| nikola | she/her | infp | capricorn | ult groups: svt + txt!! | ult biases: hyuka, hoshi + dino <3 | my hobbies are literally just reading, writing, and music (+ an insane amount of daydreaming..) |
✄ info ! —
➣ posting schedule: non-existent
➣ requests: closed 🔐
| dc | twdg |
| ao3 | wattpad |
[this blog may contain sensitive content and harsh language. by proceeding, you acknowledge that you are doing so at your own discretion !!]
mitch fic coming soon guys!! can't say exactly how long it's gonna take but should hopefully be out in the next couple of days <33
im so sorry that i keep leaving you guys hanging but unfortunately a while back i lost a lot of the interest i had towards twdg. but it's coming back now and in the meantime, I've been working on improving my writing so im hoping you guys really like the next fic :))
currently on a w/c of 3413 and i don't think im even halfway in so buckle up guys
heyyy!! love ur workk!! so i got a request for uuu💕 can i request a marlon fic with a medic reader who does know how to use a gun (or any other weapon, u choose) and marlon teaches them. TYY💕
hiya love!! thank you for requesting <33
sorry that it's taken so long for me to get around to this, but i'm just now getting back into writing again, so i hope you can enjoy!! ♡⸜(ˆᗜˆ˵ )⸝♡
summary: Marlon helps you face one of your fears by teaching you how to shoot.
w/c: 2.2k
(a/n: sorry for disappearing for so long guys 😭 there's been so much stuff going on over the past couple of months that i haven't been able to keep up with at all, but i'm hoping to be able to write and upload more often now!! <3))
requested ✅
The courtyard of Ericson’s was quiet. It wasnt the familiar, apocalyptic sense of quiet you’d gotten used to, but the strange silence that always seemed to settle just before sunset — the state where the endless blue began to give way to an inky black. Somewhere from the dorms, laughter echoed, but out here, there was a true sense of peace, despite the ever-lingering threat of the world outside.
But the peace didn’t last long. It never did.
Footsteps approaching from behind snapped you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Turning around, your eyes landed on Marlon, a mere few feet away with an uncharacteristically nervous smile on his face. You knew that face; it was the very same one he made when he was trying to be confident but couldn’t quite stop the way his fingers twitched at his sides.
“Hey, angel,” he greeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, um, ready?”
You blinked, confusion flooding your face and making your brows furrow. “Ready for what, exactly?” As far as you were aware, any runs and hunts were done for today.
That was when he lifted the gun holstered at his side. It was small and dented from repeated use, and even well-loved. However, that word — ‘well-loved’ — was definitely not what came to mind when you saw the piece of metal; it was something more along the lines of ‘danger’ and ‘death.’ The miniature weapon filled you with nothing but dread.
You felt the blood drain from your face, heart skipping a beat before picking up the pace.
“Marlon.”
Your boyfriend couldn’t help the small grimace that formed at the way you said his name. “I know, I know.” He lifted both hands in a surrender-like gesture before continuing, “But just hear me out, okay?”
You, on the other hand, didn’t want to. Never before had you used a gun — you’d never had to, not with Marlon by your side anyway. So, you shook your head, eyes widening at the thought of having to use something so small yet so easily capable of taking a life. “No, Mar. I’m the medic. I patch people up, I help them. I don’t,” you gestured vaguely at the gun, “do that.”
“I know, baby.” He stepped closer, voice softening. “But you’re important to the group — to me. And if something happens while you’re alone…” Marlon paused, jaw clenching as he thought of his next words. He knew what he wanted to say: he didn’t want you to die. But that word, the weight it carried behind it, was not something he was going to use. Not with you. “I just wanna make sure you’re safe.” The last sentence came out quiet, quieter than most had ever heard Marlon, like admitting how much he cared was dangerous in itself.
One of his hands extended towards you, patiently waiting for you to wrap your fingers in his.
You sighed, his concern melting your resistance much faster than you anticipated. How could you deny your boyfriend when he just wanted the best for you? “Fine.” Despite your reluctance, you still grabbed his calloused hand, fingers intertwining. “But if I shoot myself in the foot, it’s your fault.”
A grin finally broke through his worry. “Deal.” Obviously, he’d never allow that to happen, though. And you knew that.
Hand-in-hand, he led you to the far side of the schoolyard, where the worn-down target board was attached to a tree, piney aroma filling the air. The short distance there, you’d noticed the way he walked much closer than usual, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, eyes flicking to you every few seconds like he was checking in without asking.
Marlon was good at that sort of thing — making sure you were okay without using any words. He always did it, even all those times you didn’t notice. Like the first time you were all truly alone, no adults around. Seeing the fear in your eyes, hearing the quiver in your voice, was the very thing that made him step up that day, that made him the leader he is today. Or like the time he came back injured from a supply run gone wrong. He didn’t even take notice of the fact that his entire arm was covered in blood — the only thing he saw was you, your eyes wide in panic, the very same panic that you tried so hard to hide. But you couldn’t hide. Not from Marlon. The whole time you were taking care of him, he made sure to reassure you he was fine, that it didn’t even hurt, to soothe some of your worry. In the end, he ended up grabbing your face and pressing his lips against yours as a last resort to relaxing you.
Now, standing in front of the target board, he felt your heart beating erratically through the hand he had wrapped around your wrist.
“Hey,” he murmured, turning so he was fully facing you. His grip loosened, thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist where your pulse fluttered beneath his skin. “It’s okay. We don’t have to rush this. Or do it at all today, if you don’t want to.”
You swallowed, eyes flicking between the target and the gun at his side. The air here felt weirdly heavy, but you knew it was probably just your nerves telling you to run while you could. “I said I’d try,” you replied softly. “Just—promise you won’t laugh at me.”
That earned you a quiet huff of disbelief. “I would never.” His expression softened further, something earnest and protective settling into his features. “I promise. I’ll be right here the whole time.”
He unholstered the gun slowly, deliberately, making sure every movement was calm and predictable. When he held it out, he didn’t push it into your hands. He simply waited, letting you decide when, if, you were ready. Your fingers hovered for a second before curling around the grip. Though you didn’t see, Marlon’s lips curled up in a proud smile — his girl was finally facing one of her fears.
The metal was much colder than you expected, heavier too. It made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t think you’d ever felt before. This was the exact opposite of what you were used to; you were supposed to be the one to save lives, not take them. The sudden realisation caused your breath to hitch. Just for a second. But enough for your boyfriend to realise.
“It’s okay, angel,” he reassured you gently. “First thing, safety’s on.” He reached around your hands, careful not to startle you, and clicked it into place. “This right here means it won’t fire, no matter what. You’re in control.”
You nodded, breathing out slowly.
Marlon stepped behind you then, close enough that you could feel his warmth, familiar and grounding, at your back. His hands guided yours, adjusting your grip with patient precision. “Two hands,” he explained. “Dominant hand here, other one supporting.”
Your shoulders were tense, practically up around your ears. “Relax,” he whispered, voice right by your ear. “Pretend you’re stitching someone up. Steady hands. Slow breathing.”
You let out a shaky laugh at his words. “No pressure, huh?”
“Hey,” he said, turning you to face him as he placed one hand on your shoulder, the other reaching out to brush some loose strands from your face. The heat of his hand compared to the chill of your skin sent a shiver down your spine. “You’ve handled worse. I’ve seen you keep people alive with nothing but thread and stubbornness.”
That helped a little.
He allowed his hand to linger a moment longer before turning back. He guided your stance next, gently shifting your feet. “Lean forward just a bit. Guns kick back. If you’re stiff, it’ll knock you around.”
You followed his lead, heart still racing but no longer feeling like you were about to spiral.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “I’m gonna take the safety off, angel. You tell me if you want to stop. At any point.
You hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”
The click sounded loud in the quiet courtyard.
Marlon didn’t let go of you. One hand stayed over yours, the other resting lightly at your waist, grounding you in the chaos of your mind. “Line up the sights,” he instructed. “Front sight right in the middle of the target. Don’t think about hitting it. Just focus on breathing.”
You did just as he said, taking a deep breath in, then softly exhaling. With a small movement, your hand moved, lining up the sight with the middle of the target. Marlon’s hand never let go of yours. “That’s it, angel. You’re doing great.”
Those words of affirmation, though small, were enough to instil at least a small sense of confidence in you. “What’s next?” Your head turned slightly, taking a peek at Marlon’s expression. “Do I just shoot?”
You almost couldn’t believe those words had come out of your mouth — but you had gotten so far already, you didn’t think backing out was an option. Although your boyfriend had made it very clear that it was.
With a short nod, Marlon responded, “Exactly.” His grip on your hand tightened, a comforting gesture, before letting go. Everything that happened now was all up to you. “Remember, just a small squeeze. That’s all you need.” He took a step back, watching with a steady gaze as you hesitated before the target.
The longer you thought about it, the more your mind became a mess. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t fire. This wasn’t what you were meant for — you knew that, Marlon knew that, everyone knew that. You patched people up, you nursed them back to health. You didn’t… kill. It wasn’t who you were.
Just as you were about to back out, Marlon spoke up, “Hey, if you can’t do it, then that’s okay. This isn’t ab—”
His voice was cut off by a deafening bang cracking through the air.
Your eyes scrunched shut, startled by the sound.
When you opened your eyes, Marlon was there, turning you around so fast you barely had time to react before you were pressed against his chest. “Hey—hey,” he murmured, one arm wrapping around your shoulders, the other cradling the back of your head. “You’re okay. You did amazing.”
Your heart was pounding, and your ears were ringing so loud that you barely processed the words of the boy right in front of you. It hadn’t even fully hit you that you had been the one to pull the trigger. “I—” Your voice shook in a way you couldn’t control. You hated it. It made you feel weak, even when you knew no one else felt that way. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know,” he said softly, rocking you just a little, still holding you close to his chest. “That’s exactly how it’s supposed to feel the first time.”
You buried your face into his jacket, breathing him in like an anchor. The familiar scent of worn leather and faint pine almost instantly took over your senses. After a moment, the tension began to bleed out of you but Marlon’s arms remained wrapped around you.
“Did I even hit it?” you asked quietly, daring to lift your head up and glance at his expression.
Marlon glanced over your head at the board. There was a mark, low and off to the side, but unmistakable. “You did,” he said, a proud grin tugging at his lips. “That’s my girl.”
He tilted your chin up gently so you had to look at him. You searched his face, seeing nothing but pride there — no disappointment, or frustration as you had expected. Not that Marlon ever would be, but your insecurities had a way of making you feel small.
His thumb brushed under your eye, tender as ever. “I’m so proud of you.” The corners of his eyes crinkled.
You laughed breathlessly, immediately flustered. “But I barely did anything…”
At that, your boyfriend’s brows furrowed. “You faced one of your fears today, angel, and that makes you so much braver than you could imagine.”
You opened your mouth, ready to rebut, but before you had the chance, Marlon pressed his lips against yours. It was the kind of kiss that made time stop. In that moment, nothing moved but your mouths, nothing existed but the warmth between you. Anchoring yourself even more to him, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly close. His hand had moved from the back of your head to cup your jaw, pulling you in like he just couldn’t get enough. Because he couldn’t.
Until the time to pull away came. Both of you were left breathless, your foreheads still touching as your intoxicating taste lingered on Marlon’s lips.
“As you were saying…?” Marlon asked, a sly smile on his lips.
He knew you had long forgotten what you were going to say.
summary: much to your dismay, you get sick. luckily for you, Kenny is there to take care of you.
w/c: 2.3k
Snow blanketed everything outside the ski lodge—winter’s charm. It brought the world into a sort of soundlessness, one where even nature itself seemed to stop to listen.
The group had gathered around the fireplace for the evening, trying to stay as warm as possible in the harsh weather conditions. Voices overlapped in scattered conversations, an occasional clink of utensils as someone finished the meagre dinner Walt had prepared.
However, when Walt had handed you your portion, you just couldn’t quite bring yourself to eat it. The smell alone had been enough for you to press your palm to your mouth, fighting the rising tide of bile. It had nothing to do with the dinner itself; you’d had it enough times to get used to the stale yet bitter taste.
So, you slid the bowl over to Clem, knowing she needed it more than you anyway. After all, she was still growing.
Little did you know, Kenny had been watching you the whole time with concern carved into his features, his brows knitting together. He was sitting beside you on the worn couch, his arm wrapped around you, keeping you close to his side. Absentmindedly, his thumb brushed your shoulder, something he always did.
You leaned into him, resting your head against the solid curve of his shoulder. The familiar, faint scent of woodsmoke, which you’d come to love, crept into your senses.
“Darlin’, everything okay?” He tilted his head so he could whisper in your ear, his breath warm against your already-hot skin.
“Mhm, m’just tired,” you responded, eyes fluttering shut as you snuggled closer into Kenny’s side. Kenny eyed you suspiciously, but decided not to argue.
The wool blanket Kenny had given you earlier pooled over your lap. Though you tried your best to stay awake, the voices of your friends were fading into white noise, the flames of the hearth blurring in your vision; their orange flicker had a strange lulling effect, but your head felt heavier than usual.
You exhaled lightly, allowing your thoughts to drift, and your fight against sleep was lost. Despite how many times you’d fallen asleep on Kenny, he found the closeness still made his chest warm in a way nothing else could.
Initially, Kenny didn’t think much of it. You were just tired, or at least that’s what you wanted him to believe. Obviously, he didn't believe you. But he trusted you to tell him the truth when you were ready.
A couple of minutes passed, and his brow furrowed. He shifted slightly, enough to angle his head and glance down at you. You hadn’t stirred. If anything, you’d leaned into him more. But that wasn’t what he was concerned about. It was the heat. Not the gentle warmth of skin. Not the comfortable kind. This was a sort of heat that was almost searing against him.
He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, frowning deeply. “Jesus…” He murmured, low enough so the others wouldn’t hear, “Darlin’.”
You stirred faintly, your voice hoarse. “Mm? What?” Almost instantly, regret flooded through you. Just one word had been enough to irritate the back of your already sore throat, making the pain flare.
You were certain you were falling ill, but you didn’t want to worry anyone else. Especially not Kenny. You knew how he could be, and you didn’t want him fussing over you when there were much better things to focus on.
“You’re burnin’ up,” Kenny stated, voice low as he scanned over the rest of your body.
A thin layer of sweat had formed across your hairline, and your skin was gradually losing its colour. You shrugged weakly, eyes still half-lidded. “I’m fine. I told you I’m just a little tired today, s’all.”
Kenny gave you a pointed look, raising an eyebrow slightly—he knew you were lying right to his face again, which did nothing to ease his worry. “Tired doesn’t look like that, darlin’.” His tone brooked no argument. “How long you been feelin’ like this?”
You tried to give him a faint smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace. You purposefully evaded his question: “I’ll be fine by morning.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not bettin’ on that,” he muttered, already shifting on the couch. His arm stayed around you as if afraid you might keel over without it. “C’mon. Let’s get you upstairs.”
“Ken—” you started, but your voice cracked mid-word, which did nothing to help your case.
“Nope,” he cut in, shaking his head with finality. “Don’t start with me now. You can chew me out for fussin’ when you feel better.”
Before you could protest again, he was helping you stand and guiding you toward the staircase. His arm remained tight around your waist, steadying you when your knees wobbled from your increasingly obvious tiredness.
Several heads turned towards you, yet Walt was the only one in the group to actually say something. “Everything alright?” he asked, his gaze flicking between you and Kenny.
“She’s just feelin’ a little off,” Kenny replied, keeping his voice even. “Gonna get her settled upstairs.”
Walt gave a slow nod. Across from him, Luke looked like he wanted to say something, but one sharp glance from Kenny was enough to shut him up before he even got the chance.
The climb up the stairs felt far longer than it should’ve. When did you even get so tired?
Kenny stayed close, one large hand braced against your back, the other hovering by your arm in case you stumbled. He also offered to carry you up the stairs so you wouldn’t overexert yourself, but you insisted you were okay.
Kenny, on the other hand, was having none of it. “Darlin’, you can tell me you’re fine ‘til you’re blue in the face,” he said as the two of you finally reached the landing, “but I’ve been around long enough to know when that’s a load of crap.”
You tried to roll your eyes, though it came out as more of a weary blink. To be honest, you didn’t have enough energy to even attempt to argue.
The hall was only dimly lit, the singular light source being the soft glow of a lantern that someone had left burning on a shelf. Each step was followed by a creak from the wooden floors beneath your feet.
Unfortunately for you, your shared bedroom was one of the last rooms. It’d seemed like a good idea before, but you weren’t so sure now. In that moment, it felt like literal torture trying to get to your room. By some miracle (Kenny), you managed to make it there without collapsing on the floor, which you were incredibly glad for. You extended a hand to the doorknob, but Kenny beat you to the punch and opened the door to get you settled on the bed.
A shiver ran through you, the sheen of sweat on your skin doing nothing to keep you warm. The room was certainly cold, a stark contrast to the fireplace’s heat downstairs, but Kenny made do with what he could.
Every blanket that he could gather—three, all just as frayed as the other—was piled on top of you. The weight of the blankets was comforting. It grounded your senses and allowed you to just relax. He also grabbed a lamp, setting it on the bedside table and lighting it. Sure, it wasn’t anything grand, but it was all he could do.
“Alright…” Kenny muttered to himself, ticking off another thing from the checklist he’d made in his head. “Gonna grab some things to make you feel better. You just stay right there, I’ll be back soon.” He headed for the door.
Despite all the blankets stacked on top of you, you were still freezing. You blinked, feeling the fatigue setting in. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to fight it. “Kenny…” you called, though it was so quiet you were sure he hadn’t heard you.
Nevertheless, he turned around, gaze softening again at the sight of you.
“You really don’t have to—” Before you could continue, a cough interrupted you. It was violent and rough, rattling your chest.
Kenny was back at your side in an instant, helping you sit up and keeping his hand pressed against your back while you coughed. He rubbed soothing circles, his touch gentle and expressing everything words couldn’t. His jaw tightened, and even though he didn’t say anything right away, you could tell he was stewing over just how bad you were feeling.
“It’s okay, darlin’. I got you.”
Your chest burned as you drew in a shaky breath, throat raw, tears stinging the corners of your eyes from the effort. Kenny’s hand lingered against your back until he was certain you weren’t going to start coughing again, then he carefully lowered you back against the pillows.
He brushed damp strands of hair from your face, his touch lingering at your temple, the back of his fingers tracing down to your cheek. You leaned into it instinctively, craving, needing, the warmth.
Kenny muttered something under his breath, frustration and worry twisting his tone, before standing. “I’ll be right back, darlin’. Just stay put.”
You didn’t want him fretting over you for something as small as a fever. It made you feel guilty, wasting his time like this, when he surely had other, better things to do. “I’m sorry,” your voice rasped out softer than you intended.
His brows drew together, furrowing in confusion. He had no idea what exactly you were apologising for. “You got nothin’ to be sorry for, darlin’.”
Your head shook weakly in disagreement. “I do,” you replied. “I was stupid, and I got myself sick. And now you’re stuck babysitting me, when you should be downstairs, talking with everyone, not…” Your voice trailed off as you realised how dumb and insecure you probably sounded just then.
He crouched down beside the bed so you couldn’t look away from him. “Hey now, none of that,” he said, his rough hand finding yours under the heap of blankets. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I’ve lost enough people to know I ain’t about to just let you sit here and suffer by yourself. You’re my girl. This is where I’m s’posed to be.”
Your chest clenched at his words, and you blinked against the damp sting in your eyes.
Kenny squeezed your hand gently before straightening again. “I’ll get you somethin’ to drink, maybe see if Carlos’s got somethin’. Just… stay put for me, darlin’. Okay?”
You let out a faint, tired hum of agreement, and Kenny, satisfied enough, left the room with the heavy tread of his boots against the floorboards. The room felt so much colder without him in it.
To this day, you didn’t understand how you’d gotten so lucky as to find Kenny. He was everything you could’ve asked for and more: caring, loyal, selfless, and driven by the need to protect people. Kenny was always there for you, no matter what. And as cheesy as it may sound, you only fell in love more by the day.
You weren’t sure how long had passed, five minutes, maybe fifteen—you had no concept of time anymore, it all seemed to blur together—before he came back. The door creaked open, and Kenny slipped back inside, a bowl of thin stew in his hands.
Your stomach couldn’t help but turn at the smell. “Kenny…” you began, shaking your head, “I’m not hungry.”
“Tough.” He set the bowl on the nightstand, grabbed the spoon, and eased himself down on the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. With all the care of handling glass, he slipped an arm behind your shoulders and helped you sit up against the pillows again. “You need somethin’ in you. Ain’t much, but it’ll help.”
“I’ll just throw it back up.”
“Then I’ll just have to clean that up.” His lips twitched in a faint, almost amused smirk, but his eyes stayed steady on you. “C’mon now, a few spoonfuls. For me.”
Reluctantly, you took a small bite, then another under his watchful gaze. You managed to eat almost the whole bowl before you felt full, much more than you thought you could manage. Kenny had the proudest smile on his face. You would’ve thought you’d just told him you’d won the lottery.
“That’s my girl.”
He set the bowl back on the nightstand for you. Your eyes fluttered once again, feeling the fatigue threaten to pull you under. Kenny could tell you were trying to stay awake for him, but he didn’t want you to. He just wanted you to rest and get better.
“S’okay, darlin’. You can go to sleep.” His thumb brushed against your cheek, brushing your hair away from your face, damp with sweat.
Against your better judgment, you asked him, “...Can you sleep with me?”
You didn’t want to get Kenny sick, but the rational part of your brain had long gone, leaving behind the need for comfort, for your partner.
“Of course.” The smile on his face was possibly the softest you’d ever seen. With you, he was nothing like how other people described him. He wasn’t volatile or confrontational—he was gentle and good-hearted.
He slid under the blankets, his arm finding its place around your waist. Your head nuzzled into his chest, listening to nothing but his heartbeat and following the rhythm of his breathing.
“Night, darlin’,” Kenny said, voice muffled in your hair.
“Night, Ken,” you responded, your lips curving into a tender smile.
For the rest of the night, Kenny stayed right where he was. Each time you stirred, coughing or shivering, he was already there, murmuring reassurances, smoothing the blanket back over you.
hii!!!! could i request a carley x fem!reader fic? the prompt is entirely up to you!!! ^_^
hi loveee!! thank you for requesting <33
sorry that it's taken me so long to get to this! i was trying to think of a good plot, but it just wasn't coming to me 😭 so i hope that you enjoy some angst with a happy ending lmao
summary: Carley's in love with you, and she's not ashamed of it—but you? you can't say the same. you can't possibly allow yourself to fall in love with a woman. or can you?
w/c: 2.8k
⚠️: some descriptions of internalised homophobia
Her dark brown hair, falling just before her shoulders, fluttered gently in the zephyr of autumn; her chestnut-coloured eyes sparkled with an unmistakable light as they met yours.
Warmth spread through your chest like a wildfire, foreign yet not. A slight flush dusted your cheeks as your heartbeat picked up. You didn’t even notice, but your pupils dilated at the mere sight of her. Your body was betraying you.
“Hey, Y/N!”
God. Even her honeyed voice was enough to awaken something inside you. Something that should’ve remained eternally at rest. Something that you wished had never had the chance to see the light of day.
“Sorry, Carley. I really have to go. I think Kenny said he needed help with something earlier.”
It was a lame excuse and you knew it, but it was the only thing you could think of. You’d never been good at lying anyway.
Carley would’ve been lying if she said your reaction didn’t sting a little. She had been so happy to see you—it was always the best part of her day—but now you just leave, so suddenly, not even bothering to tell her the real reason.
Of course Carley knew you were lying. She may not have known you for long, but three months in the apocalypse pretty much equated to three years in the ‘real’ world. Or at least that’s how Carley saw it. Yet, seeing how you completely blew her off like that, how you lied right to her face?
She was beginning to doubt you felt the same.
Nevertheless, she went on with her day, the image of you never quite leaving her mind. Even when she tried not to think about you, she simply couldn’t stop. It was as though you were a disease that had infected her mind. A disease with no cure. But Carley didn’t need a cure. Because if you really were a disease, then, God help her, she didn’t want to get better.
A few hours passed, and the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, shooting soft beams of light as a lingering farewell. Shades of pink, purple, and orange all blended together in a symphony of colour, painting the sky.
Carley’s mind couldn’t help but drift back to you. The sunset reminded her of you: vibrant and beautiful, never failing to make her feel truly at peace. You’d always managed to bring her a sense of closure.
Little did she know, you felt the exact opposite. Carley had never once made you feel at peace, but it wasn’t because of her—it was because of you. You and your stupid feelings. You and your foolish heart. You were the one who had dropped your guard and allowed yourself to be vulnerable.
Now, you were facing the consequences.
How could you have fallen in love, knowing that what you were feeling wasn’t natural? How could you have fallen in love knowing that your relationship would be frowned upon?
How could you have fallen in love knowing that you were both women?
Before, just the thought of it would’ve been enough to make the bile quickly rise in the back of your throat. Yet, now? There was nothing.
This should never have happened. You should never have allowed this.
This love was like a disease. One that you desperately needed to cure.
You were by the motel rooms, sitting on the asphalt with Clem. Both of you were giggling, drawing shapes in different-coloured chalks. Carley noticed the way your nose crinkled whenever you laughed, something she’d always loved about you, because to her, it was just the cutest thing ever.
The sound of approaching footsteps made you glance up from your artwork on the ground. Your eyes met Carley’s.
She saw the way your body tensed at the sight of her. It was subtle, such a small movement that normal people wouldn’t’ve caught it. But Carley knew you too well. To her, you were an open book; she could read you with ease, like it was nothing more than second nature to her.
This time, you were the first to speak. “Hey, Carls.” Though you smiled at her, it didn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Hey, Y/N,” she responded, the smile on her lips mirroring yours, except hers was genuine. “You still coming on that supply run with me tomorrow?”
The smile on your lips faded as you bit your lip, eyes flicking from hers to the ground. “Well, about that… Mark actually asked me to go with him.”
Carley’s brows knitted together, unable to help the disappointment that grew within, festering the longer she spoke to you. She didn’t have to ask whether you’d agreed. She already knew.
“Right.”
Just one word, so blunt and so emotionless.
But what else could she really say? That she wanted to go on that run with you because she needed to know you were safe? That she needed to go on that run with you because she’d never be able to forgive herself if anything happened to you? That she was hopelessly in love with you?
What use would it be to dump it all on you now? So, she acted like it didn’t bother her.
“I’m sorry, Carls. We can always go together next time?”
Where there usually would’ve been a tinge of hope in your voice, there was nothing.
A tight smile crossed Carley’s face. “Sure. See you around.”
Then she left, just as you had done hours earlier, not even giving you a chance to respond.
By this point, you were basically drowning, your own guilt and shame the very weight anchoring you to the dark, abysmal pit of emotion. Your body seemed to shrink in on itself, as if to protect you from the ocean’s boundless waves crashing into you.
Even Clem picked up on your mood. Her wide eyes, full of childhood innocence, flicked to you, then landed on the spot which your eyes seemed to be glued to. The spot where Carley had stood not long ago.
“Why aren’t you going with her? You always go together,” Clem asked, head tilting in curiosity.
“I… don’t know,” you muttered, shaking your head.
Truth was, you knew. You knew very well why you couldn’t go.
Clem’s brows furrowed, unhappy with your response. She needed more than that. She didn’t like seeing two of her friends upset with each other. “That’s not a reason, silly.”
You huffed a slight laugh devoid of any humour. “Why don’t we just get back to drawing?” you asked, already picking up the chalk you’d discarded on the ground, hoping to steer the current conversation topic.
“But—” Clem seemed to want to argue, maybe tell you to go talk to Carley, but instead, she just gave a small sigh. “Okay…”
The next few days were the exact same. You pulled away, paired up with other people, and even just avoided Carley in general.
You felt horrible. She didn’t deserve any of it, but you couldn’t bear seeing her—not when she only reminded you of everything you weren’t supposed to be.
Growing up, your family had pushed all these expectations on you: ‘get a husband, start a family,’ blah, blah, blah. Boring, basic stuff that you still somehow felt you had to live up to. And Carley? She didn’t fit into that. She wasn’t who you were supposed to end up with. But then, why were you so drawn to her?
You weren’t alone in grappling with your internal conflict, however, because Carley wasn’t doing much better.
Each day, your absence weighed heavier and heavier on her, pressing down on her chest and rendering her unable to breathe. The spot by her side, the one where you’d usually be, now felt cold; the warmth that you always brought with you was missing, leaving Carley in what felt like a freezing silence.
She couldn’t take it any longer.
Every time Carley saw you, either laughing with another group member or tensing at just the sight of her, it brought her one step closer to the edge. She was on the brink of madness. She didn’t understand why you were acting like this. She gave you space, she gave you time. She would’ve given you anything you asked for. Yet you only seemed to be withdrawing more and more from her, leaving her grasping desperately at the air where you’d once stood.
She’d had enough.
So, when everyone had gone to their individual motel rooms, the sky darkening to an inky black abyss, Carley decided it was time.
You stood at the gate of the motel, the way you always did when you just had to think, which had recently become a common occurrence. The rain that drizzled from the sky in teardrops didn’t seem to bother you, creating a soft veil around you and seeping through your clothes.
Carley stood just a few steps away from you, but you didn’t notice her—or maybe you just didn’t want to. She watched your hair flowing in the wind that nipped at your exposed skin, almost like it was angry with you. Goosebumps ran down your arms, sending a shiver through your spine, yet still, you didn’t move.
She called your name.
No response.
So, she tried a more upfront approach.
“Y/N, come on. You’ve been avoiding me and I want to know why.”
Though she tried to sound as firm as she could, there was an undeniable, desperate edge to her tone. You would've missed it if only you hadn’t been paying close attention the whole time she’d been there.
“Can we not do this right now?” You sighed, not in the mood for what felt like an argument just waiting to happen.
Carley’s arms crossed over her chest, eyes squinting. “Actually, I think now is the perfect time,” she retorted.
You turned to her, noticing she was only about two feet away now. You didn’t even know when she’d moved closer. “Seriously, Carls. I’m not in the mood,” you said, frustration creeping into your tone.
Already, you didn’t like where this was heading, and Carley had left you with seemingly no exit in sight.
“Neither am I,” she responded. “But you’ve been acting weird. You’re pulling away from me, pairing up with other people, and every time you see me, it’s like there’s always something that you have to do—so, tell me, Y/N. Why?” She inched closer. “What did I do?”
Carley’s desperation for answers, her longing for you, all bled into her tone. No matter how much she wanted to be angry with you, there was some part of her that just couldn’t.
“God, Carley, not everything’s about you!” you spat, jaw tightening. “What do you even want me to say? Sorry that I talk to other people? Sorry that I don’t spend every waking hour with you? Because I don’t know what you’re expecting from me here!” Your voice was laced with exasperation, your heart drumming in your chest.
She seemed taken aback by the tone of your voice, eyes widening slightly before narrowing again. “That’s not what I meant and you—”
Carley was interrupted by the loud creak of a door opening.
Mark walked out, his hair dishevelled like he’d just been woken up, which he probably had. You weren’t exactly being quiet. His brows knitted together in concern, creasing in the middle. “Is everything okay out here?” he questioned, eyes flicking between both of you.
“Everything’s fine. Just go back to sleep,” you responded, briefly glancing at Carley’s unimpressed expression. “We’re done here anyway.”
For a moment, Mark hesitated, but with a small “alright…” and a final look back, he went back to his room. You tried to follow suit, heading to your own room. Yet, almost instantly, you were stopped by Carley’s hand wrapping around your forearm.
You looked up at her, your instincts battling one another—one half urging you to leave, the other swaying you to stay.
“You may be done but I sure as hell am not,” she said, unravelling her fingers from your arm when she was certain for the most part that you weren’t going to leave.
You didn’t want to admit it, but her touch had stirred something within you again. Warmth crept to your face, a contrast to the icy air pricking at your skin. “What else is there to talk about? I haven’t been avoiding you, I just…” Your voice trailed off, no actual excuse coming to mind.
Carley could only sigh, looking away before her eyes met yours again. “Y/N, just let me get to the point. I know you feel it too—that spark whenever we see each other. It’s like there’s something about you that draws me in, captivates me,” she admitted, her heartbeat pounding as she realised what she was about to say. “And at first, I didn’t understand what it was, but now I do.”
You could only stand and listen, frozen in place. You knew what she was going to say next. But how badly you wish she wouldn’t. Because, if she said it, then that would make it all real—everything you’ve been trying to ignore, everything you’ve been trying to pretend isn’t there.
It’ll all be your reality.
“I’m in love with you.”
She said it.
Tears blurred your vision, then, mingling with the rain that was still pouring, sticking your hair to your face. You could only shake your head, all the words that you wanted to say unable to leave your lips.
Carley’s eyes immediately widened, concern clouding her vision. “What—what’s wrong?”
A sob tore from your throat. “Why?” Your voice cracked on the singular word. “Why did you have to say it?”
The concern began to shift to confusion, her brows furrowing. Her initial reaction was to wrap you in her arms, tell you everything was okay, but she wasn’t sure whether you’d want that now.
“Say what? That I… love you?” Carely’s hands twitched at her side, begging to reach out and touch you. Yet, she knew she shouldn’t.
When you said nothing, opting instead to look at the ground, that was when Carley knew she couldn’t reach you with just words. So, she took a step forward and enveloped you in her tight embrace, her scent suddenly taking over your senses.
You wanted her to stop, to let go of you—this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
But, ultimately, you knew that love can’t be denied.
So, you all but collapsed in her arms, a sobbing mess. Your head was buried in the crook of her neck, your tears staining her shirt. But she didn't mind. She just whispered comforting words into your ear the whole time, her arms rubbing your back in a soothing gesture.
She kept going until you managed to calm down, your tears coming to an excruciatingly slow end.
Finally, you pulled away. Carley was hesitant to let go of you, but she knew she had no choice. You wiped your eyes with your sleeve, which was already damp from the rain that had now slowed to nothing more than a mere drizzle.
Your eyes finally met Carley’s again, and you could tell she was about to speak, but you beat her to it. “Carley, I’m so sorry for the way I’ve been treating you—you didn’t deserve any of it. I was just so afraid of what I was feeling, and whenever I thought about my family, what they would think of me being in love with a woman, I—”
Carley cut you off mid-sentence, her lips pressing against yours. One hand pressed against the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, the other cupped your jaw. She didn’t kiss you like it was the first time, but rather like she’d been waiting lifetimes for this very moment.
You gasped in surprise, fueling Carley’s desire as she smiled into the kiss. You shouldn’t have been allowing yourself to enjoy this moment, but you didn’t care anymore. Her taste was addicting. Any doubts you’d been feeling before melted away, leaving you in the present.
Carley’s lips lingered near yours for just a moment longer before you were both forced to pull away due to the lack of air in your lungs. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” she admitted, a proud grin on her face. She didn’t regret her actions, not even a little bit.
“I—wow…”
You mentally face-palmed at your choice of words, or lack thereof.
She chuckled at you, head shaking with laughter. “I meant what I said. I love you, Y/N.”
This time, you weren’t afraid to say it back.
“I love you too, Carls.”
Your lips met again.
Maybe you really weren’t supposed to fall for each other. But she was the one for you, everything you’d ever wanted, everything you’d ever dreamed of. And you didn’t regret it.
OMG I LOVE UR FICSS!! this is my first time requesting something but can i request the ericson kids having cuddle hcs with their s/o? (especially marlon😋😋 cuz i’ve been going crazy for him) TYY💕
OMG HIII LOVE!! thank you so so much, i'm genuinely so happy you're enjoying the fics <3
when i saw this request, i KNEW i had to do it as soon as i could, and im so glad i did because it was so much fun!
sorry if they're not great though because i've literally never done headcanons before 😭 actually i think i did once like two years ago but that's lost media now..
characters: Marlon, Mitch, Clementine, Violet, Louis, and Aasim
(a/n: first time doing headcanons, kinda nervous... this is also my first time writing for Aasim, Vi, and Clem, so i hope i didn't mischaracterise them 😭)
requested ✅
Marlon:
sure, he puts on this kind of ‘confident’ facade around people, but when it comes to you?? this man can be so awkward
like, at the beginning of your relationship, he invited you to join him in the headmaster’s bedroom
all was good and well until you laid down beside each other, and he realised he had virtually no idea what to do
like does he make the first move and risk making you uncomfortable? or does he wait for you to lean in, but risk him seeming uninterested?
after some contemplation, however, he ended up wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him
loves holding you close and being the big spoon, because it's his way of feeling like he's protecting you — he has to, for his own sanity.
if you asked to be big spoon, he'd definitely be reluctant at first, but after some rather persuasive words from you, he'd agree (also because he can't resist those eyes that you know he's a sucker for)
little did he know that'd be the best sleep he'd had in a while
still prefers the feeling of you in his arms, though
sometimes Rosie joins you, getting right in between you two
you find it incredibly endearing. it’s like a child climbing into bed with their parents
Marlon also loves it, even if he grumbles a little about how Rosie's “keeping you away from him”
definitely a bit of a snorer but not as bad as other people (cough cough, MITCH, cough)
he's always thought of himself as a bit of a heavy sleeper, but when he's with you, even the slightest movement will wake him up
like you really just moved an inch to the left?? where do you think you're going??
the kind of person to say “just five more minutes” when you try to get up in the morning, even when he knows his leader duties are calling him
those 5 minutes somehow turn into 1 hour, and now he's late to the supply run he himself had organised
when you cuddle, he likes you being on the side of the wall, while he prefers being on the side near the door, because just in case something were to happen, he wants to make sure you're safe
Mitch:
will lie on top of you and, no, he will not move
lowkey suffocates you from how heavy he is, but you prefer to just think of it as having your own, personal, weighted blanket ❤️ (if you had about 6 of them all stacked on top of each other)
however, if he's not doing that, he likes to sleep with your head resting on his arm so he can hold you close
on the topic of sleep, this man will SNORE, but in the morning, he will deny any claims of doing such a thing
like he knows he does it, he just won't admit it
he likes always having some sort of contact with you, like a hand on your stomach
which is perfect for winter because his body naturally runs warm, so he's like a little heater
not so great for summer, though, because every time you move away, claiming you're “too hot,” he'll just drag you back towards him
he NEEDS to be close to you
it makes you feel like you're simultaneously both in heaven and in hell
if you run a hand through his hair, or do light scratches up and down his back, he will fall asleep instantly
also, a deep sleeper, so best believe that once he's asleep, he's asleep. there's no waking him up.
which also means good luck trying to escape his clutch in the morning
you need to piss?? too bad. Mitch needs his beauty sleep.
(he will also sleep with a knife under the pillow, because y’know, can never be too safe in the apocalypse!)
Clem:
doesn’t let her guard down easily—surviving in the apocalypse for so long has taught her better—so cuddling is really intimate to her
honestly, you felt like the luckiest person alive the first time you cuddled
instinctively positions herself between you and the door, keeping an arm around you like she’s shielding you
she doesn’t even realise she’s doing it most of the time. It’s like her body is naturally inclined to protect one of the only good things in her life
loves small, grounding touches
stroke her hair, or trace patterns on her arm, and she’s completely yours, and yours only.
more reserved around the others since she doesn’t want to seem ‘weak’, but once you’re all alone?? she totally melts into you. that’s when she feels safe enough to just be “Clem”
if you fall asleep first, she’ll smile to herself and brush stray hairs from your face before kissing your temple. might also whisper some sweet words into your ear about how much she loves you, and how she only falls in love with you more as time goes on
i feel like she naturally runs kinda cold, so when she lays her cold hand on your body and you gasp in surprise, she’ll definitely tease you about it a little
secretly loves how warm you are, though, so she’ll press her forehead against your shoulder, or tuck her face in the crook of your neck, especially on cold nights.
Vi:
not big on PDA, and that definitely transfers to your private time as well
she will be a little (a lot) shy about cuddling because to her, it seems incredibly vulnerable
but once she's warmed up to it, she absolutely LOVES having your head resting in the crook of her neck or vice versa
the feeling of your breath against her neck just grounds her in a way
like her partner, the person she loves most, the most beautiful person she's ever met, is actually real?? and breathing right next to her??
when you cuddle, she loves hearing you just talk about your day
she's an amazing listener, but sometimes she gets so lost in the sound of your sweet voice that she will forget everything, including her own name
like you'll be talking and once you're done, you realise she's just staring at you, the dreamiest look in her eyes
when you ask if she's heard anything you've said for the past 5 minutes, she'll just stammer out a response similar to: “Uh—I—Yeah…”
she knows she's caught
she can't help it though
if you’re the first one to fall asleep, she’ll just stare at you for a while, brushing her thumb across your cheek before whispering something she’d never have the guts to say if you were awake
Louis:
LOVESSS cuddling
one time, you offered to be big spoon, and you've never gone back since
he prefers being the little spoon for sure. to him, it just feels like such a vulnerable thing, so who better to do it with than his own partner???
still will be big spoon from time to time, though. especially when you've had a rough day and just need the comfort
radiates warmth, not just emotionally, but also physically
curling up with him feels like sleeping beside a human furnace, but you wouldn't change it for anything
tends to open up more during cuddles
whether it's just silly little thoughts, or late-night confessions, you’ll hear things that he’d never share in front of anyone else
sometimes sings you to sleep (guys remember ‘Oh My Darling, Clementine’?? that man’s voice was literally MWAH CHEF’S KISS)
and when you do fall asleep, he’ll get a soft, proud smile on his face before drifting off, knowing this is as peaceful as it gets
cuddling is his safe space, an escape from the cruel world outside, which is why when he gets the chance to cuddle with you, he won’t just be seizing the opportunity, he’ll be literally SNATCHING it
if he’s the first to fall asleep, right before drifting off, he’ll mumble some little compliment like: “You’re so… cosy… like a marshmallow…”
sure, they don’t always make sense, but hey, it’s the thought that counts!
Aasim:
i don't think he's really one to initiate touch, or at least nothing big like cuddling anyway, so you'd have to be the one to make the first move
his favourite position is probably you having your head on his chest, so he can just hold your hand
also loves holding you because it makes him feel like he’s actually needed
if you’re cold and tuck your icy hands/feet against him, he will sigh dramatically and grumble about it, but he secretly likes that you depend on him for warmth
incredibly quiet sleeper
sometimes you'll be answering a question he asked you, and mid-response, you notice his breathing has slowed—no snoring, just pure silence
yup, he's gone
beware, however. you will be woken up on approximately six different occasions throughout the night because Aasim has once again kicked you
lowkey crazy how much he moves throughout the night
because why does he fall asleep by your side and then wake up with half of his body hanging off the bed??
when he’s on the edge of sleep, he’ll unconsciously tighten his hold on you and mumble soft things, even just your name. it’s the purest sign of how deeply he cares.
Heyy ! I was wondering if it was okay if you could make a Mitch x reader ? Like toward the end of episode one were Marlon got shot? But reader and Marlon were siblings and it really just consists of Mitch consoling reader throughout it all.
Literally love your work 😛
heyy lovely!! <33 i appreciate it so much and thank you for requesting!
i apologise for the long wait and to all the other requests i've received. i've genuinely been insanely busy, and now with school back on it's even worse 💔
anyway, i'm always a sucker for some angst and hurt/comfort so you know i had fun with this 😛
summary: when Marlon, your older brother, gets shot, Mitch is right there by your side. somehow, he makes it all slightly better.
w/c: 2.0k
(a/n: not proof-read so i apologise for any possible mistakes 😭)
requested ✅
Marlon’s voice reverberated through the courtyard, his shouts clashing with those of Clementine. The argument had turned the courtyard into somewhat of a battlefield, a duel but with no winner. With the lightest thud, almost inaudible, the gun slipped from Marlon’s grip to the soft, waterlogged ground.
Everyone had gathered around the two, not believing what they were hearing. But most of all, you; you were in pure disbelief, or more like borderline denial. There was no way you were going to believe what Clementine was saying. Your brother—your good-hearted, caring, older brother—giving up the twins to the raiders? No way in hell.
Though as much as you wanted to have faith in Marlon, a part of you still doubted him. Could what Clementine was saying really be true? Would your brother really have given up Sophie and Minnie and let you believe they were dead? But why? This wasn’t like him. It couldn’t be.
The very next second, a shot rang out. It snapped you right out of your spiralling thoughts.
At first, Marlon stood there, wide-eyed, chest heaving. He was trying to say something, anything, that could fix something far beyond reparation. Before he could, his body just… fell, head-first into the sodden earth. The gun he’d dropped mere moments prior lay by his side now, just inches out of reach.
Everything around you halted: the shocked gasps, Louis’s yell for his best friend lying in the dirt with no physical sign of life. You froze, not breathing, not moving, not even blinking. Your body wouldn’t let you do anything but watch as your brother bled out, staining the already-darkened ground.
Mitch tensed up beside you almost instantly, having been by your side through the whole thing. The argument, the confession and now this. His gaze flicked to you, feeling his breath hitch at the expression on your face. You looked so pained yet so vacant at the same time. Mitch basically felt his heart break for you. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what you were thinking.
“Y/N…” he muttered your name softly enough so that only you could hear him, and that seemed to be enough for you to snap out of your trance-like state.
That was when you finally processed what had just happened.
“Marlon!” you screamed, legs moving before your brain had the chance to catch up. Your heart pounded so hard that you were sure it was going to burst out of your chest any moment. You couldn’t even focus on the sound thundering in your ears as you tried to reach for Marlon.
That was your brother, the only family you had left, and he couldn’t be dead. He simply couldn’t.
However, you barely made it two steps before a hand grabbed you, pulling you back. Mitch pinned you against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head so you couldn't turn around. Normally, Mitch’s touch would’ve made you all giddy, causing heat to rush to your face. But not this time; this time, it only filled you with dread.
When you tried to shove Mitch away, his grip just tightened. He wasn’t going to let you go. He had to shield you from the sight of Marlon’s body sprawled across the ground, or else what kind of boyfriend would he be? If you saw your brother like that for any longer, the image would never leave your mind. It’d haunt you for the rest of time.
“Fuck, Y/N. Just—Just don’t look, okay?” he muttered, voice shaking with emotion. Mitch didn't know what to do. I mean, what do you do when your girlfriend has just had to watch her brother get shot in front of everyone?
“Mitch, let go!” Your hands pushed against his chest, panic clawing up your throat. You had to get to Marlon. You had to fix this, or help him, or rewind it somehow. You had to do something!
Mitch didn’t budge.
His chest heaved against you, breath ragged. “Stop fighting me,” he hissed, but his voice cracked, softer than it should’ve been. “He’s gone, Y/N. You can’t—” He cut himself off, the words unable to escape the lump in his throat. It hurt him too much to say, and he knew it’d only hurt you worse.
You tried to twist out of his grip anyway, but your strength faltered. You could feel Mitch’s heartbeat hammering against your cheek, almost as erratic as your own. His arms trembled ever so slightly, but he didn’t loosen his hold on you. You shook your head against his chest, muffled sobs breaking through your teeth. “No, no, no… this isn’t real. He’s not gone.”
Your fingers curled into Mitch’s shirt, gripping the fabric so tightly your knuckles whitened. Every fibre of your being screamed at you to break free, to see Marlon one last time, yet all the fight had left you. Mitch’s chin pressed lightly against the top of your head, his breath shuddering, trying to keep himself together—not just for himself, but for you.
Mitch hadn’t ever exactly been great with words. And at that moment, he couldn’t say anything. It’s okay? It wasn’t. You’re gonna be fine? He knew you wouldn’t. He’s in a better place now? That was probably bullshit. So, he opted for just holding you, one hand awkwardly rubbing up and down your back in a pathetic attempt at comfort. But it was all he could do. And it seemed to calm you down, even if only a little.
Voices rose all around you: Omar’s murmur of disbelief, Ruby futilely trying to fix what happened, and Louis mere moments from blowing up on Clementine and AJ. The other kids looked at you in Mitch’s arms, having heard your muffled sobs. To you, however, it was just white noise.
Nothing mattered to you. Not when your brother was dead. Gone with a single shot from a 5-year-old who probably had no idea the extent of the damage he’d caused. The one thing tethering you to reality was Mitch’s heartbeat. Without him, you weren’t sure what kind of headspace you’d be in right now.
Mitch felt a raw, ugly creature claw its way from deep within his gut, then. Nothing about the situation was fair to you. He turned to Clementine. You noticed the way his whole body went rigid, though you didn’t comment on it. You were too busy crying your heart out, each tear a reminder of what you’d lost.
Mitch’s hoarse voice rose above the noise before he could stop it.
“What the hell have you been teaching that kid?” he roared at Clementine, still shielding you from the sight you desperately wanted, yet at the same time didn't want, to see. “Is this it? Shoot first, deal with it later?! Marlon was giving up! He—he was done! And you—you let this happen!”
Clementine’s lips parted, trying to think of a response. A couple moments of silence passed. Nothing came. And that only seemed to anger your boyfriend more. Mitch scoffed, shaking his head.
“You—” he started, but was quickly interrupted.
Your small voice cut him off, lifting your head up to look at him. “Mitch, don’t. It’s not worth it,” you sniffled, unable to help the way your face contorted with grief.
Mitch didn’t want to listen. But when he looked down at you, your tear-stained cheeks glistening in the noticeable lack of light in the stormy dawn, and your broken expression, his anger gave way. His shoulders slumped. “Fine,” he sighed. “But we’re going inside. You’re not staying out here.”
It didn’t take much for you to agree.
With one last scowl at Clementine, Mitch led you away from the scene, straight to the comfort of your shared dorm. The entire way there, Mitch made sure to keep an arm wrapped around you, keeping you as close to him as possible. Because he knew you needed it. And if he was being honest, so did he. Even if he’d never necessarily been one for physical touch.
Mitch opened the door with his free hand, sending a slight ‘creak’ echoing down the hallway. He entered the room first, holding the door for you, then closing it as soon as you made it inside. His arm moved down, now lacing his fingers through yours, guiding you towards the bed.
He sat down, leaning his back against the headboard. He pulled you down with him, where he silently tucked your head against his chest.
At first, you didn’t speak; the words in your throat felt like lead, far too heavy to force out. The only sounds filling the room were the occasional creak of the old bedframe and the uneven rhythm of your breath against Mitch’s chest.
He kept rubbing circles against your back with a calloused thumb. Though the movement was still a little awkward, it was steady and grounding, which was all you realistically could’ve asked for in that moment. Mitch wasn’t good at this kind of thing, but right then, he was trying like hell. For you, he’d try anything.
Still, there was only one thing that you couldn’t help but feel selfish for wishing for, especially when you had your boyfriend right beside you.
And that was your older brother.
But that could never happen. Not when Marlon was now out there, in the courtyard, face-down in the ground with a bullet through his head.
“Y/N…” Mitch’s voice came out quiet and uncertain. He wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear him talk, but he couldn’t take the silence between you two any longer. “I know it doesn’t feel real. I know you wanna wake up and just… just have it all be some fucked-up nightmare. But it’s not. And I hate that I can’t change that.”
Your fingers tightened around his shirt again, twisting the fabric until your knuckles hurt. You wanted to say something, scream even, but the words remained stuck in your throat as you continued silently crying.
“I should’ve stopped it,” you whispered eventually, the words breaking apart as soon as they left you. “I could’ve done something—I could’ve…”
“Hey, no.” Mitch interrupted instantly, a harsh edge cutting through the otherwise gentle tone he often used with you. He shifted so he could look at you properly, thumb wiping away a tear that had fallen down your face. “Don’t do that to yourself. You hear me? This isn’t on you. It’s not.”
Mitch knew how badly you wanted to say something else, except it felt like something was holding you back. You collapsed further into his chest, letting the sobs take you again. And Mitch just let you, resting his chin on top of your head, tightening his grip around you.
Minutes passed like hours. By the time your sobs had dulled into exhausted hiccups, Mitch spoke again. “We’re gonna get through this,” he murmured. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. I swear.” He tilted his head down, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline, lingering slightly longer than necessary.
You smiled against his chest, the initial shock of seeing your brother having mostly worn away. “Thank you, Mitch,” you said, grateful. Before Mitch could say something about how ‘there was no need to thank him,’ you continued, “I love you.”
You’d said those three words countless times before. It wasn’t something out of the ordinary. However, this time it felt deeper—like there was more meaning, more certainty in a way. And Mitch just smiled down at you in his arms, responding with his own, “I love you too.”
There was so much you’d have to deal with after today. But having your boyfriend by your side made it feel more manageable. Somehow, you knew you’d get through it. Together.
Hey I really like your work and I wanted to ask you if you were interested in writing for kenny or javier its really rare for me to find fanfic about them
hii lovely!! thank you, im glad you're enjoying the fics <33
i do write for both kenny and javi, so if you want to send any requests then feel free to do so! im actually currently working on a kenny fic :)
Could I request a platonic Luke x little!sister reader? They’ve been captured by carver and Luke’s been found too by this point so they’re all together. Reader is maybe around 15-17 age range? She gets fed up and stands up to carver while still being held prisoner and either he gets really mad on the spot and starts to punish her or he drags her away and brings her back later on all battered and bruised. It’s angsty because she’s in bad condition but fluff in the end cause she ends up being ok 🙏
hello lovely!! thank you SO much <33 i appreciate your kind words :))
this was such a good idea UGH it was genuinely so fun to write! idk how well it came out tho.. 😓
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