#loud wailing and crying and ugly sniffling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satanghulu · 8 months ago

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WHEN WE WERE KIDS

✦ PAIRING: thirteen x f! reader ✦ SUMMARY: Growing up in the perspective of Thirteen’s POV. (Alternatively, Thirteen has never learned how to love anyone else but you.) ✦ WARNING: high school au, angst, hurt no comfort, reader will have a personality ✦ WC: 3.8K

PART ONE | PART TWO | FIC MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Thirteen is an ugly crier. Her parents had always encouraged her to cry but they never once told her how to make the dam stop.

She sits in the playground, tears running down her cheeks, her snot-filled voice hiccuping as she desperately scratches at her eyes.

The staff in the kindergarten must have given up on her as she sat there alone as they busied themselves with taking care of the other kids, pretending not to see her crying her heart out in the middle of the slide.

A small figure jerks at the side of her eyes and she sees a hand reach out to her. Thirteen doesn’t recognise the hand or the face when her vision clears up enough to look at it.

The light-up pink sneakers catch her attention and for a second, her sobs subside.

The girl in the strawberry shortcake shirt looks at her curiously. She holds out her hand, outstretched as if she wanted to wipe away Thirteen’s tears.

Thirteen starts crying again, a loud wail that sounds throughout the area – this prompts the staff to quickly pick up the other kids to leave the area.

The girl continues to stare curiously at her, hands now dropped to her side.

“Are you sad?” She asks.

Bewildered by the question, Thirteen stops crying. She nods once, and then twice. Then she shakes her head.

She’s not sad, particularly. She just doesn’t know how to stop crying.

There is a silence that lasts a minute as the two of them engage in a stare-off. Finally, the girl sits beside her and holds out her hand again with a determined look.

“Don’t cry anymore.”

This time, Thirteen gets a better look at the outstretched hands, now that her eyes weren’t filled with tears. They were small and splattered with paint from the earlier activities.

“I know.” Thirteen manages to choke out, hands flying up to rub at her eyes. They’re now itchy and irritating and she could feel the tell-tale tears starting up again.

“Nooo.” The girl pushes her hands away and rubs at Thirteen’s cheek gently before gasping.

“Paint.” She says.

“Paint.” Thirteen repeats, sniffling.

It turns out the paint was sticky with glue because moments later, the two girls were stuck together. Literally.

Thirteen doesn’t even realise she has stopped crying as the staff finally finally takes notice of them and rushes them to the nurse’s office.

“I’m MC.” The girl says after the nurse extracts them from each other, tutting at them gently. Thirteen’s parents are in the room, talking with the nurse while yours are nowhere to be found. Thirteen continues to trace stars into your skin, as you swing your leg on top of the table.

“I’m Thirteen.” She responds in kind. Thirteen’s parents call for her, and she hesitates to go over. She sees her sister standing in the hallway, hands crossed over her chest. But Thirteen doesn’t want to leave you just yet.

Her sister comes over to drag her by the arm but she wrenches free and runs to hug you, rubbing her cheek against you. You accept her request to be her first friend.

With a girl like Thirteen, trouble was bound to follow her wherever she went. This holds true as both of you are currently getting the scolding of your lives — Thirteen has unintentionally spilled the hot chocolate she was holding onto the carpet in the living room and then used one of your mother’s high-end shirts to wipe up the stain.

Yet, she pays it no mind. She fidgets with her shirt, stubbornly avoiding eye contact with you because she just knows she would burst out in laughter the moment your eyes met and this would send your parents into another fit of anger which is not something she wants to see again.

After being expelled from the house, both of you let out the laughter you have been holding back. Thirteen thinks that your smile is the prettiest thing in the world and your laughter the best thing she’s ever heard.

This wouldn’t be the first and last time she was scolded by your parents but this leads to her being banned from your house for the rest of her life.

She’s eight when she comes to terms with the fact that you might just be her favourite person.

She tells you so one day, as you sit on the swingset in the same playground that both of you have met. You only hum and send her a big toothy grin, with two of your front teeth missing.

“I love you too!” Is what she thinks you say but she couldn’t be sure with the lisp you had developed from the missing teeth. (That night, she lies in bed awake thinking about your words.)

You immediately proceed to try and steal her ice cream and Thirteen lets you do so. She likes seeing you happy.

Thirteen’s legs are tangled with yours as both of you giggle at whatever is playing on the screen. The popcorn that she had warmed up was nestled in the space between both of you and her hands were sticky with butter and residue as she tried to wrestle the remote from you.

“No, no!” You screeched, a high-pitched tone broken by the onset of puberty but it was ever so endearing to Thirteen.

Thirteen eventually lost the battle with you. You pouted at her, begging her to watch some rom-com movie with you. Thirteen could never resist you so she settles into the couch, ready for a bore of a movie.

She loves you really, but all you like are rom-com movies and she’s just not into that.

The movie finally starts playing and she’s already bored but she had promised you to watch it so she tries her hardest to keep her eyes glued to the screen.

The only comfort she had was you snuggling up beside her as you gave commentary on whatever scene was on the television.

When the movie gets to the climax, you have eventually quieted down and are holding your breath while clutching onto Thirteen’s sleeve.

She lets you do so, curious as to why you were so captivated. It was just a confession scene. She couldn’t find anything special about it except maybe the kissing part.

Your breath was hot on her neck as you stayed buried to her side. She turns and looks at you, eyes falling onto your lips.

She wonders what it would be like to kiss you.

A new boy had joined the class today. He had introduced himself as Mephistopheles. Thirteen doesn’t like him. He was prudish and irritating in her books.

The teacher told him to choose a seat and with his audacity, he tried to sit next to you while she was in the toilet. The moment she was back, Thirteen had pushed him away because that was her rightful seat next to you. How dare he try to take her seat?

Mephistopheles had tumbled to the ground and started complaining about her with tears running down his cheek. The teacher had sent her into timeout as a punishment and being the dutiful friend you are, you had followed her to the side of the classroom before getting called back.

The boy had ended up sitting next to you. Thirteen could barely resist the flicker of jealousy within her but you had ignored Mephistopheles and it made her feel much better.

Her timeout lasted till lunch and you had sneaked away from the rest of the class to come and her, bringing your lunchbox to share with her.

“That guy.”

“Yeah?” You responded, munching on the sandwich that Thirteen’s mum had prepared for both of you. Your face pinched into a frown at the thought of him.

“I don’t like him.” Thirteen says.

You’re usually the voice of reason between the duo but even you kept quiet for a second, swallowing around the mouthful of food.

“He keeps pulling on my hair.” You pouted, crumbs littered around the corner of your mouth. Thirteen’s face immediately turned into an ugly expression.

Seeing your crestfallen expression is Thirteen’s least favourite thing in the world.

Mephistopheles became Thirteen’s first enemy.

In retaliation for her behaviour, the teacher swapped their seats around so Thirteen was no longer sitting next to you.

With some luck (or string), Mephistopheles ends up sitting next to you. He is the founder’s son and thus he gets away with many things, even if the teacher sees it.

Thirteen dislikes him.

He even made you cry once when he tugged on your hair so hard that some of the strands had fallen off. With that, he had solidified himself as Thirteen’s mortal enemy and so, she decided to take things into her own hands.

During recess period, she sneaks away from the rest of the class (and you) to the boys’ lockers. Quietly, she opens the locker named Mephistopheles and grabs his shoes.

She fills them with glue. She lines the side of both shoes with the glue she stole from the art room and then places them back where she found them. Her hands are sticky and she stops by the washroom before meeting you in the hallway.

“Thirteen?” You questioned, voice small. Your eyes fall on her hands that she had instinctively hidden behind her back.

She puts on a wide smile, one that stretches too much and hurts her face as she pushes you ahead.

The teacher yells at the class the moment Mephistopheles comes crying to her. She punishes the whole class because she says a crime of this magnitude has to be orchestrated by a couple of the students.

Thirteen couldn’t keep the smile off her face even as she had to write a two-page reflection on the effects of bullying. She doesn’t care that the whole class was dragged into this fiasco because seeing your smile made everything worth it.

After school, you walked back home together, hand-in-hand as usual. But this time, you grabbed her hands and interlocked both of your pinkies together. Thirteen lets you do it without hesitation. She thinks she would let you do anything if you asked her to.

When Thirteen sends you to your house’s doorstop, you thank her with a sweet smile. She remembers stopping in her tracks at the sight of your smile, your front two teeth finally grown in. You had only giggled and leaned in to hug her, and then suddenly tip-toeing to kiss her on the cheeks.

Thirteen feels like she’s been punched in the guts, her stomach churning as if she had eaten playdough again.

“Thank you.” You say, eyes bright with that glean that Thirteen wants to cherish forever. Thirteen tilts her head, pretending not to understand.

It’s the first time Thirteen hides something from you.

(Thirteen never told you what she did and you never asked her about it. But she knows that there’s an implicit understanding that you already knew what she had done.)

They’re fourteen now.

You have grown taller and so has she. Thirteen misses your chubby cheeks but she thinks you’re pretty as always, even if your hair is now shorter than it used to be.

(Your mother had made you go to a salon to cut your hair because apparently in her eyes, your hair is too unkempt when long. Thirteen thinks otherwise. You had cried into her shoulders for hours when you came back.)

You stand in front of her, hands outstretched, waiting for her to hold your hands as usual.

“It’s the first day of school!” You titter on, swinging both of your hands excitedly. Thirteen watches as you stumble on, skirt swishing behind you. (Recently, her heart has been thumping more than usual. She wonders why?)

Thirteen grins as always, gripping your hand tightly and swerving you when you almost walked into a pole in your excitement. She doesn’t understand the appeal of the first day of school but you’re excited and so, she is as well.

She’s perfectly fine having just you in her entire universe. She doesn’t need anyone else.

In the first year of high school, they meet Raphael, a new addition to their duo.

He’s a boy their age and he sits next to you in Mathematics. You think he’s the coolest person you have ever met and you tell Thirteen so. She sees nothing special in him. He’s just a lanky boy with a perpetual unhappy face and he carries around a makeshift spear. (She thinks it’s simultaneously the lamest thing yet also the coolest thing ever.)

She doesn’t know what you see in him but she doesn’t see any harm in being friends with him. Sometimes, he’s even kind of cool because he lets her do anything she wants. It’s rare for anyone to let her in their vicinity nowadays.

Raphael acts older than them even though he’s only probably older than them by days – he scolds them sometimes, but mostly he lets both of you do your things. (He is. You had questioned everything about the mellow boy, and he had answered all of your questions if only to get you off his back.)

Thirteen thinks maybe she might start considering him a friend but you will always be her favourite person in the world, no, the universe.

They never leave Raphael out, not on purpose – they drag him everywhere, to the park, to Thirteen’s house, to the mall, anywhere really. One day, Raphael brandishes a skateboard and that just establishes Raphael as one of the coolest people she has ever known.

Raphael always skates beside them as they skip along, sometimes, Thirteen carries you on her back because you always end up sore if you walk too long and she doesn't like to see you in pain.

He offers to carry you sometimes, saying it’s what boys should be doing but Thirteen refuses. Taking care of you is her responsibility and even if Thirteen considers him a friend now, this is something she cannot give up.

(Adults have called her possessive and Thirteen hasn’t fully grasped what the word means but she doesn’t care. Why would someone else take care of you when she is right here?)

Thirteen furrows her eyebrow at the question.

She’s seated around a round table as part of a bonding session, with you on her right and a random girl (she presumes to be her classmate but she doesn’t care enough to remember her name), has started talking about boys.

“Do you have someone you are interested in?” The girl asks, lips cherry red from the lollipop she was licking at. This makes Thirteen’s mind wonder about you. (You have recently started wearing makeup and Thirteen has been staring at your lips more often.)

“Yeah.” She says cooly, staring at the girl straight in the eyes. She doesn’t understand the gasps from the rest of the table. Shouldn’t it already be obvious? There was always only one person in her mind.

The girl taps on her arm playfully, lashes fluttering to try and get Thirteen to spill her secret. Thirteen so badly wants to rip off her glasses and stomp them on the ground but she knows that you would be disappointed in her. She feels disgusted, shifting in her seat to lean against you so that Glasses would get the hint and stop.

When she turns her head, you have an unreadable expression on your face.

“Who?” Glasses asked, persistent and hands still pawing at her. Thirteen points a finger at you, the table suddenly falling silent before a laugh breaks out, spiraling the whole table into a mess.

“Thirteen, not her. I mean a boy.” Glasses had laughed so hard that tears were leaking out. “You’re a girl, right? You’re supposed to like a boy.”

Thirteen frowns at her statement, it somehow felt like she was being mocked.

“Why not?”

Glasses blundered for a second before straightening up. “Girls are supposed to marry boys. That’s what people say.” Even Glasses doesn’t look convinced by what she said.

She was about to open her mouth to argue more but a squeeze on her thigh caught her attention.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

That was their secret code that you had come up with in situations where they were unable to talk. Thirteen doesn’t understand why you are using it now but she stops obediently.

The awkwardness in the air fades and the topic soon shifts naturally.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

Thirteen doesn’t see the appeal in the celebration but you, a hopeless romantic, had been talking about it since the start of the month. For the past few years, she had only gotten you discounted chocolates with her minuscule allowance. Thirteen had made up her mind this year to make the day more unique for you – her parents had finally increased her allowance and she had been saving it up.

The gaudy bright pink and blue card she holds in her hand feels heavy today. After sending you home yesterday, and chasing Raphael away when he wanted to follow her, she had run to the nearest craft store to get art supplies.

She had made the whole card from scratch – buying glitter and various knick-knacks and even enlisting the help of her sister to make the card look nicer. She douses the whole card in blue glitter because that’s her favourite colour and pink is yours. (She thinks it's the best combination in the world.)

You spot her in the distance, hands shooting up immediately to wave her over. Her seat is next to yours for the first period, and so she makes her way over, keeping the card and box of handmade chocolate behind her back.

Her heart is in her throat. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous either, but she is. Her eyes stay glued to your smile until you pull out the chair, and she sees the stack of letters on your desk. A pit grows in her stomach and it must show on her face because you stare at her.

“Why are you sad?” You questioned, only looking at her. You bring up both hands to squash Thirteen’s cheeks together, making silly faces in an attempt to cheer her up.

Her grip on her presents tightened and she stared at the pile on your desk as if they had done something to personally wronged her.

“Did many people give you gifts?” Her voice comes out all wrong, warbled, and shaky.

You nod, still keeping your eyes on her.

“But I don’t care about those. I’m waiting for your chocolates!” You mentioned, swiping the letters and gifts onto the floor before moving your chair to face you. You make grabby hands at her, clearly expectant.

The bundle of nerves inside her loosened just a bit.

“Mine?” Thirteen says. Her arms are getting tired from hiding the items behind her back so she presented it to you. Your smile lights up your face and you grab the card to hug it against your chest.

“I love you!” You proudly declare, cheekily pinching Thirteen’s side. You gently set the box of chocolates and her letter on your desk before reaching into your bag to pull out a similar-looking card.

“Tada!” You hold out the card to her – it was slightly crumpled around the edges but Thirteen notices that you had scribbled blue hearts all around the title.

“Blue hearts?” Thirteen asked, a similar lip-splitting smile on her face.

“You’re blue and I’m pink.” You explain simply, before brandishing a box of chocolate to her. “I may have burnt some of them so just eat one and throw away the rest.” You say sheepishly, eyes widening as Thirteen immediately unwraps the ribbon to open it.

Thirteen pops one into her mouth, chewing it and even though she could taste the burnt tinge in the roof of her mouth, it is the best chocolate she had ever eaten in her life. She eats a few more and tells you so.

“You’re so silly.” You rolled your eyes and nudged her shoulder but she could tell that you were pleased with her compliment, back straight and swinging your legs.

(She secretly hopes this tradition will continue to happen every year.)

They’re out at a party today. Candy, Thirteen’s sister, had extended an invitation to them. (You think it’s because Candy had accidentally broken one of Thirteen’s props for a prank and had felt apologetic but Thirteen thinks otherwise.)

Giggling and all dressed up, you knock on Raphael’s door, waiting for the boy to come and open the door.

“What do you want?” His voice, curt as usual, holds a hint of curiosity this time as he peers at them in the small gap in the door that he had created.

Thirteen blows a raspberry at him. “We’re going to a party!” You pull on her arm, a silent plea for her to behave herself.

Raphael looks at you and then he looks at Thirteen before shutting the door — but Thirteen sticks her leg into the gap before wincing at the impact as Raphael tries to push her leg out.

“You’re coming with us.” Thirteen declared, finally managing to manhandle the door and forcing it open.

Raphael only sighs as the door inches wide.

Thirteen is in the middle of the room, dancing her heart out with her hips swaying to the beat. She had lost you in the crowd, and Raphael had probably skulked away to the kitchen to keep up with his mysterious air.

She’s in the midst of a crowd, the steady bass of the music thumping through her, and people are crowding her.

She doesn’t mind the attention for once, playing up all her charms and winking to the people who dared come up to her. She thinks that maybe she’s been craving for attention and for someone to want her more than she had thought.

But a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach starts developing and soon enough, she stumbles off to the side of the room, holding onto the wall for support.

She wonders what it would take for someone to love a person like her.

Raphael had once said that Thirteen and you must have once been lovers in another life (Thirteen thinks so too) because she could feel your stare on her and sure enough, a hand that she knows is yours, was placed on her back.

Thirteen finds it intriguing too. Through all the blurs of faces, your face stands out as the only clear one in the sea.

You’re looking at her again with amusement, but Thirteen feels like her head is underwater, she can’t hear you but all she can see is your soft pink lips. The smell of something sweet wraps around her, and she can’t help but think of your strawberry lipgloss, the one she gave you for your birthday.

If she kisses you now, would you push her away?

Her mouth opens and what comes out is the dinner that her mother had whipped out instead of words.

“Thirteen!”

She had puked on you.

a/n▸ vaguely inspired by a fic I read like 8 years ago, which unfortunately has been deleted. but it is a testament to how much it changed my brain chemistry LOL also I was supposed to finish the entire fic for obey me month, @obeymetournaments but life got me in a chokehold so im making it multi-chaptered and a PSA to finish this in the future 😭

#im a sucker for this woman if you couldn't tell #satangwrites: stuck by the glue #satangwrites #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me swd #shall we date om #obey me x you #obey me x reader #obey me thirteen #thirteen #obey me thirteen x you #thirteen x you #thirteen x reader #obey me month

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phyx-m · 6 months ago

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Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 31: The Flower In The North

Content warning: Sukuna POV, blood, mentions of wounds, mentions of mass death, cannibalism.

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Arrival - Jan J. Močnik Sanctified - Nine Inch Nails

Chapter 30 | Chapter 32

Seven years ago…

The sky warns of a coming calamity, staining the northern horizon red.

A fire scorches the land, rolling over thatched roofs, devouring trees, destroying homes, swallowing lives. It moves like a living thing, yet the ground it leaves behind is dead. Bodies lie together in mounds, scattered like refuse, littering the soil, choking the grass in every direction.

Some manage to drag themselves free from the burning wreckage and crawl. But they struggle, mouth agape and wailing in agony, their charred skin peels away from the bone like melting tallow.

From his seat, crossed-legged on a cool patch of green, the King of Curses watches. He watches them struggle. He watches while he eats. And as he eats, he waits.

It has only taken him hours, leading into the summer night, to lay waste to three villages in succession. Soon, this nameless village in the north will be nothing. Soon, it will vanish, and he will destroy one final place before returning south, his retribution complete.

Clutching at the mutilated corpse of a woman with his lower hands, Sukuna lifts the meat and rips off a chunk of fat. He’s been gorging all day, yet hunger still leaves him empty. Dissatisfied by the lack of resistance and bored with the idea that this would all end here today.

He tears off another bite.

Blood crawls its way down his chin, and the maw on his stomach opens, the tongue rolling out to catch any stray pieces of stringy flesh and bits that don’t make it down his throat.

Bite and swallow.

Swallow and wait.

On and on and on.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

The desperate slap of tiny feet against the ground catches his ears. He pauses, fingers flexing around the soft mound of the body’s torso. His apathetic upper eyes remain fixed ahead, but he dips his chin, angling his lower pair toward the noise disrupting his meal.

Two children rush out from the cloud of smoke, coughing, and hand in hand, they skid to a halt under his scarlet gaze. Their soot-streaked faces glisten, tracks of tears falling from their wide eyes round like moons. Behind them, the fire roars, casting shadows that stretch unnaturally long, as if they belong to adults instead. Trembling and alone, they freeze, hoping to slip past the monster unnoticed.

The King of Curses only stares, chews, and then swallows. One child sniffles, then blinks, shuffling on burned feet. The sting of smoke pulls more tears to their eyes while the other openly weeps, tugging urgently at their companion’s hand.

Tch. Pathetic.

Sukuna doesn’t move. He simply eats and watches, blood bubbling up from his mouth and dripping down to the grass.

“What the hell are you looking at?” he mutters, his words lost, muffled by the stomach lining lodged between his teeth. “Leave.”

The children don’t wait; they take it as a sign to flee and bolt, their footsteps retreating into the collective dim. Sukuna doesn’t spare them another glance but listens to the frantic murmur of their escape, the sniffling and sobbing.

“Noisy fucking brats,” he huffs, their cries fading into the distance.

Children were always obnoxiously loud in his presence, always crying and trembling and screaming like little pests buzzing at his ears. Their inquisitive stares and nascent ideas about his “ugly mask” and extra limbs irritate him like an itch.

Canines tearing into another bit of flesh, he watches the massive fire rage before him, painting his skin in colours of a sunset—fiery reds, molten oranges, and streaks of gold dancing across the night.

He keeps eating.

Eating, chewing, swallowing, watching, waiting.

Seconds stretch into minutes, then minutes into an hour.

The blaze grows, the masses of bodies blacken, and soon, they foul the air into a thick putrid stench.

Impatience settles over him. This was taking too long. A fire of this scale, the magnitude of slaughter impressive enough that it should have dragged a vulture from its nest.

Still, he’s forced to wait. But when the moon squats high, and half the woman’s body in his grasp has been consumed, Sukuna pauses. His bare chest and sirwal soaked in gore.

The scream of a horse fractures the night. He lifts his head, ears tracking the sound.

Then comes another shrill whine.

And another.

These are uneasy shrieks, cutting through from beyond the treeline to his right. There lies the untouched forest, free from his carnage, its shadows providing the perfect cover for cowards.

His smile twists into something ugly.

The snake, Kasai Takuma, has finally arrived, and his reputation precedes him. Sukuna knows he’s there, with his other clansmen, refusing to come close, choosing only to observe from a distance.

They’ve likely never laid eyes on anything like him before. Few ever had. And when they do, it’s always the same.

Disgust. Disgust at the impurity of his body. Revulsion at his abnormalities. An ill omen to be titled and cursed. A language of violence—one he knows very well.

Rolling the torso off his lap, Sukuna stands, sliding a hand through his hair before he stretches, his neck cracking. All four of his eyes turn skyward to the inky black curve of the world, tinged bright where it dips toward the earth.

He inhales a breath.

If Kasai is here, then his estate is unguarded, which means his family—his wife and two daughters are alone. Perfect. Let a hand reach out in the dark and strip this man of everything, beginning with the woman carrying his next heir.

His feet are already moving.

Using the play of shadow and smoke for cover, Sukuna picks his way unnoticed through the mess at his feet. He slips away to where his mount waits, tethered in silence and from there, he rides off.

* * * * *

The clop of hooves on mossy ground is a dull beat that accompanies him as he guides his horse through the forest north toward the compound, taking only the backroads. Gaining information on the snake had been fairly easy, especially given how guarded Takuma has been about certain aspects of his life. Still, knowing a man capable of inhibiting another’s body with a simple switch of his brain has proven useful. Though, Sukuna doesn’t doubt he’ll owe a debt one day.

After some time, he reigns in his mount to a stop. If he plans to descend upon the estate, he prefers to keep the animal at a distance, away from the chaos to come.

Dismounting, he tethers it to a low-hanging branch of a tree, giving it a pat before turning away. Ahead, through the brush, a river glimmers silver and winding through the verdant dim. Sirwal already ruined, Sukuna walks toward it and pushes in. Bare feet sinking into the soft silt of the riverbed, he exhales, savouring the coolness lapping at his legs.

Nature has always fascinated him. Years without a home taught him to depend on its offerings. Plants, animals, and flowers. They all possess a dual power—they can provide aid and comfort or bring suffering and death, their beauty often concealing their danger.

Stepping in deeper, the water sloshes lazily around his ankles before rising to submerge his calves. He glances down, watching the ripples spread outward, tiny waves shining with the refracted light of stars and the pustular moon peeking through the lush canopy above.

Among the reflections, his four eyes glow like coals shoved into a pit and left to burn. He blinks down at his distorted visage, then crouches, the movement pulling the scent of fire and blood from the fabric of his garment.

Cupping his upper hands into the glassy surface, he lets the cool liquid tickle his skin before lifting them. He takes a sip, washing away the traces of iron still clinging to his tongue. Swallowing, he dips his head for a second taste, his forehead brushing against the cup formed by his fingers.

A prickle spreads across his skin. He pauses, feeling it again, stronger this time.

His lower eyes slip downward, tracing the sudden goosebumps rising unnaturally along his forearms and creeping higher.

Odd.

Dropping the water, he runs a fingertip over the raised flesh. It’s not the chill of the river causing it.

It’s something else.

There’s a change in the air—a faint hum, a low buzz, a pressure steadily building, trembling, climbing higher and higher, eating away at him like a disintegration as though something bottled up is about to shatter into a thousand tiny, little pieces.

It commands his attention.

All of it.

Rare.

The goosebumps begin to crawl higher and faster, spreading up his arms, across his chest, down his back, and along his spine. A sensation like warm fingers gliding across skin. There’s only surprise when, for a heartbeat, all four of his eyes roll back.

He clenches his jaw.

His focus sharpens.

The sensation intensifies.

It builds.

And builds.

And—

CRACK!

The world vibrates with such a force it momentarily disrupts every thought inside his head.

The King of Curses quickly rises from the water, river droplets splattering off him, smacking loudly onto the surface. He tips his head. A bit of concentration, and there—a sense of direction. The source.

In an instant, he moves. Fast.

Feet punching into the undergrowth, he goes, almost entirely forgetting after all these years what he’s truly here for. But whatever the hell is causing this, he wants to indulge in it. He wants to crush it into the ground, to consume it entirely, watch it burn as bright as it possibly can, and then see it snuff out.

Further and further, he moves north, trees rushing past, rocks, and brush, everything a blur. Following the energy’s pattern is simple enough. Whoever it is has no control over it. It's leaking off in irritating waves, pulling, subsiding, and then crashing down against him again and again.

When it leads him to what appears to be the limestone barrier marking the edge of a compound, he slows. It’s gaudy enough, matching the description he was given as Kasai. But Kenjaku revealed nothing about a sorcerer being present.

Slipping into the shelter of a grove cut from dense foliage, Sukuna moves closer to the back of the estate, but his brow furrows. The source of the energy is barreling straight toward him. A falling star on a collision course.

His pulse begins to thrum in rhythm with it, the pressure nudging him forward, urging him. He only takes one more step before a girl, barefoot and covered in blood, crashes through the yews, forcing him to pull back into the bramble and mask himself.

A distant, urgent voice follows after her, another coming, another’s energy. Not one but two sorcerers.

Dipping into the shadows, Sukuna stays close to the trunks until he reaches a break and sinks low into the undergrowth, crouching on his haunches.

At last, he sees them.

The bloodied one sobs uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking, while the other leans close, murmuring softly and running her hands through her hair. As he studies their features, the similarities become clear—their hair, the sound of their voices, the shared mannerisms.

Siblings.

Sisters.

Daughters.

Kasai’s daughters.

Tilting his head, he smirks. Fate, in all its befitting glory, can be such a cruel bitch.

Keeping his gaze on the sobbing one—which he considers the pathetic of the two, he watches as she suddenly pulls away from the other’s embrace.

A few more soft words are spoken before there’s a swell in energy. The comforting one cups the other’s face, her thumbs tracing across her cheeks gently.

“No more tears, sister,” she soothes.

Instantly, the pitiful one’s sobs come to an abrupt halt.

Interesting.

A single touch, a few words, and the other bends completely to her will. Such a subtle, devious skill and quite the weapon for a woman finding her footing in this world.

The sound of horses and men approaching in the distance calls their attention. Sukuna inclines his head. It appears he will have more than a family to slaughter now. He might as well take the entire clan down tonight.

Between the two girls, a few more words are exchanged, and there’s another throb of energy.

It’s clear that the comforting one knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s had months—years—of practice. Enough to perfect her methods because whatever she’s done, she’s left traces of herself all over her sister. Residuals of her will, twisting and breaking the girl’s mind, moulding her into an obedient, dutiful mutt. Something small. Something smothered.

A sibling’s love.

How traitorous a thing.

Red eyes piercing into the dark, the King of Curses watches the persuasive one retract her fingers and slip away, retreating back inside the barrier. She leaves behind the other—this crying, broken creature before him. And slowly, she begins to unravel further, descending into a pit of delirium.

“I killed her… I killed her…”

From where she stands below the moonlit trees, the first muttered confession spills out.

Disgust crawls across his face as he watches.

But then, it gets worse.

Her movements become erratic, her pacing uneven, hair falling over her features and hiding the tears he knows are there. Gaze tracking her, he follows the curve of her feet pressing into the grass, counting each time she turns.

One.

Turn. Pace. Turn again.

Two.

“I killed her…”

Turn. Pace. Turn again.

Three.

“I killed her…”

Madness licks at her heels.

So what if she had killed someone? Looking at her now, she seems incapable of such an act unless she’d been forced to. And that’s what he can sense all over her. She’s been manipulated—a girl who might have sought affection but was left with only a hollow imitation of it.

“I killed her… I killed her…”

He clicks his tongue, irritation rising as she becomes mindless.

This? This was what had drawn him here? A sick, rabid animal that should be put out of its fucking misery.

Turn. Pace.

All that untapped power trapped inside such a wretched, fragile girl, so easily controlled despite it.

Turn again.

She is undeserving. Untalented. Worthless.

Turn.

Sukuna stands.

Pace.

He takes a step.

Crack!

The branch at his foot splits the quiet like snapping bones.

She freezes.

And for half a heartbeat, so does he.

It falls silent.

Eventually, she turns, lifting her gaze to meet him directly. And finally, he sees you—your mouth, your eyes, your face.

Everything.

Pulling free from the shadows, he steps into the grove’s clearing. Heel to toe, his feet whisper over the cool grass as he closes the distance, steady, unhurried, his four eyes never leaving your countenance.

At this moment, there are three things Ryomen Sukuna knows with absolute certainty.

First, you aren’t running. Whatever compulsion your sister has eating away at you, it keeps you rooted in place. Lucky for him. Second, even now, drenched in tears, gore, and blood, you are, against all reason… lovely. Third, a terrible chasm has just opened inside him, and it can only be filled by one thing.

“Fuga.”

Like a hearth breathing to life, heat bursts and takes shape within his palms, coalescing into a blaze that he twists and sharpens. His upper arm flexes, shoulder rolling back as he drags it tight into an arrow. His stance is solid, his grip firm, his aim locked on you.

There is no sympathy. Not for your father. Not for your sister. Not for your mother.

Especially not for you.

The arrow is drawn back further, his hand brushing the underside of his jaw, all four eyes fixed on his target.

A single breath in.

A single breath out.

Release.

And yet, a thread claws at the edges of his mind, snagging, pulling, refusing to be ignored.

He cannot release it.

The very idea sickens him, and his mouth pulls back into a sneer, his shoulders bunching as his muscles coil and strain.

He draws back again, further with more force so that the fire trembles, embers snapping and scattering like shards of glass.

Draw. Aim. Exhale.

Release.

But he hesitates.

This should be simple.

So why does his hand falter?

You’re the daughter of a man who has taken from him. A bastard who reshaped his world before he even entered it. Now, that same kindness will be returned.

He draws back again. Further. Further.

Through the sweltering blaze, your wide eyes meet his, their shining surface reflecting the glow of the flames.

Red, red, red.

He huffs.

Lowering his arms, the fire dies at his sides, leaving the air charged with lingering heat. His mouth twists into a faint pout, frustration of a different kind winding its way through his body.

“Perhaps taking its head is the answer,” he grumbles before walking towards you.

Muscles straining, he moves closer until he’s in arms reach, scarlet gaze mapping every part of you. Your robe is soaked in blood, clinging to your frame, spattered with viscera. Whatever you’ve done, it was messy.

Badum, badum, badum.

The pulse at your neck jumps, the only sign you’re growing nervous. Otherwise, you’re still—frozen in place, barely daring to breathe.

When he reaches you, he crosses his upper arms over his chest, tilting his head. Compared to him, you’re a mere wisp of a thing, this frail creature standing before him.

Slowly, Sukuna falls to his haunches, his knees spreading to cage you between them. His lower arms rest on his thighs while the upper pair remain crossed, looming above.

“So pathetically… small,” he murmurs while looking into your eyes, which are wide and unfocused in the murk. Perhaps a side effect of what your sister has done.

Cocking his head, he reaches out with his lower left hand, pinching your jaw and lifting your face for a better look.

“But look at these glittering eyes of yours,” he coos, mockingly. “So much emotion trapped behind them.”

His thumb brushes along your chin, skirting upward, avoiding the path of your tears. The touch is absurdly light—absurd because gentleness is foreign to him.

He has never touched anyone like this before.

You should be dead by now. Dead because that was the promise he made to himself long ago.

All of the Kasai family. Gone.

Wet lashes falling downward, Sukuna notices your eyes dropping to your hemline. Following your attention, he sees the bloody feet of yours. Where his feet are placed on either side, he can swallow you whole.

“Little indeed,” he smirks, brushing a streak of gore from the sleeves of your yukata before licking the blood from his fingertips. “Looks like your hands took the life of another, haven’t they?”

The truth is obvious from the deranged mutterings he heard earlier. I killed her… I killed her.

There’s a nod, the movement of your head stunted and small.

“Who?” he asks, voice silk-wrapped, as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, curving a finger down the cartilage.

To his surprise, you shiver and relax slightly, though your eyes still blink dumbly, and you shift on your feet as if eager to run, but he knows you can’t.

“Mother.” It’s only an utterance, and he barely catches it, sounding more like a plea than anything else.

Looming in the distance, the noises of the returning horses and men swell, making you spin your head in that direction.

A decision needs to be made. Now.

Sukuna’s gaze lifts. All he can hear is your racing heart, screaming to hide. His eyes dance back to you before nudging your attention on him again.

“What has she done to you, hm?” he mumbles, swiping his thumb along your temple. He watches your eyes grow heavy, comforted once more by such a small, insignificant touch.

Strange.

Someone with this much power is not meant to cower or be afraid.

You should be like him.

You could be like him.

If given a chance—but here, you never will.

A flower unable to flourish will wither and die, and he wonders what you might become if allowed to bloom. Not smothered. Not kept small. Somewhere else, perhaps. Elsewhere in time.

“Flower of the north…” he muses, rising slowly to tower over you. “So easy to crush, and yet so beautiful.”

With footsteps approaching, he knows the other daughter is coming. Her power saturates the air in thick waves. Fingers, he does not want touching him.

Peering down, he takes one last look at you before stepping away, leaving you behind.

For now.

But his plans have reshaped, folding into something new. In time—years, perhaps—he’ll find you again. And when he does, he’ll ensure that this decision to let you live will be worth far more than it is now.

* * * * *

Present…

“Why were you there that night?”

The wood of the verandah creaks beneath Sukuna’s weight as he steps outside. A cooler breeze has replaced the warmth from earlier in the day, its force rattling through the trees surrounding the shrine, lifting the edges of his sirwal and hair.

Ignoring your question, he continues walking, descending the steps into his private garden. Dry, brittle grass crackles at the soles of his feet.

“Answer me!”

Your voice hits his back again, louder this time, not tampered down by the wind. Not tampered down by anything anymore.

“Sukuna!”

His name. Not my Lord.

He stops walking.

He always did like the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth. There’s always a hesitation to it, as if you’re unsure how to wield it. And when you do, it always comes paired with an emotion—pleasure, submission, anger. Like now.

It’s refreshing, really, to have all the pretenses stripped away. With niceties gone, everything laid bare, he can see what you truly are.

Finally.

He turns.

In the doorway to his chambers, you still look so small compared to him, just as you did the first time you met. But now, the pale fabric of your yukata, swallowed by the dim and streaked red where he cut you, gives you a fierceness you didn’t possess then. And in that, he has given you a gift you aren’t even aware of. He tore you from your family, and look at you now—sneaking into his chambers in the dead of night, seeking his ruin. Once, you were nothing. Now you’re finally coming into your own.

“To kill the Kasai lineage so I could taste your father's suffering,” he states calmly. “That meant ending you, your sister, your mother, and the unborn maggot growing inside her.”

There’s a pause.

A gust of wind hurls itself between the two of you.

“Why?”

Your voice is quiet, trembling at the edges, but his gaze slides from your lips to your eyes, catching the moment the last traces of affection for him empty and die.

Good.

They were only a useless collection of emotions anyway.

Your hate and violence—that’s what he wants. And now, he’ll have them tenfold. Unlike before, when you buried them under restraint. There were always flashes of fury, but nothing like what he’ll see now. You’ll leave this world not sobbing, not pleading, but fighting. And he’ll be the one to give you that ending.

“Because your father deserved to have his life stripped away,” he replies coolly, crossing his upper arms over his chest. “He was a sickness that killed the land and left others to rot in lives they did not choose.”

“So all of this…” You step onto the verandah, your hands curling into fists, your left tightening around the tantō you retrieved from the floor. “...this union…”

He watches you take a breath, then blink as confusion and desperation start to ease into anger.

“What the hell do you want from all of this!?”

“You!” Sukuna snarls loudly.

Your mouth curls into a nasty smile before inclining your chin.

“Me?” you grind out.

“You. You were the one thing keeping me from taking everything apart that night,” he growls, striding toward the steps where you stay rooted at the top of them. “Not because I couldn’t kill you, but because I wanted to. I wanted to rip you apart, scatter the pieces, and let the earth swallow you whole. But I couldn’t. Something in you clawed at me, wrapped itself around my lungs, and squeezed. And don’t misunderstand,” he spits, eyeing you up and down. “It’s not affection. There’s a power in you begging to be unearthed. A fire smothered by hands that keep you small, blind to anything beyond the obedient bitch you’ve always been."

He knows you won’t believe him if he tells you about your sister. Force-feeding you the truth never works. But your reaction to Yuna’s name always amuses him. The first time he mentioned her, your energy flared—briefly, beautifully—before you fled instead of fought. That was when he chose a different tactic: to learn you, find your weaknesses, exploit them.

“You’ll show me that tonight.” He gestures to the space between you two before he turns and saunters into the garden. “I’ll be the one to drag it out of you.”

Laughter hits his back, and he turns to see your head tipped back, howling like a damn animal as you slowly make your way down the steps.

“All I got from that nonsense,” you say, pausing to catch your breath and stifle your laughter, “is that you’re fucking insane!”

“Am I?” he snaps, anger flaring in his eyes. “Look at yourself! Seven years ago, two months even, you were nothing. Weak. Small. But now, standing in my chambers, staring me down, demanding answers. You’ve grown. I took you because I wanted to see what you could become, away from that wretched family of yours.”

But the truth, still buried deep where he can’t fully face it, is that he’s been drowning in you for months, maybe years. And it’s been far too long.

He knows too much now.

He knows all the little things you like. How you light up when he stares at you just a moment too long, when others might feel discomfort, but you’ve grown to revel in it. How you study him, your eyes tracing his form when you think he isn’t looking. How badly you want to touch the right side of his face, your gaze always drifting there, trying to decide what it is. He knows how much you crave his touch. He knows how nervous you’ve become around him, your hands fidgeting as if to distract yourself from desires you refuse to admit.

A distraction.

That was it.

You are a distraction.

Ending your life will finally bring air back into his lungs. Because he’s been submerged in you for far too long, tangled in your human emotions—emotions he should have left alone.

Once you’re gone—after all, it was you who took both your parents—perhaps he’ll finally hunt down Yuna. Then again, he wouldn’t be surprised if that serpent slithers her way here once she hears of what happens tonight. Because he knows what she’s been up to—carving her own path, gathering alliances, likely manipulating her way into the three major clans and climbing even higher.

Eventually, she’ll come for him. They all will.

And once again, you are the distraction he doesn’t need or want when that happens.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of your footsteps pulls his thoughts back. Padding softly down the stairs, then muffled by the grass, they carry you closer until you come to stand before him.

Sukuna’s top lip curls back, and he steps forward, closing the space between you in a single stride. Toe to toe, his upper arm rises, fingers trailing to the wound along your jaw. Not wanting his opponent to bleed out too soon, he presses two fingers against it.

Four eyes crashing into yours, he slowly swipes along the thin gash, feeling you tense under his touch and the sting of his healing.

“As I said,” he whispers, his hand falling to his side, flexing once at the lingering sensation. “You die here tonight.”

He crosses the garden, putting distance between you before turning back, anticipation threading through his body.

“Either you let the vow kill you for refusing, or you show me, just once, what you can do. Besides, you should be honoured by this privilege.”

You say nothing, and he waits, staring at you. Staring at the tantō he’d given you, gripped so tightly in your hand that your knuckles have turned—

He squints.

From knuckles to fingertips, a web of vein-like discolouration climbs up your hands. A sign your energy is spilling out in erratic bursts, and you don’t even understand how to control it.

He chuckles.

What would happen if he let you touch him with those fingers of yours?

Heartbeat pounding in his teeth, Sukuna feels his blood sliding through his veins, thick, like molten iron.

Oh, he’s going to enjoy this.

“Well?” he croons, flaring his eyes and rolling his neck casually. “Let's get this over with. I’m eager to see you drip red for me again.”

Gaze leaping to your face, he watches for any sign of anger dancing across your eyes. There’s still so much of it buried there, aching to be unleashed.

He can help with that, using the intimacy he’s pried from you as a weapon. Like a flower—beautiful on the surface, until the petals are stripped away, leaving nothing but the bare stem.

“What was it,” he asks, his voice almost tender, “that made you start to lose your heart to me?”

A muscle feathers along the curve of your jaw, lashes flickering for a second. He can tell you don’t particularly like this question, and it makes his grin widen.

“Was it when I protected you? Took that polearm into my body?" He tilts his head to the side. "Or was it something else? Something much more intimate?”

The question lingers in the air.

The moon spills over you like milk, brightening the shadows in your pretty eyes as they lock with his. Slowly, you lift your chin.

Defiance suits you.

“No,” you say, simply, widening your stance.

His grin sharpens. He’ll drag your anger out one way or another. But he’ll enjoy playing with you first.

A sudden gust of wind tosses your hair wildly across your face, momentarily obscuring the creeping darkness in your features. But he catches it—a subtle twitch at the corners of your mouth, pulling at the bow of your lips, the one he’s always found himself watching.

A smile.

Interesting.

You are such a fascinating thing when faced with your own death.

His teeth flash viciously in response, his four eyes devouring you.

You.

His flower.

His possession.

His property.

His wife.

His to kill.

His.

Always.

Mine.

His upper right arm swings up aggressively, but before he can react further, you turn abruptly. Yukata snapping in the breeze, you give him your back, take a step, and then—

You’re gone.

Running.

His brow crashes down, eyes narrowing to angry red slits as your figure bursts through the wilting foliage, racing toward the forest.

That fucking forest.

He tosses back his head and laughs, the sound manic and crazed.

Are you really going to make him chase you?

How nostalgic—one last tumble through those woods.

“Keep running!”

You foolish girl. Idiot girl.

“Stupid girl!” he snarls through his teeth, taking a step forward. His energy uncoils in a violent wave, vibrating and reaching for yours, which he can feel fraying and unravelling in panic.

He grins as adrenaline pours through him, his strides lengthening as he follows. You disappear past the lumbering treeline, falling into the dark maw of the night, but your residuals alight the ground like a map.

You always were easy for him to find.

Always.

And as the King of Curses slips soundlessly into the forest, he knows this time will be different. When he stands before you again, in this final confrontation, there will be no hesitation. Unlike all those years ago, when he held back, this time he will burn you, slice you, consume you.

He will rip the very last breath from your lungs.

🔗 Chapter 32

#beneath the silk #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #heian sukuna #dark content #true form sukuna #dark fantasy #jjk fanfic #sukuna fanfic #sukuna smut #jujustu kaisen fanfic #ao3 writer

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cogentsummoner · 2 months ago

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M. For all might

M. When it rains/snows/storms.

warnings: this fic is unfinished!

You were having a bad day.

It'd been a long, exhausting day, made only worse by the downpour outside. You just needed to print out a couple dozen things, and then you could go home. To your quiet, lonely, cheap apartment.

You'd had the brilliant idea of using the printer on the top floor, knowing that no one would be on that floor today. It was totally abandoned, and you could just... enjoy the quiet.

Your Quirk, Echolocation, gave you an incredibly heightened sense of hearing, alongside big bat ears. If you focused, you could hear someone's heartbeat from several rooms away. So it was nice to retreat from the constant hustle and bustle of the floor you usually worked on.

You scuttled out of the top floor's printer room, and were heading back to the elevator when it happened; the landing bay door opened, and you were suddenly, completely drenched, head to toe, in rainwater that'd built up on the roof.

It'd been a bad day. A very bad day. That just got so much worse.

You started crying.

Loud, ugly, runny nose sobbing as you looked down at the thick stack of papers that were now completely destroyed and useless, and you'd have to print them out all over again, and you were so tired, you just wanted to go home-

"I'm so sorry!" the Symbol of Peace said, when he landed and saw your sorry state, and the waterlogged papers now spread out on the floor. "I didn't think anyone would be up here, given the time of day and weather..."

"I just wanted to use the printer!" you wailed, taking deep heaving gulps of breath between each word. You realized you were making a fool of yourself, that this would probably get back to your boss, that you'd be in trouble somehow. That's just the kind of day it had been.

Then, something unexpected happened- a pair of strong, warm- if rain soaked- arms wrapped you in a tender hug.

People could say what they liked about All Might, but no one could deny that he gave amazing hugs.

You relaxed, bit by bit, as you began to calm down in his arms. Your sobs petered out, leaving you exhausted, soaked to the bone, and still needing to print out all those papers before you could leave. You buried your face into All Might's shoulder just a little bit more, wishing you could stay in his arms, where nothing bad could happen.

But you were an adult- and more importantly, his employee- so tentatively, you let him go, and he did the same. You'd only actually been in the same room as All Might a handful of times, let alone spoken with him, let alone been hugged by him. You sniffled, and tried to wipe your runny nose on your wet sleeve- predictably, it didn't do anything to help.

"I... I'm sorry for that, sir, I just-" you started, voice small, not making eye contact. Now, outside of the protective halo of his arms, your embarrassment was eating you alive.

"No, no- it was all my fault, I'm the one who should be apologizing!" All Might said, waving your apology off. "I'm sorry for not signalling ahead- for getting you and your papers drenched."

You shook your head. "No, it's... you were right, it's late, and I should've known better to come here with the weather," you said with a defeated sigh. "I'll... clean these up, print them out again... then I can finally go home."

(All Might would never admit it, but in that moment, you seemed so small and sad and… frankly, pitiable that there was little he wouldn't do to see you smile again. He knew you had a nice smile- he'd seen it as Yagi.)

"Nonsense!" All Might laughed, hands on his hips. "It was my blunder that led to this mess, so I shall clean it up! Including explaining things to your manager tomorrow!"

It took a moment for it to click what he meant, and you let out a little gasp when it did.

"You will?" you asked, to which he nodded. In your exhausted state, it was almost too much to handle; grateful tears welled up in your already red, puffy eyes. "That's really sweet of you- thank you."

"Of course!" All Might said cheerfully. Then, noticing how you were shivering, he seemed to consider something. He let out the tiniest sigh- so quiet that an ordinary person would never be able to hear it- and said, "Why don't you come with me, and we can see about getting you in some dry clothes?"

It was All Might. The All Might. What were you supposed to do, not trust him unquestioningly? You followed him, though your brain did kick in when the Might Gate began to slide open.

"Oh, I…I don't think I have the clearance to be back here," you said dumbly.

All Might laughed and assured you, "You're with me! It's more than alright."

He led you through a fancy office, and you couldn't help but notice how… clean it looked, to the point of looking like something out of a magazine more than anywhere people actually worked.

The transition from office to apartment was abrupt, and left you more than a little surprised. It dawned on you slowly that All Might had brought you to his apartment, and you let out a little gasp.

The… cleanliness, the feeling of a place being not lived in- it still permeated that space, even as it was supposed to be All Might's home. The only signs of life and personality you could see were a huge shelf, full of DVDs, and… a big cluster of pill bottles on the kitchen island. When he caught where your gaze had gone, All Might rushed over to clean it up, shoving them all in a drawer, out of sight.

"Apologies! I don't often have guests here," he said, nervously. You could hear how his heartbeat sped up, and you gave him your approximation of a reassuring smile.

"That's okay. This is kind of like… your own Fortress of Solitude, then? The Apartment of Peace?" you attempted to joke.

Thankfully, All Might laughed, and his heartbeat returned to normal. "Something like that!" he said, putting the last of the pill bottles away.

As he walked back to you, you debated whether or not to say something - shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you made your decision.

"Sir, it's… you don't have to be embarrassed about taking medicine. I do too," you told him quietly, sincerely.

He seemed caught off guard, almost startled, by your words, and you almost regretted saying anything at all… but then, his smile seemed to relax into something more… heartfelt. Something touched.

"It… thank you," he said, voice quieter than you'd ever heard it. "I… I'd appreciate it if you didn't… mention it to anyone. It's not something I want the public to know."

"Of course, sir. My lips are sealed," you said, then made a zipping motion across your mouth, before locking it shut.

His smile turned into a goofy grin and he laughed, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Now, let's get you some dry clothes!"

Not two minutes later you were being (politely) shoved into the largest bathroom you've ever seen with a bundle of clean clothes in your arms.

You started to fill the bathtub (You weren't sure when a bath was added to the equation, but you wouldn't question it. That was quite possibly the biggest and most luxurious bathtub you'd ever seen, and after the day you'd had, you very much wanted to use it.) when your ear twitched. You heard an unfamiliar sound, like a sudden rush of air, followed by a sigh that sounded heavy and weary… and not quite like All Might.

You paused, but heard nothing else over the sound of running water- so you shrugged and put it out of mind.

Sinking into warm, bubbly water, you considered something else that had bothered you since All Might had unceremoniously derailed your night- his breathing.

It sounded strange. There was no way around it. And it didn't sound strange in a way that you recognized, either. You knew what it sounded like when someone with chest congestion, or asthma, or bronchitis or even lung cancer breathed in. The sound of All Might's breathing didn't match any of those.

But it did sound an awful lot like how it sounded when Mr. Yagi breathed in. Which was perhaps even stranger.

When you were around someone enough, you start to mirror their habits subconsciously - this was the excuse that Mr. Yagi gave when people pointed out how much he had in common with All Might. Which you supposed checked out… for everything except breathing.

You knew Mr. Yagi had some kind of issue with his lungs, though you weren't sure what- why on earth would All Might's breathing sound like his?

Meanwhile, Yagi Toshinori was trying to catch his breath. He'd already been running low on time in his muscle form, and being forced to stay in it around you was not helping the situation.

But he couldn't just leave you wet and miserable and alone.

He'd just have to deal with it, he reasoned as he carried the damp ball of fabric that was your clothes to his washer. It wouldn't take too long to wash and dry them, but it would certainly take long enough that few, if any, public transportation options would be available by the time they were done. And the thought of you walking home in this rain, after going to so much trouble to dry you off… he sighed. Truthfully, he'd already made up his mind to insist you stay in the guest bedroom.

He'd just have to lock his own bedroom door tonight, he supposed.

You were absolutely swimming in All Might's clothes.

The two of you should've expected that, really. The shorts he'd lent you went down to your ankles, and the shirt was much the same.

minific prompts / accepting

#forgoing the taglist bc this is unfinished #maxie writes #all might x reader #toshinori yagi x reader #yagi toshinori x reader

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eiightysixbaby · 10 months ago

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pretty please may i request some fem pregnant reader x jonathan? 🥺 like she is weak and sore but she really needs him and wants him to carry her so she can feel light and not so big. maybe if you could include body insecurity as well? used to be thin and am not anymore.

hi lovely of course u can!! jonathan would be the sweetest ever while you’re pregnant no one can convince me otherwise. i hope i didn’t read this wrong by putting some light spice in here 👀

18+ please cw: pregnancy, mentions of weight gain, body insecurity, light smutty content

You hunch over on the sofa, making an honest attempt to retrieve the TV remote that had fallen to the floor in front of you. What once was an easy task now has you contorting into awkward positions, your six-month-pregnant belly serving as a barricade between you and the little black remote.

You give up with an exasperated huff, plopping backwards into a normal sitting position once more. Just that one simple bit of movement has your body screaming, aching all over with a soreness that’s never really left since you hit the five-month mark.

You glower at the television, now stuck on some stupidly long infomercial, as if it had personally wronged you. You rest a hand on your protruding belly, frowning slightly as you rub it in a single circular motion.

You feel huge. You’re swollen in places you didn’t know could swell, you have extra weight in places you aren’t used to having it. It’s been getting harder and harder to feel confident in your skin, and when simple tasks like picking the remote up off the floor become impossible, your self-confidence plummets even further.

Frustrated tears begin to well up in the corners of your eyes, your mouth feeling dry as you wail out softly. “Jonathan?”

You aren’t sure if he heard you, ready to actually succumb to full-blown crying, but then he comes bounding into the living room.

“Yeah? Woah, what’s wrong, baby?” he asks, his expression flipping to one of concern the instant he sees your big sad eyes.

“Can’t get the remote off the floor, ‘m too big,” you whimper, wiping your nose with your hand.

“Angel, it’s okay. I can get it for you,” he offers, the saint that he is, but all you do is groan.

“I’m blown up like a balloon! I can’t do anything anymore,” you sniffle, trying as hard as you can to fend off a heavy sob session. “I feel so… so ugly, and useless. Everywhere hurts, and moving around is so awful because my belly is so heavy, everything feels so heavy.”

Jonathan is quick to come over to your side, listening patiently to your well-justified rant. But what he’s not about to do, is let you continue to feel insufficient.

“Baby,” he says softly, tilting your chin up with his index finger, so you’re looking at him. “You’re the furthest thing from ugly. You’re so beautiful. Arguably even more beautiful than before, because you’re carrying our child, and I know that’s no easy task.”

You sniffle, letting him caress your face. “I just don’t feel that way right now.”

“Let me show you, then? Let me show you how beautiful I think you are. Let me make you feel good.”

It’s like a switch flips, his words bringing a throbbing sensation to your core. Having his hands, his lips, his tongue on you sounds so good you could start crying all over again, for an entirely different reason.

You nod, whimpering out an “Mhm.”

He cracks a smile, bringing his hands down to gently rub your stomach. “Come on, then. Let’s get you to the bed.”

“Will you carry me?” you ask him as he stands, your body too sore and weak to make the idea of walking sound appealing.

Plus, though you don’t want to admit it out loud, having him carry you will surely ease your mind about your growing size. If he can hold you like he used to, then surely it isn’t as drastic a change as you think.

He bends down to pick you up without a second thought, and he lifts you off the couch with ease. You can’t help but let out a content sigh at the fact he didn’t have to strain to pull your weight. He makes you feel so light, so small. It also feels fucking great to be transported to the bedroom without your feet aching with every step.

Heart thrumming in your chest, he sets you down on the mattress gently, and in an instant he’s crawling over you. His eager but gentle hands lift the fabric of your shirt over your bump, his mouth pressing kisses to the stretched skin. He’s careful, conscious of how badly your body hurts near-constantly, and his hesitance to hurt you further shows in his tender actions.

He works his way up, tugging the hem of the shirt higher and higher as he goes. When he reaches your breasts, he lets his tongue lave over each of your nipples. The sensation of his warm mouth sends shockwaves through you, your body shuddering. Your boobs unfortunately didn’t miss the memo as far as bodily pain goes, and they’ve been aching extra the last week. Jonathan’s soft hands with their gentle squeezes serve as a sharp contrast to the uncomfortable pangs you’ve been subjected to lately.

The way he touches you makes you feel like you could melt into the mattress, like your body is nothing more than molten caramel, oozing into a puddle.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, his words separated by kisses to your skin. “Most perfect girl I’ve ever seen in my life,” he praises, finally joining your mouths together.

You feel a lump in your throat, but in a happier way this time. His affection for you makes you feel special beyond words, easing your doubts and insecurities. Even if they’re bound to come back at times, you can take comfort in the fact that he’ll always be here to ease your worrying mind.

“Love you so much,” you tell him, bumping your nose against his.

“I love you even more,” is his soft reply, his eyes adorably crinkled with his smile. “I feel so lucky that I get to watch as you change through this whole process. It’s so special,” he says, letting his kisses trail back down to your breasts, then to your stomach.

“Jon,” you giggle, a watery sound with a new round of impending tears you’re trying to keep at bay. “Getting all soft on me.”

“It’s just the truth. You’re so perfect and I’m so lucky to have you.”

You let a few happy tears drip down your cheeks, wiping them away with the back of your hand. You let out a pleased hum when his attention dips beneath your stomach, his hands pulling your pajama bottoms down. He continues his trail of kisses, down down down, until he’s pressing one directly onto your pussy. You shiver at the contact, your walls clenching once around nothing.

“Gonna worship you like you deserve, angel. Never gonna let you forget how beautiful you are,” he murmurs from between your thighs, his pretty brown eyes gazing longingly up at you.

And damn, you’d be a fool not to sit back and let him do his thing.

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x fem!reader #jonathan byers smut #jonathan byers fluff #jonathan byers fanfic #leah’s got mail 💌

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deliciousbasementtrash · 2 years ago

Text

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Artist: Donna Floyd

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are now a nurse for the entire Batfamily. There has been an emergency and you have been called into the line of fire. How will the Fam react?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x Female!reader

Warning: Adult language, creepy perv man, gunshots, violence, killing

Word Count: 1.4k

Masterlist

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part 8: Pizza Joe's

Once again, days passed without seeing Jason. Embarrassment flared inside me at the thought of our last interaction. I wasn’t one that enjoyed crying in front of people. And I hadn’t just cried, I had wailed, and choked, with spit and most likely snot leaking from my face. It wasn’t a cute poetic actress single tear sniffle. It was ugly and loud. Whatever. It’s not like I want a relationship. I’ve worked hard to obtain my peace. I don’t want a man to come in and disrupt the life I’ve worked hard to build.

I grabbed gauze packets and shoved them into my chart, trying to distract my thoughts. I had completely run through them when Duke came in with several lacerations and broken ribs from the Black Mask. I shivered when Duke told me the details. The mob boss was sadistic and cruel, Duke had barely gotten away. I couldn’t meet Duke’s eyes after that. I’ve healed the Black Mask countless times. Guilt gnawed at my bones. Duke was injured because I kept that monster alive. And how many others? That line of delightful thinking always leads me straight into a downward spiral. Quickly, I grabbed more 16 gages and refilled those as well.

This past week has been relentlessly busy. It felt like it was a full moon every night with the amount of insanity that happened. Even for Gotham. It felt like every one of Gotham’s plentiful villains had some sort of scheme, disastrous plan, or some way to ‘conquer the world.’ It made both my jobs a living hell.

I was a walking zombie. I would sleep at my workstation and be woken up by the Batmobile screeching in with more injuries that needed to be healed. Bruce was almost always back and forth anywhere from 4-10 times a night. It sometimes felt like he was more reckless with me around. Throwing himself into danger more than he did in the beginning. Or maybe I was just overthinking it.

A chime on my phone interrupted my thoughts.

[Bruce has seven gunshot wounds. He isn’t stable enough to travel. We are on 717 Street behind Pizza Joe's. Be careful the shoot-out is still happening.]

The bright screen burned my tired eyes. The second the words sank in I grabbed the emergency kit and my keys and ran. I never treated them outside of the Batcave. They had always come to me. It must be bad.

I drove like a maniac and got there in record time. 8 minutes. 8 minutes of Bruce bleeding out. 8 minutes of more shooting and how many more injuries. A fucking lot can happen in just 8 minutes. Panic rose in my chest, but I swallowed it down. Countless gunshots popped around me, lucky enough for me, none were aiming for my car.

I got out quickly, grabbed my gear, and ran toward the back of the shittiest pizza in Gotham. The blue on Dick’s suit stood out like a beacon as he motioned me over. My black scrubs and dark zip-up hoody instantly got soaked through with rain. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the rain or gunshots that rang out around me like popcorn kernels on the stove. I cared about the physical state of Bruce Wayne.

It was bad. With the rain puddle around him, it was hard to determine the amount of blood loss. I got to work instantly. I threw my bag to Dick and put my hands on Bruce.

“I need you to stuff his wounds with gauze. I’m going to replenish his blood and then I need you to take the gauze out one by one, so when I heal him they aren’t inside him. Understand?” I asked as I let my powers take over.

“I understand,” Dick said and got to work just as quickly as I did. That was before more shots rang out. Hitting the brick wall just above my head.

“Fuck!” Dick yelled, grabbing his batoons. “They are closer now!”

I felt my body start to shake as I forced it to heal Bruce faster, “Who the fuck is ‘they?’’

“Black Mask’s men. They are shooting to kill,” Dick said, standing up and blocking me and Bruce from the new onset of bullets.

“Get down or I’ll have to heal you both!” I hissed at him.

“I need to get them away from you guys,” and without a second word, Dick ran toward the bullets.

“Dick! Don’t–” I knew he couldn’t hear my begging screams. My best bet was to heal Bruce as fast as possible, we both help Dick, and escape via my shitty car.

I was close too. Bruce’s blood was replenished, and five out of his seven gunshot wounds were closed Albiet the work was sloppy, but he would live.

That was before I felt the unmistakable coolness against the back of my head. My blood ran cold, and I pushed harder to heal Bruce faster.

“Stop whatever it is you’re doing or I’m going to blow your brains out,” a man said. His voice was oddly distorted.

I didn’t listen. I kept healing Bruce. Any minute now. Please. Please. He pressed the gun parallel to my cheek and fired. It burned hot against my face. I tasted metal and gunpowder. My ear was ringing louder than church bells. Hesitantly, I raised my hands.

“That’s it. Be a good bitch and stand up,” He said, digging the barrel harder into the back of my skull. Fear spiked inside me. I knew he would recognize me, but what choice did I have?

Slowly, I stood.

“Turn around,” the brute ordered.

Slowly, I turned.

A low, mocking laugh escaped from his skull mask. “My, my. Little Miss Y/f/n? Everyone was wondering where you had run off to! Turns out your the Bats personal whore!” I saw his eyes trail me up and down. Disgusting oily unease filled inside me. “You have a woman’s body now.”

Anger surged, making my blood feel like it was boiling. I slowly unzipped my hoody. The fool's eyes were transfixed on the sight. So much so that he didn’t realize that I was grabbing my medical scissors from my back pocket.

In one fluid motion, I grabbed the scissors, and the next I had them stabbed into Black Mask’s throat. Before he could react I withdrew the scissors, resulting in blood being sprayed across my body and face.

The Black Mask didn’t seem to care about his spurting neck. He reached out and gripped my throat, hard. He ruthlessly squeezed until it felt like my lungs would pop and my eyes would pop out of their sockets. Weakly, I tried to kick and scratch him. He merely laughed in my face, spraying more blood all over me.

From his pocket, he grabbed a knife. “You know how long I’ve wanted to play with you? Your father would never let me. But Daddy isn’t here, is he?” With a practiced grace, he sliced my forearm open. Earning a weak hissing breath of pain.

He trailed the knife over my chest, slowly adding more and more pressure.

I tried screaming for Dick, but he was too far away fighting with everything he had. Bruce was still unconscious.

I reached for this throat, trying to scratch him. I dug my index finger into his stab wound making him cry out in pain and anger and release the pressure he held against my neck. Air was a sweet joy in my lungs.

Pain flashed across my head as the Black Mask whipped me with the back of his gun. He pushed the gun into my mouth, and for the second time that night, I tasted gunpowder.

A loud shot rang out. Two shots. Three. Four. Five.

And the pressure was off me. The Black Mask fell backward. Taking his gun with him. Panicked I looked around for the source.

There, standing above Bruce, was the Red Hood. The rain was tinking against the metal. His chest heaved harshly up and down. And in his hands, he held two smoking guns. His expression was carved in a permanent scowl, but everything about him radiated vengeance.

The Black Mask groaned in pain. Without taking his eyes off me Jason shot until both magazines ran out.

I was frozen in place. Jason walked over Bruce’s unconscious body toward me.

“Why the fuck are you here?” He growled, taking me into his arms.

Taglist: @soundsfunbutno@killxz@morpheus-girl@redhood414@bungunz@conicoroahre@greenyofthegreens@taytaylala12 @theroyalmanatee @nym-0-s @sarahskywalker-amadala @bonesbonesetc @dreaming-of-the-reality @gone-batty-fics @thescarletcryptid @bakugosgf2005 @irregular-child @vythika96 @greenyofthegreens @mythicalmo @eccentricarabella-blog @princessbl0ss0m @ghostindeath @whirlwind2005 @the-lights-are-loud @00hellohello00 @tfygcdy @theblindhag @murkyponds @midnightecko @crookedmakerfury @cosmicqueenieb @deans-spinster-witch

If I missed anyone please let me know <3

Author's note: sorry for the late update guys, I wasn't feeling very confident in myself or my writing. I will try to update more frequently! thank you all for your support it means so much.

Hashbrown Cam!

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darkkitty1208 · 6 months ago

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I think about Reigen crying a lot. I wonder sometimes what kind of crier he would be. I wonder what he's like when he cries. The only scene where we had of him crying was in mob's psychic outburst (and I don't think that panic attack he had in the alley during separation arc counts) but he was trying to keep it together then. Then there was that time where he nearly cried when they threw him a party for his birthday, but... They played it off as a funny + sentimental scene so that doesn't count, either.

Maybe Reigen's an ugly crier. Who can't contain his loud sobs and has big fat tears rolling down his cheeks and smears snot all over himself and generally falls apart the moment he lets himself tear up. Who wails and shouts and spirals into a complete break down hard and quick. But I also like to think that Reigen's a silent crier, the kind that you don't realise is crying because he barely makes a sound and tries to stifle his sniffles. The kind that's mastered the art of silent crying and covering up a breakdown that he can turn completely back to normal on cue.

Hnghh. Having Thoughts.

#i cant stop him. he's invading my brain and my every thought. every one of my brain cells is just a mini little reigen i cant do this anymor #reigen arataka #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #ramblings

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bitemevanitas · 2 months ago

Note

sad-ish hc- how do vnc characters cry? violent shaking, slight trembling, loud cries, silent sobs..

✯☆✩✯☆✩✯☆✩

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲?

𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒

Type: Absolute ugly crier

He violently shakes when overwhelmed, gasps for air, sobs loudly but quickly shoves it down. Only cries when definitely alone or pushed to emotional breaking point. Hates that he cries. Tears are messy, face scrunched, sometimes with laughter tangled in.

𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐄 𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐄

Type: Trembling, pretty crier who tries to hold it together

Domi tries to stay elegant and composed in all situations, but her lip trembles, and tears fall silently down her cheeks until it’s too much. When it breaks, her sobs are soft, controlled but painful. Wipes tears away quickly and tries to pretend nothing happened.

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄

Type: Silent crier, clenched fists, repressed emotion

She doesn't allow herself to cry easily, but when she does, it's in tense silence. Her body locks up, her eyes glassy, tears sliding down her cheeks as if they’re betraying her. No sound. Just the weight of pure emotional restraint.

𝐍𝐎𝐄́ 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄

Type: Loud, heartfelt crier

Noé wears his heart on his sleeve. When he cries, it’s unfiltered and raw—full sobs, quivering voice, shaking shoulders. He doesn’t hide it. He cries when he's overwhelmed, in pain, or when he feels the suffering of others.

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄

Type: Nose-red, tear-drenched, nervous crier

He gets that “I don’t want to cry but I’m crying anyway” look. Sniffling, teary-eyed, doesn’t wail but lets out little stifled sobs, especially when trying to comfort others or when someone shows him kindness he doesn’t feel he deserves.

𝐂𝐇𝐋𝐎𝐄 𝐃'𝐀𝐏𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑

Type: Loud, aching sobs

Centuries of pain come out in slow, tired crying. Silent tears that turn into deep, rumbling sobs, her whole frame shaking gently as if the weight of memory and grief is too heavy to bear. She cries like someone who’s done it too often to still fear it.

𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀 (Vanitas of the Blue Moon)

Type: Doesn’t (or can’t?) cry anymore

Whatever emotion once allowed for tears has long been buried. If they ever cried, it was a lifetime ago. Now, their grief is expressed in quiet stares, cryptic smiles, and a haunting silence that’s worse than tears.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍

Type: Denial crier — “I’m not crying, YOU’RE crying!”

Tries so hard to be lighthearted. Will sniffle, turn away, and crack jokes while tears streak his face. His voice trembles, and he may even laugh through tears. Will insist he’s “fine” even when he’s clearly not.

𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄

Type: Delicate, whisper-sob crier

Cries like a petal falling off a flower—soft and quiet, with a quivering voice and wet lashes. She won’t sob out loud, but her eyes shine with emotion. The kind of crying that makes other people cry just watching it.

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍-𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐐𝐔𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋

Type: Emotionally charged, quiet sobber

Keeps it all in until it breaks. He’ll stand rigid, tears falling quietly, breath hitching with each exhale. His hands will clench at his sides, voice low and raspy. If you hug him, he might break down into full-body sobs.

#vanitas no carte #les memoires de vanitas #vnc #the case study of vanitas #vnc vanitas #headcanons

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erikahenningsen · 1 year ago

Note

Janis and Regina as camp counsellors?

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—

Janis is missing a camper.

"Lizzie!" she calls, but she gets no response. She scans the field where they've just finished a game of kickball, but sees the child nowhere.

She does see Regina standing off to the side, looking at her fingernails.

Regina, her "co-counselor," the bane of her existence.

"Regina, where's Lizzie?" Janis asks.

Regina looks up and shrugs. "I dunno."

Janis stares at her incredulously. "You were supposed to be watching them while I put away the equipment."

"Okay, well you were gone for, like, two minutes, so she couldn't have gone far," Regina says, looking completely and totally unconcerned.

It definitely took her longer than that, and the first stirrings of panic ignite in Janis's stomach.

"Lizzie!" she shouts again. "I can't believe you," she hisses at Regina. "You're gonna get us fired."

Regina rolls her eyes. "You are being so dramatic right now."

"Oooh," a couple of the kids say, giggling, picking up on the tension and apparently finding it amusing.

"LIZZIE! LIZ—"

"What?"

The child in question emerges from the wooded path that leads away from the field.

"Oh my god," Janis says in relief. "Where were you?"

"I had to go to the bathroom," Lizzie says.

"You know you're not supposed to go alone," Janis scolds, sending a harsh look Regina's way.

"Sorry," Lizzie says, and she seems sufficiently apologetic, so Janis lets it go.

"She could have gotten hurt," Janis tells Regina as the group leaves the field.

"Okay, well, she didn't, so..." Regina widens her eyes, like Janis is the one in the wrong here.

It takes all of her willpower, but Janis does not smack Regina over the head with her clipboard.

II.

Janis is walking a couple of campers back from the bathroom when she hears a shriek coming from the direction of the basketball court, where her group is playing four-square and drawing with chalk.

The shriek turns into loud crying, and when Janis reaches the blacktop, she sees one of her campers sitting on the ground, holding her leg. Regina is standing over her, expression pinched.

"It hurts," wails the camper. There's a scrape on her knee that's bleeding a little—nothing a band-aid can't fix, but kids that age see one drop of blood and think they're dying.

"Well, then you shouldn't run with your shoe untied," Regina says unsympathetically.

Janis frowns. "What's going on?"

"She tripped," Regina says with a roll of her eyes.

"So give her a band-aid," Janis says as she kneels next to the camper. "Hey, you're gonna be fine," she says. "It's not that bad."

"It's not?" the camper says, sniffling, and Janis shakes her head.

"I don't have a band-aid," Regina says.

Janis looks to Regina's waist, where the red first-aid fanny pack should be. Each group is supposed to have one. "Where's the first aid kit?"

Regina wrinkles her nose. "In the cabin. That thing is so ugly."

Janis stares at her in disbelief. "Well go get it!" she nearly shouts. One of the kids has an Epi-Pen in there that should be with them at all times.

"Jeez, relax," Regina says, holding up a hand. "You could have carried it, too."

"I already carry half this group's bags," Janis says indignantly. Their tiny arms and shoulders get tired so easily.

"Those things weigh, like, two pounds, but fine, I'll go get it," Regina says with a sigh, like she's doing Janis some huge favor. She turns on her heel and heads off in the direction of the cabins.

Janis fishes a tissue out of her pocket and presses it against the camper's knee in the meantime.

At least Regina will be out of her hair for fifteen minutes.

III.

Janis blinks awake to the distinct smell of weed.

She sits up as her eyes adjust to the dark. They're out in the middle of nowhere—it's either an older camper or someone who works here. She slips on her shoes and creeps out the door.

If it's a staff member—and it probably is—she is more than fine to mind her own business, but for her own conscience, Janis wants to make sure it isn't a camper.

Several feet away, Janis spots an orange glow off to the side of the cabin. When she approaches, she sees that it's—

Regina.

"You've got to be kidding me," Janis whispers as loud as she dares.

"Oh, hey," Regina says, unbothered.

"You're supposed to be inside," Janis snaps, abandoning minding her own business.

"They're asleep. What's the worst that could happen?" Regina says. She holds the joint out to Janis. "You really need to relax."

Janis glares at her. "Why are you even here? You obviously don't give a shit about the kids."

She stares at the joint for a moment before begrudgingly taking it. Free weed is free weed.

Regina exhales, smoke wafting around her. "My dad owns this camp, and he said I had to work here for a summer if he was going to pay for me to study abroad next semester."

Janis starts coughing, but not from the smoke. "Wait," she gasps out. "Your dad owns this camp?"

"Yeah," Regina says, like it should have been obvious. "What, did you think I was working here because I wanted to?"

Well, Regina certainly doesn't act like she wants to be here, so Janis guesses that makes sense. Then it dawns on her that this could actually be to her advantage.

"So, the next time you don't watch the kids, or a kid gets hurt, I can just go to your dad and say you're not doing your job?" Janis asks, casual tone veiling her threat.

To her surprise, Regina just laughs as she takes the joint back.

"Of course not," she says, then takes a final drag before dropping it in the dirt and crushing it with her shoe. "Nothing is ever my fault. If a parent complains, he'll fire you, not me."

Regina pats Janis on the cheek with a serene smile and walks back to the cabin. Janis stands there for a moment in disbelief, then reaches down and picks up the butt and throws it into the woods so no kids find it. Her cheek tingles where Regina had touched her.

Maybe she should just quit.

#this is very silly but i get so much enjoyment out of them annoying the shit out of each other #rejanis #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls the musical #mean girls broadway #regina george #janis 'imi'ike #janis sarkisian #janis ian #scrolled all the way down in my inbox to this prompt from six years ago lmk if you're still out there anon #ask #anonymous #prompts

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hummingbird24220 · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter Thirty: Cerberus Is Not Your Friend

You weren’t a coward.

You’d fought bounty hunters, bitten Marines, eaten sea monsters raw (well, licked them), and survived being quarantined for fleas.

But even you had to admit—

This island? Was giving you the ick.

Every tree was twisted like it grew up listening to cursed poetry. The ground squelched when it shouldn’t. The fog curled around your ankles like curious little fingers. And the distant howling?

Not the cute kind.

Definitely not the cute kind.

You crept through the woods beside Sanji, tail low, eyes darting.

“Where are we even going?” you whispered.

“To find Nami, Usopp, and Chopper,” he muttered, scanning the path ahead. “Try not to run off.”

“Try not to catch me doing it.”

The howling got louder.

Luffy, of course, ran toward it.

Robin stayed back, calm as ever.

Zoro walked straight into the fog like a very angry lighthouse.

You stuck close to Sanji. Why? Because you could smell fur ahead. But not the good kind. Not yours.

And then you saw it.

Lumbering through the fog—

Cerberus.

Or rather… some kind of stitched-together nightmare version.

Two dog heads. One fox head. All drooling. All very loud.

Patchwork fur. Mismatched ears. It looked like taxidermy and tax fraud had a baby.

You froze.

“WHAT is that?” you hissed.

Robin tilted her head. “Three heads. Poorly assembled. Fascinating.”

Sanji lit his cigarette. “Ugh. That’s an insult to good-looking foxes.”

“RUDE!” you snapped.

Then Cerberus growled.

You hissed.

Cerberus barked.

You shrieked.

Cerberus lunged.

And Luffy—

PUNCHED IT DIRECTLY INTO A WALL.

The entire forest shook.

Cerberus let out a “whuff—?” noise and crumpled into a pile of legs, fur, and dazed confusion.

Luffy beamed.

“Down!!”

You stared at the dogfox chimera as it rolled onto its back with cartoon swirls in its eyes.

“…Did he just domesticate it with violence?”

“Yup,” Zoro said, emerging from the mist, unfazed.

“I’m so glad he didn’t try that on me.”

“You’d have bitten him back,” Sanji said.

“I still might.”

The now-subdued Cerberus stumbled after Luffy like a dizzy, cursed puppy.

You kept a very safe distance behind it, pressing closer to Sanji’s side, ears twitching with suspicion.

One of the heads sneezed.

You jumped.

Sanji chuckled. “Aw, what’s wrong? I thought you liked dogs.”

“I like normal dogs,” you hissed. “Not… that. That’s three tax returns in a trench coat.”

The fox head turned to look at you.

You bared your teeth.

It licked its eyeball.

You shuddered violently.

As the crew continued deeper into the forest, you kept glancing over your shoulder at the waddling, stitched-up Cerberus trailing behind Luffy.

You leaned in to Sanji and whispered, “If that thing tries to sniff me, you’re feeding it to Zoro.”

He exhaled a puff of smoke and smirked. “Deal.”

You purred once. Just a little.

But kept your claws out.

Just in case.

You knew something was wrong the moment you stepped into the graveyard.

The fog got heavier.

The wind colder.

The ground? Squishier. Too squishy.

And then—hands. Rotting, groaning, grabby hands.

“HEY—HEY—NO TOUCHING!” you shrieked, trying to claw your way out as bony fingers latched onto your ankles, arms, tail—your tail, for crying out loud!

“THIS IS NOT A SCRATCH-AND-SNIFF ZOO!!”

The zombies groaned louder and dragged you down like something out of a very poorly budgeted horror movie. You were bitten, slobbered on, held aloft by at least six different limbs, and just as you were mid-scream—

The crew arrived.

And obliterated them.

Zoro sliced one into pieces midair. Sanji kicked another’s head so hard it rolled into the fog. Luffy punched through a cluster like wet paper. Robin politely popped a few skulls.

Within moments, the graveyard was still.

You? You were left sitting in the mud, covered in slime, pawprints, and deep emotional betrayal.

And then—

You started crying.

Full body. Ugly. Sniffling.

“IT’S OVER FOR ME!” you wailed.

Zoro blinked. “What.”

“I’VE BEEN BITTEN! MULTIPLE TIMES!”

“You’re fine,” Sanji said, crouching beside you.

“I’M NOT! WHAT IF I TURN INTO A ZOMBIE? What if I start shedding uncontrollably?! Or stop being cute?! WHAT IF I STOP PURRING?!”

Luffy tilted his head. “Do zombies do that?”

Robin: “Scientifically unclear.”

You gasped, clutching your chest. “I don’t want to live like this!”

Then you turned to the crew, eyes wide and watery.

“I LOVE YOU ALL! Even Zoro. And that’s saying something.”

“Gee. Thanks,” he muttered.

“Robin, keep being elegant and mysterious. Sanji—stop calling every girl 'madam.' It’s weird. Franky— always add more explosions. Luffy—well, I guess just keep being Luffy.”

The crew stood in stunned silence.

You turned, teary-eyed, to Sanji, grabbing his lapel (the folded thingy on the jacket of a suit) with shaking paws.

“Come closer,” you whispered dramatically. “I want your sparkling eyes to be the last thing I see before I die.”

Sanji flushed, but leaned in obediently.

You looked into his eyes.

Held your breath.

And then…

Dramatically collapsed backward into the mud.

One paw flopped out limply. Tail went still.

Dead.

…

Silence.

Then—

You peeked open one eye.

“...Did it work?”

Zoro groaned, hand to his face. Luffy poked you. “Why are you still breathing?”

“I wanted a moment, okay?!”

Robin smirked. “Convincing performance. Four out of five stars.”

You sat up slowly. “Do zombies cry that hard? No. That was Oscar-worthy.”

Sanji helped you up with a towel and a sigh. “Next time, try not to lick your wounds mid-scene. Kinda ruined the immersion.”

You paused. “…Noted.”

One of the pummeled zombies, face half-smashed and lodged into a tombstone, groaned.

“They… they took your friends… to the mansion…”

Luffy’s grin returned like a light switch. “AWESOME!! Let’s go kick a mansion’s ass!”

You nodded solemnly.

Still dripping zombie goo.

Still kinda whimpering.

“Someone better carry me, though. I’ve just been traumatized.”

Sanji, ever the gentleman, held out his arms toward you, soaked, still trembling with "trauma" (your words), and said softly:

“Come here, angel. Let me carry you—princess style.”

You fluttered your lashes. Smiled sweetly. Raised one dainty paw—

And immediately got yoinked.

“—HEY!!”

Zoro had already scooped you up and slung you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” you howled, tail thrashing, “I SURVIVED ZOMBIES! I DESERVE SILK PILLOWS AND GENTLE HANDS!”

“You’ll get silence and stay there,” Zoro muttered.

Sanji looked like he’d been physically stabbed. “You put her down this instant, you moss-brained slab of disrespect!”

“She’s not a handbag, Zoro!” Robin chimed in, absolutely enjoying herself.

“Too late. I live here now,” you mumbled from your upside-down position.

They stepped inside the mansion.

The door creaked. The floor groaned. The wallpaper judged you.

You squinted from over Zoro’s shoulder as they entered a grand hallway lined with paintings.

Big ones. Small ones. Ornate, cracked, faded. All of them showing twisted figures. Elongated arms, warped grins, grotesque scenes of dancing and war and why is that one looking at me?!

You narrowed your eyes.

“...These paintings are moving.”

“They’re not moving,” Zoro grunted.

Then one of the paintings blinked.

“…Okay they’re moving.”

One frame twitched violently, and a warped, stretched-out face-worm of a body began slithering out of the canvas, like someone was being pulled through a tube of toothpaste.

“NOPE,” you yelled, scrambling—still upside down—on Zoro’s back like a spider. “I’M OUT. THIS IS A WORM MAN.”

Another painting across the hall began to bulge.

Robin raised a brow. “Fascinating. Sentient artwork.”

“ABOMINATION ART!” you screamed.

Then the bear rug on the floor growled.

The eyes glowed red.

Sanji turned mid-sprint and kicked its face in. It rolled like a sentient floor mat screaming in bear-ese.

Zoro sliced one of the worm-bodied art gremlins in half mid-air as it tried to monologue something about "the void between brushstrokes."

Luffy just started punching frames and laughing. “THEY SQUISH LIKE CREAM!”

You were still flailing when the stupid mounted pig head on the wall started moving.

It blinked. Snorted. Let out a low, guttural voice:

“Diiiinner ttiiiiime…”

You froze.

It was… bacon.

Cursed bacon.

But still.

“…I wanna eat it.”

“What?!” Sanji gasped.

“It’s still meat!” you snarled, lunging from Zoro’s shoulder like a torpedo. “IT SHOULDN’T TALK IF IT DIDN’T WANT TO BE EATEN—!”

You landed with claws bared and bit into the edge of the wooden plaque.

“OW—ow—okay not real meat—not real meat—!” you hissed, spitting splinters.

The pig head shrieked and started insulting your chewing technique.

Luffy punched it clean off the wall with a laugh. “That’s for disrespecting the chef!”

You staggered back to Zoro, spit out a wood chip, and muttered, “I regret nothing.”

He sighed, grabbing you by the scruff.

“Haunted ham shouldn’t exist,” you grumbled. “I was hungry.”

The hallway was quiet again, save for the occasional twitch from the frames and the groaning rug as it dragged itself into a corner to rethink its life choices.

You flopped against Zoro’s back again, licking your teeth. “That was the most calories I’ve burned in a week.”

Robin adjusted her hat. “Let’s hope the next room doesn’t try to eat us.”

“I will bite first,” you declared.

“Noted,” Zoro said. “No more talking pigs.”

“They’re liars anyway.”

---

It hit you slowly at first—like a quiet itch in the back of your brain.

Sanji wasn’t talking.

Which was weird.

Sanji always talked.

Flirting. Complaining. Cooking threats. Calling Zoro names. Trying not to look at you when you stretched too much.

But now?

Silence.

You looked around.

You were walking down a long, creaky hallway with Luffy, Zoro, Robin, and Franky. The only light came from the cracked windows and the flickering wall sconces. Everything smelled like mold and undeath.

“Where’s the cook?” you asked suddenly.

Everyone stopped.

“…He was just behind us,” Robin said slowly, eyes narrowing.

Zoro’s jaw tightened. “That bastard didn’t say anything.”

You spun around, ears flat, fur puffing up.

“Sanji?”

Nothing.

You sniffed the air.

But all you got was dust, damp wood, and the faint smell of something wrong.

“Stick close,” Luffy muttered, and for once, his voice was serious.

So you did.

Tight formation. Weapons out. Claws ready.

Until—everything went sideways.

Literally.

With a soundless, horrific blur, something dropped from the ceiling—thin limbs, twitchy claws, multiple limbs—like oversized spiders stuffed into rat-sized packages, covered in stitched fur and twitching whiskers.

“THEY’RE SPIDER MICE—” you managed to shriek—

Before one landed directly on you.

Its claws dug into your back. A long, twitching tongue hit your shoulder. You were lifted into the air with terrifying strength—silently, swiftly, like you weighed nothing.

Across the hall, Zoro was caught too, mid-swing.

You reached for him.

He reached back.

Too slow.

The world went dark.

You woke up somewhere cold.

Somewhere massive.

A grand hall, cloaked in eerie blue light. Tall arched windows stretched impossibly high. Tattered curtains danced in a phantom breeze.

The air was heavy with rot, with magic.

And with hunger.

You couldn’t move. Your body was bound in thick webbing at your legs and arms, your head slumped against a dusty floor. You blinked sluggishly. Tried to growl.

But everything hurt.

Your tail twitched once.

You lifted your head—and froze.

Across the room stood a tall, horrifying silhouette. Draped in elegant, ancient clothes, a monstrous, aristocratic vampire-like figure loomed in front of you. Eyes glowing. Mouth stretched into a horrible grin.

And his tongue—

Was licking his lips.

“Such rare souls,” he said, voice like velvet soaked in blood. “And what a odd little beast you are... I’ve never stolen a feline shadow before.”

You struggled, claws scraping the ground. “Don’t you dare—”

His fingers flicked.

Your body stopped.

You felt it—the pull.

Your shadow ripped free from your feet like smoke. It stretched, screamed, twisted—and was ripped away.

You let out a strangled cry.

Everything went cold.

And then—

Nothing.

Your body crumpled.

Eyes closed, face neutral.

Fur dulled.

Unmoving.

He laughed.

“Another one for the pile.”

You were tossed like trash into the corner.

Your body landed hard next to two others:

Sanji.

Zoro.

Pale. Breathless. Unconscious.

You didn’t move.

But the crew was coming.

And your shadow… would not rest easy.

15 notes · View notes

lazyneonrabbitt · 2 years ago

Text

Witch hunt

Daryl Dixon x reader

Thanks to an emotional slip-up you almost risk your home in Alexandria

🐺 🐺 🐺

Rose was born four years ago.

Alexandria was thriving and had slowly begun to accept your daughter being a part of the group.

You were pregnant with Daryl's child when you came in with the group, but when she was born it was clear she wasn't human. She had inherited Daryl's curse and was born in her shifted form that she kept for the first few months.

You had kept your personal relationships quiet until you all felt comfortable enough but when the community learned the truth about your daughter you and Daryl agreed to never speak of your relationship and pretend to just be close friends.

Carol had taken up most of the co-parenting tasks in public and making sure to pass by wherever Daryl was working repairs and enforcements so he could say Hi to his 'baby niece'.

There had been a large disagreement about wether to let you and your daughter stay, but the ones wanting you both gone lost against your support party's arguments.

Rose had been fussy all morning. She had tried to steal the leftover meat from the fridge, complained her tummy hurt and whined about her head being loud.

You made sure she ate and drank properly, asked about her head and tummy. Trying your best to get a useful answer out of her but you couldn't seem to ask the right questions.

You guessed the hurt was just a stomach bug and the loud head was something resembling your active mind when you were uncomfortable, but the last hour she had started crying and whining out loud. Her whines were close to those of a hurt animal and it scared you more than any shrieking human wail she ever let out.

Picking her up and getting her noises down to sobs and hiccups you were close to tears yourself as you got to the new lot Daryl was building on with a team.

Daryl had sensed you coming from a distance and made his way off the roof in progress to meet you down on the street.

"Yo Dixon!" A voice called from up on the structure. "Who said you could take a break yet?"

Daryl called back a quick excuse and turning his attention back to you. He had noticed both your discomfort and took Rose from your arms as you ran him through your morning.

"Dixon!" The man called again. "How about you stick to women your own age."

"Shut it! She needs help." He had no time for bullshit.

A shaky breath left your lips when you continued. "My baby's sick and I don't know what to do." Sniffling you went on and a hand reached for your arm and squeezed softly. "I don't even know how to be a good mom I don't want her to be hurt.." with his one available arm he pulled you into a half hug, still holding sniffling Rose in his other arm.

"Come on, man! Quit flirting with the girl, she won't fuck you." You could feel Daryl's quiet growl rumbling in his chest. "Besides, you shouldn't stick your dick in crazy anyways. Her and that monster kid shouldn't even be here!"

Something inside you snapped right then and there, stepping out of Daryl's embrace and facing the man on the roof.

"Go the fuck back to work and let him deal with his sick child for a moment you useless piece of walker bait!" Tears were streaming down your face as panic set in. Ugly sobs escaping your lips as Daryl stood behind you, frozen with a now again crying child in his arms.

The man stopped all of his activities and stomped down to you.

"I'm sorry, his kid? I thought your monster brat didn't have a daddy and now you're calling Dixon its father?" He was all up in your face now and you recognized him as one of the people voting the loudest to kick you and your daughter out after learning she wasn't human. “So it turns out Crazy,” he called out for everyone around to hear. “-has a thing for older men. And dogs.”

He got real close to you for this last bit. “Did he fuck you as a dog, too?”

You now stood face to face with the man and were fuming with rage. He was clearly waiting for you to talk yourself out of the slip-up you just screamed at him and in turn gaining the attention of many bystanders who heard it all too.

Instead of answering you took a deep breath in and head-butted him. You could feel his nose crack under the impact and heard it crunch before he fell to the asphalt. On your turn to leave you looked back down at him and spat to add to the humiliation. You wanted to scream and curse at the man, but a large hand stopped you and pulled you away.

"We're going home. Now." He wasn't angry with you but he also didn't want to cause more trouble than already formed and Rose kept fussing so he just wanted to go and lock his family inside the walls of his home and calm down. Someone was gonna be knocking on their door about this later anyways.

The haunting stares of all bystanders felt like burning holes in your skin the whole way back to your home.

When all three of you passed the front door Daryl took no time locking it behind him and moving over to the living room to close the curtains.

He had placed Rose on the couch so his hands were free to grab you and place you next to her.

Rose had been fussing and crying so much she had tired herself out and had fallen asleep in Daryl's arms close to home. She still stirred every once in a while, small whines leaving her and a frown on her sleeping face.

Daryl softly stroked her head as he looked her over, seeing if he could sense something from his daughter and quickly found the issue.

When he sat up you immediately swarmed him with questions.

"She aint sick. She's just changin'. Hurts real bad the first time." He kept softly caressing her as he sat himself between you two. "We can't do much except make sure she's comfortable."

You sighed at the less than good news of not being able to help her. "How do I make sure she's good? Do we build her a nest?" An arm snaked around you and you were pulled to lay in Daryl's lap. "Just feed her enough n' giver her lil' rubs like ya give me after a long workday. Helps her hurt muscles." His hand moves over to rub comforting circles on your lower back. "Yer doin' great, momma. Ya were really hot defendin' us out there an' crackin' tha guy's face open."

You scooted over and rolled onto your back to look him in the eyes. "Really? I kinda regretted making an even bigger scene.." Your not so little outburst really didn’t help your already looked down upon status in the community. Daryl’s hand moved to your cheek and he smiled down at you. “Believe me, if ya let me I’d have another kid with ya without thinkin’ twice after what ya did for us today.” You looked up at him, hoping he’d continue his sweet words. “Yer always callin’ me yer guard dog but yer the one who’s protected me in here since day one.” Your hands reached up to hook around his neck so you could kiss him properly, showing him how much his words meant to you. “You have no idea how hard it is for me to say no to that, but we really have to get through this shit first before we can even have that conversation, don’t you think?”

The argument was agreed with and quickly dropped so you could focus on the closer issue of lying to the entire community and injuring someone in the middle of the street.

When the first knock on your front door came you jumped up in panic, sending Daryl a fearful look before going to see who it was.

Rick, Carol and Deanna stood at your front door, with a group of angry residents further off on the streets, no doubt ordered to stay back by Deanna herself.

You grounded yourself with some deep breaths before unlocking the door and allowing the people in.

Carol was quick to pull you into a hug as she saw you shaking and guided you back to the living room with the other two right behind you.

Rick was quick to put a hand in front of Deanna to stop her from getting too close to Daryl and Rose, knowing although he wasn’t a threat but he could still easily snap when threatened. She shot him an offended glance but had to remind herself she was in unknown territory and the two who accompanied her were familiar with the issue at hand.

“I believe you already know why we’re here, so we can go straight to the point.” Deanna had her stern leader voice on, but Daryl could feel her uncertain energy and decided to call her out on it. “Ya aint got no point so why’re ya really here, huh? To please tha’ crowd out there?” Deanna stood there in the middle of your living room, not knowing what to say. “The people want you gone. The ones that wanted the child gone back then are back to almost rioting about this issue. Now that they learned you have been lying for so long there’s nothing I can do to stop them..” She sounded sad, like the words were forced out of her and truly they were. She knew no matter what she’d say to the angry crowd of people, they weren’t gonna listen.

“And what do you want? Just you. Not them.” Your question surprised everyone in the room and Deanna had to give it a short moment before she found the right words.

“You’re different, but no threat.” She gave you the kindest smile she could pull, but was met with your unamused look in return. “Don’t try to sweet talk me, I’m the human one here.my partner and our daughter are the ones your people are threatened by.” You stepped closer to her only to be held back by Rick so you didn’t have the option to repeat this morning’s actions. “We’ve been living by your rules since day one.” You snapped at her. “We had to fake our entire lives to make sure you would let us stay. So we wouldn’t be judged for our odd relationship. Yeah it sucks Rose was born the way she was and risked everything going to shit but if she was born human no one would have known so where the fuck is the problem?”

This time it was Rick who chimed in with some supporting words.

“She’s right. Daryl’s been part of our family ever since we met him years ago. He’s always been protective of us and never threatened to hurt anyone.” He gave his brother an apologetic look, letting him know he wished it never had to come to this. “And quite frankly I don’t think these people have a say all of this.

Deanna took an instinctive look at the covered front window, as if to read the thoughts of the people waiting for an answer outside.

She was taken off guard when Rose stirred and started crying as she woke up, kicking everyone except her in gear, dropping the entire situation and moving to tend to the child. Daryl picked her up as you were at their side in a second. Carol moved to the kitchen and called over if you had any food prepared for her, fishing it out of the fridge and heating it. Rick stood by, ready to take over anyone’s task if needed.

Deanna watched the scene in front of her, seeing a caring side of Daryl she hadn’t seen before. He sat with the child in his lap, calming her down and carefully showing you how to relieve her aches. When her cries died down to just soft sobs you accepted the bowl Carol had brought and tried to feed her. When she didn’t accept any your heart broke and it was clearly visible on your face that you were hurt by her reaction.

“Sweetie, she’ll eat when she feels good enough. You shouldn’t worry too much.” Carol’s sweet words had Daryl chuckle. “Ya can tell her tha’ till ya drop dead, I tell her she’s an amazing momma every day but she’ll still cry to me when Rose fussed about not wanting to wear a sweater in winter.” His loving smile towards you didn’t go unnoticed.

Everything seemed to be going the right way when a loud scream caught your attention and frantic banging at your door sounded through the house and for a second you feared for the lives of your family before Michonne came barging in, out of breath and yelling about walkers and a breach in the wall.

“This continues later. Walkers first.” Deanna turned to make her way outside but was stopped by Daryl.

“What section?” Michonne quickly answered and followed closely behind him. You stood in the hallway spotting his knives and crossbow left at the door. “Dee, what are you gonna do?” You called out, already having a bad feeling about his plans, but you guessed it was the only thing that would help see the people who he really was.

His winged vest was dropped at the bottom of your porch steps and his boots laid toed off in the yard. “Showin’ em the truth.” And with that he stalked his way over to the breach, through the swarm of people that hadn’t gone off to fight.

The crowd raved and howled at him to leave them be, to get out and take his offspring with him but he only ignored them as he kept moving.

With the first walker in sight he snarled and rolled his shoulders before hunching over and easily shifted into his large creature form and tearing into the lone walker that got past the defense line.

“Retreat!” Rick and michonne had caught up with him and got all the survivors to pull away and help with prep work for the wall as Daryl tore through the herd that thinned out within minutes as he drove them all to the ground and back into the hole in the wall. Glenn and Maggie had set themselves up at the front of the gate repair crew, seeing as they weren’t afraid of Daryl like this and got the hole closed up quick enough so the others could start reinforcements as the cleanup group got rid of the remains of the dead.

Daryl had shoved the last of the walkers out of the community and followed through the broken wall to thin out the large buildup that had started forming. Loud snarls, aggressive sounds of the dead and bodies dropping to the floor was all you could hear on the safe end of the wall after the initial reinforcements were placed.

Deana had shown up to assist with the aftermath, you at her side carrying Rose in your arms. “It seems your partner did an outstanding job getting rid of the dead.” Her calm observation gave you a small sense of relief as the chattering voices around you all voices different sorts of opinions. “I hope it changes their minds.” Was all you could say, trying to block out the negative thoughts of being in the middle of so many people with your daughter right now.

The crowd had dispersed after the sudden walker intrusion. The ones left behind were either cleanup crew or ones with strong negation opinions even after Daryl just helped them without thinking twice. You stayed close to Deana while you waited for Daryl to return, who after it al quieted down beyond the wall, climbed back over and back down to greet you. He trotted down the street, head held low and and steps small as he tried his best not to scare anyone off while he remained in his non human form. He had almost made it to your side when you saw someone run in from beside him and throw something. It glimmered in the sunlight and wrapped around Daryl, clinging to his fur. A loud howl sounded through the street as he dropped to the ground, pawing at the thing around him but it felt like all the strength had left his body. Pained yelps and whines left him as he shook around trying to get the thing off. You ran up to him, setting Rose down next to you and grabbing at item that appeared to be a jewelry chain. You wrapped your fingers around it and pulled it off him, but not without being knocked on your ass when the chain caught on something and he thrashed around again.

When you got it off him you took a good look at the chain. It was in fact silver jewelry chain, a bunch if them clipped together to form a makeshift lasso. With your attention so focused on the pieces of jewelry,

You hadn’t noticed Rose waddling over, wanting to go to her daddy but getting distracted by the shiny thing and grabbing onto it with both hands. The whole world around you faded away as she shrieked in pain, letting go of the chain and dropping down crying, clutching her hands to her chest. Daryl shot up and moved his head to nudge at her, now cradled in your arms. You rocked her as you apologized what felt like a million times, trying to get a look at her hands but she wouldn’t open them for you. You managed to get her arms stretched do Daryl quickly nudged his snout against her little fists and lapped at them, wringing his tongue between her fingers to lick at her palms. The good thing about her being a little kid was that she’d heal from almost any surface injuries, and him licking the wounds would help speed up the healing so she could use her hands again hopefully soon.

Daryl let out a content grumble as his daughter sniffled and looked at her hands with a funny look, squeezing them together at the tingly feeling of the burns slowly fading away. He gave her a careful lick to the cheek to wipe away her tears before laying back down exhaustion.

You turned your daughter around in your lap to get a good look at her. “Does it still hurt, sweetie?” A little shake of her head helped you calm down a little bit as the world around you slowly came back into focus. A few mothers that stood around with concerned looks on their faces and children of all ages begging to pet the big dog. One of the younger women came up to you with some sweets in her hand, looking at you before continuing. “Can she have a candy? To help with the shock.” You gave Daryl a look, who nodded yes so you did as well. Some candies wee held out for Rose to pick from, but before she could grab some you chose the lollypop for her, making sure she wouldn’t take the chocolate and thanked the lady for the kind gesture.

There was some ruckus going on behind you, voices you recognized as Rick and Maggie and some others you didn’t.

“She’s a psycho!” You heard a woman’s voice yell. Sinking back into yourself as you immediately knew you were the topic of that fight. “She broke my husband’s nose! She has a child with that.. That monster over there!” Daryl only let out a huff of air, telling you to ignore them and their annoying words.

On the other side of the street parents were trying to hold back their kids who were begging them to let them pet the cool big dog. You shared another look with Daryl who let out a chuckle and a soft nod. Waving at the parents you waved to get them to come closer with their kids. “He says they can pet him, only a little bit.” You start, raising your hand and pointing at the kids. “But. Don’t pet on his neck. He’s still hurt there.” The kids excitedly huddled around him and put their hands in his fur. “Woah!” “He’s so warm.” “Sooofft!” The children loved him and you couldn’t help but wish you had a camera right now to capture this sweet moment. One of the fathers sat down next to you in front of Daryl and apologized. Admitting he had been part of the group who voted to kick you and your daughter out those years ago but saw now he had made a mistake then, acting out of fear instead of taking the chance to really speak with you as s person.

It seemed Daryl’s act really did help to change at least some peoples’ minds. You thanked the man for his honesty and took a moment to tell the children they pet the big dog enough.

Daryl took the opportunity to sit up and immediately Rose went to climb off your lap and onto his, grabbing at his fur and nuzzling it, enjoying the softness and warmth. “Looks like her hands are fine again.” You laughed at how she tried to hide herself in her father’s fur. Daryl out a large paw around her, holding her close as you informed you were going to talk to Deana.

Taking the bundled up silver chain in your hands you moved towards the woman and inform her of the thing someone used to hurt your partner.

She took the jewelry from your hands and inspected it, informing you she would do her best to find out who did this and make sure they were punished. From behind her that same woman from before spat curses at you before being cursed out herself by Denise, who threatened to halt the medical care for her entire family if she couldn’t be more accepting of the people who had to hide away their true selves for so long. Denise was the only one not from your original group who knew about the relationship between you and Daryl, and thus also about his condition although she had never seen any of it in person. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at Denise’s harsh comeback and loved all the support your family was getting.

More women joined your side, letting you know how brave they thought you’ve been all this time going out with your child, knowing there were people out to hurt her. And some nudging you and pointing towards Daryl, suggesting you wee brave for …other things as well. You turned beet red at the implication of you sleeping with Daryl like that, which no, you hadn’t. They all giggled along with you, chatting about how your kids should play together some time to which your face dropped again, sadly having to explain about Rose’s current issue and not feeling comfortable having her around other kids for now. You were happy to learn they all respected your decision albeit not entirely understanding it. You were a relatively young mother with a child you yourself also still had to learn a lot about.

Daryl had gotten up from his spot, making sure Rose walked with him to your group. When something grabbed at your leg you were quickly pulled from your conversation to pick up your daughter and greet Daryl with a pat on the head. “Feeling better again?” He nodded and grumbled, sitting down to close the circle and suddenly getting all kinds of stares from the ladies which had him tilt his head in confusion and stare at you. The ladies giggled again as your beet red color returned making Daryl nudge you with his nose. “They ehm.. Made some assumptions about us ..together..” Fumbling with the fabric of Rose’s shirt you stumbled over your words and Daryl quickly seemed to realize what you were getting at. He let out a content hum that had the ladies crying with laughter, patting you on the back and wishing you good luck with your boyfriend before walking off to find their own families and head back home. You looked back at Daryl who still sported a smug look and gave him a light pat to get the idea out of his head.

Rick came up to you two, informing you the people who were causing a scene earlier got taken care of. One of them also confessed to using the silver jewelry to hurt Daryl.

The realization of people being out to hurt you for real freaked you out, but the confirmation of them being taken care of made you feel a lot safer, knowing there were always people around who were on your side.

“Hey, Dee. Wanna head home? I think Rose is tired.” You glanced over at the child currently drooling over your shirt as she slept in your arms. “Besides,” a nudge with your elbow had him make a curious noise at you. “We solved our issue, so we should have that second kid talk right about now.”

Another content hum left Daryl’s throat as he happily nudged you along, leading you home with an eager tempo.

Once back home you went to put Rose to bed and fetch Daryl a new set of clothes while he shifted back into his human form. When you rounded the corner you threw his clothes at him so he could get dressed while you grabbed something to drink for you both.

Daryl had just finished dressing and pulling his hair up in a messy bun like he always did in the privacy of his own home. You set down the glasses and walked over to your boyfriend, kissing him to celebrate your victory today.

“Those burns aren’t healing well, huh?” You put your hands on his jaw, moving his head to get a better look as he shook his head. “Nah. Silver burns scar most of the time.” Your stood on your tiptoes to kiss the wounds and took his hands in yours. “Come, drink and nap. Both of us.” He accepted the drink and kindly waited for you to finish yours while he gulped his down in seconds.

The second your glass hit the table he had hauled you over his shoulder and made his way up the stairs.

“We aint nappin’ just yet, bunny.”

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl #twd #the walking dead #twd imagine #twd x reader #twd au #werewolf #werewolves

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icycoldninja · 1 year ago

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hi! i hope ur taking care of yourself. may i plz get a fem!reader/5dante piece where the reader is 22 and dating him, plus sized but slightly bigger than chubby, and deals with pcos along with c-ptsd from emotional abuse and controlling parents.

specifically in a scenario where she’s getting ready for a date but notices her jeans flaunt and enhance her tummy and she starts to get panicked by the past and how her father would tell her to change or get new clothes when she would wear something that even just fit snug on her. dante sees her crying and panicking and tries to comfort her and show how worthy and lovable her and her tummy is.

its ok if its too much to write about please don’t stress on it! im happy either way with previous writing you’ve posted!-🌷

Oh thank you so much! Here you go and enjoy 💜

You're amazing (DMC5!Dante x Fem!Chubby!Reader)

You stood in front of your mirror, preparing for a date night with Dante. You had most of your outfit on already, from your cute top to your hairdo; all that was left was your jeans, which lay on the bed nearby. You reached over, grabbed said jeans, and began tugging them on when you noticed how snugly they seemed to fit around your waist. It wasn't that the jeans were tight, they just seemed to emphasize your waist a bit more than you would have liked. You felt your heart drop into your stomach as you realized this, a sudden, unwanted memory crashing into your mind, filling your ears with loud shouting you wished you could block out.

"Go and change out of those clothes, you fat pig!" You heard your father shout. Even though he was not in the room without, he sounded as though he were.

"You're disgusting!" Your mother yelled. "Go put on some looser pants, or don't go out at all. I don't want to be seen with such an ugly, fat young woman!"

"Worthless!" Your father roared. "You're never going to be worth anything, you won't even be able to give us grandchildren."

You clamped your hands over your ears, trying so very hard to mute the shouts, taunts, and derogatory words, not realizing you were crying until your vision clouded over. Attempting to see through the liquid fog obscuring your vision, you became vaguely aware of a red-clothed figure rushing into your room, and felt the soothing warmth of two strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close.

"Hey, baby, baby, don't cry," He whispered, running a hand through your hair soothingly. "It's all in your head baby, none of it's real. Not anymore. You're safe. I'm here."

At the sound of Dante's voice, you relaxed considerably, your arms subconsciously coming up and wrapping around his waist as you clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I hate this," You wailed, into his shoulder. "I hate being fat, worthless and ugly. I hate it all!"

"Hey now, don't be like that," Dante said, shushing you with a kiss. "You're not worthless or ugly, you're perfect the way you are. Don't be upset over what they said to you. You're amazing and awesome, and I love ya, so damn much, I really do."

Sniffling, you looked up at your boyfriend and saw his warm, genuine smile, and couldn't help but grin as well.

"Thanks, Dante," You said, still hanging onto him like a tired koala to a tree. "I...I needed that."

"You're welcome," Dante chuckled, pressing a kiss to your head. "Now, come on, let's get on with our date."

Dante yanked you to your feet, grabbed onto your hand, and led you out of your bedroom, and as you passed by the mirror and caught sight of your emphasized waist once again, instead of panicking, feeling scared, or upset, you were able to look at your figure and smile. Dante loved you for who you were, and that was all the affirmation you'd ever need.

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bucketspammer4life · 2 years ago

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punch out crying headcanons because i havent posted in a good while

i think ive been shadowbanned. tumblr what did i do to you im just a silly little guy posting about punchy men

Glass Joe - has the ugliest crying face ever, he usually hiccups and has to gasp for air while crying, he doesnt cry for much but when he does he makes sure the entire planet hears it

Von Kaiser - doesnt make much noise, Just some minor sniffling with a barrage of tears coming from his eyes, either cries over a simple mistake or holds a straight face over the most saddening situations, no inbetween

Disco Kid - 90% wailing 10% actual crying, he has to make sure the entire country has to hear it, mostly cries at funerals or sad movies and the occassional post match sadness but not much

King Hippo - gut wrenching screams since he usually cries when angry, usually ending up wrecking something during the process, cries after arguments or losing matches

Piston Hondo - sad sobbing, doesnt make noise much, Just tears, hes also able to hold a straight face during sad situations so if hes crying over something its serious to him

Bear Hugger - unintentional screaming while crying, Just runs the second he feels it coming on, doesnt cry over much but probably loses it when a animal in a movie dies

Great Tiger - pretty crier, not much sound except for some sobbing, cries over sad shows or sad news

Don Flamenco - very dramatic, ugly crier and also cries when angry, usually hitting things in anger, usually able to keep a straight face on a good day, usually cries when hes has a rough day or just feels like shit

Aran Ryan - unintentionally has the funniest cry ever, its literally just a "WAHHH" sound paired with the ugliest crying face ever, thankfully he doesnt cry much or he'd be bullied to hell & back, crying doesnt come to him much other than particularly important stuff to him

Soda Popinski - suprisingly pretty crier + contagious tears, usually wipes his tears while crying since he was raised with the good ol "boys dont cry" rule, doesnt cry for much except for deaths of his loved ones and friends

Bald Bull - extremely loud crier but doesnt cry much, kinda bottles it up for a few years or months and then cries on some random day

Super Macho Man - ugly botox crying face, also funny sounding cry so he cries when alone since he thinks it harms his "tough guy image"

Mr Sandman - straight face with some tears, nothing else, no sounds and he usually hides it well so no one in the wvba has seen him cry and they assume he doesnt cry

#punch out #headcanon #punch out wii #punch out headcanons #aran ryan #bald bull #don flamenco #glass joe #piston hondo #great tiger

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penrdagon · 5 months ago

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HOWL J. PENDRAGON ⅋ SHAMS AZARI ﹙ . . . ﹚ “ I DO LOVE A GOOD CONUNDRUM. ” ⊹₊⋆ @alveyiat .

“ oh, well i am glad. tickled, actually. ” sarcasm dripping as slow as warming honey to his words, catching her gaze with an unimpressed sneer before the wizard's features crumpled in a defeated frown, whine caught in the back of his throat loud and despairing, hands coming to cover his face with a low cry. “ you're supposed to be helping me ! not just sitting there enjoying my misery ... ” words only slightly muffled by his palms, then having slowly dragged them down his face to reveal an expression of pure anguish, index finger pointing to the horns that had, at first, started slowly sprouting from between strands of perfect blond, but that now sat larger and extremely proud, to his disgust. “ LOOK AT ME, SHAMS. I'M HIDEOUS. ” the lightest of touches to the unwanted addition to his physique, coming away as though burned by it. the wizard wailed, falling into his arms atop the table with a sniffle, peeking out of them only to gauge if any sympathy would yet be spared, then quickly returning to his position. “ I CAN NEVER LEAVE THE CASTLE AGAIN, I'LL BE TRAPPED HERE FOR ETERNITY IN MY UGLINESS. HAVE CALCIFER BREAK EVERY MIRROR, I CAN NO LONGER LOOK AT MYSELF WITHOUT WANTING TO DIE. ” another quietened bout of sniffles before howl rose, once again looking at the text that had caused the transformation and then pushing it towards her. “ read it again. line by line, i need to know where you went wrong. ”

#alveyiat #﹙ ✧ . . . WRITING﹐ IN WHICH A BOY SWALLOWS A STAR. ﹚#im cackling actually #hes so funny....

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soggykookiesandcream · 2 years ago

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ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ xɪɪɪ

Taehyung's POV (second timeline) "So, you're telling me all this while, he could read all my thoughts?" I ask Yoongi. Yoongi nods and I look at Yuna who was sitting completely shocked. I nudge her slightly, "What's wrong?"

"I'm just thinking about the time when I thought about nasty stuff when I was around Yoonjin-" She says and Yoongi bursts out laughing.

"You know?" Yoongi continues wheezing, "Yoonjin thinks all the choking and screaming you think about is Taehyung hurting you."

"What?" I sigh, "What am I gonna do now?"

"We can convince him that you're not bad," Yuna says and I nod, "I'm gonna go get my little bean downstairs."

I teleport into the room he was in and look at his peaceful sleeping which immediately brought a smile to my face. I softly tap his shoulder, "Yoonjin?"

"Mmm," he whines turning around and I climb onto the bed taking him into my arms. He clings onto my shirt and snuggles closer. I pat his back and I hear small snores from him. I grin like a fool and hold him tighter.

"I'll never let go of you, my baby bean," I kiss the top of his head and fall asleep with him instead of going back down to Yuna and Yoongi.

Taehyung's POV (first timeline)

"PLEASE!" The man screams as I drag him on the floor, "Please, I have a family! I have a wife and a pair of twins! I need to take care of them, please!"

"I'm not sorry but I need to take your life to get mine back," I reply. I have been murdering people for the past few days to kickstart my plan.

"I'm sorry, whatever I did, I'm sorry," he cries falling onto my feet, "I am really sorry. If you want money, I'll try to get it for you."

"Tsk," I kick him away from my feet, "I don't need your stupid money."

"Please," he cries but his eyes widen as he watches a knife appear in my hand out of thin air, "Wh- What- How did you? P-please don't hurt me. I beg you."

I chuckle, "I won't hurt you."

"Thank you," he cries, "Thank you so much."

"How can you get hurt after you're dead?" I laugh as I throw the knife at his neck. He lets out an ugly scream falling to the ground choking and clutching around his neck. I kick his body once and teleport from that place to find another victim.

Taehyung's POV (second timeline)

I wake up hearing a loud wail followed by hushing and patting. I open my eyes as my arms automatically search for Yoonjin but to my disappointment, he wasn't on the bed but in Yuna's arms crying as she glares at me.

"W-what's wrong?" I ask, "Why is he crying?"

"Why do you think so?" She spits back.

I knit my eyebrows and look at Yoonjin sobbing uncontrollably.

"Give him to me," I reach my arms out to Yuna and Yoonjins cries harder clutching onto Yuna. His precious tears were wetting Yuna's sky blue shirt.

"It's okay, baby," she softly rocks him up and down, "You're safe."

"Please, Yoonjin," I plead as I reach for him, "Come to dadda. Dadda won't hurt you. Dadda does not hurt momma and he does not kill anyone. Please, come here."

My eyes well up as Yoonjin shakes his and thumps his legs in hopes to climb further up Yuna and get away from me. His cries turn into sobs as he mumbles something into Yuna's neck.

"Yes, baby," she says softly, "Mommy is okay."

I look at Yuna in the hope to get a grasp of the situation. I was still confused. Why did he start crying? I tried making my thoughts as pleasant as possible just in case he read them. I even had a beautiful dream about Yoonjin and me being happy and playing together. Yuna's eyes soften and she nods at me before walking out with Yoonjin.

"Could you take Yoonjin for a while?" I hear Yuna's muffled voice outside.

"Sure," I hear Yoongi and I sigh burying my head into my hands.

"Tae," Yuna ruffles my hair.

"Baby, I don't know," I state as I try to hold my tears back, "I really don't know," the tears I tried to hold roll down hot and thick on my cheeks. Yuna lifts my head hearing my sniffles, "Tae, I really need you to tell me what you do behind my back."

"I don't do anything behind your back, Yuna," I cry out trying to keep my voice as low as possible not wanting to attract any of our kids' attention, "I don't kill people anymore. If I ever did, I've always reported them to you, baby. Always. And I don't kill anyone without reason."

"But Yoonjin read your thoughts," she sighs, "He says he saw you murdering a young man."

"Saw?" I ask through my tears.

"He saw your dream," she replies rubbing her thumb over my cheek. I lean into her touch and look at her, "He saw you murdering a man as he begged..," Yuna rubs her forehead, "What's going on, Taehyung?"

"I didn't even see such a dream," I state, "I saw a beautiful dream of me and Yoonjin playing together. Don't you believe me?"

"I do," Yuna takes my hand, "I believe you but we need to solve Yoonjin's issues."

"I'll solve it," I sniffle, "I'll make sure Yoonjin is fine but I really need him to open up to me," I say putting emphasis on need.

"I'll try to get him to talk to you," Yuna nods, "Why don't you come downstairs where there's space for Yoonjin to feel safe?"

"Sure," I say getting up from the bed, "I'll be downstairs."

A few minutes later...

"Yoonjin, please," I hear Yuna's voice, "For momma."

I hear a small 'okay' and a few footsteps behinds me. I turn around slowly not wanting to scare my little bean. When he meets my gaze, he flinches back into Yuna. I smile softly and extend my arms to him, "Come here, Yoonjin."

He hesitantly looks at Yuna and she nods. He walks halfway but stops and looks back at Yuna. I softly sigh and pull a chocolate bar out of my pocket. Yoonjin loves white chocolate. I bought an entire organic white chocolate factory just for him.

"Yoonjin," I call out softly, "I bought fifty bars of white chocolate for you. Do you want it?"

He nods but doesn't come any closer. I smile, at least he replied.

"Just come to your dadda, please," I plead, "I just need to talk to my little bean. Daddy loves you."

"M-me?" He whispers pointing to himself.

I nod with a huge smile on my face, "Yes, your dadda, Kim Taehyung, loves you, Kim Yoonjin."

"How much?" He whispers.

"So much that I can't measure," my eyes well up, "So much that I am ready to do anything for my little bean."

"Can I-I get chocolate?" He asks softly in a whisper.

"Yes," I reply holding the chocolate bar in my hand, "As many as you want."

I never had to worry about their health because they were immortal. They could survive even if they didn't have food for years together and no disease or health issues bothered them. Yoonjin slowly stalks closer taking the chocolate bar from my hand. I held back, fighting my urges to just grab him and hug him tight peppering kisses all over his face and telling him I love him. God knows, maybe my old self would have done it. I pat my thigh and look at Yoonjin, "Please, let dadda hold you? Only a little while."

He nods as he struggles with the chocolate wrapper, pouting. I chuckle and reach out for the chocolate, "Let me help you."

I open it and hand it back begging, "Please, come here, Yoonjin."

He slowly walks over to me but sits beside me instead of on my lap. That was close enough.

"Yoonjin, baby, my little bean," I smile watching him eat as the chocolate melts on his fingers,

"I need you to let dadda see what you saw, okay?"

1392 words

A/N- *casually takes years to write one chapter *

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