling breasts and skirt tossed over your lower back, panties around your ankles, and your legs spread to accept his greedy cock barreling what felt like a hole through you— was almost too much to bear. “S—stop…”

it’s a whispered plea, one that Gallerian either didn’t hear, or didn’t care about, because his fingers tightened around your neck, and he pulled you back against him. he was derobed, and you could feel the sheet of sweat that covered his chest as it smeared against your back. “Let’s feel that sweet, little cunt tighten up, my pet.” he pants against the shell of your ear, “Show me how grateful you are for my… generosity.” he didn’t have to command it; his cock was digging into a hypersensitive bundle of nerves within your depths and sending you into a gasping, whining, squirming tizzy. “Very good, girl.” Gallerian grunts, keeping his grip on you firm and unyielding, holding you in place as he battered those nerves until your whining turned into yelping, and eventually, ragged panting. your squirming turned to twitching, then to trembling as he ripped the orgasm from your body.

you screamed out, and closed your eyes against the ferocity of the sensations, stomping your feet and bucking your body forwards, only to be pulled right back in as he forced you to ride out the unwanted pleasure, all the while he planted hot, sultry kisses against your ear and down your neck.

sometime in your erotic turmoil, Gallerian also came undone. he gripped your throat tighter, his drilling became more precise and deliberately cruel and deep, and to punctuate your climax’s conclusion, you felt warmth engulfing your insides— filling a pouch in your lower belly, and you gasped, nails scraping at the desk. “W—wait—!”

but it was much too late for that, and you knew so when Gallerian sighed and pushed you off of him, taking a step back to admire his handiwork.

you were still shaking, legs cramped and spread, with his release leaking from your thoroughly used core that still twitched and clenched, remembering the way his girth stretched your sensitive, inner walls. you took a couple of heavy breaths, feeling his gaze upon your destruction, before you finally found the strength to straighten your posture. your skirt falls down into place, and you take baby steps, a small series, to turn around and face the main that had just deflowered you so brutally.

he was smiling, his eyes drifting from your puffy, swollen eyes and your tear streaked cheeks, down to your bare breasts and the coin purse clutched in your hand. his own reaches out, fingertips tracing your breast in a soft caress, but they don’t stay there. they careen to pluck the purse from your grasp.

“All your little hovel was worth fit in such a tiny purse, not nearly the sum I usually accept.” he chuckles softly as he weighs it, bouncing it up and down in one hand, before he looks at you with the devil sparkling in his eyes, “but I suppose the feeling of your warm cunt milking my cock settles the remainder of the balance.” he takes a step closer, and runs his hand up the length of your chest, neck, and finally caresses your warm cheek, smearing a tear into it as he grins wider. “Don’t cry, silly girl. You should be overjoyed. You just saved your mother from the gallows.”

#kaito x reader #kaito smut #kaito x you #kaito #kaito vocaloid #gallerian marlon #vocaloid #vocaloid x reader #vocaloid x you #vocaloid smut #doll’s dizzy drabblin’ ⟡

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theoneandonlycoralinejones · 11 months ago

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Some General Ericson's Kids Headcannons

Louis

Despite it being the zombie apocalypse, he still takes a great care in his appearance. Maybe this could be tied back to his insecurities, but he generally just finds comfort in looking nice. He kept a few colognes from before, and maybe even still has a few hair products. Of course he’d had to be resourceful to make them last this long, probably pours water into the almost empty cologne bottles to make them last longer. He also just dislikes being dirty in general, always wiping down his clothes and typically taking breaks to freshen up.

He wants to keep the artistic spirit alive, even in the apocalypse, and he really admires people who feel the same. Everyone knows he loves piano, but when somebody actually shows interest in it he can't help but get giddy. He can ramble about musicians and songs for hours and hours and hours, and if you ever found him some new records or sheet music you'd officially be his new favorite person; ever.

Definitely was an only child; his parents put all of their focus on him, watched his every move. He was expected to get good grades, go to a good college, get a hard well-paying job afterwards. He was definitely spoiled money-wise, but his family lacked in the love and affection department.

Violet

I’d like to think that if she ever got the chance to, she’d try to give herself a piercing. Obviously it’d be unsanitary and sort of implausible during the apocalypse, but if you think about it, all she’d need would be a needle, the piercing itself, and some sort of disinfectant, so it could possibly happen. If she did get one, probably an eyebrow piercing or a septum. She definitely isn’t the type to care too much about her appearance, but she would feel super cool having a piercing. (She wouldn’t say it though, lol)

Violet lacked any sort of hobby in the game, and this upset me. (Ruby has gardening/being a nurse, Louis has music, Tenn has art, Mitch has weapons, Omar has cooking, Aasim has writing, etc.) I feel like if she had a hobby it'd be something she'd do in secret, maybe poetry or writing songs. She definitely is the type of person to bottle her emotions up, so writing poems about it would definitely be a nice way to cope with them. She’d never share her poetry with anyone though, it's just her thing; she's way too embarrassed of it.

If she was able to listen to any music she would definitely like indie or punk music. (Pavement, she would LOVE pavement) She’s definitely the type of person to crush on more alternative people, so I could see her trying to get into goth music just to impress a girl she likes.

Marlon

It's obvious that he's definitely got some hefty mental issues going on, he's the type of person to bottle things up forever till he just blows up. He panics a lot in tough situations, scrambles to fix things himself, but has a hard time making things work out alone. I'd imagine his parents were probably perfectionists of some sort; who pushed a lifestyle he didn't want onto him and he tried hard to succeed for them but could never be enough. Eventually one day he acted out, sick of being forced to live a life he didn't want to live, and then was sent to Ericsons's.

A lot of people hate Marlon, for reasons that are obvious, but I really don't think he was a bad guy. He was simply misguided, and made mistakes.

Seems like the type to smoke or drink as a way to cope. Did it more often before the apocalypse and when it first started but cigarettes and alcohol are pretty much nonexistent near Ericson’s now so he was forced to quit.

Mitch

I see many people sort of stereotype Mitch as just this guy who likes carving knives and making bombs, which definitely is true, but I think there’s much more to him. He has a very rebellious personality which leads me to believe he probably grew up in a home where being rebellious was necessary to get any attention from his neglectful parents. They are in the boarding school for a reason, so he probably was the type of kid that almost burnt down his house or something.

Definitely seems like the type to be a big softie once you get to know him. Certainly not the type to be all soft in public, but if you're spending time one on one his more gentle side will show.

Ruby

She has such a motherly vibe to her, so caring and sweet. Even hands out some tough love when needed. I think that's one of the reasons why she likes the greenhouse so much, she loves to take care of things; plants included. (Obviously she also liked it because of Ms. Martin, but yk)

She's certainly not the type to accept compliments easily, she just can't imagine that when people compliment her they're telling the truth. I'd imagine that the reason she punches Aasim If you dare him to kiss her is because she thinks he's playing a prank on her or something; she just finds it hard to believe that somebody would like her. (I love her, Ruby is my bae omg)

#twdg #twdg louis #twdg s4 #twdg violet #twdg headcanon #headcanon #headcannons #the walking dead game #the walking dead game louis #ruby twdg #twdg marlon #twdg m #twdg mitch #twdg x reader

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discoscoob · 9 days ago

Text

⋆⭒˚.⋆ COPS AND ROBBERS

˙ ✩°˖💰⋆｡˚ Marlon James x Reader

CW: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, criminal!reader, bank robbery, angst, slightly (or very) melodramatic, mentions of addiction, not very pretty descriptions of withdrawal, violence, threats, tons of swearing, my attempts at comedy.

synopsis: in desperate need of a large sum of cash, you and Marlon stage a bank robbery. It doesn’t really go to plan. Featuring an appearance from Tom Ludlow. - Inspired by @scarlettspectra’s Marlon James fic. Thank you to @casuallyobssessed for proofreading! 6.1k words.

The neighbourhood looks like it could use a little TLC. Patchy lawns with yellowed grass sit behind chain-link fences, not a single mailbox stands straight along the entire street with cracked sidewalks and potholes dotting the main road.

Dead leaves pile up along the curbs and under the windshields of the cars parked in the driveways: everyone of which is at least a decade old. A few houses still have crooked Halloween decorations and rotting Jack-o’-lanterns with drooping smiles slumped on their porch, even though November has already settled in.

It’s not the nicest neighbourhood in town, but it’s quiet. No sirens or neighbours screaming bloody murder, just the creak of a loose screen door, the squeak of a rusted gate, and a dog barking somewhere on the next street over.

Tom pulls up at the curb and kills his engine. Tapping his fingers upon the leather-bound steering wheel, he stares out through the tinted windshield.

He’s not even sure why he came here.

˙ ✩°˖💰⋆｡˚

“Everybody freeze!”

“Everybody down on the ground!”

You and Marlon shout simultaneously as you bust through the doors of the bank with your guns raised, expecting panic, screaming and mayhem. Instead, the customers and the bank tellers just… stare at you.

A heavy silence settles over the room. You could hear a pin drop over the faint whir of the AC.

Marlon shifts nervously beside you, tightening his grip on the revolver. His bandana sits askew over the bridge of his nose and his dark eyes dart skittishly around the room from beneath the tattered brim of his faded baseball cap.

“Babe, why ain’t nobody doing nothin’?” He hisses, leaning towards you, hoping you can shed some light on the situation, but you’re just as perplexed by the lack of chaos and panic.

“Well, son, if I may,” a middle aged man with a moustache that could rival Tom Selleck’s, politely steps forward, adjusting his oversized bifocals.

Marlon lets out an audible yelp, damn near jumping out of his skin.

“Holy shit, man! Where’d you even come from?!”

The man takes a step back, holding up his hands placatingly with a genuinely apologetic expression. “Woah, easy! Didn’t mean to startle you, son. It’s just– you and your err… wife?” He gestures vaguely at you.

“Huh? Oh! We’re not– I mean, I haven’t, y’know, not yet–”

“Right, besides the point,” the man cuts off Marlon’s rambling, “I’m just saying, this is clearly your first time robbing a bank, am I right?”

Marlon nods, earning a nudge and a tilted glare from you, silently warning him he probably shouldn’t be admitting that you’re a pair of amateurs.

“Well, the problem is the fact you gave us contradictory orders. One of you said freeze and the other said get down. Now, son, logically speaking, you do understand that we can’t very well do both at the same time, don’t you?”

You and Marlon blink as it suddenly dawns on you how out of your depths you both are.

“…Excuse us for one moment.” Marlon clears his throat, the sound echoes through the quiet room as he tugs you by the wrist.

Before you can react, you’re right back outside with the doors swinging shut behind you.

“Marlon, what the actual fuck?!” you hiss, yanking your arm back.

“I’m sorry! I panicked!” He removes his baseball cap to run a hand through his dishevelled hair as he paces in front of you. “I thought it’d be easier once we were in there, that I could just rely on the adrenaline to get me through it, y’know? But then we fucked up and they were all just staring at us! Then that dude started giving us advice. Who even gives the robbers advice in the middle of a stick-up? I think– I think I got, like… stage fright? Or the bank robbery equivalent. Robbery fright?”

You tug your own bandana down until it hangs loosely around your neck and you rest both your hands on Marlon’s tense shoulders, halting his nervous pacing.

“Hey, look at me. Just breathe, okay. Nice and slow. You’re fine. You just got a little spooked, that’s all.”

He follows your soothing command, his chest slowly expands with a deep inhale and then deflates with a gently controlled exhale.

“We looked like a coupla boneheads in there.”

“We did,” you agree with a shrug, “but it’s not the end of the world.”

Marlon doesn’t look so convinced but he appears slightly less panicked than he was a few moments ago.

“Ready to try again?”

Marlon looks like you just asked him to jump into a pool of hungry sharks. “You think we can still pull this off?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.” You answer plainly instead of feeding him some sugar-coated bullshit. “But we already got this far so we might as well keep going.”

Marlon puts his baseball cap back on, a silent confirmation that he’s ready to give it another shot and you nod, securing your bandana back over your nose.

“When we go back in, this time we’ll both shout ‘freeze!’” You instruct him, calm and steady.

“Right. Freeze. Got it.” He nods, psyching himself up with a shake of his limbs before adjusting his hold on the revolver.

You grab his wrist. “Let’s go rob a bank!”

“Let’s go rob a bank.” Marlon repeats, a little quieter, lacking the same enthusiasm, but you’ll take it nonetheless.

You storm back inside, guns raised as you bust through the doors again.

“EVERYBODY FREEZE!”

Silence.

You and Marlon sneak a glance at each other like a pair of kids in an elementary school play trying to remember who says the next line and then…

“Young lady,” an elderly man at the counter pipes up, frowning at your swollen belly disapprovingly. “You oughta be at home with your feet up, not runnin’ ‘round robbin’ banks in your condition!”

Silence. You stare at the man in disbelief, momentarily stunned by the sheer absurdity of the situation, wondering how much more ridiculous it could possibly get.

“Jesus fucking christ,” you mutter, “everyone’s a critic today!”

˙ ✩°˖💰⋆｡˚

The duffle is bloated with a generous helping of cash when the first distant wail of sirens reaches your ears, turning your heart into a cannonball that sinks straight to the pit of your gut.

“Shit– come on, babe. We better split.” Marlon swings the duffle over his shoulder, nearly toppling over with the weight of every dollar adding to the gravity of what you’ve both just done. He grabs your hand, surprisingly steady, despite the clammy palm betraying his nerves. You know him too well, inside he’s panicking just as much as you are, if not more. But the second he sees it on your face, he shifts, forcing himself to take the lead, because if he can hold it together, maybe you can too.

You crash through the fire exit, the weighted door slams behind you with a bang that echoes through the narrow alley. The scorching air hits you with a thick wave carrying the stench of piss and sun-baked garbage, but that’s the least of your worries. Wailing sirens close in, piercing your ears, spurring your scruffed sneakers over the cracked, uneven pavement towards the crookedly parked old Chevy that’s coughing out exhaust fumes like a chainsmoker.

The car door groans on its rusting hinges as Marlon yanks it open, releasing a billowing, swirling cloud of thick and skunky smoke, reeking sharp and earthy.

“Jesus, Harlan!” Marlon wheezes, swatting at the haze while steadying you as you lower yourself into the backseat. “The fuck you hotboxin’ the getaway car for? You tryna bake the damn baby or what?”

You keep the bandana secured over your nose, shuffling awkwardly over the hot vinyl seats to make room for Marlon. Clambering into the funky, soupy smog after you, he drops the duffle with a thud between your feet.

“Rich comin’ from you,” Harlan mutters, arching an eyebrow over his scratched-up sunglasses, while Marlon is cranking the window like his life depends on it. “Didn’t you have, like, half a pharmacy in your system when you knocked her up?”

“Okay, first of all, me being high didn’t have nothin’ to do with my decision to sleep with Y/N, alright. That was a conscious choice. One I woulda made even if I’d been sober. Let’s just clear that up right now.” Marlon jerks forward, wedging himself through the gap between the two front seats.

“Jesus, babe…” you whine, slumping down like a mortified teenager, palm dragging over your face.

“I ain’t sorry for speakin’ the truth. You walked in lookin’ drop dead gorgeous, I’d’ve had to be blind to not wanna be all over you.”

“Dude, c’mon. Save it for the wedding vows.” Harlan snorts.

“Second of all,” Marlon’s attention snaps back to his cousin, tone dipping sharp. “You really wanna bring that up now? My nerves are fucking shot and I’m- shit, I’m fucking armed, man!” He yanks the revolver out the waistband at the back of his sun-bleached jeans with a flair he clearly thinks is threatening.

“Like you’d ever use it,” Harlan scoffs, flicking the roach out the cracked window. “Fuckin’ pussy.”

“Hey, don’t talk to him like that! He ain’t a pussy,” the knee jerk response flies from your lips instinctively.

“Oh yeah?” Harlan chuckles smugly like he knows something you don’t. “He ever tell you ‘bout the time we got hired to pop some dude, and Romeo over here spent the whole time shittin’ himself? Guess who actually pulled the trigger.”

“That doesn’t fuckin’ count, man!” Marlon snaps. “The dude didn’t even die.”

You glance between them, eyes narrowing. The getaway car (if you can even still call it that) hasn’t moved an inch, meanwhile the sirens are getting louder still, and these two idiots have decided now is the perfect time to take a stroll down memory lane.

“Shit, how was I s’posed to know? I ain’t no doctor.” Harlan shrugs, smoothing his long hair away from his face. “Lucky for you, too. Else we’d be in county right now, fightin’ over who gets top bunk.”

“Ain’t no way you’d beat me to the top bunk.” Marlon jabs a finger at Harlan, in a last-ditch effort to save face and salvage some dignity in front of you.

“Please, you wouldn’t even stand a chance.” Harlan says, slow and smug, easing into a shit-eating grin.

“Would too,” Marlon fires back, just about climbing through the seat gap.

You flick a glance out the rear window, catching the flicker of red and blue lights veering into the far end of the alley, seconds away from being rammed further up your ass than a colonoscopy.

“Would not.”

“Would too!”

Your nails dig crescents into the busted vinyl of Harlan’s seat.

“I swear to Christ, if you two don’t shut up and get this fuckin’ car moving—”

You slam your palm against the back of Harlan's headrest. The thud jolts him and his foot hits the gas, abruptly lurching the car forward.

Marlon’s cheek smacks the passenger headrest and your body is thrown sideways as the rear tires fishtail across the uneven terrain.

The stream of red and blue lights bleeds through the rear windshield as the vehicle bounces over potholes, putting its suspension to the ultimate test. Harlan punches the gas, veering into the main road and weaving through traffic like he’s playing a game of Mario Kart. If only you had a stash of banana peels to chuck out the window to shake off the cops tailing behind.

You rest your forehead against Harlan’s seat, closing your eyes. Your heart pounds harder with every screech of the tires. The car swerves past another vehicle, its horn blaring, still the sirens howl behind you, ever present.

“Harlan started it.”

You blink your eyes open. Slowly, you lift your head and turn.

Marlon is looking at you like a kid tattling to his mother. Like he really thinks that matters right now.

You stare at him, too stunned to speak.

The father of your unborn child.

BANG!

The sound pierces violently through the air. Your whole body flinches, lodging your heart firmly in your throat. Marlon is on you in an instant, shielding you with his body, his arms cradling your head. His heartbeat rivals your own, pounding fast and frantic against your back.

“They’re fuckin’ shooting at us!” he hisses, voice strained with panic in your ear with his head ducked low against your shoulder.

You hold your breath. His weight is crushing, but it’s nothing compared to the realisation that Marlon would take a bullet for you without hesitation.

This is the father of your unborn child.

Behind the wheel, Harlan’s laugh cuts through the tension.

“Chill out, man. Ain’t nobody shootin’ at us.” he calls over his shoulder, patting the dashboard like you would a loyal dog. “She just does that sometimes when I shift too fast.”

It takes a moment for Harlan’s amusement at your expense to sink in before your frazzled nervous system catches up to speed and registers that your close shave with death had been nothing more than his old clunker backfiring.

You don’t know whether to laugh, cry or scream at Harlan for thinking this rickety death trap masquerading as a getaway car was at all adequate for a grand escape against a squadron of blazing cruisers tearing up the freeway in hot pursuit.

“Marry me.”

You whip your head towards Marlon.

You’re pretty sure that when most people hear those words and turn to the person saying them, they’re not met with the pasty, terror-stricken face of a man who looks like he just saw his life flash before his eyes.

“What?”

“Shit, this ain’t how I planned to ask you.” Marlon curses. “Until I met you, I never even saw myself as the marryin’ type but that changed the moment I laid eyes on you. I swear, I woulda dropped to one knee right then and there if that was, like, not totally weird… but I went and accidentally put a baby inside you instead… which is strangely more acceptable, I guess?”

Marlon’s brows set in a deep frown, his eyes glazing over, lost in deep thought, while the chaos swirls around you. His face is still pale, drained of colour; you’re not even sure he heard what Harlan said, or if he’s still convinced that bang came from a gunshot. You rest your hand on his thigh, offering him a tether so he doesn’t drift too far away and his dilated pupils meet yours, full of gratitude and lingering anxiety.

“Maybe it’s dumb,” Marlon continues, as if he might choke on his words if he doesn’t get them out fast enough, “but after that I was scared you’d think I was askin’ you for all the wrong reasons. Outta, like… duty or guilt or, I dunno, just ‘cause it’s the decent thing to do, y’know? And that’s the last thing I wanted you to think. So I was waiting for the right moment. I wanted there to be no doubt that this is what I want. Absolutely none. You’re what I want. More than anything, it’s important to me that you know that.”

You gulp back tears, your focus locked in on Marlon’s desperate, wide-eyed sincerity, forgetting about the wailing sirens, screeching tires and Harlan cussing behind the wheel.

“I thought if I got you a proper ring, real diamond and everything, with the leftover cash, that’d show you how serious I am. How much I love you. How much I wanna be your husband. I had this whole thing in my head, I was gonna make it real special with, like, candles and shit, though, I don’t even actually know why candles are romantic, knowing me I’d probably just fuck it all up and start a fire–”

He’s spiralling, eyes wild as the words tumble out faster than his train of thought.

“Marlon–”

“But I just realised,” he barrels ahead, taking your hand in his tight grip. “If I keep waiting to ask you, then I might never actually get the chance–”

“Marlon, babe,” you cut him off, reaching out to cradle his slightly stubbled cheek as you understand what he’s really trying to say but you don’t even dare let that thought enter your mind. “The car just backfired.”

“I know, I know. I heard him,” he sighs, screwing his eyes shut with a shake of his head. “But I’m not just saying all this ‘cause Harlan’s piece-of-shit car backfired. We ain’t outta this yet and those cops are just gonna keep chasing us and if– if anything happens…”

His voice gets hoarse, and you’re already shaking your head, refusing to accept what he’s trying to tell you.

“I just– while we’re both here, while I got the chance, I need you to know how bad I want this. You. All of it. You, me and our baby. I know we ain’t exactly conventional but I want us to be a proper family, whatever that is. Something solid. I never wanted anything more.”

He glances away, his face shadowed with shame.

“I took a big fuckin’ risk today. I put us both in danger. And if somethin’ happens–”

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” you firmly interject, pressing your forehead against his with determination. “You hear me? We’re gonna get out of this. We’re gonna make it.”

He tries to speak again, but you gently press your thumbs to his lips.

“And then– then you can propose to me properly. With as many candles as you want. We’ll keep a fire extinguisher handy just in case.” You muster a shaky laugh. “And I’ll say yes; even if the ring is from a gas station vending machine. I already know how much you love me; you don’t need a fancy diamond ring to prove it…” you pause before adding with a small shrug, “Although I’m not going to pretend that wouldn’t be nice.”

You begin to feel some of the tension melt from Marlon’s shoulders, just a little, as his body instinctively leans toward you like a flower seeking the warmth of the sun. His lips twitch into the briefest hint of a smile before he softly and suddenly presses them to yours.

You kiss him back earnestly without hesitation, threading your fingers into the scraggly strands of sweat-damp hair at the nape of his neck. It’s clumsy and a little uncoordinated, both of you just desperate to be close and feel the other's solid form beneath your fingertips, scared they might slip away at any moment.

Just as you were finding your rhythm, the car lurches forward, sputtering violently like a choking cat, then emits a slow, defeated wheeze before rolling to a stop.

“Uhhh…” Harlan mumbles, tapping the fuel gauge with the edge of his yellowed fingernail. “Well, would you look at that. Empty.”

“Empty?” You whip your head around in your seat, “what the fuck do you mean empty?”

“We’re outta juice? Ain’t got no fuel? She’s running on fumes? Spiritually exhausted?” Harlan starts listing off increasingly ridiculous ways to say the car is out of gas and you smack the back of his seat hard because he’s not taking this shit seriously.

“You were supposed to make sure we had a full tank! You had one fucking job!”

The sirens howl in the distance; it won’t be long until they find you. Out the rear window you spot them cresting over the hill.

“Fuck!” You snap, flinging open the creaky back door. A blast of the thick, sticky hot summer air smacks you in the face. Your sweaty palms slip against the busted vinyl as you try to pull yourself out, struggling with the weight of the almost full-term baby pressing low and heavy in your belly.

Before you can exert yourself too much, Marlon is at your side with the duffle securely swung over his shoulder. He hooks an arm under yours and helps hoist you up and out without saying a word.

With no choice left but to escape on foot, you link hands, your grips tight and unbreakable as you bolt, or rather waddle, towards the abandoned bowling alley up ahead.

“Am I still getting my ten percent?!” Harlan calls after you, half-hanging out the driver’s side window.

˙ ✩°˖💰⋆｡˚

The bowling alley is still. The faint scent of stale beer and mildew lingers in the air, and dusty lanes stretch beyond the visibility of Tom’s flashlight.

Tom’s not expecting much, this place hasn’t been open since before he left high school, and he doesn’t even want to try and remember how long ago that was. But dispatch said the suspects ran this way, so he was sent to give the building a sweep.

Broken glass crunches beneath his boots as his flashlight slices over smashed-in claw machines, a retro jukebox, and fallen bar stools.

A scrap of paper near the bar catches his eye.

He crouches, picking it up between his fingers to get a closer look. He shines his light on the crumpled pamphlet with crease folds and curled up edges from being stuffed into a pocket too many times.

Shore View Rehabilitation Center.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

Then he hears it. The faintest sound of quick, shallow, panicked breath.

Keeping his footsteps light and his hand hovering near his holstered weapon, he rounds the bar, sweeping his flashlight towards the sound.

The beam lands on them.

Two people, huddled together on the floor, holding each other tight but something stops Tom in his tracks.

The girl is pregnant.

˙ ✩°˖💰⋆｡˚

Marlon gulps. He should’ve kept you out of this. Put his foot down. Grown a spine for once in his worthless life.

What kind of man lets his heavily pregnant girlfriend assist him in a bank robbery anyway?

The old floor creaks when the cop shifts.

Marlon snaps.

Before he can second-guess himself, he yanks you closer, pressing the cold, hard barrel of the revolver against your temple.

“Back the fuck up, man, or I- I swear… I swear, I’ll fucking do it!” His voice cracks. Frantic. Desperate.

Your breath hitches.

What the fuck?

For a split second your heart plummets. This isn’t real. It can’t be.

Marlon would never.

His own heart slams against your back, like it might crash straight through both of you. Hot, shaky nicotine laced breath fans against your ear as his chest heaves in quick, erratic bursts.

His arm curls tighter around you.

You’re smacked with a wave of shock.

Realising.

The slight tremble in his voice. The way he’s shaking like a leaf as he holds you. Not hurting. Not gripping.

He’s clinging onto you for dear life.

It’s an act.

He’s trying to protect you.

Trying to make you look like an innocent hostage instead of a willing accomplice; shouldering all the blame himself.

The beam of the cop’s flashlight blinds you, erasing everything beyond it into an inky abyss.

You expect him to start negotiating, try and talk Marlon down. But all you hear from the void is a tired exhale, like this whole thing is

nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

“That right, huh? You gonna blow her fucking brains out?” A gravelly, almost bored voice travels from behind the light.

Marlon stiffens at the vulgar choice of phrase, and your stomach churns. If you didn’t know (without a shadow of doubt) that Marlon would never hurt you, you’d start praying to any god who’d listen right now, because this cop sure as hell isn’t going to save you.

“You must think I was born yesterday.” The flashlight finally lowers, revealing a face set in a hard, unimpressed glare.

He takes a slow step forward before he crouches to your level, fixing Marlon with a dark, challenging stare.

Marlon draws a jittery breath and pulls you tighter against him.

“Go on, then. Do it. Pull the trigger. Let’s see it.” The cop calls Marlon’s bluff.

Your head whips towards him and Tom sees it, the way you look more terrified of him than of the man holding an actual gun to your skull. You think he’s unhinged.

“You’re fucking crazy, man.” Marlon’s breath staggers out quick and panicked against your ear.

“I’m not the one holding a gun to my girl’s head.” The cop deadpans.

It hits Marlon like a punch to the gut. His whole body caves as he slumps against you, forehead dropping to your shoulder, hot and sticky with sweat. The gun falls from his grip with a thud.

“M’sorry, baby,” his voice breaks, quivering with the force of his tears as he crumbles. His lips find your forehead, then your cheek, trailing clumsy and sloppy kisses to remind you how precious you are to him. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

The words spill from him in a broken loop, like they’re the only ones he remembers how to say.

“Jesus Christ.” Tom mutters.

He scoops the revolver from the floor, inspecting the cylinder. Just as he figured, it’s not loaded.

Marlon clings to you, his head tucked against your shoulder, sobbing out barely coherent apologies. Your own silent tears get caught in his messy hair where you nestle your cheek.

Tom shifts, growing visibly uncomfortable with the raw, intimate display of emotion unfolding before his eyes. “Alright, kid, c’mon. You need to calm down, yeah?” He grumbles, gruff but not heartless. He tries to remain objective, not allow his sympathies to overrule his duty to the law.

Marlon peeks up, his red-rimmed eyes lock onto Tom’s, desperate and pleading. “Please…” he chokes, “please, man, just- just leave her out of it, okay? Arrest me, charge me, I don’t care. Just- please, you gotta let her go.”

Your lungs burn. The air thins. You choke on sharp, shallow breaths, clawing at Marlon’s oversized jacket, trying to breathe.

“She didn’t do nothin’, okay?” He frantically insists. “I made her come with me. I- I fucking forced her, man. She- she was against the whole idea.”

“Marlon–” your stomach twists.

He shushes you gently with trembling hands caressing your face, his thumb sweeps across your quivering lips.

“Shh, baby, shh. It’s okay, it’s okay, I promise. Everything’s gonna be okay.” His voice shakes, on the verge of cracking but his touch anchors you.

Your trembling fingers clutch his wrists in a white knuckle grip with no intention of ever letting go. His pulse pounds strong and erratic under your palm.

“Just trust me, babe, okay? You know I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you or our baby.”

His breath staggers, like the weight of it all has just struck him in the chest. His gaze drops, and his hands shift to your belly, rubbing over the curve of your bump with a touch so gentle your heart crumples and tears like a piece of paper.

“We’re having a baby girl.” He forces himself to whisper around the lump in his throat, his voice sounds thick and raw. “A little girl, man. And I- fuck-” He chokes on a sob, squeezing his eyes shut. “She ain’t even here yet and I- I already fucked it up for her.”

Tom’s gaze remains locked on the floor because how can he bring himself to look at you, look at the condition you’re in, and still do what he’s supposed to do? He’ll be the monster who tore a family apart. After all his years on the force, this is still his weakness.

Despite his best efforts to keep his face blank and impassive, the way his throat bobs when he swallows betrays his inner conflict.

Marlon sniffles, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve like a messy kid, then turns his puffy, tear-stained face back to Tom. “Please, man.” he continues to beg. “You can do whatever you want to me, you can lock me up. I don’t give a shit what happens to me. I’ll take the fall. I’ll say it was all my fault, I’ll confess to everything, plead guilty or whatever you want, yeah. I’ll do it. Just- just, please, let her go home.”

He’s just a junkie, just another waste of space who’s got no one to blame but himself for the mess he’s made. That’s the narrative Tom is supposed to believe. But the pamphlet in his pocket says otherwise. It tells the story of a man fighting tooth and nail to claw his way towards something better, against a system that’s rigged to see him fail. A man desperate enough to take such a dangerous gamble, fully aware of the risks. A man who is loved by a woman, so fiercely and stupidly that she is willing to risk it all alongside him, believing that they might find a better life along the way.

Tom exhales with a sharp huff, pinching the bridge of his nose as he reluctantly commits to the decision he’s about to make. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the crumpled pamphlet.

“You dropped this.” Turning the pamphlet over in his hand, Tom raises an eyebrow with mild interest. “Shore View, huh? That place sure ain’t cheap.”

Marlon barely glances in Tom’s direction, the fight has already drained from him. His shoulders slump with a sigh of defeat. “Yeah, well, I guess I ain’t got much chance of goin’ there now.” He sounds exhausted.

Tom observes the way Marlon is leaning against you with his head tucked against your shoulder, absentmindedly tracing patterns over the swell of your tummy. When he feels his heart clenching at the sight, he drops his gaze back to the pamphlet.

“So that was your grand plan, huh? Rob a bank to pay for rehab?”

Marlon licks his chapped lips, blinking slowly. “Yeah.”

“That’s a dumb fucking plan.” Tom scoffs bitterly and something inside you finally snaps.

“What the fuck would you know?” Tom and Marlon’s heads snap in your direction at your unexpected rebuke, it’s the first time you’ve spoken to the cop directly. “No, seriously, tell me what the fuck do you know about the shit we’ve been through?”

“Babe–” Marlon tries to interrupt you but you just keep going.

“Do you think we did this shit for the thrill of it? You think we woke up this morning and said, ‘hey, let’s rob a fucking bank! We ain’t got nothing better to do.’” You choke out a bitter laugh, feeling the fury boiling in your gut.

“We fucking tried. We tried every clinic, every program, every charity. Filled out stacks of forms, got passed from pillar to post, jumped through every fucking hoop – just to get told no. Over and over and fucking over again. Because he’s got a record, because we don’t have insurance, because we don’t meet some bullshit requirements made up by some dumb fuck in a suit who’s never had to watch the person they love most puke their fucking guts up and piss themselves because they’ve no choice but to try and quit cold turkey. Never had to tie them to the fucking bed just to keep them from running out to score because–” your breath catches, choking on a sob that’s crawling it’s way up your throat. “Because you’re fucking terrified that- that the next time you’ll see them, it’ll be in a morgue, identifying their body.” Your chest heaves and burns as a hot flood of tears slips down your cheeks.

“Do you have any fucking idea what that’s like? Huh? Knowing that if he died in some alleyway tomorrow, no one would give a shit?” Your voice cracks, rising several octaves as the words tear out of you. “Maybe you don’t give a fuck, maybe you think he’s just another junkie who’s got what’s coming to him but what about our baby, huh? You- you wanna punish her too? All we wanted was a chance at giving her a better start in life, so she didn’t have to grow up watching her daddy struggle and suffer and maybe fucking die because no one was willing to help.”

“So don’t fucking stand there and preach to us about dumb fucking decions because you’ve got no fucking clue. You’ll slap the cuffs on him, and get your pat on the back for taking another ‘low-life’ off the streets; because that’s justice, right? Tearing a family apart to protect some bloodsucking corporation that thrives on keeping people like us down in the gutter where we belong.”

When all the rage, fight and months of pent up frustrations have been spilled out of you until there is nothing left, you crumble like a house of cards, slumping against Marlon’s chest, trusting him to catch you. And he does, swaddling your trembling frame against him as the hot, relentless tears pour straight from your broken heart.

Marlon is stunned. He’s never heard you sound so raw, so broken, you’ve always been his pillar of strength. His breath hitches, he knows he should say something, offer some kind of comfort, but words fail him. Instead, he presses his chapped lips against the top of your head and holds you tighter in his warm and solid embrace. Silently communicating everything he struggles to put into words.

Tom’s face remains stoic, unreadable, except for the slightest raise of his eyebrow, which could mean anything. It’s enough to make your stomach tie itself into knots.

Then his hand reaches for his radio, deliberately slow.

Your breath catches.

Your heart drops, your whole body tenses in Marlon’s hold. It’s over. You ran your damn mouth, and as usual, you just made everything ten times worse.

“Wait–” you struggle to whimper, your voice weak with exhaustion.

With his eyes locked on yours, Tom clicks the button and raises the radio to his mouth.

“The bowling alley’s clear.”

You’re suspended in a moment of disbelief. Everything is still. Even Marlon’s hand, which had been stroking through your hair, freezes mid-motion, like someone just hit the pause button.

Carefully, you lift your head from Marlon’s chest, blinking away the teary blur as if it could offer you clarity.

“What?” There’s a raw ache in your throat from all the yelling, leaving your voice frayed.

Is he… letting you get away?

Surely it couldn’t be that simple.

“Well? What the fuck you waiting for? Get outta here!” There’s a sharp edge of authority in Tom’s tone that’s hard to ignore.

Marlon doesn’t need to be told twice – he’s already stumbling to his feet, tugging you up with him in a near-desperate rush.

“Babe, c’mon! Before he, y’know, changes his mind.” He urges, slinging the duffle full of stolen cash over his shoulder while dragging you along with a firm but gentle grip around your wrist.

Neither of you look back.

˙ ✩°˖💰⋆｡˚

FIVE YEARS LATER

Tom pulls up at the curb and kills his engine. Tapping his fingers upon the leather-bound steering wheel, he stares out through the tinted windshield.

He’s not even sure why he came here.

Over the course of his career, Tom has done a lot of things he’s not proud of; too many regrets to name. He’s not exactly the poster boy for a respectable, clean-cut cop. He’s made mistakes, some of which still haunt him. The rest, he does his best to wash away with a bottle of vodka.

Sometimes, he just needs to be reminded that not every choice he has made was a bad one. That sometimes bending the rules is the right thing to do.

He pulls up the record again on the department laptop, just to be sure he’s in the right place.

Marlon James. There are no recent charges, not even a speeding ticket. No drug offences, no DUI’s, no theft charges. Apart from his historic charges, his record is squeaky clean.

He looks up at the modest bungalow across the street, and there they are.

Marlon’s in the driveway, wearing grease-stained overalls, wiping his hands on a rag. A little girl, no older than four or five, bolts out from the screen door towards Marlon, who scoops her up, lifting her above his head. Tom hears her squealing laughter, even from across the street.

Then the woman steps outside, laughing at Marlon’s antics with the little girl. Carrying his daughter under his arm, he jogs up the porch steps and plants a kiss on his wife’s cheek.

The gold bands on their fingers catch in the light of the setting sun as they join hands and head back inside.

Tom already feels lighter.

He knows he made the right choice.

Starting the engine, he drives away without anyone seeing him.

A/N: The whole ‘freeze’ v ‘get down’ thing at the beginning of the fic is straight up stolen from the film Raising Arizona, if you knew that already, I love you! 🫶 and I feel like the book Anxious People by Fredrick Backman was also a massive inspiration. I love that book! Thank you for reading!

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves fic #marlon james #tom ludlow #marlon james x reader #tom ludlow fic #i love you to death #street kings

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islassour · 5 months ago

Note

hi i am backkkkk 😜 could you possibly maybe write mitch dating hcs… please and thank you 🙏

also happy early birthday!!! 🎉🎉🎉

ofc ofc!! and thank u so much 😆

mitch dating hcs ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

- he is honestly such a sap.

- he acts like hes not into like little lovey dovey stuff like making stuff and all that

- asks willy for confirmation on little gifts he gives you

- im just gonna be honest he loves playing with your hair.

- like LOVES

- falling asleep? hes playing with it.

- late nights on watch together 😆

- he would count how many birthmarks/freckles you have on your face (might write a little blurb on that teehee)

- tries to find a stone that matches ur eye colour!!

- as nice as he is he will deadass be honest with you

- like if he doesnt like something its just 'no.'

- scarily blunt with some of his words i fear

- hes still into words of affirmation though just not too much but not too little

- tries to find anything he can whilst hes scavenging for you

- if its not obvious his love language has got to be gift giving.

- enjoys being close to you but hes not big on pda but will still like hold your hand or put his hand on your shoulder

andddd.. idk what elsee.. requests are always open! 😆

#twdg x reader #twdg headcanon #twdg s1 #twdg s2 #twdg fanfic #twdg clementine #twdg fanart #twdg lee #twdg kenny #twdg #twdg s4 #twdg violet #twdg louis #twdg mitch #twdg x you #twdg minerva #twdg marlon #twdg luke #lee everett

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h0ttestgrlinm0urgu3 · 2 years ago

Text

𝑺𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐋𝐚𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐧

8teen+ ⚠️

[TW: threesome, black reader! but any1 can read, sub reader, bimbo reader!, voyeurism, use of (y/n) a couple times, daddy kink, Tim gets off on eating 😻, oral (f receiving) , no protection 🙅🏾‍♀️, dirty talk ig] if I left out any let me know

[Summary: your the campus bimbo who's caught the eye of Tim and Darryl]

'there she goes man' Tim says, pushing Darryl's arm to get his attention. 'fuuck,' Darryl groans, seeing (y/n) about to make her way past them.

both taking a deep inhale as she walked by them 'you think she's thinking of us as the wind grazes her ass in that short ass skirt' Tim questioned. catching Darryl of guard making him take his eyes off of the girl who did infact have on a "mini skirt," but it honestly was just a band of fabric rapped around her ass.

'you can't say shit like that in public' he replies looking around like he didn't approve of what Tim said checking to see who heard before smirking and dapping him up 'she most definitely do tho' he exclaimed as they started laughing.

and it was true for the most part. you had no clue who they were by name, but you'd seen them all the time even had class with em. you always saw them smiling and laughing when they thought you weren't paying attention, commenting about what you were wearing, even going as far to talk about your ass. You had no problem being their entertainment when they came around. They were fine as fuck and it was much better than the creepy janitors.

making your way to your Anthropology class that you honestly just took for an easy A, and if you didnt at least make that you wouldn't be bored for a good hour and 30. win, win , actually make that win, win, win, because you just so happen to share this class with Darryl.

it honestly was a complete accident but why not take what they universe gives. that's exactly what you do as you sit in the front of class, not taking notes but playing with the fur ball on your pen imagining just how many ways you could be slutted out right now.

your chair was moved back from the desk you sit at so you can comfortably cross your legs, no work on your desk, just your pink juicy bag.

you can feel his eyes on you as you adjust in the uncomfortable chair provided by the school. feeling him as he takes in the new skin revealed by your readjusting. as he admires how the low lighting makes your look almost edible. how your skin glowed, he could imagine how it felt from here.

☆

just as the teacher finishes answering a students questions the bell rings, prompting her to put away her pen and ready to leave. Darryl speeds up putting away his notes to catch up to her just as she exits the class.

'hey' he calls out getting your attention, making you turn around to meet him. 'I see you don't really take notes in Anthropology, so if you wanted to have mine, I'd be happy to give them to you,' he says notebook in hand. 'I couldn't possibly do that, you spent all class taking those notes, and there's bound to be a paper due.' you kindly decline, knowing you'd have no use for the notes even of a paper was due.

' oh well, yea that's no problem, who cares about a paper' Darryl replies making a face. ' this is Anthropology, I just write exactly what he says in my papers. what is it gonna be? wrong?'he jokes, making you laugh. 'here' he says handing you the notebook.

'thank you' whispered trying to hold back a big ass smile but failing miserably. ' im (y/n)' you say reaching your free hand out to shake his.' Darryl' as he shakes your hand 'nice to meet you' he says with a fine ass smile on his face, not letting your hand go.

'and this is' he says turning you and pulling your back into his front. ' Tim LaFlour ' he introduces in a fancy voice. letting out a chuckle at him you introduce yourself to Tim.' how do you guys know eachother?'you question 'were roomstes' Tim asnwers. 'cute' you reply with a laugh, you guys talk for a little before they invite you to have lunch with them.

it's a cute dinner not to far off of campus 'you guys live close to here?' you ask as you grab a fry. 'yea why, wanna spend the night' Tim Jokes, well he might be joking. ' why' you say tilting your head 'ya think I'm that easy tim' you pout. 'aww what never' he says sarcasticly, although it might be offensive he's not wrong. let them invite you over and your coming, in a heartbeat.

Darryl throws a fry a Tim 'ow'. 'don't listen to him, he's just mad he's that easy' he says making you all laugh. 'what not baby Tim Tim' you fake surprise holding your hand over your heart. 'no see its different, ive denied myself of all pleasures so now I can freely indulge in them.' he explained like it was common knowledge. 'okay, sure' as you laugh with Darryl.

☆

welp they did end up inviting her over, honestly at first she wasn't going to do anything, she was gonna make them wait for it, but making them wait for it means she'd too also have to wait for it .. and as Tim said we've been denied long enough might as well indulge, that's basically what he said so it counts.

so that's how she found herself being carried into their shared apartment by Tim as they made out making their way to the couch. waisting no time Tim began to undress the both of them.

watching as they finally rid themselves of their clothes Darryl sat in the chair across from the couch. watching as Tim dropped his hand to her pussy rubbing over her entrance collecting her juices on his fingers and her moans in his mouth as he hungrily kissed her.

feeling his pants tighten as Tim broke the kiss with (y/n) finally allowing her moans to be put on full display as he started to devour her from the inside out. lapping up the juices that collected on her pussy and letting his index and middle finger slip into her entrance forcing out a breathy 'fuck' from her lips.

bringing one hand to cover your mouth as Tim pushed your thighs up to your shoulder. removing his mouth from you 'hold them' before going back to your pussy. listening and holding your thighs to your shoulders with your free hand. not noticing Darryl rising from his chair and making his way over to you. grasping your hand in his taking it from your mouth and placing it over his buldge in his jeans 'baby why you wanna be quiet when you making me feel like this' he says before squating to meet your face.

bringing your hand in his up to his lips leaving a soft kiss. 'look at that baby'using his other hand to support your head so you could look as Tim eats your pussy like a five star meal, his fingers disappearing and reappearing like magic, and that's exactly what it felt like.'don't stop daddy please' you moan as Darryl lets your head fall back.

still holding your legs up like the good girl you were, you knew your orgasm wasn't far off when Tim removed his fingers gripping your ass and burying his face is your pussy. Darryl leaves kisses along your thigh as he watches his roommate make your cum on their shared couch.

'fuck I'm gonna cum' you say releasing your thighs thinking that'd subtle the pleasure only for Tim to grip under your knees removing his mouth from you raising up to his knees and thrusting his cock into you.

'fuck' you scream instantly cumming around him, tightening in ways that make Tim moan loudly as he starts to fuck into you. 'God I'm gonna cum' he whimpers speeding up his thrust before he stills fully in you letting his cum spirt into you..

your mind goes blank and it's possible you've just witnessed judgment day in 4k.

it's not long before your feel Tim slide out of you. Hearing snapping you open your eyes to see Darryl infront of you 'thought we lost you for a sec, you think you can go again baby?' he questions kindly, moving your hair off of your sweat covered forhead as you nod 'yes' you say 'please'.

he chuckles removing his shirt not to shortly followed by his jeans. left in his boxers you see just how turned on he was. cock hard and leaking. you sit up grabbing the waist band and reaching your hand into his boxers to pull him out, admiring everything about him.

leaning forward to lick his cock he stops you before you can get a taste. ' not what I want baby' he states. moving you like you were light as a feather over the shoulder of the couch collecting the mixed fluids on your pussy with his tip before pushing Into your entrance.

letting out a moan as you gripped the couch. 'fuck daddy' pushing your ass back onto him. groaning as you take him the rest of the way in he throws his head back 'fuck baby' he groans, letting his eyes look over to Tim who now occupies his previous seat, letting his hand lazyly stroke his cock. 'fuck' Darryl moans taking his attention back to you placing his hand at the center of your arch. letting his other hand find home in the hair on the back of your head.

he started off slow just grinding into you, moving to taking the base only out and grinding back into you, slowly taking more and more out each time. when he finally gets to the tip he moves his hand from your back, snaking it over you're stomach letting the other fall from your hair to your throat as he starts to rapidly thrust into you giving you no time to prepare.

'oh my god- oh - fuck fuck fuck- god' is all you can let out along with pathetic moans as he fucks into you the way you needed to be fucked.

feeling his pace stutter and his cock pulse as he leans down onto your shoulder not letting up for a moment 'come on baby I can feel you, you wanna cum' he says as you tighten in attempt to hold off your orgasim. ' cum on daddys dick, please baby, god, wanna feel you cum baby' as he speeded up fucking you into your orgasm. following right after. releasing a deep groan while fucking his cum deeper into you before pulling out.

looking over to Tim he sees that his hand and stomach were covered in cum. letting out a breathy laugh looking back to you.

"five minute break before round two?"

★★★

a/n:

leaves thoughts I don't know who I like it .

#bimbo reader #tim laflour #Darryl Witherspoon #senseless 1998 #senseless #mathew lillard #marlon wayans #smut #mathew lillard x reader #marlon wayans x reader #black fem reader #bimboreader!#tw.voyeurism #tw.threesome #tw.overstimulation #fnaf smut #tim laflour x reader #sharing is caring

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kisses-for-you · 13 days ago

Text

scarce || marlon twdg

pairing: marlon x gn!reader

summary: when food starts getting scarce, you try to help with the only way you can think of — not eating. but of course, your boyfriend notices.

w/c: 2.4k

⚠️: descriptions of not eating enough, starving (?)

(a/n: as i've mentioned exams are literally kicking my ass 😓 so i haven't had time to write but i managed to get this fic done! more coming as soon as possible ❤️)

══════════════════════════

Food was getting scarce. You knew it. Marlon knew it. Everybody knew it but nobody dared say it. If they did, it meant they’d have to face the reality of the situation, which nobody wanted to do. Of course, you’d tried to speak to your boyfriend, tried to explain that food will continue to run out if he doesn’t expand the safe zone. However, he almost immediately shut you down.

“No.”

Just one word, sharp and final, like the slam of a door. He didn’t yell. He never yelled at you. But it was the kind of no that didn’t leave room for argument, that didn’t let the conversation breathe. You knew the subject was closed the moment his gaze slid away from yours, jaw tightening like it always did when he felt cornered.

“We’ve lost too much already,” he added, quieter this time. “You know how dangerous it is out there, angel. I can’t risk it.”

That was it. You could have fought him on it. Pushed back, demanded a real plan, insisted that survival wasn't just about today. But the look in his eyes — tired, haunted, already somewhere far away — made your heart twist. He was trying in his own way. He was trying to keep everyone alive, even if it meant pretending things weren’t as bad as they were. So you didn’t push.

A couple of days later, you walked into the courtyard, searching for the familiar blond mop of hair that always stood out against the grey sky and broken bricks. You spotted him at a table with Violet, Louis, Clem and AJ, all clustered around their bowls of rabbit stew like they were priceless treasures. You hovered at the edge for a moment, your stomach curling in on itself as you took in the portions, the way AJ's eyes flicked between everyone's plates to make sure no one got more than him.

When Marlon looked up at you, you snapped out of your thoughts. He looked up and smiled when he saw you, his shoulders relaxing just a little. “Hey,” he said, patting the spot beside him, the spot he’d reserved just for you, right by his side where you belonged.

You smiled, or at least tried to. It felt small on your face, like a thing half-remembered. You moved to sit beside him, shoulder brushing his, and the warmth of that simple touch grounded you for a second. He slid the bowl in front of you, the one he'd clearly been keeping back, and your gut twisted, not with hunger, but guilt.

It was a decent portion. Not generous, but enough. More than AJ’s, maybe even more than Violet’s. And Marlon had done that for you.

You wrapped your hands around the bowl like it was freezing outside, even though the day only had a slight chill to it. Your gaze lowered to the stew: cloudy broth, a few slivers of meat, shrivelled carrot slices. It looked like something from a world that was slowly fading, piece by piece. You knew he’d given you more than his own portion. You didn’t even have to check. He always did that when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

You picked up the spoon, stirring the stew slowly, watching the thin layer of grease swirl across the top. You could smell it, peppery and earthy, and your stomach ached at the scent, but you didn’t lift the spoon to your mouth. The spoon hovered in the air, steam curling up toward your face before fading into the overcast sky above. You told yourself you just needed a moment. That if you waited long enough, the guilt would fade, the weight pressing down on your chest would loosen, and you could just eat like everyone else.

But it didn’t.

Instead, you gently set the spoon back down and pushed the bowl an inch forward on the table. Marlon didn’t notice at first. He was saying something to Louis, laughing quietly at whatever joke his friend cracked. But after a few seconds, his hand squeezed your thigh gently as he leaned in closer to you.

“You alright?” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded quickly. Too quickly.

“Just not that hungry,” you said, and tried to sound casual, though the lie scratched against your throat on the way out.

Marlon’s brow furrowed. He turned to look at you properly, eyes scanning your face like he could read the truth there, because he could. Of course he could. He knew you too well.

“Did something happen?” he asked. “Are you feeling sick?”

You shook your head again, already regretting the choice to sit with everyone. Already thinking about how much easier it would have been to say you had a headache and slip away before anyone noticed.

Marlon didn’t say anything for a moment. He just kept looking at you, eyes narrowed in that quiet, calculating way of his — not unkind, never unkind, more like he was trying to figure out where you’d gone. Something in you had drifted, and he could tell. Then, without a word, he nudged the bowl back toward you. Not forcefully, just enough that the movement said please. He didn’t want to make a scene, didn’t want to push, but he also wasn’t going to let this go.

You stared at the bowl.

It sat between you like some unspeakable truth, small, unassuming, heavy. Marlon’s hand lingered near yours, fingers curling against the edge of the table like he was holding something back. You could feel the weight of his gaze, warm and worried, though you didn’t look at him.

Instead, you leaned back a little, creating distance between you and the food. Your stomach twisted again, this time not from hunger but from the guilt crawling deeper into your ribs. “I’m fine,” you whispered, barely audible.

Marlon’s jaw twitched. “You barely ate yesterday either.”

You flinched. He just exhaled quietly through his nose, like he was trying to rein in his thoughts before they spilt over. He turned back to his own bowl, though you noticed he didn’t take another bite.

Across the table, Louis kept talking, something light and stupid about raccoons or Clem’s rock collection, and the laughter kept going like everything was normal. You and Marlon were no longer part of the moment. No, you were somewhere else. Somewhere with just the two of you, isolated in the quiet gap between truths neither of you wanted to say out loud.

You looked down again at your bowl. It was still warm, but you didn’t feel like you deserved it. Not when there were so many mouths, so many stomachs rumbling when the sun dipped low. You thought about Mitch, whose hands were always working, always fixing. About Tenn, who always gave half of whatever he had to someone else. About AJ, whose big eyes scanned every plate with wary precision.

You’d been told once that love means sacrifice and right now, that was the only thing making sense to you.

For the next few days, you made sure to avoid the courtyard at meal times.

Sometimes you pretended to nap through lunch. Other times, you said you were helping with watch duty or sorting through supplies. When Marlon tried to corner you in the hallway, that concerned look back in his eyes, you smiled like everything was fine. Always fine.

You told yourself this was the right thing. That maybe if you kept doing this, kept going unnoticed, things would even out. That maybe one day the guilt would shrink to something small enough that you could carry it without flinching. Yet each night, your limbs felt heavier, your thoughts slower, the world fuzzier around the edges.

Marlon kept watching you.

He didn’t say anything right away. But the silences stretched longer. His touches lingered; a hand to your back, a brush of fingers against your wrist like he was checking for something without telling you what. When you walked past him, his eyes would follow, sharp and quiet.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d grown up fast, they all had, but leadership had carved something harder into him. He noticed things. Not just the big ones, like fences falling or walkers on the horizon, but the small things too. The way people held themselves, or the way they didn’t. So when your laugh got softer, thinner around the edges like it was losing colour, when your cheeks hollowed out just a bit more each day, he noticed. When your steps got slower, your shoulders hunched tighter, he noticed that too.

By the end of the week, he’d had enough.

It happened late. The sky was inky with clouds that hadn’t rained in days. Everyone had gone to bed, save for Clem on watch and Marlon, who waited for you outside the dorms with his arms crossed over his chest and that stormy look in his eyes.

You’d been planning to sneak back in, say you were out helping Willy sort out traps or something equally vague, something safe. But when you saw him standing there, backlit by the flicker of the courtyard torch, you knew it wouldn’t work this time.

“You avoiding me?” he asked, voice level.

You opened your mouth to lie. The truth was already aching behind your ribs, but habit clawed up your throat first. “No. Just… been busy.”

“Right,” he said flatly, and for a second, he looked so tired it scared you. He took a step closer. “Busy not eating? Busy skipping meals? Busy lying to my face?”

You flinched. “Marlon-”

“Don’t,” he said, and it wasn’t angry; it was desperate, quiet and brittle in the way glass is right before it breaks. “Don’t do that thing where you say you’re fine. You’re not. You look like you’re fading.”

You couldn’t hold his gaze. “I’m not fading,” you whispered, and it felt like a lie even as you said it. “I just… I can’t. I see how everyone looks at the food, how they need it. I can’t take more than I deserve. I can’t be another mouth when there’s not enough.”

His expression twisted, something between heartbreak and frustration. He stepped closer again, and this time you didn’t back away. “You think I care more about how full the pantry is than whether you’re alive?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. “You think I give a shit about a few bowls of stew when you’re here starving yourself?”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

Marlon let out a shaky breath, combed a hand through his hair, clearly trying to stay calm. “I’m doing everything I can to keep everyone safe,” he continued, softer now. “To keep you safe. And I know I’m not always right, and yeah, maybe I’m scared to push the safe zone, but don’t… don’t punish yourself because of that. Don’t disappear on me, angel.”

Something in your chest cracked then, a fault line you’d been ignoring. Tears prickled at the edges of your eyes, and you looked away quickly, wiping at them with your sleeve.

Marlon reached out, not forcefully, just enough to gently take your wrist in his hand, grounding you. His fingers were calloused and warm, steady in the way nothing else in this world was anymore. “I need you,” he said quietly, and the words struck you harder than you expected. “Not just here at this school. I need you. Breathing. Talking to me. Laughing at Louis’s dumbass jokes. Watching over AJ when Clem’s too tired to blink straight. With me.”

You blinked down at where his hand held yours, like if you focused too hard the moment would collapse. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not because you thought he’d judge you, but because you knew he wouldn’t. Because Marlon, for all his sharp edges and scars, would pull you into his chest and hold you like the world hadn’t already taken too much.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out,” you said, voice trembling. “I just thought maybe if I gave up something small, maybe we’d last longer. Maybe we’d survive.”

Marlon shook his head slowly. “You giving up food doesn’t buy us more time. It just means I lose you sooner.”

The words sliced through you — blunt, honest, terrifying.

“I can’t lose you,” he continued. “Not to walkers, not to starvation, not to guilt. Especially not to this.”

You finally looked at him then, really looked. His face was drawn, eyes rimmed red from stress and exhaustion. There was a fire in them, a stubborn, desperate sort of love that refused to flicker out. The kind of love that made you feel like maybe the world hadn't entirely ended, not while he was still looking at you like that.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” you admitted.

“Then let me try,” he replied, without hesitation. “We’ll figure something out. Together. But you have to promise me you’ll stop this. No more skipping meals. No more slipping away and thinking nobody notices. I notice. I’ll always notice, angel.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

But he wasn’t done. He stepped even closer, resting his forehead against yours, and for a moment everything around you went still. The hum of insects, the distant groan of old wood, the whisper of wind through broken windowpanes. It all faded under the weight of that one breath between you.

“You’re not just someone I care about,” he whispered. “You’re the reason I get up in the morning and keep pretending I know what I’m doing.”

You let out a broken sound, half sob, half laugh, and Marlon wrapped his arms around you before the rest could fall apart. You sank into him, the tension finally slipping from your shoulders like old skin. There, in the quiet dark, wrapped in each other’s arms beneath the cracked and cloudy sky, you finally let yourself believe that survival wasn’t just about food or fences.

It was about holding on — even when everything told you to let go. And you weren’t letting go of him. Not now. Not ever.

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