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theteasetwrites · 8 months

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Begin Again

Chapter 1: Aux Portes de la Mort

❧ Media: The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon ❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: violence, blood & gore, scary situations, mentions of death ❧ Word Count: 7.6k

❧ In This Chapter: When you and Daryl awaken in an unknown land, far away from home, the world becomes twice as dangerous as it once was, with a whole new breed of dangers lurking around every corner. You have no choice but to begin again on a new mission: Get. Back. Home.

❧ A/N: IT'S HERE. I'm so excited to be writing for them again ugh it's been too long. I love this reader because she has all that history with Daryl from the first series so it's a real treat to keep all that in mind when I'm writing their scenes together. Also I am posting this before the premiere of the show. This chapter is based on the events of the sneak peek that was released on AMC+! So here ya go, the first chapter! Shoutout to Dahlia (@simpbyday) for helping me with the French translation for the title. She will be my official French language correspondent throughout this process. And if anyone else also knows French, I would love to get feedback on my usage of French throughout the series as well! <3

“Near death” did not mean much to you anymore.

You were either dead or alive, nothing in between. That’s how you felt about it now. There were few areas in life that were black and white to you, and that was one of them. If you were alive, you were alive. Maybe you’d be a little worse for wear, but you were alive. That was the important thing.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway. As a way to condition yourself, to be stronger. For Daryl. For Robin. For Wes. You had to be strong for them. Maybe that’s what got you into this mess.

No, Daryl did. Daryl got you into this: tied loosely to the back of a lifeboat, one foot missing a boot and hanging off the edge, dangling pitifully in the ocean as the small vessel drew you closer to the shore.

You might’ve stayed asleep if it weren’t for the splashing sound, followed by the familiar grunts and wheezes of gasping breath. You felt the rope across your hips pull in the other direction, where Daryl fought with the current to come back to the air. Through heavy eyes, crusted by a long sleep and sensitive to the bright light of what must’ve been mid-afternoon, you saw him struggle to lift the rope from his body as a wave pummeled him back down below the water.

Your throat burning, rendering you unable to so much as cry out his name, you freed yourself from the rope, sliding into the water. What happened next would fade into the obscurity of rumbling waves carrying your weak bodies closer to shore, until the feeling of ground underfoot welcomed you.

But that feeling was short-lived. As soon as your feet felt the sand, you were knocked down by another wave. Now you could only crawl, with what little strength you had left. Even Daryl, so very hearty and always physically stronger and more durable than yourself, began to stagger, falling less than gracefully to his knees just a few feet from you. There was no need for verbal recognition or even touch—you felt him there, crawling beside you, alive.

Now with only your feet still clinging to the sea, your arms gave out underneath you, like two pieces of boiled spaghetti, limp and sprawled out not far from Daryl, who lied with his face pressed against the sand, his wet hair shrouding any semblance of his visage.

Though you could hear his sharp breaths, his heavy pants that withdrew with high-pitched whimpers that sent a shiver down your spine, you could hardly tell if he was moving.

Momentarily frozen, you gathered all your strength to extend your arm across the sand. Your fingers stretched out to the fullest extent, crawling like a spider until finally you gripped his hand, entwining your fingers with his and shaking it roughly, urging him to move.

You had been near death enough to know that the worst thing to do was to stop moving. That was like accepting death, and wherever you were now, you weren’t going to face it without him.

Your movement brought him to life as he lifted his head, his sight first taking in his surroundings—a beach.

And not far in the distance, a small blue bucket.

You followed his gaze, which seemed transfixed on the object, partly buried by the wet sand that must’ve remained untouched for God only knows how long.

Having a near encyclopedic understanding of Daryl’s mind, you knew what he was thinking of—survival. There was water in that bucket. Sandy ocean water, but water nevertheless.

All you could think of, though, was how familiar that little bucket was. Robin had one just like it. Last time you’d taken her and Wes to Oceanside, they played on the beach for hours, making sandcastles with her little bucket and shovel that she’d gotten for her seventh birthday last May. Somehow she’d convinced Daryl to let her bury him under the sand. You had the Polaroids to prove it somewhere in one of the pockets of your vest, if they hadn’t been lost to sea.

The memory faded quickly, as he pulled you up, still holding your hand. At least now he was moving, dragging you and himself towards the bucket.

He’d let go of your hand to pick it up, digging out as much sand as he could before handing it to you. Without a word, you brought the rim of the bucket to your lips, taking just a few sips, despite the painful drought in your throat.

Daryl took the rest, downing the sandy saltwater like it was the nectar of life, and here, at the gates of death, it was.

When the water was gone, he let the pail fall back to its final resting place. You couldn’t bring yourself to even raise your head. You could only watch it fall, the bright blue plastic taking you back to a time that seemed so far away now, to a world you wished you’d never left.

But Daryl, ever the pragmatist, always planning the next move, was already narrowing his eyes, looking around for the answer to that burning question that lingered between the two of you—where the hell are we?

You could’ve looked at that little bucket forever, if he hadn’t tugged on your hand, not unlike how you’d done so to his just minutes ago.

“C’mon.”

The further the two of you walked, slowly, limping, the more you began to take note of your surroundings, without too much thought of the complete and utter shit you two were both in. For all the differences between you, you both knew one thing was true—there was no point in dwelling on how you got here, the only thing that mattered was getting back home. That was the unspoken truth.

As you walked further, the sand beneath your feet turned into concrete. Some kind of parking structure, or what once was. You passed the rotting, rusted shells of cars, their windows smashed and their hoods lifted, no doubt due to survivors looking for parts to salvage. A clump of neglected bicycles leaned against a graffitied pole. Like most graffiti, you couldn’t make out what it said.

Passing a small overgrown boat, you spotted a signpost not too far away. You walked ahead of Daryl, all too eager to see what it said. The letters were faded, but you could make out the arrows, meaning it would point you in whatever direction you needed to go in. That was all you needed now: direction. Some delusionally hopeful part of you, deep down, wanted to believe the sign would display the word “HOME” with an arrow accompanying it, leading the way without confusion or ambiguity.

But of course, you knew that was impossible. Still, you did not anticipate what you saw.

Squinting your tired eyes, your weakened legs slowed to a halt as the sign’s lettering came into view. Your heart sank as you stepped back, almost terrified of what you read. But you backed against Daryl’s chest, which caught you before you could lose your balance from the shock of the realization.

You could not read the sign.

Pla… place de… ste?

Port de… Martegues?

… Cimetiere?

Shit.

Some kind of port city, somewhere in France.

That’s what you decided upon, in the silence of your heavy thoughts as you walked together aimlessly, still not speaking. How could you speak to him? What was there to say? You had no hope now. It was gone, and usually, that was the only thing that kept you talking in times like these.

And Daryl, he could go hours without speaking, if he had nothing to say.

He, too, was at a loss for words. After all, he knew he’d gotten you into this. He knew none of this would’ve happened if he’d just… It didn’t matter now, though. What mattered was getting home.

But you weren’t safe here.

You always knew that the whole world must’ve fallen, of course. When everything happened, the world went dark. France was no exception. The state of the place was proof enough. In this old city, with cobblestone streets littered in the abandoned remnants of a once prosperous civilization, every corner you turned was the same—empty, ruined, overgrown.

By some instinct, you both walked along a path just on the edge of a canal that seemed to run through the city. Perhaps it was just a gut feeling, or perhaps the both of you knew to stay close to the water, on the off chance that you’d find some kind of seafaring vessel. Though you still couldn’t shake the taste of saltwater, you knew that the only way you could get back home was to get back on the water. That was your priority.

Sure enough, you came upon a boat, moored at the edge of the path, floating upon the water, and looking as though it had been there for centuries.

Just outside the boat on the cobblestone path, it looked as though someone had set up camp, once upon a time. Whoever had been there, though, they were long gone. As you passed a desiccated corpse, completely barren of flesh with a long fisherman’s spear skewered through its head, you wondered if this body had once held the poor soul of the boat’s former occupant. You didn’t wonder for long, though, as these days, you’d seen enough dead bodies to almost completely desensitize you from any human curiosity. Now, it was just a bag of bones.

Approaching the stern of the vessel, Daryl went into the cabin first, his sights set on the wine bottles perched on a wooden shelf, in the hopes that maybe they’d contain some water. He picked them up one by one, shaking them. Nothing at all.

You busied yourself, rummaging through a bag you found hanging from a nail near the door. Your hand gripped on some long, cylindrical plastic, ribbed and seemingly filled with liquid.

“Daryl.”

You held the water bottle out towards him as he turned around. You hadn’t caught a good glimpse of his face yet, until now.

The skin of his face and neck were reddened terribly by the sun, but that didn’t worry you as much. It was the scarlet red cut stretching diagonally over his forehead, and the paleness of his lips, dry and dehydrated. The saltwater you both drank earlier only made the thirst more potent.

Deciding he needed the water more than you, you pressed the bottle to his chest, despite his brief protest that he gave with only a knowing look on his face, as if to say: You drink first.

You returned the look, but with more conviction as you shoved the bottle harder now, as if to say: No. Drink.

Reluctantly, he did, drinking less than half before handing it back to you, with the same force you applied when giving it to him, and the same stern, protective look: Drink.

You took the rest of the water, wincing at the aged taste. But you drank it down slowly, steadily, the cooling liquid coating your barren throat.

Lost in the brief relief it gave you, you hadn’t noticed Daryl’s continued russling as he pillaged the tiny boat cabin, looking for anything and everything that could somehow be useful.

As you used your long, torn sleeve to wipe away the dripping water from your chin, you were startled by the sudden sound of a man’s voice, not Daryl’s.

With a flinch, you turned around to see Daryl, sitting at the small dining table, holding a tape recorder.

“Nineteen months at sea,” said the man’s garbled voice, with an accent you deemed to be Irish. “Hoping to stay ahead of this thing.”

On the table before him was a map of Europe, and a photo of a family. There was a man that must’ve been the owner of the voice you listened to now. Beside him was a woman, his wife, Daryl assumed, because on her lap was a little girl, holding a large stuffed penguin, about half the size of her. She couldn’t have been older than Robin, he thought.

They looked happy, all smiles. Somewhere in one of his pockets, he was sure he had a picture that looked almost exactly the same, only with his family—Robin, Wes, Dog, you. He quickly willed the thought away, though. If he kept thinking about it, he was sure he’d break down, when at this point, what he needed to be the most was strong.

“Circled Spain,” the voice continued. “Nowhere safe… We’ll try Marseille next. Maybe the south of France is good… There’s got to be a safe place somewhere.”

You were sure you’d uttered that phrase once. Maybe around the same time he did. Just goes to show how much this world changes you, which was saying something—you always believed the world hadn’t changed you nearly as much as it changed everyone else. But you knew now that there was no safe place in this world, except in the arms of the ones you loved. And even then, that was only a metaphor. But you had to believe it, to convince yourself it was true. Otherwise, you were no different than the dead.

Night was closing in. There was no more time to waste.

Still without hardly more than a one-word sentence exchanged between you, you got to work setting up a night’s worth of camp, while Daryl speared a fish in the canal. Just one was all the energy he had, but it was more than enough for the both of you. A white fish of decent size, which Daryl cooked over the makeshift barbecue near the boat.

Sitting on the boat, you got a lantern working, providing just enough light to see what you were doing as you tried to filter the muddy canal water through the mesh lining of a jacket you’d found inside the boat. Across the way, you’d glimpse at Daryl, now draped in a tarp he’d fashioned into a poncho, in only the way Daryl could even think of doing.

His tired face was illuminated by the fire over which he cooked the fish, turning it over with a small knife until it was cooked through. You wondered what on Earth was going on in his head, if he was as frightened as you were, if he had any hope left.

You didn’t have much hope anymore. Not now.

In this world, you’d found that your hope had been tested constantly, but only a handful of times did it try you like this. When the farm fell, when you lost the prison, when the Saviors took Daryl…

But you always got it back. You always found your strength again.

You weren’t sure if you could get it back this time.

Still, you had Daryl. If you were alone, in a strange place, thousands of miles from home, you were sure you would’ve given up by now. But he was here.

The silence between you persisted into the night, as you sat across from each other, under the dark blanket of the night sky, eating the charred fish straight off the bone, with only the dim flickering light of the lantern just barely lighting your faces.

When the silence became unbearable, Daryl had pulled the tape recorder from his pocket, playing it again, as if he found comfort in the man’s voice, despite the ultimate tragedy that must’ve occurred.

“Sue had a heart attack.” You could only assume that was the name of his wife, the woman in the photograph. “I had to… take care of it.”

You’d heard stories like that before, of someone having to put down their loved one before or, God forbid, after they turned, but it would never cease to send a shiver down your spine. The thought of having to do that to Daryl… It was a nightmare you’d had more than once.

“Our tenth anniversary would’ve been in June… Holly keeps crying. She wants her mum back.”

That was when you stopped eating, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“She wants things the way they were.”

You swallowed hard in an attempt to suck down the lump forming in your throat.

“She wants to go home.”

“Turn it off.”

The sudden sternness in your voice nearly surprised him, or maybe it was just how many words you spoke at once.

He grabbed the recorder and turned it off with a sharp click, restoring the heavy silence that lingered like a thick fog between you.

Daryl watched intently as you hugged your legs against your chest, your eyes downcast and glued to the worn and torn stuffed penguin, buried underneath some ropes and an empty old fuel tank. You recognized it from the photo.

He could read the look on your face, and the thoughts that he knew were flying through your head at a thousand miles an hour. He knew that you were thinking about home, about your family. Still, he couldn’t shake this discomfort. This quiet.

For all the years he’d known you, he’d never gone this long with such silence between the two of you. Of course, he’d been separated from you before for much longer, but together? You were hardly ever at a loss for words. He couldn’t remember the last time you were like this, but he didn’t like it. Funny, Daryl was always the quieter one, the one who more often than not needed to be coaxed into talking. He always preferred the quiet, but this was unbearable.

He needed to hear your voice, now more than ever. He needed your hope.

“You haven’t said more than three words since we got here.”

Washed up here, your mind corrected.

He leaned forward stiffly, still eying you, despite your gaze still transfixed on the once pristine stuffed animal.

Several painful moments passed. Daryl couldn’t take it anymore. He’d beg for you to speak, to say anything to him. All he wanted was to hear you.

“Please.” His voice was low, soft. It was always like that with you, but something about it now seemed more desperate. “Please say somethin’.”

Finally, you raised your head slowly, meeting his silvery blue eyes, visible through several loose strands of hair that framed his face. If you were in better spirits, you might’ve smiled, just seeing his face, despite how badly he was in need of a good shower. You were sure you looked rather filthy yourself.

But you couldn’t smile. You couldn’t even imagine such a thing. The last time you smiled seemed so far away, you could hardly even remember it.

“What do you want me to say?” Your voice was shaky, hoarse, tired. He’d been with you through Hell and back, and back again, and yet he’d never heard your voice so defeated, so… lost.

“I don’t know,” he replied simply, still holding your gaze. Now, you both stared intently, as if battling to see who could dare to look away first. “I just…” As he trailed off, his eyes sank in defeat. He’d lost the battle. “I’m sorry.”

With a sniffle, you replied. “What are you sorry for?”

It took him several moments to speak, as he tried to compose himself. If he opened his mouth too soon, he might start crying, and despite how much you encouraged him to be vulnerable, to not neglect his emotions around you, he could never fully let himself cry in front of you without feeling that ingrained sense of failure and inadequacy, like he wasn’t the strong man you needed, no matter how many times you reminded him of how strong he was.

“For gettin’ you into this.”

Your lip quivered, your eyes softened.

He continued, “If I hadn’t asked you to go with me—”

“Then you’d be sitting here, across the world, alone, and I’d be in Alexandria worried sick about you.”

“But you’d be safe,” he said, an almost imperceptible shake in his voice as he was reminded of the danger you were now mired in, all thanks to him.

“How many times have I told you… I’m safest when I’m with you.”

That thought was nice, but it still could never completely alleviate Daryl’s worries.

And there was another reason he wished he hadn’t asked you to come along.

“But you’d be with the kids.”

Your eyes sank as though they were anchored to the floor of this decrepit old boat. He knew that would get you, you were sure. He knew that, besides him, you loved your children more than anything else, and being so far away from them, lost with no immediate hope of seeing them again, was crushing you.

A silence befell you, and Daryl felt like he lost you again. God, all he wanted was to hear you. Your voice was the most comfort he could have right now, just to know you were near.

Now Daryl looked down, focused on the mud caked around his brown boots. He raised his hands to his face as he huffed.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t angry. Just sad.

With a sniffle, you looked back up. He still sat with his head in his hands, until he lifted his eyes above his fingers just enough to see you.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice a cracking whisper.

“Nah,” he said abruptly. “Nothin’s okay.”

Daryl always had that bad habit of blaming everything on himself. You knew it well. It frustrated you—his inability to give himself any credit and his tendency to dwell on his flaws instead of celebrating his accomplishments. Granted, one of the many traits you admired about your husband was his humility, but sometimes, you wished he would consider the things he’d done right instead of all the things he did wrong.

You raised yourself to your feet, crossing the boat to sit beside him. He did not look your way or pay you much attention, still lost in his thoughts. Still, you carefully, slowly, wrapped your arm around his waist and his shoulders, holding him.

He was stiff, but under your touch, he slowly began to soften, as he always did. It was then he had realized how long it seemed he’d gone without your touch like this. You’d been with him the whole time, but survival did not allow for many moments of pure, gentle intimacy between two lovers.

“We’re alive,” you whispered. As you leaned against him, you pressed a small, but firm, kiss to his cheek. “We’re together.”

Without a word, he gave you a knowing glance. He narrowed his eyes almost suspiciously, while he chewed his bottom lip in deep thought. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know what he was thinking.

You smiled. “One of us has to be the positive one. We can’t get anything done if we’re both sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves.”

“Yeah… I know.”

“It’s shitty,” you said. “This is a shitty situation… Maybe the worst situation we’ve been in, but we’re going to get back home.”

Though you spoke with conviction, you weren’t entirely sure that you really believed the words you spoke. It was hard to believe. It was hard to believe you were here in the first place. Nevertheless, you’d die trying to get back home, to see your children again, to watch them grow.

There was no way in Hell you were going to sit back and do nothing.

To your relief, Daryl’s hand found yours, curling around it and squeezing it tight. He nodded, then raised your hand to his lips.

“Yeah. We will.”

You smiled as you roamed his face, finding comfort in the familiarity. In this world of uncertainty, this new world where neither of you belonged, you found safety in each other—you saw Alexandria in his face. All the memories. It was like a photo album, everything flashed before your eyes. You saw Robin, Wes, Aaron, Lydia, Maggie, Michonne, Rick… everyone. Everyone you loved, alive or dead, all in him.

And in you, he felt the same, but not only that. He saw everything beautiful and pure in this world, everything worth protecting and keeping alive. As you held him, he held your face, his thumbs moving gently over the apples of your cheeks.

Your face was worn, tired, with a few knicks and scratches scattered about over your usually smooth and unblemished skin, but nothing could distract from the perfection of your features that he knew and adored so well.

And you, you couldn’t help but eye that nasty cut on his forehead. You swept away the stray pieces of hair that obscured the cut, then huffed. Though you had already washed the cut with water, you were itching to find a real first aid kit to prevent infection. The one on the boat was cleaned out, and whatever first aid kit you had brought with you was in a bag lost at sea.

“S’fine,” he said, knowing full well what you were thinking. “M’fine.”

“It’s just… I don’t like it.”

He smiled. “I know.”

“We’ll find something to help it. If I could get my hands on some calendula or even some marshmallow…”

That thought prompted you to look around, the darkness of the empty waterway in the desolate, ruined city. Even if you could find some herbs with healing properties here, you wouldn’t know where to start looking.

The south of France wasn’t exactly the same as Virginia in terms of flora and fauna.

“First thing we gotta find is a way back,” he replied.

“We could fix up this boat.” Daryl’s mechanic expertise started and stopped with cars and motorcycles, but you figured a boat couldn’t be much different.

“Nah. Engine’s shot, and I dunno the first thing ‘bout how boats work, anyway.”

“Well… We’ll just have to find another way. There have to be people somewhere.”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow as he chewed the last of his fish. “You remember what happened the last time we asked a bunch of strangers for help?”

Ah, yes—the Commonwealth.

At least that turned out in your favor, eventually. It took almost a year of turmoil, but in the end, it was worth it.

“Daryl, I don’t see any way out of this without some help. Besides, we haven’t seen any walkers yet… Maybe France is faring better?”

“Or maybe they’re all dead.”

“Stop it. That’s not true.” You held his cheek and turned his face towards you. “You know it’s not true… It can’t be.”

The rest of that night passed slowly, quietly. Maybe it was out of habit, or just his need to be aware of his and your surroundings at all times, but Daryl spent a good fifteen minutes checking out the general vicinity, scanning the perimeter around the little boat on which you busied yourself by fashioning a bed of sorts out of pieces of seats and blankets.

Daryl returned not long after he left, with a curious trinket in his hands: a Barbie doll.

You looked up at him from the makeshift bed. He took the liberty of posing the little blonde doll, sitting her atop the small dining table with her arm raised as if she were waving. Her hair was only slightly mangled, but you knew many tricks when it came to freshening up Barbie dolls and making them good as new for Robin, and sometimes Wes, to play with.

“Only you could find a Barbie doll in France,” you said.

“It’s not just any Barbie doll,” he said, sitting himself down beside you with a huff. Gravity forced his body to the bed. Well, bed was a generous term for the dismantled chair covered with blankets. “It’s a veterinarian.”

You studied the doll closer from a distance. Indeed, she had a little white doctor’s coat and a pink stethoscope. You would’ve thought she was actually a doctor Barbie, but only a trained, professional eye like Daryl’s would spy the light pink paw print pattern on her lab coat. Thus, she was distinctly a veterinarian, to be sure.

A smile spread across your face as you laid back, snuggling close to his side. He smelled faintly like fish, but you were certain that you didn’t smell so great either.

“She’ll love it,” you whispered. There was no question who you could possibly be talking about. “I’ll keep it in my bag until we get home.”

Daryl couldn’t respond verbally. He could only chew his bottom lip as his arm snaked underneath your side and wrapped around to stroke your shoulder with his hand. Perhaps that was the ultimate reason he took the doll—as a way to further motivate both of you to live long enough to see your family again. And you would. He’d make sure of it. He knew it. He had to.

At length, you spoke again.

“It’s clear?”

He nodded. “Yeah. No walkers, no people… No nothin’.”

That was good. If Daryl felt it was safe enough for the both of you to sleep tonight, that was a victory in your book.

“Tomorrow,” you began, “we should start heading north, towards Paris.”

Daryl’s lip twitched into a slight smile as he began to close his eyes, still holding you. Sometimes, you hardly noticed he was holding you. A long time ago, it had become second nature, so habitual that him holding you in bed at night was a feeling you couldn’t quite sleep without.

“Paris?”

“Yeah… There could be people there. Biggest city, biggest population.”

“Yeah, biggest population of walkers.”

You sighed. “Well, I don’t know then. You got any bright ideas, Einstein?”

He raised his eyebrow as he looked at you, with only one eye open, the other squeezed shut as his nose scrunched up and he made a faux scowl. It was almost enough to make you laugh.

He chewed his bottom lip, deep in thought. “How about west?” he asked. “Least we can head that way first, see if we find anyone or anything. Best to stay as far away from the city as possible.”

“You're right,” you replied, resting your head upon his chest. Somehow, it was always much more comfortable than a pillow, despite its relative firmness. “You're always right.”

“Not always,” he said lowly, his fingers finding the ends of your hair and twirling around them as if by instinct.

“Yeah… Not always.”

“Pfft…”

“What?”

“Jus’... Can’t believe where we are right now.”

You nodded in agreement, but you could tell where this line of thinking was going—this negativity that sometimes clouded Daryl’s almost unwavering hope. That was where you came in, though your hope was in serious question, too.

“Well, you did promise you’d take me on a vacation.”

He scoffed again, but it was almost a laugh. Almost.

“France wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Me neither,” you said. A few beats of silence, then you added, “I would’ve preferred Italy.”

Three days had passed, all of which were spent hiking through ruins and desolate hills. Daryl used the long fishing spear from the boat as a kind of walking stick, and a weapon, along with whatever else he scavenged from Marseille. You’d found a few good knives, but nothing to quite balance out the slight limp you’d woken up with when you washed ashore.

No encounters with walkers, you’d noted, though you’d seen some wandering in the distance, ambling aimlessly through deserted stretches of wilderness. At certain points, you feared you might’ve been walking at the same pace as the rotting corpses, but they were far enough, and none of them seemed as fast as some of the climbers you’d seen.

Wilderness eventually faded into a somewhat industrialized town, much further away from the coast you’d started from.

It was small, but a good place to stop off for the night, you’d hoped.

Wandering through the small alleyways, littered with debris and overgrown vegetation, you came upon a large building, something like a warehouse turned into what appeared to be a supermarket. At least, that’s what you gathered from the signage, despite its unknown language.

Oh, how you wished you’d taken French instead of Spanish in high school now.

Daryl entered first, quietly opening the creaking door. The general protocol when entering new, unknown buildings had always been the same: be quiet (silent if possible). Although, if there were any walkers in there, odds are, they could smell you before you’d even say a word.

Still, you felt Daryl’s hand tap your shoulder lightly. He signaled to you, signing the phrase, “Me left, you right,” as he mouthed the words.

You always hated splitting up, but you signed back, “Be careful.”

Connie and Kelly would’ve been proud, you were sure.

The two of you split up, Daryl searching the leftmost side of the building, you the right.

As you examined the place, you took note of its state. It was abandoned, of course, but it was one of those places that had been left alone since the very beginning. It looked as though there had been a farmer’s market here, with long tables and booths with once meticulously laid out displays of crafts and homemade wares. Surely, whatever fresh produce had been here had long since deteriorated into nothingness, but there was always the chance of coming across dry foods. Grains and legumes and the like. Those were the ideals.

If fortune favored you, you could even find some dried herbs or medicinal plants to use on Daryl’s cut, but that was a longshot.

Still, you kept a lookout, your mind, and your stomach, much more focused on finding food than on scoping the place out for walkers. From across the way, you heard a small thud that made you flinch. Your eyes followed the sound—Daryl had set down his bag rather carelessly.

Eyes wide, you looked at him. He seemed entranced by a jar he was in the process of opening, only to smell its contents and put it back. Feeling your gaze on him, he looked up at you.

“You OK?” he signed, mouthing the words.

You sighed quietly, recovering from the startle. “Yeah.” With much more emphasis, exacerbated by the firmness with which you moved your hands, you once again signed, “BE CAREFUL.”

“OK,” he signed back, his face bordering on slightly annoyed with your protectiveness.

But another thud quickly drew your attention, though this one was not from Daryl, who also turned to locate the source of the ruckus.

You could only see a faint movement that was rather close to the ground, as though an animal was stirring, but as the familiar groans and wheezes started, you knew what it was.

Much to your surprise, Daryl seemed stunned for a moment, standing rather still as he simply watched the walker crawl out from underneath a pile of rubbish. As for you, you gripped the handle of your knife, removing it from its holder on your belt. But you were much further from him, and where there was one walker, there were, more often not, much more.

Suddenly, more walkers seemed to awaken from their slumber. Sleepers, you’d grown to call them. In your fascination with the habits of walkers, you’d begun taking note of how they seemed to have their own mode of hibernation during times of inactivity.

From what you could see, about eight or so of them had emerged from the far left, somewhere behind the produce stands, and were heading towards Daryl. You had the luckier draw, with only three or four setting their sights, and their gnashing, rotten teeth, on you.

No need for signing anymore. Dinner was officially served, and tonight, fresh American meat was on the menu.

“You got it?!” you called out to Daryl, raising your knife as the nearest walker limped towards you, its skull just barely clinging to the remainder of petrified flesh that hung loosely from its face.

He hesitated for a moment, worrying you. Daryl seemed off his game when it came to fighting walkers. Perhaps it was because he was still frazzled by the strangeness of your situation, or perhaps, God forbid, he was more worse for wear than he wanted you to know. After all, Daryl did have a tendency to downplay his injuries or his illnesses, a habit which frustrated you perhaps beyond any other quirk he had, because this was the most dangerous to his health.

But you couldn’t think of that now. Not when there were walkers snapping at you, and even more at your husband.

“Yeah!” he finally called back as he got a grip on his spear.

He set his focus on the first walker that had risen, which began slowly limping towards him. From behind him, though, was another walker, making quicker progress. He turned briefly, skewering the walker’s head with the sharpened point of the spear. He followed that with a kick to the walker’s abdomen, removing it quickly from the weapon.

On the other side of the place, you drove your knife into the nearest walker’s skull, but not without the usual splash of blood that came spurting out afterwards.

This spurt, though, was no ordinary one.

As you tugged the blade from its skull, you noticed a stinging sound, like that of a singe. It came as the blood spattered over the floor, and continued as it poured from the walker’s head. You stepped back, brows furrowed as you watched the trail of blood seem to evaporate, but it left behind a cloud of… smoke.

In a way, it reminded you of a branding, how the hot iron had been embedded into your skin and eaten away at the flesh with a horrendous burn until an X was forever scarred into your back. Whatever was going on with that walker, if its blood had gotten anywhere near your skin, you were sure it would have a similar effect—an agonizing, flesh dissolving burn.

But you hadn’t any more time to think about the strange walker, as there was another one coming behind you.

Meanwhile, had just skewered another walker through the face, then pulled the spear out to fling the walker backwards and tumbling back against another one.

Stepping backwards, just about to turn around and face another batch of walkers, one lunged forward, reaching its hand out to grip Daryl’s forearm, but this was not any ordinary death grip.

Most walkers’ touches were cold, lifeless, but this? This… searing, stinging, agonizing sharpness that made him scream.

With one last kill, you turned towards him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape with the fear of the most profound variety. Daryl never screamed like that. At least, not when you were around. Suddenly, every nightmare and intrusive thought of Daryl being bitten assaulted your mind all at once.

All you could see was him struggling against a walker, whose grip on his forearm must’ve been so strong that even Daryl couldn’t immediately pry himself away.

But the walker’s grip really wasn’t that strong. No, its hand was simply stuck, with Daryl’s burning, melting flesh acting as a kind of glue.

As he tugged and yelled in frustrated pain, you quickly bounded across the room, taking down another walker on the way.

The closer you got, the more you saw it—the small swirl of smoke emerging from Daryl’s flesh as the walker’s hand seared the flesh of his arm.

Just before you could get to it, Daryl managed to rip himself free, stepping back a moment to briefly scowl at the strange burn.

Immediately, you came forward, plunging your knife into the walker’s head.

Daryl’s eyes flashed to meet yours, a simple exchange of breathless nods between you enough to suffice until the rest of the walkers were taken care of.

You looked around swiftly, and Daryl did the same. Six more walkers. Between the two of you, it would be light work. That is, if there were no more SNAFUs.

Daryl took the high ground, situating himself on a large wooden table to better approach the threat.

You kept on the floor, using one hand to pull the walkers toward you, the other to strike with your knife.

Once again, Daryl found himself with the unlucky situation. Underneath the table he’d taken defense at was another walker.

Plunging the end of his spear through the wood, he successfully impaled the walker’s head, but not without his spear getting stuck.

He tugged on the spear with all his strength, but the thing wouldn’t budge—the spear was lodged too deep in the walker’s skull, causing it to bang on the underside of the table with each attempt to tug it back up. In perhaps a less serious setting, the image might’ve been quite comical.

Daryl’s grunts combined with the repeated banging sound alerted you to the situation, and to the other walker coming closest to him.

You quickly charged the walker, finally taking it out with a swift but jagged movement. Meanwhile, Daryl had just freed his spear, and now moved to kill two more walkers in his path.

He was fast this time, killing them within hardly a second between each other. It was just enough time for him to turn around and see the very last walker coming towards you.

Without another second to even hesitate, you raised your knife, only for another one to fly into the side of the walker’s head, sending it falling to the ground at your feet.

Sometimes, Daryl’s flying knives startled you more than the walkers.

With a huff, you reached down, pulling the knife from the walker’s head. Just as you’d seen from the other one—a splash of burning, corrosive blood, a hissing sound as it hit the floor, and a small plume of smoke.

What the hell are you? you asked the corpse in your head.

But that wasn’t important now. You quickly turned your attention to Daryl, who pulled up the sleeve of his poncho to reveal the raw flesh of his burn.

Within a moment’s time, you were at his side, holding his arm as your eyes frantically took in the wound. In your confusion, and your fear, you looked up at him, all the color drained from your face. From what you knew of burns, this looked to be second degree, oozing redness and blisters already starting to form.

“We’ll bandage it up,” you said, nodding to yourself, as if to reassure both him and you. “We’ll clean it first… Some water and—and if I find some aloe…”

He caught your gaze, holding it for a good several moments of heavy silence.

“You ever seen a walker do that?” he asked, knowing full well that the answer was no.

You turned to investigate the last walker you’d killed—on the surface, not unlike any other walker you’d seen before, except you supposed he had a certain… je ne sais quoi, if you will.

“Maybe… it’s a French thing,” you replied. “I have no idea.”

Daryl let out a deep huff as he sat, still wincing at the unsightly burn on his arm.

You sat beside him, reaching into your satchel to procure a crinkly plastic bottle of water.

“Don’t,” he said lowly. “You need to drink that.”

Ignoring him, you dabbed several drops of water onto the clean rag you’d taken from the boat in Marseille. With Daryl always getting hurt somehow, you knew it was a good find.

He hissed between his teeth as you lightly cleaned the wound as best you could, but it still seemed to ooze.

It worried you, to say the least.

And Daryl… he only worried about what might happen to you if this thing was even more sinister than it looked.

“What if it’s—”

“It’s not,” you replied quickly. If you knew what he was going to say, you weren’t even going to let him speak the possibility into existence. “It’s not like a bite.”

“But what if it is.”

After all, what you knew of walkers was that their bites were deadly. What if their… burns were too?

But you refused to believe that.

“It’s not,” you said back. “We’ll patch it up. It’ll be fine.”

From the look on his face, he appeared not to believe that, his eyes clouded with fear and uncertainty the likes of which you’d almost never seen in him. Daryl didn’t fear death, though. He feared the thought of you being alone, in a world where the two of you needed each other more than anything.

Again, here you were, trying to lift his spirits despite the possibility of death lingering all around you, in this French supermarket that reeked of death and rotten flesh. But you weren’t just reassuring him, you were reassuring yourself.

“Hey.” Your hands cupped his cheeks, forcing his gaze to face yours. Your eyes were soft, but firm enough to remind him that, just as he would never let anything happen to you, you would never let anything happen to him. Your voice barely above a whisper, you spoke to him with the gentleness he knew and loved so well. The gentleness he’d needed all his life, and would need until the day he died, and after that, too. “Sweetheart… We’re alive.”

That was enough. It would have to be enough. Enough to begin again.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

#begin again series #begin again #the walking dead #the walking dead: daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon spin-off #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead: daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you

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tonowarii · 1 year

Text

Headcanons of the Sully brothers dating a Fem! Human

Note: Since I am a sucker of human x na'vi relationships... and also this had been a request in my main account and i just decided to do it here <3 these are so short im so sorry??? and i wrote a whole friends to lovers w lo'ak mb, both of them have my heart

GIFs used are mine

N e t e y a m

If the word "protective" was a person, it'd be him no doubt

Because you're so tiny?? He can literally cover your whole face with his bare hand

Def did it once as a joke to laugh at how tiny you are and you were not amused

But also for him, tiny = needing more protection from the whole pandora world

You tripped over a huge branch once, almost breaking your exopack in the process

Let's say Neteyam nearly had a heart attack dragging you to the lab in camp to get you a "new" one

Everytime you'd go over to their place, he always have to be holding your hand/touching you in some way

Always.

It's to make sure you don't get lost from the crowd of people much much bigger and taller than you, like he described one time "you are like an ant to them, i have to be holding you so you dont get crushed"

Either your whole hand in his fist or his huge hand on your waist guiding you where to go

He knows humans are fragile but he knows you can handle yourself but- he

Just always keeps an eye out for you, always asking if you're feeling anything different or if you want something

You appreciate the gesture tho, he's so caring <3

Now, he knows you're human and he is Na'vi, things are bound to get complicated from there since..

A human, and a na'vi? it was unheard of

But Neteyam doesn't care, as long as he loves you and you love him

He'd do anything for you

Probably let you ride w his Ikran once and he was just smiling like an idiot as you were clinging to him for your whole life screaming

He's obsessed w your touch

I hc he's also touch starved so he has to be touching you in a way

In public, sure its his tail wrapped around your thigh, or his hand always on your back

Just those small subtle touches <33

You'd never want anyone else except him

Seriously would you want anything else??

OH ALSO HIS FAMILY

Tuk was so curious abt you, Kiri and Lo'ak are chill, but you were mostly close w Kiri <33

"Your hair is so nice!!" - Tuk

"Thank you, Tuk!"

Honestly Neteyam would probably b jealous since Tuk is always stealing you from him >:(

But he loves the sight of you bonding w his siblings, it makes your relationship even better, stronger somehow :D

L o ' a k

Boy was probably cautious of you at first

Kiri dragged you to their tent as you were engaged in conversation

Lo'ak was doing something when he heard your voice, making his head perk up

Who were you????

But as time passed you also meet Kiri's siblings, growing a special interest for Lo'ak <33

Soon enough you both find yourselves to be bonding, growing closer as you joined his reckless adventures

Then when Lo'ak realized he was, in fact, growing feelings for you

It had him confused.. And probably became distant w you to make sure what he was feeling was true and it wasn't some kind of stupid spur of the moment type feelings

It led to you being confused as well, why was he suddenly ignoring you all of a sudden? It kinda hurt

Lo'ak then decided to open up to his sister, Kiri, about you after a few weeks

After Lo'ak was done explaining, Kiri smacked him on the head

"Lo'ak you are probably the dumbest person I know at this moment, why don't you just go tell her how you feel!"

Bc Kiri also knows you like Lo'ak but she can't be too obvious

"(Y/N), I have to tell you something."

Oh no

You had feared that you did something that made him this distant from you, or was he going to tell you that your feelings for him were too obvious and that he couldn't be with you because of the obvious difference? Or was it maybe because he just doesn't like hanging out with you anymore-

"I'm sorry I was ignoring you, I did not mean to.. Its just.. Okay here," He hands you a flower almost bigger than the size of your hand, but it was pretty

Wait what-

"That reminded me of you... I like you, (Y/N)"

You took the flower from him and you looked at him before tackling him in a hug, jumping on him.

You look like a koala hugging a tree atp

Lo'ak almost failed to catch you as he was trapped within the hug that he wasn't used to receiving, ESPECIALLY FROM SOMEONE HE LIKED??

That was when he knew you liked him too

NOW ONTO DATING HIM

Now remember when you used to join his reckless adventures in the forest?

You still join him, but you could feel that he was now hesitant w his actions, afraid that you could get hurt from his recklessness

You reassure him that he doesn't have to worry abt you and you could handle it, just like old times

He knows that but STILL

Whenever he spots a scratch on you he'd be taking you to Kiri, asking to put that special ointment that she uses on him and Neteyam whenever they get hurt from doing something stupid

"Put it on her, I don't want it getting infected"

"Wow, since when did you become a doctor, Lo'ak?"

With every adventure you took with him, Lo'ak makes sure to pick up a bead every time to remember the moment

Bc he's going to make you a bracelet w it <33

When he finishes it and he gives it to you, he almost fell in love again w the look of adoration on your face as you thanked him over and over as you hugged him (yes he was carrying you or else you'd be hugging his leg 💀)

You never took it off and you even proudly showed it off in the lab and w his family, making him a blushy shy mess

Took you to ride on his Ikran once and he loved that you weren't afraid, but you were still clinging onto him while admiring the beauty of the Hallelujah Mountains

For Lo'ak, he can handle pda

No, he loves it

In a way he's reminded that you aren't ashamed to be with him and vice versa

He swears he's abt to go wild when you hold his pinky in public

When you both are free and hanging out in the lab he loves comparing hand sizes

And loves having your finger on his face, tracing his stripes

Its the small moments w you two that he treasures the most

He knew that you were the one, even if you were human, nothing's going to stop him from loving you

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 year

Note

They’ve suspended Matt Hancock for going on I’m a celeb. Thoughts?

YEAH THEY HAVE

Okay so for those just joining us let me explain this latest dance segment in the clown show

So during the Pandemic, back in the days of Big Dog the Clown being our Prime Minister and encouraging us all to go out and catch COVID because he thought that would make us all stronger, our Health Secretary was a terrifyingly incompetent humanoid blancmange called Matt Hancock. As with all of BlowJo's Cabinet, Matt got the job because he was absolutely fucking terrible at everything except being an oily sycophant. Imagine, if you will, they looked around the circus and saw, not even a clown, but one of the freaks in the freak show; not because he even fit the profile for 'circus freak', but because all he had to do was sit there and guard the bin or something equally useless, and that was all he could achieve (for about 71% of the time, and he would otherwise get distracted by candy floss, which he would try to eat by ramming it into his own nostrils and then get into a muddle and cry); and then imagine that guy is who they selected to be in charge of safety for the acrobat show, and called him Chief Safety Clown.

This guy.

So obviously Britain immediately generated one of the worst covid mortality rates on the planet.

But he didn't stay in position too long, because in the summer of 2021, he broke his own lockdown rules by, yes you guessed it, having a greasy affair with an aide in his Downing Street office and taking her on taxpayer-funded dates. And obviously, that was a big problem because the public were super furious with politicians breaking the lockdown rules, so Boris Johnson did the sensible thing and fired him LMAO LOL ROFL I'm sorry I can't keep a straight face, Boris Johnson said it was completely fine and he could stay.

But uh. Matt Hancock decided a lynch mob was not a scenario he'd planned for, so he resigned, and bumbling ham Sajid Javid took over instead.

So, that explains who he is. Now, his signature move is basically to just fellate whichever ringmaster will give him a job, because as you may have guessed, he certainly is not capable of getting a job otherwise, other than guarding the bin. So as the latest ringmaster auditions began, he immediately set about making little "Rishi is the Greatest Briton" badges and generally doing a really good imitation of Nadine Dorries, except for Sunak instead of Johnson.

...which didn't work because Rishi Sunak passed him up for a job entirely lol

So as far as I can see I think Matt Hancock has finally realised that the only reason he was given a job was because Boris gave him one for doing good cheering. I think he's actually spotted that no one else even likes him, because he's greasy and disgusting and also killed loads of people. So if he wants to get back into politics - or indeed if he wants to move from there into the lucrative world of after dinner speaking - he needs to build his public profile as someone who is likeable and doesn't kill a chunk of the country and doesn't have grubby wandering hands like moist prehensile plums.

So, he decided to go on I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here.

(???!?!?????)

Except the thing is, "being an MP" is actually a job, and you are actually expected to pretend to do that job. I don't know how anyone else's jobs work, Tumblrs, but I personally am not allowed to just... go to Australia for three weeks without taking any annual leave and abandon the office, and also get paid to do so while still drawing my salary. And it turns out nor are MPs.

His excuses so far are:

I can be an MP in the Australian outback, I'm going to talk about dyslexia so really I'll still be working

I don't think I can work in politics for much longer because I'm bad at guarding the bin and Rishi won't let me do anything else even though I said his hair looks nice :(

Let's see how this is going down!

Oh to have a job where you can decide for yourself you're taking a month off, abandon your work and responsibilities, get paid shedloads and face little consequence. I'm sure he'll be an inspiration to other public servants

-Dave Penman, general secretary of the FDA union which represents senior civil servants

The prime minister believes that at a challenging time for the country, MPs should be working hard for their constituents, whether that's in the house or indeed in their constituencies.

-Rishi Sunak's spokesperson

Matt Hancock isn’t a ‘celebrity’, he’s the former health secretary who oversaw the UK having one of the highest death tolls in the world from Covid-19 while breaking his own lockdown rules. The fact that he is trying to cash in on his terrible legacy, rather than showing some humility or seeking to reflect on the appalling consequences of his time in government, says it all about the sort of person he is.

-Lobby Akinnola, from the Covid-19 Bereaved Families for Justice campaign

Following a conversation with Matt Hancock, I have considered the situation and believe this is a matter serious enough to warrant suspension of the whip with immediate effect

-Conservative chief whip, Simon Hart

I’m looking forward to him eating a kangaroo’s penis. You can quote me on that.

-Deputy chair of the West Suffolk Conservative Association, Andy Drummond

So there we have it, folks! It's going super well!!!!

But having the whip suspended means "expelled from the party until the matter is resolved", which means he is, as of now, no longer a Tory - he's an Independent. I imagine his constituents are delighted.

#politik #asks

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catboyglover · 6 months

Text

quotes that i think are very trobed coded:

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.” - Richard Siken

“Eventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you’re falling to the floor crying thinking, “I am falling to the floor crying,” but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it — you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you’re on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn’t paint it very well.” - Richard Siken

“Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” - Richard Siken

“If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.” - Richard Siken

“I’ve been rereading your story. I think it’s about me in a way that might not be flattering, but that’s okay. We dream and dream of being seen as we really are and then finally someone looks at us and sees us truly and we fail to measure up. Anyway: story received, story included. You looked at me long enough to see something mysterioso under all the gruff and bluster. Thanks. Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.” - Richard Siken

“You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened.

Your co-workers ask

if everything's okay and you tell them

you're just tired.

And you're trying to smile. And they're trying to smile.” - Richard Siken

“He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand.” - Richard Siken

“When does a war end? When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?” - Ocean Vuong

“I miss you more than I remember you.” - Ocean Vuong

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined.” - Ocean Vuong

“What were you before you met me?”

“I think I was drowning.”

“And what are you now?”

“Water.” - Ocean Vuong

“You love him. The story still ends.

So please, I beg you,

he is all that I have,

and you have so many heroes,

and the world has so many more.

Let him be soft. And let him be mine.” - Pencap

“Yes, yes, yes, I do like you. I am afraid to write the stronger word.” - Virginia Woolf

“I’m always soft for you, that’s the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say ‘come here, it’s been too long, it felt like home with you.’” - Azra T.

“Good news, I love you anyway. All the mess and fuss of you. All the stray hairs and uneven smiles. I love your laugh and your sigh and the way you sing along with the music. It’s all lovable. It feels so good to love you.” - Redinkskinned

“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.” - Edgar Allan Poe

“There is something wrong with you. There is something wrong with you that is also wrong with me.” - Hera Lindsay Bird

“I’m afraid of a lot of things, but mostly, most sincerely, I am afraid of being completely unraveled by you, and you finding nothing you want in there.” - L M Dorsey

“And I guess I realized at that moment that I really did love her. Because there was nothing to gain, and that didn’t matter.” - from “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky

“I just want you to know that you’re very special. And the only reason I’m telling you is that I don’t know if anyone else ever has.” - from “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky

“You are all the colors in one, at full brightness.” - from “All The Bright Places” by Jennifer Niven

“You make me lovely.” - from “All The Bright Places” by Jennifer Niven

“You know what I like about you? You’re interesting. You’re different. And I can talk to you. Don’t let that go to your head.”

“…You know what I like about you? Everything.” - from “All The Bright Places” by Jennifer Niven

“I love you.”

“It’ll pass.” - from “Fleabag” (2016-2019) by Phoebe Waller-Bridge

“I sit here on the couch, waiting.

Waiting for this to pass.

Days go by and I’m still here. Waiting.

You sit there, nothing changes.

I wait with bared teeth.

I wait.

I wait for you.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.” - Anne Carson

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” - Jane Austen

#this was HEAVILY inspired by my moot epidemiologyfan on twitter #poetry #community #troy barnes #abed nadir #trobed #the perks of being a wallflower #all the bright places #fleabag

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cacoetheswriting · 10 months

Text

celebrity skin. (part five)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.6k summary: a party from hell.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, mentions of recreational alcohol & drug consumption, emotional hurt / no comfort in this chapter (sorry, she's a little angsty), blackmail, family drama, mentions of minor character death — if i missed anything, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

The venue is filled wall to wall with people, half of whom you have not met before this night. They’re swaying to the loud music, talking over one another, and indulging in various colourful drinks from the open bar.

Sitting on a sofa in the corner of the large space, you’re watching the night unfold in front of your eyes. There’s a drink in your hand, a cranberry vodka, however, you haven’t touched it yet. Instead, the ice has long melted, causing lone droplets of water to drip down your arm.

A harsh scent of alcohol fills the air. It gets stronger every time a party attendee sits next to you, congratulating you on an incredible single with the band they never thought you’d ever play with. You go with the flow, the politeness you’ve been taught from a young age showing its wings, and thank each person that engages with you for coming tonight.

They ask how this all came about, you on a song with Corroded Coffin. A collaboration for the ages.

You answer honestly, to the best of your knowledge. “The powers that be organised everything”, and the person you’re speaking with laughs at your answer. Then they ask about a topic much hotter than the new record — your relationship with Eddie Munson.

The second the curly-haired rockstar is mentioned, a smile breaches your lips.

“That’s between me and him, for now.”

Which doesn’t stop anyone from trying to invade your privacy further. Wondering, out loud and with no shame, if what they’re reading in the tabloids is true. Is it just for show, or is it real? And then it goes one of two ways:

“Hope I’m invited to the wedding. It’s shaping up to be quite the party.”

“At least you’ll make a lot of money from this arrangement.”

Not one person wishes you well. Not one person says they’re happy for you, or for the Corroded Coffin frontman. It obviously makes you wonder why because you look happy… right? Why is your relationship such a big deal if you’re clearly happy?

Don’t you look happy?

But then, in between those conversations, your gaze finds Eddie with ease. His own brown eyes land on you every single time, without fail, as if there was some sort of magnetic pull between the two of you. He smiles wide, shooting you a casual wink from wherever he’s standing at the time.

And so, you force the treacherous thoughts deep, deep down. Squish them until they’re miniscule and a problem for later — which in retrospect, not a good idea — ‘cause right this moment in time, you’re definitely happy.

Eddie makes you happy.

You’re also just glad to see the rockstar is having fun, considering how reluctant he was to leave the comfort of his own home. He’s mingling and laughing. A pep in his step as he orders another drink. After all, parties are his element.

“God, my poor fucking feet hurt so much,” Holly sighs, dropping down next to you with an elegant bounce. “I honestly don’t know how you can perform in heels for multiple nights in a row when I can’t even make it through a couple of measly hours.”

You laugh. “No pain, no gain.”

“Okay, Magic Johnson.” Holly snorts while playfully rolling her eyes.

“Actually, I’d prefer to be Patrick Ewing,” you correct her, it’s a tease with a slight dramatic flare, “‘Cause who am I if not a New York Knicks fan.”

The giggle that escapes your friend is infectious. In between the lighthearted chuckles, she does her best not to spill the fruity drink in her hand, pressing the glass to her lips and taking a sip. She relaxes into the sofa, legs now extended outwards, a hazard to anyone walking by.

“Speaking of New York, when are you taking the rockstar to meet your parents?” Holly probes, brow raised.

“Oh god,” you dramatise in response, “That’s like a super serious thing, no? I don’t think we’re there yet.”

But Holly doesn’t give up as easily, seeing right through the front you didn’t even realise you were putting up. As your best friend, she knows you better than anyone. That includes moments like these, when you’re minimising feelings out of fear.

“Babe, be for real. He has already met your grandma and she’s arguably a lot more important than your parents.” Holly states, taking another quick sip of her cocktail. “No offence to Alicia and Brad, but we all know your family is ruled by the little lady who already hates your boyfriend.”

You sigh. She’s obviously right.

“So, what’s the real reason you don’t wanna take him home?”

Glancing over at Eddie, who’s lost in conversation with the producers of your record, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, wondering what to say to her. “Because I’m scared it’s all moving too fast,” would be an appropriate answer to the question, but then again that’s not entirely true.

Holly nudges your arm and you turn your attention back to her immediately.

“I’ve just been really happy in our little bubble these last few months and I’m afraid if we venture further out into the real world, we’ll lose that feeling.”

Raw, honest. It’s a scary thing to say, but Holly doesn’t judge. She never does. Instead, her arm makes way around your shoulders and she squeezes you lightly when your head rests against her skin.

“With the way the two of you look at one another, I bet my sanity that you’ll be together for a very long time.”

And you hope she’s right.

Eddie walks up to where you’re sitting shortly after, politely asking your friend if he could steal a moment alone with you. Holly of course agrees, saying something about finding Jeff ‘cause he looks mighty fine tonight and she’s a little buzzed, “If you know, you know.”. You watch with a smile as she disappears between the dancing bodies while Eddie sits in the now empty spot, casually placing a hand on your thigh.

“Having fun?”

“I am,” you answer and lean in closer to place a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Even more now.”

He smirks at you. “I’m glad, baby.”

“Seems you are too.”

“I am.” Eddie nods, free hand now holding your jaw, as he leans in to capture your lips with his own.

The kiss is short and sweet, but like everything you and the rockstar do, it attracts attention from pretty much everyone in the room. A click of the camera, a flash of light. But neither of you care. Looking instead into each other’s eyes once you pull apart, as if you’re the only people at this party.

Even though putting a label on things wasn’t entirely necessary, it definitely cemented whatever feelings are floating within your core. And Eddie feels the same way. He actually feels a lot more than he’s willing to admit out loud. Partially because he’s always battled commitment issues, mainly because he’s really afraid of losing you.

Again.

Eddie Munson loved a good party.

This wasn’t always the case, since during his teenage years he was often excluded from every single guest list. Then he started dealing. Suddenly, the metalhead was a hot ticket, and even though people still didn’t care for his company, they liked the stuff he brought. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention — as fake as it may have been.

Once Corroded Coffin made it big, and Eddie realised that people actually wanted to party with him for who he was, and not the drugs he had access too, (although, for some, it was a little bit of both), the rockstar decided he was going to throw the best damn parties Hollywood has ever seen.

It quickly became second nature. Make money, then spend it just as fast so other people can have a good time.

When the drinking, and other activities, got a little out of control, the guys tried to talk some sense into their friend with a little tough love: “Dude, those people don’t give a fuck about you! They only wanna hang out with you, ‘cause you’re rich.”. But Eddie was too far gone and he didn’t care to stop. His house was full of people every single weekend, most of whom he knew, and for the first time in his miserable life, the rockstar felt like the most important person on the goddamn planet. There was no way he was letting go of that feeling.

Then August ‘92 happened.

The evening started off as nothing special. Just another pool party to combat the unbearable Los Angeles heat. It was a common occurrence during the summer months, so Eddie didn’t think that night was going to be any different.

Surrounded by a group of girls that undoubtedly only want to get in his pants, he’s laughing at the unfunny jokes and taking advantage of the fact that he doesn’t need to refill his own drinks, the “groupies”, as Marianne calls them, gladly do it for him.

They’re brushing up against him and flirting with no shame while batting their lashes. Eddie usually eats this shit up. Matter of fact, he should be loving every second of it right now, but his focus has long shifted elsewhere, the girls a mere distraction from the actual object of his attention and desire.

From the corner of his eye, he’s watching you.

Jesus Christ. Eddie can’t believe you came. He can’t believe you’re actually here, at his house, seemingly enjoying yourself. And to say you looked fucking hot would be the understatement of a century. Splayed out on one of the lounge chairs, hiding from the sun, you’re wearing a white cotton blouse and skimpy denim shorts, and Eddie aches for his current conversation to be over so he can go and officially introduce himself to you — like he should have at the Grammys.

“Eds, do you want another drink?”

He barely registers the question, even with the girl who has her hand on his bare bicep, rubbing up and down rather seductively. Instead, the rockstar notices how you stand up and look around the party once, before walking in the direction of his big house. So Eddie thinks that now’s his chance, perhaps the only one he’d get, and following a quick internal monologue to pep himself up, he leaves the group of ladies disappointed, following you inside.

That was almost the last party Eddie threw.

You flipped this switch inside of him, one the rockstar didn’t even know existed. After that night, he no longer wanted attention from just anyone. Taking centre stage in his mind — and heart — was America’s favourite sweetheart. Even when he royally fucked things up, he only thought about you.

Though for a number of lonesome weeks, he wasn’t sure you were thinking about him since his actions proved nothing more than borderline douchey. So Eddie fell back into self-destructive behaviour just as fast as he scrambled out of it. The parties got louder, he became more obnoxious.

September 1992. Saturday Night Live.

That will be a night his band, his management, his friends, and even his fans, will never let Eddie forget. Unfortunately, for all the wrong reasons.

The drinks pre-show were free and Eddie had a mountain of feelings he desperately needed to get over, along with memories he wanted to bury deep, until they were nothing but specs of dust, flashes that didn’t resemble anything — especially not you.

He did his best not to slur his words during the live performance, and for the most part, he succeeded. Although that didn’t really matter since anyone in the rockstar's vicinity could clearly tell he was intoxicated. Eddie, leaning half his weight on the microphone, round sunglasses covering his bloodshot eyes, should have never been allowed to set foot on the stage that night.

Let alone twice.

Under the dim stage light, as they hoped to conclude their last song without a major incident, Eddie’s band mates were exchanging worried glances. The Corroded Coffin frontman had a couple more drinks in between sets and was barely able to follow along with the music.

Thankfully, behind the scenes, Marianne convinced production to shift the cameras away from unravelling Eddie, even switched off his microphone, and the only people left witness to his drunken mess were the folks present physically.

Eddie on the other hand couldn’t have cared less about how he was behaving since the alcohol didn’t numb him like he hoped, instead the thought of you being somewhere in the same city, overpowered his senses. Would it be crazy to hope you were watching? Would it be crazy to think that despite how rudely he treated you, you’d still show up like you both talked about?

Would it be crazy to try and find you? Search New York, high and low, in hopes that someone knows someone, who knows someone else, that knows where you live?

Instead, against his better judgement and everyone else’s rather aggressive protests, Eddie goes to the after party planned in his name.

Unsurprisingly, you didn’t come.

His black out was imminent.

The damages done to the restaurant came to just under five thousand dollars. The stress from keeping it out of the press robbed his team about two years of their life, so Marianne says.

And that was the last party Eddie threw.

Considering how out of control things had gotten, how out of control he had become at some point during the night while thinking about you with every drink that burned down his throat, it could’ve been a lot worse.

Eddie still only thinks about you. Difference being, now, almost a year later, you are attending a party together, and the alcohol no longer tastes like regret.

When he looks at you, like he is right now, under the fluorescent club lights, his heart increases tenfold. He wants to kiss every inch of your face, hold you close because that’s where you belong.

Things simply got better because he owned up to his mistakes and learned to open himself up to love, as scary as that feeling is sometimes. He’s not second guessing your intentions, because that would be cruel. He just loses himself in his doubts sometimes, since in the past, no pretty girl has given him the time of day without wanting something in return.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” Eddie whispers against your lips, thumb gently grazing along your cheekbone. He proceeds to tell you how you make life a little more normal, and he’s grateful for it, despite always wanting fame. You tell him how attention is nothing if it doesn’t come from the right person, and he agrees, brown locks bouncing as he nods his head. Then he kisses you again.

And this kiss is arguably a lot more urgent than the last. Eddie is hovering over you entirely. One hand remains holding onto your face, while the other is on your waist, pushing you deeper into the sofa.

You can hear another click of a camera in the distance and despite your better judgement, that voice in the back of your mind, closely reminiscent of your Nana’s, telling you to push your boyfriend away, you slide your hands up his back and cling closer to him.

An inch of regret courses through your veins the following morning when you receive a call from your quite displeased team, “what the hell were you thinking?!”. You deflect. Unwilling for anyone to burst through the happy bubble you’ve found yourself in, you blame them for poor organisation and security ‘cause who even allows cameras to be brought into a private Hollywood event.

That regret is unfortunately also accompanied by a killer hangover and very little memory of what else has happened the night prior.

The empty spot in bed, usually home to a set of wild brown locks, should have been a warning sign ‘cause Eddie never woke up before you, especially after a party. You find him in the kitchen, at the spot where the two of you first met. His head is in his hands and you’re instantly feeling worried.

The happy bubble threatening to burst.

“Hey,” you croak, hoping to get his attention, “are you okay?”

Eddie’s as still as a statue. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence, or your question, and the worry in the pit of your stomach increases tenfold. So you approach him, movements slow due to the banging headache as well as the apprehension given your boyfriend's current position. Only when your hand hesitantly reaches his back, rubbing once downward while you position yourself next to him, Eddie lifts his head and tilts it to the side, finally meeting your eyes.

“Had a good night?” Eddie asks, shifting his stance so that your hand falls down to your side. This should have been a second warning; him trying to avoid physical contact.

“Y-yeah,” you force a smile, thinking that it’s needed, “You?”

“Not really,” he answers a little too quickly.

His brown eyes scan yours, for what exactly, you’re a little too hungover to realise. But the longer he stares at you, the worse you begin to feel. A certain dread spreads through your insides, causing your stomach to drop. What’s happening right now? Actually, what happened in the late hours of last night that’s causing this sudden rift between you and the rockstar.

“What’s going on, Eddie?”

The tone of your voice is so quiet, you’re unsure he’s even heard you. But then a sigh escapes his lips. He briefly glances towards the back door, out towards the pool, before settling his gaze back on your frame.

“I think we made a mistake,” he says a little too bluntly. “I-I don’t think we should have labelled this so soon, and ehm… This is nothing on you, sweetheart. I’m just not the relationship type.”

Dumbfounded, is a little too plain to explain the feeling that you’re experiencing at this very moment. Betrayed would be a better word, but that would mean Eddie is after saying those things. That he’s really after shattering your entire world in the space of a few mere seconds. Betrayed would mean your gut instinct, the one you have ignored ever since you’ve met the Corroded Coffin frontman, was always correct: he was no good.

Used, is how you begin to feel as Eddie continues to list reasons for why he can’t actually be your boyfriend and how you’re better off simply being friends with benefits, or whatever it is the two of you had been over the last few months. Used fuels the anger inside of you because, to you, deceit is worse than cheating. And he seems so nonchalant about it, which only adds to the fire.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Eddie stops mid another lame excuse and for the first time this morning, he reaches for your hands, fingers gently grazing against your skin, which only adds to the pain you’re beginning to endure.

“Sweetheart…”

“No, no.”

You retreat, unwilling to let the rockstar hold you since he’s after breaking your heart like it was worth nothing — Jesus H. Christ, this is some sick and twisted deja vu.

Instead, you cross your arms across your chest like a shield while taking a step away from the man you realised now you definitely loved, yet one that clearly didn’t love you.

“I-I guess I’m just confused as to what’s changed since last night—”

“I’m not the relationship type,” Eddie cuts in, repeating what he’s already said, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything towards you. I like you, sweetheart. A lot.”

“Eddie, come on,” you scoff, tears threatening to breach through the confines of their home, “Do you realise how ridiculous you sound right now? If you feel something towards me, I-I don’t get how being called my boyfriend and being exclusive with me is the worst thing on the planet.”

When he doesn’t immediately reply, you continue.

“Unless that’s it. You don’t want to be exclusive because the thought of keeping your dick in your pants when I’m not around is too difficult, or having other people throw themselves at you and not immediately act on it is something Eddie Munson simply cannot do.”

“That’s not it,” the rockstar interjects.

“Then fucking enlighten me, Eddie, because you’re making no fucking sense right now!”

Again, he doesn’t say anything. And it’s precisely because he’s not showing any willingness to be honest with you right this moment, after endless prior conversations about how that’s the one thing he will always be, you decide for your own sanity that this isn’t a relationship you can fight for.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

Three words you’ve spoken to him before, only this time they hold a lot more weight. This time, they signal an end to something that was only after getting a proper beginning. The end of America’s favourite popstar and the Corroded Coffin frontman — a headline that broke on Page Six the very next morning.

Eddie watches you leave. Frozen in his spot as you rush back to the bedroom the two of you have shared the last few months. And his heart aches because unbeknown to you, this is not what he wanted to happen.

Unbeknown to you, this is not how he actually feels. He doesn’t want to end things with you so soon after they’ve begun. He wants you. He wants to be your boyfriend, if not more.

He just can’t.

Last night’s party was the main catalyst behind the rockstar’s actions this morning. The attendance of a certain someone that wasn’t actually invited was a shock to Eddie’s drunken system, and the reason behind why he simply can’t tell you anything, especially the truth.

(Not right now anyway.)

Chrissy Cunningham.

The preppy blonde was the only person Eddie loved before meeting you.

Despite not ever being anything more than friends, at least on a physical level, for the longest time, Chrissy was Eddie’s only supporter. The only person to show him kindness and shower him with care he undoubtedly deserved.

Chrissy encouraged Eddie to follow his dreams, pursue a career in music, because out of everyone in Hawkins, she truly believed in his talent.

Then she died.

Suddenly, Eddie was not only left with a hole in his heart, but he also found himself at the centre of a murder investigation. Despite being declared innocent, her death nothing but a freak accident, the scars on the rockstar’s body remind him of the events of March ‘86 to this very day.

He told you a little about what happened, just failed to mention Chrissy. Not for any particular reason, he just doesn’t talk about her as a rule — unwilling to reopen the wounds he so desperately tried to heal over the years.

And because he doesn’t talk about Chrissy, or mention her name and what she meant to him, Eddie never expected her to be brought up.

Especially not a Hollywood party of all places.

Eddie first spotted your grandmother mid-performance of the band’s single with you. She approached him shortly after, when you excused yourself to take some shots with Holly, leaving the frontman alone.

“Even I cannot deny that it’s a good song,” she states simply, as Eddie eyes her suspiciously.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t think you were on the guest list.”

She scoffs. “Just like my lovely granddaughter, I can get myself on every single list I want, and even though I don’t necessarily want to be here, I do have something to tell you.”

Eddie cocks a brow, “Oh yeah?”

“Hawkins is a lovely little town,” she says, not missing a beat. “It’s quaint. Reminds me of a place I spent hiding my pregnancy all those moons ago, but that’s a story for another time. Or not. Depends how well you listen to me right now.”

“What do you want?”

“Does my granddaughter know about Chrissy Cunningham?”

Eddie’s face falls the second Chrissy’s name escapes your grandmothers painted lips, though he doesn’t get a chance to actually reply to the question, because she’s quick to continue with her agenda.

“I suppose not. Your uncle Wayne was really quite open to tell me about her though, about what she meant to you.”

She pauses, tilting her head to one side.

“I am sorry for your loss, Edward.”

Another brief pause.

“Yet I can’t help the curiosity, why didn’t you tell my baby about this girl if she supposedly played such a big part in you pursuing your dreams?”

“Don’t do this—”

“Do what, Edward? I’m just trying to learn more about the boy my naive granddaughter is willing to risk her entire career for. Again, your uncle Wayne was very helpful in this department, considering you practically shunned me from the dinner I organised for this exact reason.”

“Listen—”

“No,” your grandmother interrupts, “We both know you’re not good enough for my sweet angel and this entire Chrissy situation you are trying really hard to hide from everyone, only proves my point,” she snaps and Eddie’s feeling grateful that the place is a little too crowded and a little too noisy for anyone to hear what’s happening at this very moment.

“Edward, if you have nothing to hide, if you’re really innocent and played no part in the poor girl's death, why can’t the world know? Feel free to answer me, I’m just trying to get some insight into who my granddaughter has chosen to date.”

Eddie swallows his breath, unsure of what to say because it’s these types of conversations he’s been trying to avoid by not bringing up Chrissy.

Ever.

He didn’t do anything to the girl he loved. He is one hundred percent innocent, and the courts proved his side of the story. Yet, he’s been ridiculed and questioned left, right, and centre.

Only Max and Wayne know that the final reason as to why he’s decided to leave Hawkins behind for good, was to get away from the rumours and the people that didn’t believe him. And as he rushed to chase his dreams, he swore he’d never bring this up. Swore to never mention Chrissy’s name to anyone, or the fact that she’s been the inspiration behind numerous Corroded Coffin singles.

In a way, it was freeing. In Los Angeles, Chrissy Cunnigham was nothing but a figment of Eddie’s imagination.

Until this very moment.

“I didn’t kill her.”

“I know,” your Nana states, “But it wouldn’t take a lot to make people in Hollywood believe that you did and then your image is ruined, your career starts to decline, and the only other person that’s affected besides you and your bandmates, is the person you claim to feel something for. My granddaughter.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. He glances behind your grandmother’s shoulder to where you’re standing at the bar with Holly, laughing at something your friend has said seconds prior.

He’s happy with you. He’s happy to be known as your boyfriend.

And it’s because of that happiness, he knows he cannot ruin your life by involving you in something that happened before he was even famous.

“I don’t want to hurt her,” the rockstar mumbles in a defeated tone.

“She’s going to hurt either way,” your grandmother says, “But if you end things with her on your own, I promise to keep Chrissy’s name out of the press, so you’re only breaking my granddaughter's heart and not simultaneously ending her career.”

The metalhead hangs his head low, closing his eyes momentarily to try and gather his tipsy thoughts. His lack of rebuttal is enough for your grandmother to claim her victory. She places a hand on the rockstar’s shoulder and squeezes once, faking remorse.

“And Eddie,” she continues, “I wouldn’t tell her about this conversation, and I also wouldn’t be so brave to tell her about Chrissy yourself, because with a snap of my finger, the whole world will know. Then you gotta ask yourself, what’s more important? Your happiness, her happiness, or the careers you both worked extremely hard for.”

She lets her hand fall and walks out of the party with her head held high. Unseen by you and unnoticed by everyone else here, almost like a ghost. Like the conversion never happened.

But the ache in Eddie’s chest is proof enough. He knows what occurred, just like he knows what he unfortunately needs to do — which is break your fucking heart.

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie , @astheni-a , @bebe07011

#sorry this took a while eek.#also sorry she’s rather angsty #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson story #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #celebrity skin.

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 2 months

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I am so happy you write for fast forward because so many people think it is stupid when it is one of my favorite seasons of the 2003 series. I was wondering if you could write for all the turtles or just one (the wheel of wow can choose) where the reader has a dark version of themselves. While the turtles are fighting dark!reader , dark!reader start to flirt with the turtle saying things like “I can understand why my other version has a crush on you” and “You should get with me, I am totally the stronger and more hotter one” The reader gets jealous and insecure because well… dark!reader is hot and a great fighter. Maybe a confession or fluff at the end. I hope this wasn’t a confusing request. I am just a sucker for jealousy tropes. Thank you so much, love :)

Dark Version (Angst?/Fluff)

(FastForward!Michelangelo x reader (dark!reader)

A/N: The wheel of WOW said Mikey! The wheel has spoken!😂 I’ve made a few changes in the dialog, but otherwise it's exactly the same🧡 Also, since it has been some time since my last writing, it is a little short, since I need to get back into my game. But I hope you’ll still enjoy🧡

Warnings: Spelling🧡

The moment you first met the kanabo version of yourself, you were shocked. Their shape and features was exactly like yours, except for the purple kanabo skin, the light eating black hair, sharp fingernails and teeth and red eyes. Just like the other kanabo clones, your dark counterpart matched your personality, yet with a dark twist. Instead of being a pleasant person with a warm presence that pulled people, your clone was all consuming and domineering. Her words sounded promising, and she was quick to make people trust her, just like you. Except, she would use that trust against whoever she had fooled, proving to have a wicked mind that was able to put all of the other clones to shame.

The original turtles saw this clone of yours as nothing but a bad imitation. Though she may have had an appearance that matched yours, she was nothing like you, their best friend, that had managed to get accidentally transported with them to the future of 2105. They did not like her. But no one disliked her more than you did.

From the day you had first met her, you had felt threatened by this new enemy of yours. Not just from her horrid intentions, but from the storm that she managed to rise within you. You did not like to admit it, but you were, to be quite honest, very jealous of her. There was just something about the way she carried herself. From the way her spine stood straight, the way she would lean on her hip, her full hair, and her smug smile. And her fear of absolutely nothing. To put it simple, your kanabo clone looked and acted like the hottest person on earth, and was not above saying sultry things, just to catch the turtles off guard. But that was nothing compared to the day, where she would rip the rug out from under your feet, sending your world crumbling down in embarrassment.

The kanabo clones had managed to catch you and the turtles off guard one night, backing you up in some far corner of a New New York City alley, leaving all of you with no other options than to fight your way out. Or the turtles fighting while they made you hide behind some dumpster, not allowing anything to happen to you.

You watched them from your hiding spot, seeing your kanabo clone lash out at Mikey with her long sharp nails, making you shriek as he dodged. She was about to pull back, ready to throw another launch at him. But Mikey, being the fast ninja turtle that he was, managed to catch both of her arms, making her struggle to get free. But of course, that was not enough to make your clone back down. It never was.

Your dark counterpart heard you shriek, seeing you hiding behind the dumpsters. She smirked, knowing damn well what you were feeling and thinking. She knew what you had been feeling and thinking for several years. Especially about the orange clad turtle that now held her wrists in an iron grip, with no intentions of letting her go. It was time to do what she did best; catch the turtles off guard. And this time she would not hold back, intending to bring you down in the fall.

“I see”, she smiled, stopping her fight to get out of Mikey’s iron grip. “It makes a lot of sense now”.

“What makes sense?”, Mikey asked, not able to hide his curiosity. Dude couldn’t hold his curiosity for anything, even if his life depended on it.

“Why my hiding counterpart over there has such a giant crush on you”, she smiled smugly, enjoying Mikey’s flustered expression. “You’re cute”.

And just like your dark counterpart had wanted it, Mikey pulled his hands from her wrist with an unsure look on his face, all while you felt the ground under you grumble into dust. There was no way she just told Mikey your biggest secret. You knew very well that she knew things of your past, sharing the same memories as you did, and using them to trick you and the turtles. But it had never once dawned on you, that she was aware of your biggest secret of several years - your crush on Mikey.

You kanabo counterpart smiled smugly, catching your eyes momentarily, before landing a hard blow on the side of Mikey’s chin, causing him to lose balance for a moment. That short moment was all you clone needed, before she made her way past Mikey, making her way towards your horrible hiding spot. Her red eyes glistened at you as she cracked her knuckles, not sparing a moment to see how the other clones were doing.

For a split second you managed to fear, shaking behind the dumpster, as you watched this kanabo imitation of you, taunted you with her steps. You had never been a good fighter, which was the reason why the turtles had made you hide behind a dumpster, instead of partaking in the fight. And she knew that. It was a fact she often brought up, in an attempt to pull your confidence apart, and now as she walked towards you, she glowed in the energy of your fear, somehow looking even more confident and attractive than before, letting your self esteem grumble and fall into the pit of your stomach.

Your dark counterpart got ready to launch at you, with the strength and speed Sh’Okanabo had given her. But before she could leap at you, she was harshly pulled back, an alarmed yelp sounding from her mouth, as Mikey threw her towards the other side of the alley, her back slamming into the wall with a groan, an angry fire burning in her eyes, before she escalated the fight with Mikey, with the other turtles soon coming to his rescue.

The alley battle continued, until the dark turtles had to pull your dark clone back, citing that keeping the fight up would only prove to be a disadvantage for them, especially with the sun rising within a short time. Reluctantly, your clone followed their lead, leaving the battle behind, but not before turning towards Mikey one last time, making sure you could hear and see her.

“If you get tired of her, you know very well where to find a better option”. That comment made your jaw drop, watching stunned as she left with the kanabo turtles, hurrying towards their hiding spots in the shadows. All your emotions were running high. You felt small, weak, insecure, now with the burning flame of jealousy in your stomach. But then, when Mikey turned your way, you felt embarrassment rush over you, your eyes falling to the ground, not ready to look him in the eyes, and admit to what you clone had let him know without your permission.

Mikey’s brothers, sensing the need for you and Mikey to talk alone, did just that - they left the alley, leaving you and Mikey alone back in the alley, while they slowly made their way back to the penthouse, hoping that this would be the time you and Mikey would come clean to each other.

For a long moment, there was silence between you and Mikey, with neither of you truly sure what to say. You played with your finger nails, while Mikey played with the handles on his tech nunchucks, now safely secured in his belt.

The silence between the two of you was loud. No sound, yet it was ear piercing, making your heart beat faster and faster, the palms of your hands growing sweaty due to nervousness. But then finally Mikey spoke up. You were surprised to find that he was wearing an almost proud smile on his lips, standing in the sunray that slowly made its way into the city.

“You really have a crush on me?”, he asked, still smiling bright.

You bite your lip, finding your embarrassment slowly turning into fluttering butterflies, flapping their wings around inside your stomach. “Yes”.

Mikey blew out a sharp breath of air in a chuckle, taking a few steps towards you. “How long?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe for a few years now”.

Mikey moved his foot round on the pavement, looking more and more pleased, unable to stand still. “So maybe the same time as my crush on you?”

You almost lost your breath, unable to think clearly for a moment, almost stumbling and falling in front of him. However Mikey was quick to catch you, holding your arms in his big three fingered hands. You looked each other in the eyes, realizing how close you were, leading to the two of you smiling and giggling.

“You have a crush on me too?”, you asked, still not really sure that you had understood him right.

“Of course I do”, Mikey said, as if it was obvious. “I mean, who couldn’t? Only an idiot!”

You giggled at this, letting Mikey pull you in close for a hug, both of you smiling from ear to ear, before taking the time to look at each other’s faces. It was here that Mikey leaned closer to you, waiting for you to reciprocate his actions, before your lips met in a sweet and tender kiss.

And there you stood, in each other’s arms, enjoying the feeling of your soft lips against each other, with the warm rising sun making all the dark shadows seem so far away.

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babeydollx · 1 year

Note

heyyy I had a request for a smut!

Step brother JJ Maybank x Female Step Sister Reader?

Like maybe JJ hates Y/N and because JJ has feelings for her and every time some guy is flirting with her, JJ always gets jealous and makes them go away or something.

I guess it would be Jealous Step Brother JJ? Hope that made sense!!

Forbidden Jealousy

Warnings: cursing, smut, mentions of drinking, jealousy, stepcest, sex, unprotected sex.

Pairings: JJ Maybank x Female Step-Sister!Reader

Summary: In which, JJ tries to convince Y/N and himself that he hates her more than anything but, he really hates how much he wants her.

Author's Note: omg I am so sorry lol, I gotta do better with posting in general lmao.

You smiled and giggled as you looked up at the man who had began flirting with you. You, Kiara, Sarah, and Cleo had decided to go to a party at the boneyard that John B decided to host. It was at this party when you met the guy that you were talking to now. He was a tourist but, he was super cute and he was also very sweet to you. You also just wanted a change. You had gone out with a good amount of guys from OBX and they all seemed to be the same.

The man smiled and gently tucked some of your long hair behind your ear making you smile more at him. Little did you know though, JJ was watching you and the guy you were with as the two of you flirted with eachother. He could feel his blood boiling. That should have been him over there with you. Even though you were his step-sister he still felt an attraction to you. A sexual one.

He also wanted to be with you in a romantic way too but, he could never let you know that. That's why he convinced you that he hated you but, it was really because he hated how much he wanted you. He needed you. Then when he saw the guy getting closer to you he could feel the jealously inside of him growing stronger and stronger until he almost couldn't take it anymore. It took everything in him to not go over there and punch the guy.

You were looking out at the sea before the guy gently grabbed your chin and leaned down to kiss you softly. You smiled as you kissed the man back. When JJ saw the two of you kiss, he snapped. He walked over to the two of you and yanked you away from the man you were currently kissing. "I- JJ what the fuck!" You yelled as you smacked the blonde boy away from you. "Just come with me." JJ growled as he pulled you away from the party, leaving the guy there alone and confused.

"JJ where the fuck are we going?! Just let go of me!" You yelled as you pulled away from him. "Can you just shut up?!" He snapped as he tugged on you a little more and brought you over to The Twinkie. He opened the door and pulled you inside with him before shutting the van door. "Why did you take me here? Why are you so pissed over a guy kissing me?" You asked with an annoyed tone. "Because that should have been me not him!" He accidentally blurted out.

You looked at him in shock. He was attracted to you like that? But he was your step-brother. "What do you mean?" You asked, your tone softening now. "I-.. I want you." He said as he looked at your, his eyes darkening with lust. Before you even realized what you were doing you crawled into JJ's lap before kissing him passionately. He was shocked but he kissed you with the same amount of passion.

His hands were on your waist but, they slowly made their way down to your ass before he grabbed your ass roughly. You whimpered softly into his mouth when he did so. You put your hands through his blonde curls before gently tugging on his hair causing him to whimper quietly. After you and JJ made out for a few minutes, he started getting more needy and began to unbuckle his belt.

You giggled with excitement when he did you and you pulled off your bikini top before moving your bikini bottom to the side, getting ready for him. He got his belt undone and he unzipped his cargo shorts before pulling his cock out of his boxers and shorts. You eyes widened a little bit when you saw the size of him. You had never actually taken someone as big as he was before. He smirked when he saw the look on your face.

"What is it, baby? Don't think you can take it?" He asked with a devilish smirk. "Of course I could take it." You said as you glared at the blue eyed boy. "Prove it." JJ said with a smirk. You bit your lip before getting up and hovering your core over his hardened cock. You were so desperate for his dick that your pussy was practically dripping for it. He held onto your hips as you slowly sunk down onto his cock.

You and JJ both moaned out as his cock filled you completely. You held onto his shoulders tightly before you began to bounce up and down on his cock. JJ bit his lip and rested his head against the van as he looked down to where the two of you were connected, watching his dick disappear inside of you. You let your head fall back as you continued to bounce on his cock. His grip on your waist tightened and he groaned out as you began to bounce faster.

You now began to slowly grind yourself against him. He whimpered at the new pace and after a few minutes he stopped you before beginning to thrust into you himself. You gasped and moaned out loudly before throwing your head back. In a matter of minutes he found your g-spot and began to hit it over and over again causing your eyes to roll. Your eyes rolled as he continued to fuck you, his pace quickening.

You felt that familiar knot tightening in your stomach and you knew that you were going to cum. You clenched around JJ's cock, signaling to him that you were about to cum. "Mm.. are you gonna cum, baby?" He asked with a smirk. "I- fuck yes!" You moaned out as your climax was getting closer and closer. "Come on, cum for me." He said as he groaned out. With that your eyes rolled back and your body began to tremble as you gushed all over his cock.

He thrusted into you a few more times before cumming himself, painting your walls white. As you were trying to catch your breath, your eyes widened when you realized that JJ had just came inside of you. "I- wait... JJ.." You said quietly. "Hm?" He asked as he looked at you tiredly. "Did you not use a condom?" You asked in a scared tone. "I- no.. I thought you were on the pill." He said as his eyes widened a little too. "I- what? No I'm not!" You said panicked as you pulled yourself off of his cock.

As you were thinking about what you both had to do next, you looked over at JJ to see him having a devilish smirk on his face. "I- why the fuck are you smirking right now?!" You snapped a little. "I'm smirking about the thought of you being all swollen up with my baby." He said with a smirk. "Then people will really know who owns your ass." He said. "Your own step-brother." He said with a devilish smirk.

Author's Note: thank you so much for reading!

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cyber-therian · 2 months

Text

anyone else not have past lives but instead sorta live as your theriotype in a made up world in your head? i do this with my knight type too

for my fox type, im a male salmacian silver fox mated to my gf who is a traditional red fox. we have 3/4 kits that we co-parent (even though technically foxes dont do that, but i have a complicated relationship with parenthood so its fine) and we live in northern Canada as I do now.

for my coydog type, im my gfs domestic coydog and sort of an emotional support dog for her. i often envision myself wearing a harness & get a lot of euphoria from them in general. im also a teenage/young adult coydog who has been neutered, so i have no parental urges when im in that mindset

my northern harrier type is much more vague as a have a bit different of a relationship to that type. all i really imagine is being a male harrier that can and does miraculously carry, lay, and hatch eggs. im older than my other types, probably closer to the end of my lifespan, and also live in northern canada :)

my knight type is a lot more complex because sometimes it really does feel like a past life. i dont necessarily believe in past lives but i do feel that my current dog & i are spiritually bonded together from this “past life imaginary story” ive created. in the tale i am a knight who has been assigned to watch over the princesses, my girlfriend, as her personal guard. her & i have a secret love affair because she truly loves me but is engaged to the prince of another kingdom. its set in medieval europe, leaning more Irish or Scottish but with certain british elements too. i also look way different than how i look now, with red curly hair cut into a rugged medieval-style bob with short bangs, and a much different shaped face & nose. im also cisgender, and not salmacian like most other of my types. this is by far the most complex story and this is the very barest of bones but its too long and too much for me to remember. i also update it constantly, as i make up new scenarios whenever :)

i also feel that my knight type had some sort of constant interaction with silver foxes, and that is partially why its ingrained into my identity as a theriotype much stronger than the rest

#otherkin #therian #therianthropy #alterhuman #canine therian #canine kin #caninekin #dog therian #dog theriotype #otherkith #otherhearted #alterhuman community #alterhumanity #past lives #past life #past life therian

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lunalillyhbhb · 1 year

Text

Lea's home

Chapter 6 pt.2

My heart is already beating hard inside me, pleading for any bit of attention. I am doing my best to practice restraint, to not let my inner cardiophilia show. I don't know if Khushi is into this, or what exactly her intentions are with me, and I can't risk upsetting her. I must be obedient and act as per her wishes. I can't let myself be carried away.

Khushi slips out of the dressing room, wearing a tight fitting black sleek swimsuit, completely covering her entire torso, till her elbows and above her knees. Sexy. Her long hair is neatly braided away from her face. The form fitting swimwear highlights her voluptuous breast, her lean muscular build, and the confidence she has knowing she can grab anyone's attention when she walks in the room. The smoothness in the outline also makes me realise that she's wearing nothing below that swimsuit. Not weird, I know people do that sometimes, but it drives me a bit more crazy. I can see an outline of a stemoscope under her suit and see the app on her laptop indicate that it's picking up her heart as it should, and give her a thumbs up. She walks towards me, swaying her hips alluringly, as if calling for my attention. I shiver a bit, maybe because her being so close to me is doing things to my brain...or maybe its because I'm still in my bra and underwear.

"I need your opinion on this one. Listen to my heart now vs. after I finish this 15 mins, and give me your feedback."

Yeah there's no way she's into hearts. There's no way I could get that lucky. I plug in the headphones reluctantly, frustrated about the stemoscope inhibiting my direct hand to chest stething experience, when suddenly I hear it: her beautiful heartbeat. And that's not all, she had a surprise gift for me: a sweet systolic murmur. Faint in the start and loudest in the middle between her 2 beats. This is her heart singing, a sound so dangerous and yet so beautiful. It occurs to me that as a gym instructor and avid exercise enthusiast, she has probably tortured her heart more than this on many occasions.....and the thought arouses me. The tension between my hand and her heart, the strong muscle capable of withstanding strenuous exercise and now this, her murmur.... stirs me up from the inside. A heat spreads in my vulva, growing stronger with each passing second her heart sings to me. She looks at me in delight, saying "oh, you found my murmur almost immediately! Good job, as expected of a med student!" and without further ado she jumps in. I snap out of it and start the recording process, listening to her heart gallop in my head, her murmur filling my every thought, envisioning her struggling heart pounding with such intense pressure.

Her heart starts off at 102 bpm, 126/80 and within 2 mins climbs to 195 bpm, and I watch as her blood pressure creeps up till it hits 198/110. I hear as she resurfaces up for air and her lung sounds take over me, heart beating deep and strong alongside and her murmurs.... Oh her murmur is just amazing. It grows smaller as the duration between each thump shortens but I can still clearly hear her singing for me. The lone spectator in her theatre, the only one in her audience, and the only one she needs for attention.

I can't take this anymore. The absolute madness of my desire takes hold of my mind, my throbbing clit enhancing my heartbeat and the raging of the pump within push me to the edge. I yank out the headsets, get up and jump in the pool and grab Khushi who immediately resurfaces with a surprised squeek. "What are you doing?? You're supposed to monitor my vitals!"

I push her back into the pool wall and my hand cups her left breast, my lips attack her neck. I feel Khushi's body going limp against me and she moans out softly, her hands grab my waist.

"Wha....what are yo- -hngg- you doing??"

I pay no heed to her words, and mercilessly atteck her neck with more vigorous attention to her bounding neck veins. I feel her lungs struggle under me, having not had enough time to breath in properly. Her heart stammers against my hand, beating hard from the intense exercise. The stemoscope is annoyingly in there but I try to ignore it.

Khushi relaxes more into my grip, getting into the rythm. She pants and moans, and she pulls me closer to her, chest to chest, heart to heart.

My own heart is beating erratically, finally rejoicing in its pleasure, reacting happily now that I've given into its demands. It picks up quickly, pounding out of my chest, trying to reach Khushi. My clit is agonizingly sensitive, turning me on with each beat of my thirsty organ, waiting to be touched, to be pampered.

Khushi arches her back to me, pushing her heart further into my palm. With my other hand I slowly work her nipples, already erect and hard, pushing out of her skintight swimsuit. The erotic feeling off the material rubbing sensually and slowly over her nipples elicits a loud moan from her, and her breathing becomes haggard. Her heart, already tired from the intense laps, is being pushed to its limits with my touch, and I demand it to work harder for me. She obliges, and hungrily asks for more. Khushi shakily fumbles with her zip and pulls it down to her sternum, begging for more direct touch. My hands immediately pull her swimsuit off her torso and her breasts escape out into full view, throbbing with her heart and with her nipples finally free, no material restraining it. The stemoscope slips out and slowly sinks, but neither of us could be bothered to fetch it. I take a deep breath in and go underwater, my lips meet her sensitive breasts. I start sucking her hard while feeling her heart hammer away more furiously as I push it further and further than before. Khushi is writhing and squirming, the pleasure taking over her senses and she loses herself in the moment, disregarding the pain that has begun to form in her chest. I feel her heart getting more and more confused and its rhythm is everywhere, irregular but still slamming hard and deep against my hand.

Khushi has no idea what her heart is doing to me.

I rub her clit over her suit and feel her sharp intake of breath, her moans so loud i can hear them clearly underwater. I slip my fingers inside her with ease and rub her clit as my tongue dances on her nipples. I know that she is overloaded with sensations from all over her body, sending her mind to a different place. She pushes my head further into her chest and I am running out of air, my lungs start burning. I push myself to stay underwater and feel a wave of carnal desire coming in my oxygen deprived state. I muster up whatever remaining strength I have and force myself above the water. Before she has a chance to register what's next, I pull her head underwater, cutting off her air supply. I want to push her little muscle to its limits, I want to see how far she's willing to go for me.

She doesn't hesitate and her lips easily find my sensitive areas. Easily slipping my bra off, she begins roughly playing with all my spots, letting her desires consume her. Her fingers roam all over my body, hungrily devouring every bit. My hand remains firmly implanted under her left breast, my only connection to her.

Slowly her roughness becomes more softer, and finally..... There it is. Her heart starts slowing down. The moment I've waited for.

I feel her whole chest shake with such force with each of hear beats, slowing to a dangerous level and yet somehow becoming stronger than ever before. This is her heart baring itself to me, giving me everything it has to offer. I feel her heart in my hand, begging for mercy, for a moment's rest else it might just give up. I need it to struggle a bit more for me though, I know she can.

I feel the wave of lust take me and I give in to my pleasure, moaning out loud, gripping Khushi's hair hard. I feel Khushi's heart, the poor thing, working so hard that it starts giving up. Khushi grows weak and her grip loosens. I immediately pull her out of the water and let her rest of her back, and without wasting a precious second I put my ear in between her breasts. My fingers slowly rest on her apex and I feel her gasping for breath. Her heart, now able to beat properly again, starts back up, erratic, irregular and faint. I listen intently to her recovery beats, as her breathing returns to normal.

"I was waiting for this, for you to do something like this to me... I was so sure you'd take me on the treadmill!" Khushi chuckles softly, now stroking my head as I listen to her beating heart.

"I don't know what you've done to Lea and Mrs. Nicole but I was really getting jealous of them, I waited for you you know..... It's rude to keep someone like me waiting."

I am surprised. I didn't know Khushi wanted me like that, given that we hardly interacted at all. Maybe our hearts connected, maybe she felt my heart beating for her touch.

"You've wanted me to pamper your heart like this? You're a cardiophile too?" I ask her.

"Cardiophile?? What's that?"

Oh Khushi..... if only you knew the hold your heart has on me.

It seems that much like her name. Khushi was only in it for the pleasure.

"I'm not too sure what that means....but next time, let's try pushing my heart a little bit more, yeah? Next time, we could do cycling and see the way my damaged heart goes!!"

Next time couldn't come any sooner.

#FEMALE HEARTBEAT #FAST HEARTBEAT #CARDIOPHILE FIC #HEARTBEAT FIC #wlw #visible heartbeat

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random-thoughts4u · 1 year

Note

Headcanons about how Hizashi Yamada (BNHA), Shota Aizawa (BNHA), and Toshinori Yagi (BNHA) would confess to gn reader?

♡CONFESSIONS?! FROM HEROS! How Lucky!♡

♡Gn!Reader♡

I hope I am able to properly write them for you Anon! Thank you for the request! I'm basic me fashion, I will be adding how you met as well! Also I'm not sure if you wanted AllMight or smallmight so I went with both!

🎤Hizashi Yamada🎤

The first day you met him was one that changed your life forever. You were absolutely bombarded by paparazzi, showering you with flashes from their cameras. The only thing with the same fame as heros, are famous artists.

YOU were the top hot artist of the week once again, making this your second month in the number one spot. It came with the hearts of many fans, including someone you were also a fan of.

As you waved off the fanatics with a friendly smile, you entered the arenas V.I.P. area. That's when you saw him standing their.

A huge grin stained his face as his hands balled excitedly at his sides, playfully shaking in excitement. Pro her Present Mic!

His normal tall standing hair laid flat against his back as he adorned his favorite pair of golden hued glasses.

You felt your heart skip a beat as you find yourself being starstruck.

Unable to stop your movements, you let your mouth drop as you quickly shuffled over to him.

"PRE-PRESENT MIC?!" Was all you stuttered out as he reached his hand to you, offering a polite shake as greetings.

"That's the name baby, wear it out if you can!"You shook his hand firmly as he snapped a finger gun in your direction. Something about him in person shone so much brighter to you than when you had caught him on TV.

"I gotta ask, would you be free to do a duet with me sometime? Your pipes are TO DIE FOR!" He posed dramatically at that last part before getting on one knee, keeping his hand on yours.

A light blush covered your cheeks as you accepted.

Months had passed, and you found yourself spending more and more time with him. He'd always show up at your studio with random gifts. He'd shower you in bad pick-up lines.

"Damn baby, you've gotta be a battery because you are ELECTRIC!"

"A pro baker must have designed that cake you carry." You chuckled as he tossed his hands in the air, wiggling his fingers.

His pickup lines were always so fun. They always had a way of making you blush.

One night, you heard a knock on your door. Knowing all too well who it was, you adjust your outfit, smoothing out every wrinkle before swinging open the door.

There, he stood with a large box of chocolates in one hand and a trembling bouquet in the other.

His smile was tense, and he had a sweat beading along his brow. It was odd seeing him so nervous since he was always so confident.

"Look, (Y/N), I know we've only been friends for a short time now, but being with you just sets my soul ablaze. You make the song in my heart stronger each time you smile. You picking up what I'm putting down?"

With that, you move aside, letting him in much to his confusion. That was until you placed a gentle kiss to his now crimson red cheek.

That was the start of a beautiful relationship.

💤Shoto Aizawa💤

■ It had been another long and tiring day at the office. Manely due to the negligence of your coworkers leaving early when they still had a mountain of work left to do. That was soon pushed on you by the boss.

■ It was close to midnight by the time you were able to leave the office. No surprise there. The rain peppered down lightly around you, misting along your coat. That's when your eye caught a small light inside of a convenient store.

■ The grumble of your stomach ached and pleaded for you to get something for the walk home, just to relieve its pain. You did just that.

■ As you walked into the store, you reached into your pocket to retrieve your card, making your way over to the coffee pot you knew would be waiting for you, as you'd been here many times.

■ Just as you stepped into the aisle, a large figure harshly bumped into you, causing your paperwork to splash from your arms, colliding with the mud caked floor tiles.

■ "Tch..sorry about that.." A gruff voice mentioned from above you as you leaned down to grab the papers. You were more enamored by the papers than the man beside you. Until you saw a scared hand reaching down to retrieve a few of the scattered sheets.

■ Your eyes looked towards the figure, following the arm up to find a rather handsome, tired face, looking at the work you'd done.

■ "You study the heroes in the area? This is impressive work on us." The word 'us' wrang out to you, and within seconds, it clicked. You were staring down a pro hero and teacher and UA. Eraserhead.

■ "No, please, it's my fault, I was so busy fumbling to find my card. I didn't watch where I was going...If I may?" You held a hand out to him, watching as he handed back your work.

■ "The information on the second page is wrong. About Mount Lady." He remained by your side but glanced off in another direction before sipping the coffee that had somehow ended rlup in his grasp.

■ You raised a brow at him before the coffee pot pinged for the next available customer to be serviced. "Would you be willing to share some advice?" Was all you got out before you started pouring your own cup.

■ "Just because I'm a teacher doesn't mean I'm available to teach everyone... but since I messed up your work, I guess I can help." Woth that he slips you a small paper and heads out of the door.

■You peered down at the note, spotting his number and enough cash to cover your coffee. A light blush consumed your face as you made your way to the checkout counter.

■ A year had come and gone, as did him coming by each Friday. Seeing the pro hero had become a regular thing. It was long before you felt the magnetic pull towards him. You knew you'd be in trouble if he caught wind of your feelings. So you bottled them up.

■ Friday night had once again started, and there you sat staring at the clock. A familiar voice sounded behind the door before he entered your living room with a spare set of keys you'd given him. Once you were focused on work, you tended to space out and left him standing there for an hour before. The phone was on silent so you didn't receive his calls.

■ Aizawa made his way over to your desk, sitting a small coffee on the table before he took his usual spot beside you. His body sunk into the comfy armchair as he watched your pencil dance along the paper.

■ His eyes focused on yours, paying extra attention to the way your brows knit together in concentration as you worked. You Doon noticed his stare.

■ "You're not one to stare. Something on your mind?" You asked him lightly. Without skipping a beat, he was standing beside you, Lightly placing a hand along your shoulder.

■ "I'm not sure what you do to me." His voice came out soft, almost scared. If you didn't pay much attention, you'd have missed the fear behind his tone.

■ "You're on my mind. All the time. I don't even know what it is about you." Pink dusted along your cheeks as your pen clattered against the desk. Your eyes were now on his. Awestruck and locked on his expression.

■ "May I?" Was all he asked as he gentle cups your face. His thumb traced the base of your jawline as he leaned in. You nod in response.

■Letting yourself go, you immediately allow your eyes to fall as you feel his lips press against yours. The tender touches of his hand gracing your cheek along with his velvety kiss was enough to make your heart soar.

■You were his now.

🟡Toshinori Yagi🟡

The summer breeze against your skin was enough to make you shudder. The pale waves on the beach you frequented sighed in the wind as they welcomed you.

It had been a while since you'd seen the ocean look so vibrant. The sparkling blue of the sea shone like diamonds as they splash along the beach.

Thats when your eyes spotted something.

A large muscle bound man poses in front of a group of people. You couldn't really see who since it was rather far away, so you ignored the entire fiasco.

Over an hour had passed since then, and you were lost in your book. Reading along the beach was one of the most relaxing things you could do.

Just as you were getting to your favorite part of the story, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, you've gotta move. I need this spot." You peered up at a rather oddly dressed man in a long coat as he stated down menacingly at you.

Peeking around the area, you noticed there was no one else around you so you stayed put.

"There's plenty of spaces around you to pick from. Do that." You spat out before going back to your book.

"Oh I don't think you get what I mean fucker. I. WANT. THIS. SPOT. " He pointed down, specifically at you. Your eyes widened in panic as he showed you a large gun in his pocket that seemed to be connected to his flesh. His quirk must be a gun type.

Nodding, you gulped as you quickly picked up your items. Your eyes scanned the area for anyone to see what was happening before you were hoisted up roughly by your arm.

A harsh squeal of pain left your lips as your arm popped from the socket. Tears brimmed your eyes as he shoved his hand over your mouth, hushing you.

Within seconds, the wind around you tossed your book aside, and your towel soon followed. You stood there realizing the pressure was gone. As was the criminal.

"Well, well, well! We seemed to have found another criminal scavaging the beach for change? Have you ever considered a metal detector?" A booming voice echoed out besides you as none other than All Might stood holding the criminal up by the waist under his arm. Almost like a father carrying a child.

He gave you a small thumbs up before waving down the areas' lifeguards. Beach patrol had soon arrived to detain the criminal.

"A life of crime is no way to live, young man! Consider turning your future into a bright one!" The man scoffed at him as police took him away. Thats when his eyes met you.

"I seemed to fail to notice you were injured. Allow me to escort you to the hospital!" You blushed and nodded just before being scooped into his arms as though you weighed nothing.

He stayed by your side the entire time, even going as far to walk you home. Ever since he was involved with the school, he seemed to be more personal with the public. It was endearing.

You found yourself bumping into him all too often at the beach after that and decided it wouldn't hurt to ask him out for a drink. He gladly accepted the offer.

Months had passed, and you both had grown very close. It was obvious to the public. Now, even tabloids were writing stories on you both, speculating whether or not you were together.

This quickly caught the attention of villains in the area, while some left you be, others hunted you down. Toshi knew he had to keep you safe. This was his fault, after all. He knew the risks and still took a chance.

Knocking on your door, he decided it was best to surprise you in person with the news.

Quickly allowing him entry, you made your way over to the couch you bith shared frequently. By this time, you had learned of his issue and allowed him to rest from his hero form at your house.

He ran a hand over the back of his neck nervously as his blue orbs locked onto you.

"This may seem rather sudden since we had only met a few months ago, but I want to let you know I do intent to keep you safe."

Your eyes widen as he took your hand in his.

"I know more than anyone my time is limited, but I want to spend it with you. Will you give me the honor?"

His hands trembled as you gave him a lighthearted smile. That was all you'd wanted to hear from him for a while now.

"I would love to." Was all you said before placing a small kiss along his cheek.

#anime #anime scenarios #gn reader #open requests #yagi toshinori #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shouta #present mic #hizashi yamada #fluff #cute #confession #all might

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poopyballz28 · 10 months

Text

Some Baki characters as middle school kids

wrote this a long while ago, but i tweaked it and now im ready to show it off

remember to like and subscribe

Kozue

• She's a pretty quiet and timid girl, she doesn't have many friends, and she's usually seen alone with her iPod and headphones in (listening to Vocaloid songs i just know i am the writer here i make the decisions)

• Some girls are definitely envious of her beauty, like she is PRETTY pretty. I wonder what hair products she uses...knowing her though, it'd be silly if she just had naturally flowy, beautiful hair.

• Probably has been asked out by boys several times, she's really cute and has an adorable personality, it's pretty inevitable. She never understands why they like her so much though.

• Always randomly zoning off in the middle of class, looking out the window. Her few friends are a bit concerned but are aware of her lost in the clouds type attitude.

• Forgets to do her homework a lot. Her grades and performance are very good, and that's a definite, but she's just incredibly forgetful. She just gets home and doesn't remember if she has anything to do. She just immediately turns on some anime or pulls out some Shonen Jump when she gets home.

• These hc's are just...my normal hc's for her. Curses. Whatever, it still applies here, DO NOT DEFY ME

Jack

• Really reserved and quiet, most of the class is really intimidated by him. Just the way he talks and looks at you with a death glare. It freaks everyone out.

• He's kind of a target for bullying because of how to himself and a bit scary he is, but he doesn't care and doesn't plan to do anything about it. They're always too daunted to insult him to his face. Jack focuses his time on getting stronger, not some losers making fun of him.

• Often scolded for never doing or turning in his work. He just feels he has better things to do. When he does do his work though, he's not exactly the best. His worksheets are surprisingly (or perhaps, unsurprisingly) filled with scribbles and rough little doodles.

• He doesn't really have many "friends", but one immune to his flaws is Kureha. He acts as if Jack is a friend he's known for ages, despite them only meeting during the current school year. He tends to hang out with him and help him out with his homework as well, because lets be real, Jack's grades are not looking too hot.

• The whole class thinks it's strange how out of everyone in the class, those two are the ones who are closest.

• Kureha definitely insists he do some small science experiments on Jack, Jack only complying if it leads to the growth of him getting stronger. It's like a mad scientist and his test subject, except two 12 year olds.

Katsumi

• He's a really popular student. He's attractive (in middle school standards), strong, leader of his own karate club and his dad's the principal of the school. He's almost always surrounded by people wanting to talk or hang out with him.

• Many girls have huge crushes on him, he usually has to let them down though. He's really focused on his karate and fighting and just doesn't particularly want any kind of lover. He's much more interested in running his club than young love. He values friendship more than anything.

• Always urging strong kids to join the karate club. He wants to expand his club as far as possible and spar with anyone worthy. He focuses so much on his club and karate his grades unfortunately suffer. You can't blame him though, everyone in the karate club is really close with each other and it's really endearing how its almost like a big family of middle schoolers in there.

• He's a really smart kid, and is able to excel in a lot of subjects, but he gets the most significant grades in PE class specifically.

• Hangs out with Hector quite a bit, they are almost polar opposites of each other, but hang out anyway. They're always seen doing homework or eating lunch together. He's one of Hector's only friends.

• Also really looks up to Kiyosumi, he thinks his strength and confidence is super admirable. Currently in the middle of trying to get him to join the karate club. He's somewhat becoming more of a delinquent because of how much Kiyosumi is rubbing off on him.

Kiyosumi

• He's 100% a delinquent who chills at the back of the school and likes to skip his classes. He's well liked by his delinquent disciples who think his fighting is radical.

• He has been suspended multiple times for starting fights and beating up kids for looking at him wrong. He wants any excuse to hurt someone or show off his fighting.

• He's avoided by normal kids in the school but swarmed by other delinquents and juveniles. He's a super cool figure for them. He's just popular enough for Katsumi to take notice.

• Despite the fact there are always students who praise him, he's a very lonely kid. He acknowledges the fact that the people who swarm him don't care about him as a person at all, they just like the idea of a leader with cool fighting abilities. As much as they make his ego swell, they wont be able to purge his hatred for others or even aid his loneliness. No matter how much euphoria will course through his veins and throughout his mind after defeating somebody, that empty feeling will always come barreling back in the end. He would never let anyone know that though. Never.

• That got deep. Wait till you guys find out that was also just a general headcanon for him. Anyway, Kiyosumi fucking LOVES workshop class. He will not skip that shit. This kid has a passion for cars and motorcycles (go figure)

• Katsumi decided to duel with Kiyosumi behind the school, but ended up getting his shit rocked and went flying into some garbage cans. Kiyosumi, (trying to be cool) hits him with a "Beat it, kid." but Katsumi stood up and immediately ushered him to join the karate club after falling victim to his strength.

• Surprisingly, Kiyosumi's grades aren't all that bad. His downfall is just that he always skips or doesn't do his work at all even though he's strangely intelligent (to an extent, of course)

Retsu

• He's a really quiet kid who's undoubtedly diligent at his work. He doesn't know many people besides Katsumi and a few others.

• You can easily find him in the back of the class studying or reading a book. People look up to how smart he is, he's top of his class. Although he does tend to burn himself out a bit.

• Really passionate in cooking class, he loves making some Chinese dishes with the few ingredients he's provided. Tends to ignore teacher directions so he can make what he wants to.

• A member of the karate club (by Katsumi's request) even though he uses a whole different fighting style. After Katsumi sparred with Retsu and lost, they've been friends and have been training together ever since.

• It's quite shocking to other students how this quiet kid who is usually just reading in the back of the class is such a strong and confident fighter. I imagine many kids watched the fight between Katsumi and him, and he's gained unwanted notoriety for his win. He tried to keep his fighting life on the down low and focus on grades.

• He definitely gets rebellious and immature sometimes, don't get me wrong. Katsumi had him open up a little, and now he's more free with his fighting (even though real battles aren't allowed on school grounds) He isn't afraid to spar with someone if they initiate it, school grounds or not. This kid just really wants to kick some tail.

Hector

• Quite the mysterious kid, usually just sitting and watching the view from outside the classroom windows with a blank expression. He's not at all unfamiliar with others talking behind his back or bullying him.

• Stays quiet when he's bullied in somewhere public but if he's ever assaulted alone or off of school grounds, that bully will probably be found with some pretty gnarly knife wounds.

• He doesn't seem to be interested in many things, or even passionate in his grades at all. It's almost like he's there because he has to be.

• He's always showing up to school with nicks or bruises. It's not entirely clear how he gets them or why they appear so frequently, but they certainly don't go unnoticed by others. They don't seem to bother him very much though.

• What I can say for certain though is that this kid is pretty fucking disturbed. Brought a pocket knife to school and shanked someone pretty badly. He was suspended soon after and rumors started to multiply and spread across the playground.

• Tends to run into Retsu by accident and gets partner assignments with him by pure chance. It was extremely awkward the first few times but they both realized they probably need to get used to each others company. They've surprisingly gotten close, Retsu wanting to understand the mystery behind Hector and why he's alone all of the time. Although some of Retsu's prying or questions make Hector a bit nervous. (definitely some home issues going on)

• He also likes being around Katsumi as well. Though, "like" is a strong word, for him at least. Like Retsu, Katsumi also wants to understand Hector. He thinks he's just misunderstood and makes an effort to talk to him even if some of their views on things are vastly different.

Kosho

• Trademark emo/edgy nervous kid who keeps to himself. He's a little bit of a crybaby, frankly.

• He really likes to draw, you may be able to catch him doodling some cool vkei clothing designs in his notebook. He's pretty embarrassed about them though, he always covers the pages when he thinks someones looking.

• Throughout all of his seemingly timid nature, its clear that some deep issues and hate are slowly brewing inside of him. The overshadowing from his brother and the teasing over his interests are not helping him in that regard either.

• Sometimes gets into small altercations with kids who like to poke fun at him. Kosho really struggles to stand up for himself but whenever he happens to find the courage to, his brother is always a step ahead and ready to protect him. After he deals with that, he proceeds to lecture Kosho about getting into fights and how he should go study for his math quiz next week.

• As much as Kosho loves his brother he wishes he would just...leave him alone sometimes.

• Was able to make friends with Katsumi due to their liking of karate and Katsumi's overall kindness after seeing Kosho sitting alone all of the time. The two have gotten pretty close.

#baki the grappler #baki hanma #baki dou #baki son of ogre #baki headcanons #grappler baki #anime #manga #kiyosumi katou #katsumi orochi #kozue matsumoto #jack hanma #kosho shinogi #kureha shinogi #hector doyle #retsu kaioh

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noroi1000 · 1 year

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Hi ! I really loved the Gojo Satoru royal AU story called "Commander" the anon who requested it made such a good request and you did a great job writing it !

This sounds sort of more like a continuation or mini-series for the "Commander" fic but could I request where there's a very grand masquerade ball (imagine commander!reader in a dress 😻🫶)and/or where commander!reader gets/achieves the power to order in the political matters which makes many ppl's belief stronger as seeing her in future regent empress position with gojo as the emperor 🙈 ( imagining commander!reader officially as the empress makes me run laps ). also adding smut isn't necessary but if u do i'd like reader to be dom like she was (😫) (even if they switch up positi- yk ehm ) but yea it's upto to u if u do this req or not but i am so in love with commander!reader , she's SO SO mighty fine

Gojo x fem reader (royal AU)

Warning: Smut at the beginning.

A/n: Is grammar good? My phone updated the keyboard including the whole translator and now I don't know what the quality of the translation is. Except that the translation now takes me longer.

"Such a good boy." You moaned stroking your prince's hair as he hovered over you with heavy breathing.

"(y/n)… Ah… so tight…" He moaned, pushing his hips back slightly to give himself a moment to breathe so he wouldn't come so fast.

"You are so big~ I want you inside. It's so enjoyable." You said with a slightly heavier breath. After all, he already fucked you. It's not like Satoru's stamina sucks so much that you can't cum with him. Everything is just right.

Satoru is big, he is wide, he is long. Everything is just right. Also that he's such a good boy and succumbs to you.

Even when he's on top, he can't dominate for long.

And moaning for you, he's such a sweet boy you can't help it. By pleasing himself, he pleases you.

When he's towering over you, he can't make your body give up. He listens to your body language just as much when he's down as he is up. Besides, he loves getting petted by you and hearing you say he's a good boy more than fucking you and hearing you moan.

He loves to hear words of praise flying out of your mouth along with moans. Because he knows it's nice for you.

This great, powerful prince does what you tell him to do. Change position, change rhythm. You guide him even lying on your back.

Then when you want you can stop him, you can bump into his hips, you can hold him close.

You can change your position at any time and he won't complain about it. He'll just whine even more. Just enough.

You tell him to fuck you, he's gonna fuck you. And in the moments where he's a little mean when he looks at your face contorted in pleasure, then he moans like a bitch when he starts fucking you. Your pussy can tire him as long as he is able to persevere. Because you know exactly what to do to make him oversensitive. Almost bring him to orgasm, and keep going. Or give him endless pleasure. One that will overwhelm him.

Keep him inside until he's panting, or take him out often and leave him on his tummy. Without anything to wrap its length. Or even move fast on it. All this can drive him crazy.

He even lets you tie him up. Then all you have to do is ride him until he whines like a real slut begging for a break. But he still maintains his very high position in the state.

Even though you can make him moan even by pinching his nipples… This is his little secret. You don't know if he likes it or not, but when you touch his chest, when your hands find his nipples, he always makes some soft grunts.

If he can abuse your tits with his mouth and hands, you can also abuse him for a while. It's always a foretaste of seeing his flushed face.

Well, at this point, for example, you could very well make him moan.

Holding your hips, he pounded into you, moaning softly, just like you.

Dirty talk always turned you on, but also him. Even now, praising him helps a lot to make him blush and also to make his cock twitch inside you.

"good boy… You fill me up so well It's so good… Ah…" You groaned as he hit that spot. With your moan, you felt him tremble in your walls. "So hard and nice… So deep… Satoru~."

Singing his name, you pulled him into a kiss.

Reaching your hand between your legs, you began to move your fingers on your clit, breathing faster against his mouth.

You clenched as you got closer to orgasm. He moaned loudly and pulled back for a moment, feeling your pussy sucking him in too hard.

He didn't want to come too soon. This time he didn't want to come with you. He wanted to fuck you through your orgasm.

"Toru, I want to cum… I want you…" You groaned, gripping his forearm with one hand.

"Wait…" He moaned as he gripped the base of his cock, only one inch of it inside you for the moment.

Looking at his face, you saw his eyes closed.

You smiled slightly and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him down to you. As you hooked your ankles together, you were sure that you would succeed.

You pulled him down, causing his entire length to slide inside you. Hitting as deep as he could. Filling you with it all, making you feel something in your belly that you don't naturally feel. Feeling how its tip reaches even to the lower abdomen. Such were the charms of a boy with a big cock. It was a strange feeling, but it was pleasant.

As he was suddenly sucked inside of you, he grunted loudly as he felt your walls gripping his cock hard again. His back arched involuntarily as he lay down on your chest, burying his red face between your tits.

Moving your fingers faster on your sensitive bud, you tightened your legs around. And he, wanting to give you an orgasm, moved his hips as shallowly as he could while you held him tight. All he had to do was lightly nudge the bundles of nerves that sent a current to your core, making you spill over him, pressing the walls tight against him.

You heard his grunts and his groans muffled in your body. How couldn't he moan when the vacuum was sucking him in so much, the way your pussy squeezed and sucked him was driving him crazy. Running his tip over your cervix a few times before he unexpectedly fired as your walls twitched slightly. He has filled your belly with warmth. He moaned into your skin, pressing his lips to the soft mounds.

You started stroking his hair, feeling him getting soft inside of you. And despite his shoulders shaking from the hypersensitivity of his penis, you held him close to you, wanting to stare at your flushed little boy.

"Ah… Maybe with another orgasm like this deep inside you, I'll get information about the heir, huh?" he laughed, trying to free himself from the grip of your walls around him.

"Before that happens, I'd better be your wife. I don't want to be criticized by the elders." You joked.

"Wife, huh…" he moaned softly. "Are you ready for masquerade ball ?"

"Right now I'm not prepared. I'm lying naked in bed while my naked boyfriend lies on top of me, his soft cock still inside me. I doubt I'd go to ball like that."

"We can go like this." You hit him lightly on the head as he laughed.

"Do you think this suits me?" You asked as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

"You look great." Satoru said, sitting on the bed behind you. Looking down at your back where the skin was visible under a piece of decorative lace before his gaze dropped lower.

"I can see in the mirror where you're looking, pervert." You muttered, adjusting the sleeves to the elbows, as well as the neckline.

"And I see you're adjusting your chest now. I chose a neckline for you,” he said with a smile.

"I figured it out."

"I know you like it. You look good in blue." He walked over to you and placed his hands on your waist, bringing his head to yours. "And I also know you wouldn't want a dress that made you look like you had a soccer ball up your ass. My aunt wears one, bleh."

"Yeah I know. Thank you. It's beautiful. It's just… I should go there as your partner? You know… I should be on duty right now as your bodyguard at the ball. Even under this mask they recognize me…" you looked at the little purple-blue mask.

Your outfits matched.

He was wearing a light blue suit with silver markings. It looked more like white with blue flashes, however it matched his eyes as well as his hair.

Your dress was also white and blue. Blue lace, bits of blue fabric that almost glowed.

There were little purple crystals in your styled hair, looking more like a combination of blue and purple. The same crystals were on your neck, only they were bigger. A necklace made of silver and crystals that you also received from Satoru on that day.

"They can't stop you from going to ball. You got an invitation signed with my name." From his pocket he pulled out an ornate piece of paper with an invitation to the ball written on it. Specially with your name, signed his "The mask is just a decoration that completes the outfit. You can download it anytime. Every person will probably take off the mask at some point."

Suddenly, he also pulled out his mask, white with silver and purple fragments, from his pocket. Almost the same as yours.

"You see? This is not a ball with traditional costumes. Not a kimono, not a Yukata. You are to dress as you like. But you can't go to a ball with a sword and armor. You deserve the most fun of all." Grabbing your hand, he pulled you towards the door. "Now come on. The whole night is waiting for us."

"Let's welcome Prince Satoru, along with his partner, (y/n)."

Standing next to Satoru at the entrance to the hall, you saw the people already inside bowing as you entered with him.

Only, you didn't expect your name to be spoken to the whole room.

So that's what Satoru meant when he talked about being a princess.

Standing next to the golden thrones at the top of a couple of stairs, you looked down at the people dressed differently. Colorful dresses, men's clothes. Masks on people's faces.

Holding Satoru's arm, you made your way down the stairs.

You immediately heard and saw the fangirls club screaming for Satoru to see them.

He had to smile because as a host he had to smile.

When they saw his gaze, they squealed and rejoiced, and their partners looked at them strangely.

They always gave you strange looks. Like they want to murder you for taking the perfect man away from them.

Even if you had to fight them, even in that dress, you'd win right away.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, offering you his hand.

You accepted his offer with a smile.

To spend the next few minutes feeling his hands guiding you across the dance floor, hands holding you as you twirl in your dream dress.

The hands that hold you at the end as he left your back down at the end of the melody.

And eyes that showed satisfaction. His smile on his face. His lips fell to yours in a slow kiss.

Minutes passed, then hours.

Until finally he suddenly took you to the throne. Standing with you against the wall. When he said he had a surprise for you.

"You know, from today you'll have a lot more political power. And more in the future." He said with a smile, holding your hands.

"What are you talking about? I didn't want to hear about my political position at the ball." You smiled slightly as you looked into his eyes. He took off his mask and then yours, placing it on the table next to him.

You saw that the emperor entered the hall, and started walking to his throne to sit down. You smiled and tilted your head towards him.

He was a kind man to you who didn't treat you like anyone else. After all, you were his son's chosen one.

Once his father was seated, he pulled you to the middle.

"Satoru?"

"You will have more as my bride, as the future empress. To have even more as Empress later." He said staring at you.

The moment you opened your mouth to speak, he saw his height decrease as he knelt down.

He held out his hand to you, showing you a shiny ring that he placed on your finger, and without asking as he spoke:

"You will be my empress." He grabbed your hands, his eyes twinkling.

You looked at him before smiling, your cheeks turning slightly red as your eyes shone. He stood up holding you close, hugging you, kissing you. Not listening at all to how his Father announces something to the people.

How could he not brag that his son had knelt before a woman to become his future empress. How could he not be happy when he did it in front of the woman he loves and also has great potential to be at the Emperor's side.

Most importantly, his son did it in front of the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

#jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo fluff #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #Bottom Gojo #jjk x you #gojo #jjk #smut #royal au

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