#and ive had three die in the last three days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pathologicalreid · 4 months

Note

heyyy!!! I just wanted to say I really love your work and this is my first time sending a request so sorry if it’s not very specific 😭💕

If you’re still doing requests, I was wondering if you could do a fem reader x Spencer Reid where it’s similar to your cryptic pregnancy one, except Spencer is at home with her when she’s in labour without realising, and she’s just in a lot of pain and it all of a sudden gets worse and she’s just in the bathroom shouting for Spencer, he comes in and eventually works out what’s going on, readers sort of in denial? Maybe the ambulance doesn’t get there in time so Spencer has to help her give birth? Lots of fluff and hurt/comfort :)

Also completely fine if your not comfortable doing it, but again really love your work and hope you have a great day 💕 :)

three's a family | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, precipitous labor, hospitals, medical inaccuracy (its just me and google against the world), takes place after 9x7 "gatekeeper", surgery, near death experiences, periods, home birth word count: 3.16k a/n: anon i'll be so honest with u i wasn't sure if i was gonna write this but then i learned what precipitous labor was and i was like "i would not wish this on my worst enemy... i'm going to force it on y/n" BUT please keep in mind that there is a .000012 probability of this happening to you (i did the math) this is the wildest thing ive written to date i think

“I’m going to try a bath,” you murmured over to Spencer, wincing as you dragged yourself out of bed, walking at a turtle’s pace to the bathroom, hoping the warm water would soothe the cramps away.

Your period came and went as it pleased; it was just your luck that it decided to give you debilitating cramps on your one day off. Padding on the tile floor behind you, Spencer leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, “I could run to the store and get a new heating pad.”

Sticking your hand under the tap to check the temperature, you plugged the drain once you found it to be satisfactory. You shook your head, “No, it’s fine.” Your original heating pad must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the depths of your storage closet, but you didn’t have the patience to look for it. You could manage just fine without it.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asked, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, watching as Spencer pointedly flicked the bathroom fan on – something you often forgot to do.

You lasted about thirty minutes in the bath, not only was the water beginning to grow lukewarm, but if anything, your cramps were getting worse while submerged in the water. Grunting, you reached over and tugged the plug from the drain, watching as the water drained, you managed to pull yourself to a squat before you felt stuck.

Aunt Flo really had it out for you this month.

Burying your face in your hands you accepted defeat and called out for Spencer, reaching up and trying to stand again, but only succeeding in knocking over several shampoo bottles. “Spence!” You tried again, white-knuckling the edge of the bathtub as you bowed your head. A creeping feeling that this wasn’t your period was beginning to rise.

You listened as your husband made his way up the stairs, turning the corner into your room, and opening the door to the ensuite. Moving quickly, Spencer dropped to a crouch in front of you, cupping your pained face in his hands, “I don’t think this is your period, angel.”

Clamping your lips together to prevent yourself from crying out, you simply nodded in response. How awful was it that you were going to die, naked, in your bathtub?

Spencer wiped tears away from under your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you started crying. “What does it feel like, darling? What else could it be?” He asked, voice urgent but gentle as he tried to stop you from panicking.

As you shook your head, you couldn’t focus on anything else besides your breathing as another pain rose up through you. “It’s like a cramp, but with more pressure,” you said, depending on the bathtub and Spencer to keep you upright as your legs shook beneath you. “Like something’s pushing on me, kind of like I have to shit.”

Reaching behind him, Spencer dug through one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity before retrieving the handheld mirror that you used when you cut his hair. Before you could ask what he was doing, he placed the mirror at the bottom of the tub, just beneath you. “I think you’re in labor,” he announced, breaking the news to you.

“There’s no– fuck,” your voice broke off as you dropped your head onto Spencer’s shoulder, breathing through what was apparently a contraction. “I’m not pregnant,” you insisted as your symptoms started to make sense. You had been in labor all morning.

Nodding to himself, Spencer quickly kissed your cheek before standing up and making sure you were stable before stepping to the side.

You frowned as you looked up at him, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t go far, opening the linen closet and piling towels into his arms, “I’m getting towels to put in the tub beneath you, and then I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“You want me to give birth in our bathtub?” You asked, furrowing your brows quizzically before letting out a low whine as another contraction hit.

Stopping what he was doing, Spencer dropped down to you, running the flat of his palm up and down your back as he gently reminded you to breathe. “Did you want to change positions?”

Immediately, you shook your head. You already had an insurmountable task ahead of you and you saw no reason to add to that task by trying to move. “This is fine. Squatting is good, right?”

Nodding assuredly, Spencer smoothed your hair away from your face, “Gravity can help the baby descend the birth canal, and some people even say that the position can increase the pelvic diameter.”

While you were currently less concerned with the diameter of your pelvis and more concerned with feeling like your body was being split open, you continued going through the motions as he called for an ambulance, trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher.

“Have you been timing your contractions?” Spencer asked, tilting his head at you curiously as the dispatcher spoke on the phone.

Releasing a groan, you gripped the ledge of the tub, “I didn’t know they were contractions!”

Relaying that information over the phone, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.” He continued to reassure you, taking one look at your desperate expression before ending the call with the dispatcher.

He understood that you were vulnerable right now, and you didn’t want that broadcasted to a stranger on the phone. If you weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, you’d be more grateful. After a contraction ebbed away, Spencer stood up.

“I have to go unlock the door for the paramedics,” he told you, keeping a wary eye on you. “I’ll be right back,” he comforted you as he took one last look at you before tearing out of the bathroom.

In record speed, he returned to the bathroom as promised, “It’s bad,” you cried, the pressure on your pelvis becoming insufferable.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer studied your face before he spoke carefully, “I have to check your cervix.”

Despite his carefully chosen words, your lips still parted in shock, “You have to what?”

“I’ll use my hand to measure how dilated you are, and then… we’ll go from there,” he told you, nodding almost imperceptibly. At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure – you or him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, “indefinitely.”

You bit down on your lip as you let Spencer check you, understanding entirely why people choose to get epidurals – this was horribly uncomfortable. “On the next contraction, you need to push, okay?”

For just a moment, your breathing faltered as your scared eyes met his, “Spence, wait,” you pleaded.

Smoothing your hair back, your husband did everything he could to comfort you, “What is it, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, voice cracking ever so slightly as tears flooded your lash line.

He leaned forward to gently kiss your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours, "I've got you. You're going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

You could see his carotid pounding, and somehow the fact that he was secretly as scared as you was more comforting than the words that came from his mouth. As you pushed, you focused on everything that Spencer was saying instead of the pain. Don’t push for more than eight seconds. Remember to breathe. Your body will know what to do. I love you. I love you. I love you.

By the time Spencer was saying something about the head, your hearing had gone muffled. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you made out his voice and nodded dazedly. “You’re wonderful. I’m so proud of you – just a little more,” he cajoled.

Taking a moment to breathe, your ears and eyes focused as shaky breaths filled your lungs.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder as he comforted you, continuing to keep you upright.

You shook your head, sniffling as your eyes screwed shut, “You’re perfect. Don’t stop. Keep talking,” you begged, needing something to focus on other than the pain.

“There’s about a point zero four percent chance of you getting pregnant and not finding out until you’re in labor,” he told you, hoping that the information would help you wrap your head around what was happening to you. “One to three in one hundred people have a precipitous labor,” he continued to speak as you pushed, and you wondered what the odds of you squeezing his hand so hard that you did damage were.

Against your better judgment, you looked down to check your progress, “Holy fuck,” you said breathlessly. You weren’t entirely clueless, you knew that once you got past the shoulders the remaining pushes would be easier. You also found yourself grateful that Spencer knew what he was doing – this was, after all, the second baby he had delivered.

You bore down, determined to get the baby out while Spencer untangled your hands, bringing his own down to catch the baby. Out of breath, you panted heavily as you started to feel lightheaded. “Done,” Spencer said quickly, “it’s done. I have him.”

Carefully, Spencer held the baby along the length of his forearm, rubbing the tiny newborn’s back. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, and it dawned on you that the baby wasn’t crying.

At the realization, your legs finally gave out from beneath you, watching with wide eyes as Spencer tried to clear your son’s lungs. White hot tears streamed down your face as you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You took a gasping breath as you silently pleaded for a cry, “I didn’t know,” you sobbed, guilt building a pit in your stomach.

With bleary eyes, you looked on as the baby finally spluttered and let out a wail. “There you go,” Spencer cooed softly, his own voice stiff with emotion as he cradled the baby and handed him off to you.

You were still sobbing as you held the baby to your chest, “I’m so sorry,” you continued to babble, watching as Spencer briefly disappeared into the bedroom before returning with a blanket and wrapping it around the both of you. While holding the baby, your vision started to blur around the edges.

Watching you intently, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

Nodding, your face crumpled before you responded, “I love you too.”

When the paramedics announced themselves, Spencer called out for them, not wanting to leave your side. The two of you focused your attention on the wriggling baby in your arms.

He was premature – too little to stay with you in the recovery room. The NICU doctor had estimated that he was born at approximately 32 weeks, meaning he’d likely need to spend a few weeks in intensive care. “I want to see him,” you said insistently, looking over as Spencer as he fussed over you.

“You just had abdominal surgery,” Spencer responded simply, as if that was meant to clarify everything for you. He continued fluffing your pillow, which wasn’t entirely productive considering you were lying on the pillow.

As it turned out, you had experienced what was called a precipitous birth, or a rapid birth. It tended to be dangerous, and the fact that you did it in your bathtub only heightened that danger. You reached your arm out for Spencer, “c’mere,” you muttered, trying to get him to stop fretting. “Did you listen to anything that the doctor just said?”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Lots of rest, no physical exertion, IV medication for now-“

“Did you hear the part where he said I was going to be okay?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him curiously, you watched as he took your hand in his and sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m going to be fine,” your voice was determined, you had a few small incisions on your abdomen from the surgery to repair a tear in your uterus. “Thank you for looking after me,” you whispered.

Your husband gently smoothed your hair back from your face, “I should’ve noticed it sooner.”

Using all of your strength, you squeezed his hand comfortingly, “You were incredible,” you assured him. “If it weren’t for you, neither of us would’ve made it.”

He shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

Raising your eyebrows, you cocked your head to the side, “It’s true. I couldn’t have done it on my own, I’m so, so thankful for you, my love.”

You had passed out in the ambulance as a direct result of blood loss, so you were brought to a trauma bay as soon as you made it to the hospital. Once they were in the ER, the baby was taken to the NICU, leaving Spencer with a lot of decisions to make.

When you woke up in the recovery room, the first thing you did was ask about the baby.

Spencer, of course, had been up to see him. The nurses claimed he seemed like a fighter, and Spencer knew the survival odds of a 32-weeker, so he turned his attention to you. Every other option had already failed, so the next option was a laparoscopy. Your husband admitted that while it seemed extreme, the very last choice was a hysterectomy, and he didn’t want to make that decision.

Furrowing your brows, “When can I see the baby?” You asked, not entirely sure how to refer to the infant just yet. It wasn’t until then that you realized you needed to name him at some point – your son.

“Once your blood pressure goes up,” Spencer told you with an authoritative tone. “You lost a lot of blood in the ambulance, but the blood transfusions will bring your blood pressure back up.”

Tilting your head to the side, you glared at your husband, “And is this rule from a doctor with a medical degree or a doctor whose name is on my marriage certificate?”

In response, Spencer shrugged, sitting in the beige armchair at the side of your bed, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

You rolled your eyes dismissively, “Will you go see him?”

He leaned over the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his. “I can, will you be alright on your own?”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you squeezed his hand affectionately, “I just don’t want him to be alone.” You whispered as tears pricked your eyes, you took your free hand and waved at your face, “god, what’s wrong with me?”

“A sudden drop of estrogen and progesterone immediately following birth causes mood swings. Nothing is wrong with you, your body is acting naturally,” Spencer explained patiently, dropping a gentle kiss on your lips.

You sighed before melting back into your pillows, “At least something about this feels natural,” you responded. Your brain felt like a spinning top, while your body felt like you were being weighed down by an elephant in a commercial for COPD medication.

The fact that the NICU nurse informed you that your son had a ninety-five percent chance of living a completely normal life did nothing to calm your nerves. He’d have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks and you tried to convince yourself that the extra time to prepare for him to come home would be good for you, but the idea of leaving him alone at the hospital – save for a small army of doctors and nurses – put a pit of dread in your chest.

Spencer had the forethought to warn you about the tubes and wires that he was hooked up to, ranging from oxygen to a feeding tube. “He’s been undergoing red light therapy to be treated for jaundice, but you can hold him for a while if you want to,” the nurse told you, leading the both of you through the NICU as Spencer steered your wheelchair through the hospital.

Your breathing hitched when you finally saw him, this tiny stowaway that had been growing inside of you for the last several months, and he was just so little. While you were still in your own room, you had convinced yourself that you’d hold him, but now you weren’t so convinced.

According to the sign in his room, he weighed three pounds and ten ounces and was sixteen inches long. He was sound asleep in an incubator, a small hat on top of his head, “Spence,” you breathed.

Behind you, your husband placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I know.”

“Did you want to hold him?” The nurse asked you gently, looking over at one of the machines that he was hooked up to.

Genuinely, you didn’t know. “Is… is that okay?” You asked, wiping your sweaty palms on the blanket draped across your legs.

The nurse gave you a knowing look, “Even better than okay, it’ll be good for him to have that kind of contact from both of his parents.”

Frowning, you watched as it took two nurses to break him out of his acrylic prison before they carefully placed him on your chest, making sure you were okay before they stepped back. Your movements were stiff at first, you had never held a baby this small before, but you eventually remembered to breathe and gently cooed at the baby in your arms.

Spencer crouched down next to you and started to ask the nurse a bunch of questions that he had likely been holding in for hours, but you just kept your eyes on the sleeping baby. He was too small to open his eyes, but everyone assured you that he’d get there.

The nurse stepped out to give you some privacy, leaving the door open just in case you needed something, “This doesn’t seem quite as difficult while I’m holding him.” You knew there was a steep learning curve ahead, but with a newborn on your chest, the pit in your heart dissipated.

“That’s called oxytocin,” Spencer said, sitting in a chair, eyes fixated on the infant in your arms.

Humming, you skimmed the pad of your thumb across your son’s tiny back, “He looks like you,” you observed quietly, they had the same nose.

Your husband smiled softly, “You can’t possibly tell which parent he takes after yet,” he informed you.

“And yet, I know he looks like you,” you insisted softly, and Spencer didn’t push back. “You look like your daddy,” you whispered to the baby, “he was the first one to hold you, you know?” You looked over at Spencer, “he’s been my superhero for four years, and now he gets to be yours too.”

1K notes · View notes

lychniis · 7 months

Text

⚘ ― EVENFALL ! ( valentines day event ).

( # )ㅤ evenfallㅤ —ㅤ twilight ; dusk. the period or the light from the sky between full night and sunrise or between sunset and full night.

syn. a valentines day / white day event inspired by hozier lyrics ( and also seconding as my 1000 follower event i suppose XD ). feel free to drop by and select a prompt from the list below alongside a flower / genre. you could always opt for more flowers. however please note that minors are not allowed to request for / interact with nsfw works. please note that the maximum character limit is three.

this was more of a last minute bout of silliness, but i'd love to write some requests for you guys after supporting me and my bs for nearly two years now XD. so hey hey, my inbox is open to be raided! i'm currently taking this event for genshin impact and honkai star rail!

prompts. the prompts and flowers available are listed below. you can request a single prompt + one of more flowers of your choice! you could also add some additional suggestions if you'd like, say a setting or an au or a scenario! requests close by the 20th of febuary. i'll start posting on white day, march 14th.

daisy — fluff.

hyacinth — angst.

tulip — crack / humor.

orchid — smut.

i. ❛ there’s nothing sweeter than my baby. ❜

ii. ❛ no grave can hold my body down, i’ll crawl home to her. ❜

iii. ❛ you knew who i was with every step that i ran to you. ❜

iv. ❛ some like to imagine. the dark caress of someone else. i guess any thrill will do. ❜

v. ❛ honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes. i feel like a person for a moment of my life. ❜

vi. ❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜

vii. ❛ honey please, try to love me. my love will never die. ❜

viii. ❛ know that i would gladly be the icarus to your certainty, oh my sunlight. ❜

ix. ❛ you don’t understand, you should never know, how easy you are to need. ❜

x. ❛ idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword. ❜

xi. ❛ honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. ❜

xii. ❛ i'm so full of love I could barely eat. ❜

xiii. ❛ honey you're familiar, like my mirror years ago. ❜

xiv. ❛ i know who i am when i’m alone. i’m something else when i see you. ❜

xv. ❛ there’s something tragic about you. ❜

xvi. ❛ there’s nothing sweeter than my baby. ❜

xvii. ❛ still my heart is heavy with the hate of some other man’s beliefs. ❜

xviii. ❛ i’ve known the warmth of your doorways. through the cold, i’ll find my way back to you. ❜

xix. ❛ screaming the name of a foreigner's god, the purest expression of grief. ❜

xx. ❛ i couldn’t utter my love when it counted, but i’m singing like a bird about it now.

xxi. ❛ the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you. ❜

xxii. ❛ i’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. ❜

xxiii. ❛ i have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me. ❜

xxiv. ❛ honey please, try to love me. my love will never die. ❜

xxv. ❛ i had been lost to you, sunlight, and flew like a moth to you. ❜

xxvi. ❛ it’s not my arms that will fail me, but this world takes more strength than it gave me. ❜

xxvii. ❛ i need you to run to me, run until you feel your lungs bleeding. ❜

xxviii. ❛ i will not ask where you came from. i will not ask and neither should you. ❜

xxix. ❛ be still, my foolish heart. don't ruin this on me. ❜

xxx. ❛ honey, i wanna race you to the table, if you hesitate, the getting is gone. ❜

( all the dialog prompts presented here are taken from songs by hozier. i own none of them. )

EVENT WORKSㅤ •ㅤ ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

184 notes · View notes

peterparkersnose · 2 years

Text

Folded

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: attack description, clicker attack, nightmares, anxiety, wound description, angst, denial of feelings, alcohol mentioned, swearing, mentions and descriptions of gun use, near death experience (if u can’t handle the game don’t read)

HAPPY LAST OF US DAY!!!

a/n ive played tlou 3x and tlou2 2x (going through my second round rn) so shut up pls i dont want any of the ‘you only like joel bc hes pedro’ fr come on ive been playing this game since i was 12. (i’m not like other girls 🥵) jackson joel just does something to me mmmm. wrote this nov 18 ‘22 saved for today

Don’t forget 9PM EST on HBO Max

summary Y/N gets attacked by a clicker during an intense time with Joel

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 12 mins 28 seconds

You could feel the air escaping your lungs at a dangerous rate. The rifle at your side slammed against your thigh as you kept running. The thick forest was just as you remembered it; wet, cold, and dark.

You were outnumbered. Mostly runners, but you spotted a few clickers. The brush on the forest floor wasn’t helping. Your heavy breathing and the sloshing of your boots against the snowy ground were making too much noise.

Where the fuck was Ellie?

3 bullets. Rifle was empty, spent that on some sharp shooting up the hill on some runners you and Ellie found in the town. How stupid were you? Those were an easy kill with a knife. But your childish games on who could get the best headshot left you empty.

Your heart dropped as the rock formation appeared. It was too high. It covered the forest like the earth split into two. That is when you came to terms, and you had to come to it quickly.

You were going to die.

Soon enough, the first runner appeared. Easy kill. One down, maybe 7 to go?

Where the fuck was Ellie?

The next one came. Two down. Three at a time now? A fucking clicker followed them? You wished the brush was tall enough to hide in.

It was useless fighting off three runners at a time with a clicker on their heels. This was it. Death.

The stone wall was cool against your backside. You hugged your knees to your chest as you pulled out your handgun.

At least the clicker would have a good meal.

Shot- one down. Shot- another. The clicker sped up. Shot, wounded but not dead. Quick slice with the knife. Dead.

The shrieking screams of the clicker engulfed your senses as the monster came running at you. It’s flailing arms we’re the last thing you were prepared to see.

You felt the hands on your shoulder. Dead hands of a monster, unspeakable to most. The hands grabbed your shoulders, but no bite came.

Just blinding white noise and a splatter on your face.

You had convinced yourself you were dead. You would never see anyone again. You had died the same death as your father years prior. The death that left you alone.

“Dad?” you managed to mutter out.

The white noise turned into ringing as two hands held your shoulder and shook you.

“Y/N? Y/N please, are you okay?”

Ellie.

“Maria I found her! Here!”

Cloth material wiped over your eyes and they opened. Ellie, splattered with blood stood in front of you with the most panicked look you had ever seen on the girls face.

“Your okay!” she yelled at you, wrapping her arms around you.

Sitting besides you two was the headless clicker that should have killed you.

***

You should be dead. Get this horrible life over with. Dead with your father, with the mother you never knew. Living a life without this disease, these creatures. Free of pain.

When you woke up in the medical wing you were pretty sure almost the whole town was there. You felt like an item on display at a museum. Looking over all the eyes, you most definitely were not searching for his. The whole reason you volunteered to go out with Ellie that day instead of Dina. And of course, he was not there. Why would he be?

“She’s awake!” someone yelled from the crowd. Every eye in the room seemed to fall on you at once. The nurse pushed past the group of people and went to your side.

“For heavens sake! Get out!” the nurse yelled to the group of onlookers. “Give her some goddamn space.” you heard from the crowd as people started to walk towards the exit.

Everyone wanted a look at the girl who survived a clicker attack.

“Hey,” she said, slowly approaching you and sitting on the chair next to your bed. “Ellie!” you exclaimed, embracing the girl tightly. “What happened?” you asked Ellie, releasing your grip on her and settling back into the bed.

The bond had been there since the day you met her. You always remember the look of the scared little girl on the back of Joel’s horse when they first entered Jackson. The bond you two had helped her grow into the person she is now. Ellie had always described you as an older sister. But Ellie was always there for you, and you for her. She was your best friend, platonic soulmate. And a damn good shot.

“I killed it,” she said bluntly. “I-I came at the right time it was about to bite you and- you should have seen it Y/N my shotgun did a number on that thing.”

“A-am I infected?” you asked, looking down at your body for the first time. Your tank top was still on, your jacket was missing. Your jeans were covered in dry blood and smelt of pine needles.

“It’s been three days. You got some pretty nasty scratches though. Sick looking if you ask me. Scars of a warrior.” she added, referring to her tattoo.

And that’s when you saw them. The claw marks were sewn shut on your left shoulder. Your eyes widened as you began to panic. You began to squirm and the pain set in.

“Hey, hey calm down. She took care of you. Best nurse in town, I made sure.” Ellie said, grabbing your good shoulder and stroking your arm to calm you down.

“The doctors said if your vitals stay stable for the next few hours you can go home. Dina and I cleaned up the place for you,” Ellie smiled, stroking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What have people been saying?” you asked, holding her hand tightly in yours. “That your a hero. You cleared out that building and we found a stash of food that’s going to last for… well, probably a good year. That’s amazing Y/N! They found baby formula for JJ- tons of it. You were right it was the old warehouse.”

A small smile rose to your lips but Ellie could tell what you really wanted to hear about.

What Joel had been saying.

And Joel hasn’t said much. Tommy had told him a brief description in passing of what happened when it was happening. He figured you were dead when they sent out a rescue wagon for you. He even watched as Maria’s horse lead in your body. Ellie was sitting with you in her arms screaming for a nurse, your whole left arm was covered in blood. What was visible of your face was white as a sheet and you weren’t moving. Joel had to silently give up the inkling of what could have been. Hell, you were the first girl who he even considered after his divorce over thirty years ago. It had to end one day and he had to silently agree with it.

“I don’t…” Ellie began, following with a sigh. “Y/N, don’t get yourself worked up over it. It’s not worth it.” Ellie began, knowing her friend too well. “Did he even come and see me?” you asked, looking to Ellie’s eyes. She couldn’t look into yours. She closed her eyes for a quick moment and shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

“Am I a fool?” you asked her. “I’m not sure,” she replied, weary.

The whole reason you went with her instead of Dina was because of Joel. You most definitely could not face him that day after the previous night.

He had knocked on your door a little after nine. He noticed a change in your demeanor today when he came in the room while teaching the some of the kids how to shoot. He wanted to make sure you were okay. Joel felt like he had some responsibility over you to make sure you were always okay because of what happened.

Joel was the one who was with your father when he died.

Sure, he was older than you. You weren’t sure exactly, but he was younger than your father by many years. The attraction from your end started when you saw him drunk off his ass during a celebration dancing with Tommy in the bar. It was the most unconventionally attractive thing, but it flipped some switch in you. When your dad died he taught you how to perfect your aim and kill efficiently. Never crossing any line because you were his dead friend’s daughter. And you were so close to Ellie. Ellie wasn’t too fond of your crush that you confided in her, but she grew to love the idea. Her family.

He came and visited you a little after nine. You were about to slip into bed before you heard the knock on your door. The night was cold and your pajama pants and thin tank top was not cutting it. You invited him inside. He had brought you a tiny gift to lift your mood; a bottle of gin. Your favorite. And you two drank at least half of that bottle of gin. You talked about everything from your father’s death to the time Tommy accidentally washed his clothes with Maria’s pink bra and still has an abundance of pink clothing to this day. The gin was most definitely speaking when you told him how you felt.

And he left.

“Let it go for now- okay? We’re gonna get you out of here and back home.” Ellie reassured you. Nodding your head, you fell back into the cold bed and closed your eyes just wishing it could all go away.

Home was empty as it could be. The bottle of gin sat on your coffee table. Your bed was made for the first time in years. Your work station was organized and all of your pens and art supplies were cleaned. You had remembered when Joel gave you those pens, he found them one day and thought of you. Your rifles now hung on your wall. Definitely was Dina’s idea, but you liked it. A tiny gift wrapped in a beige paper with a tiny bit of twine around it sat under your newly mounted rifles.

“Woo hoo. Christmas.” you said to yourself sarcastically. Kneeling down, you opened the package.

Bullets.

For safe keeping, ~Maria

Of course it was from Maria. She always played the mother you never had when she wanted to.

The immense feeling of sleep hit you like a brick wall. I guess being attacked by a clicker and living was a strenuous activity. All you wanted now to do was sleep. Unmaking the nicely folded sheets, you melted back into your bed. The sun was setting in your window and the horses were coming in for the day. You could hear them trotting past your window. You wondered if Joel was just feet away. It was what now… Thursday? You couldn’t remember if he still did the Thursday shift or if he switched with someone else. Who cares, sleep was creeping up slowly and the thought of Joel set you out cold.

The forest was blacker than usual. Without a doubt, you recognized where you were. Running again. All you seemed to do was run now these days. Taking a brief look back while you ran through the forest, you stopped as you realized a whole hoard of clickers were just at your heels. You didn’t have time to react. They were on you ripping your flesh off your body. The dream never seemed to end. You felt each bite and tear of your flesh until-

“Y/N!” Maria screamed, shaking you awake and still being mindful of your wound. “Fuck!” you screamed, sobbing into her arms. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” you continued, squirming in bed as she held you.

Your door was wide open and it was now pitch black out. The screams alerted security, and they called for a search of the town. Tommy quickly found the source of the screams and sent Maria in.

Standing outside your door was Tommy, peering in on the sight of his wife with you.

“Gather people. She needs to be watched.” Maria commanded Tommy as she held your shaking body. Too many people had left their homes now to look at the scene and disrupted the peaceful night.

Ellie sat with your head in her lap, slowly stroking your hair trying to get you to fall asleep. “Don’t worry. Nobody in this town will let anything happen to you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The whole previous night you didn’t sleep. You stared at your wall and just thought. And that whole day you delved yourself in drawings you hadn’t finished or poems you had the inspiration for. Took a shower. You looked through your closet and picked out a fresh outfit. You tried all the little things that usually worked on your old self, but your old self was gone.

That bottle of gin sat on your coffee table and haunted you throughout the day as well. You didn’t have the heart to throw it away, or the mindset to drink it. So there it sat. Pitiful.

You were at a loss for words. No words could describe the immense amount of pain re living that memory caused last night.

Ellie began to hum a tune. It was sweet and reminded you of something innocent. Your eyes began to get heavy. “You ready?” she asked, fluffing up your pillow. Reluctantly, you shook your head yes.

The absolute end was there and tiredness finally seeped in. Distraught sleep left and peaceful sleep took its place.

Ellie dimmed your lamp and smoothed the covers on your bed. It reminded you of the time you took care of Ellie years ago when she was sick. “Sweet dreams,” she said, giving your forehead a brief kiss.

Mumbling was heard outside your door, but you didn’t care.

The field was beautiful. Finally, peace. The flowers stemmed beautifully and the sun shown down on your face. Your hands ran through the fresh green grass. Laying in the rays, you suddenly felt the field get smaller. Sitting up, you realized the sun had disappeared and the field was getting smaller and smaller by the second. The sudden edge of a forest was getting closer and closer. And then with one blink you were back. The forest erected around you. You were back.

“No, no…” he heard from your house. Joel’s interest peaked from the grounds left in his coffee mug to the silent struggles in your bedroom. He lifted himself off your porch chair and looked through your window. You were writhing in bed.

“Ellie!” you let out the first yell. It was so loud that it startled Joel to his core and began a flight of panic. Joel didn’t hesitate to burst your door open. “Ellie don’t leave!” you yelled again.

“Hey,” he said softly, patting your shoulder. A loud groan of pain came from your lips. Joel’s heart sank as the feelings on guilt he felt for letting you go on patrol that day set in once again.

“Y/N!” he whisper yelled, yanking your body over to face him. Your eyes shot open. Ripped from the dream into another one.

You looked him up and down. This wasn’t real. It was another dream. Tears welled up in your eyes as you shut them tight, praying you would wake up somewhere else.

“It was a bad dream,” he whispered, resting his hand on your thigh. His thumb patiently rubbed your thigh as your breathing sped up. Your legs matched up perfectly, knees facing him. Your face was buried in your hands that were now grasping at your eyes.

“Stop it,” Joel hissed, grabbing your manic hands tightly. “This isn’t real,” you cried out, sobs following it.

His heart seemed to break into a million pieces when you started to full on cry. The last time he dealt with a crying girl it was Ellie. Wait- no, maybe it was Sarah. He honestly wasn’t sure, but it was most definitely years ago.

“Everything is alright. I know how it is. I-I didn’t sleep for a few days after my first clicker encounter. Those things are nasty fuckers.” he said, his hand returning to your thigh trying to soothe you. He was clueless on what he was supposed to do.

At this point, you realized you weren’t dreaming. He was here. His hand was on your thigh. He was sitting on your bed. You were in a tank top that cut a little too low for your liking.

Your teary eyes looked up and met his. He hadn’t moved his gaze off of your face. He gave you a soft reassuring smile.

Joel cursed himself for letting his feelings creep back in. This was wrong anyways, he felt sick any time he thought about you. The pit of his stomach couldn’t handle it much more, he had pretty much forgotten about you (as much as he would like to admit). But when Tommy assigned him second watch of you that night, he just knew it had trouble written all over it.

“Go back to sleep now. Pretty girls need their beauty sleep.” he said, instantly regretting it.

That line worked on Sarah, but in a whole different way with a much different meaning. He wanted to suck back in the words as fast as he said them.

Letting a tense breathe go, he steadied himself on your bed frame and made his way to the door.

He had made his way to the door as you spoke.

“Joel?”

His hand stopped his motion as it rested on the top of your door frame.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning around.

“W-will you stay? Just for a little bit.” you said, stuttering as you realized how large his body was compared to your door.

He paused. “I suppose.”

You moved your legs so he would have enough room to sit next to you. You heard his knee crack as he sat down on the low rise bed. His legs sat upward as he leant a hand behind your legs to steady himself.

“I’m sorry.” you said. It had to be said, what better time than now? “I don’t want to hear your apologies.” he huffed. “It was inappropriate.” you spit out again. “No- Y/N, stop. Please.” he asked. “You need to get some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep. Every time I sleep I go… back there. I can’t.” you whimpered. He sighed, groaning and wiping his brow.

“What would you like me to do about it? I can’t do anything.”

“Stay.”

Joel was left confused on how your calmness met his angry tone. He knew you well, he was surprised you weren’t screaming in his face. You didn’t take shit. You were being patient for once in your life.

Oh, how you’ve changed since the attack.

“I’m here. What more do you want from me?” he asked. His tone had extra edge of anger to it that was fueled with a faint passion.

In the darkness, you reached for his hand. It was coarse and dry, with many various scars and callouses you could feel just with a slight touch. He instinctively pulled back a bit, but gave in within the second. Wrapping your fingers with his, you places his hand back on your thigh.

“Y/N I-”

“The thing you were doing before on my leg. It was nice.”

“Oh,” he said, defeating the original thought from his head. His thumb began slowly moving in circles once again.

You were showing him what you needed.

He watched as your sad face closed your eyes and sighed. You felt safe for the first time in days.

Joel felt the pit in his stomach widen and fully consume him. The girl who practically raised Ellie from when she arrived; his dead friend’s daughter; one of the best damn killers in all of Jackson; Y/N. God, he was in so much trouble with his morals.

“I’m too far deep in this shit,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

Your eyes fluttered open to see him. “What?” you asked.

“I can’t…” he said, beginning to shake his knee up and down. “What?” repeated yourself in a confused tone.

His strong body swept over yours. He grabbed your shoulder ever so softly and perched you in his arms. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.

No initiative had to be made besides the movement of your lips against his. Your hand wrapped itself in his hair, playing softly as he held your back strongly. A slight moan came from his lips that he instantly regretted when you accidentally tugged ever so slightly on his graying strands of hair. For the split second that you two separated gasping for air, he pulled you tighter.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been fighting this,” he whispered on your lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you sighed, staring back at his scruffy face.

Joel came back to his senses. He felt different. He could never go back to the same person he was a minute ago. His world revolved around something new. No more obsessing over patrol and how to appease Tommy. No more worrying over how Ellie could handle herself. No more worrying about his aching joints and the fear of getting older. Something new became the center of his universe. He had folded.

The girl laying in his arms who now rested her head against his chest.

“You really need sleep darlin’,” he sighed. You sighed in resistance.

“You want me to stay?” he asked, looking down at your exhausted face.

“Please.”

You moved over in your bed as he made himself comfortable. Joel never realized how much larger he was than you until he slept with you in his arms.

You layed on his chest as one arm wrapped around your shoulders. His hand rested comfortably on your shoulder.

“Thank you.” you whispered. He placed a small kiss on your head. Your arms wrapped around your stomach, making yourself more comfortable in his embrace. The only sound in the room was your soft breathing.

“Go to sleep now. Your safe with me, my sweet girl.”

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @jmillerswife

2K notes · View notes

spitinsideme · 3 months

Note

How long could you last without seeing a woman

zero days zero hours zero minites if i dont see a woman i woulf fie i wpuldnt ladt i wouldnt try to last one minite without seeing a woman id start gettig confused and sad,

one hour without seeing a woamn id start devloping withdrawal symptoms id be foamkng at the mouth abd jumping uo and down

2 hours without seeing a woman id become paranoid and blame the government and aliens on taking away alll women, at thid stage im wearing nothing but three leaves two for my tits and one for my clit and tjats necause only woman can see them and i want to entice them with my body

3 hours without seeing a woman id start a journal using my own blood and a feather i tore off a pigenon by accident and all id do is draw every single woman all different types of eoman and id writr down every single encounter ive ever had with a woamn and every singlr woman ive known and id talk abouy those women in extrmee detail like their personaloty, likes and dislikes, etc

5 hoirs without seeing a woman, ive lost 6 and a quarter litres of blood from sll the journslling ive done and i refuse to est because all i eat id pussy. my stomach is rumbling but i refuse to listen

6 hours without seeing a woman. its been too long with no woman, i had to stop journslling because i havent given up yet on finding woamn and i dont wsnt to die, i knlw theyre out there somewhere. im relying on imagination and memory i have of women

7 hours without seeing a woman, ive started hallucinsting, ive become a carnivore who only eats furry animals because they look like a womans bush

7 hours and 30 minites without seeing a woman im covered in blood thatd not my own, there is rips of fur in my teeth and thr leaves i oncr had on have fallen oft because i knkw its a lost cause. i find a lake and go into it and pretend the wetness of the lake is the wetness of a pussy. i drown on purpose and hope that whatever afterlife exists has women

69 notes · View notes

billluver0124 · 3 months

Text

"you think im gonna stop?"

synopsis: bill whos worried sick finds y/n in an alleyway, on yet another bender. bill tries to help her change her ways, but will y/n ever really stop drinking? WARNINGS: heavy alcohol use, cursing, angst themes

No one really knows how it started to bloom, but y/n had a very unhealthy drinking habit. you could always spot her with an alcoholic drink in her hand, almost as if she was a magnet for alcohol. Everytime she drank she would go on a bender that would last days, weeks, one time it was a month. she had to be hospitalized that time. but even after that, she never stopped drinking. normally after people got tired of her behavior they would leave her life, but bill was different, he always stayed and took care of her.

Y/n and bill have known each other since middle school, she defended him a lot when it came to the bullying he went through in school. he was always grateful for that. them two as a duo were inseparable, stuck together like glue. it pained him to see her like this now, especially since this was a very close friend of his. Y/n was now on yet another bender, but this time it was different. normally you would catch her at a nearby bar or outside of it if the staff kicked her out. but she wasnt there. bill drove around to every bar she was a regular at, and she was nowhere to be found. where could she possibly have gone? bill thought to himself as he was growing more worried by the second. he searched all over town, for sure knowing that she couldnt have gone that far. but its been three days, anything is possible at this point.

Just as he was about to call it a night, he finds her asleep in a nearby alleyway. her clothes torn and her shirt barely on her torso. but luckily she had a carhartt jacket to keep her warm. her skin was so pale, her eye bags were so dark and she reeked of whiskey, and conveniently enough there was an empty bottle of jack daniels in her hand. she looked terrible.

"y/n get up.." bill shakes her awake, she wakes up confused. "where am i?" bill doesnt answer her, he helps her up and takes her to his car. helping her into the passenger seat and hopping in the driver's seat, continuing the drive home. As they were driving, y/n spots a bar. "can you stop at the bar? i wanna go get a drink please" the effects of the alcohol from yesterday havent even faded yet, how could she possibly want another drink? "absolutely not." bill said, his tone serious. "awh c'mon billy.." she whined drunkenly, "youre not even sober right now" "im sober enough to want another drink" y/n rolled her eyes, digging into her pocket to find three mini shot bottles in there. she smiled as she opens one and downs the entire shot. bill looking over and noticing "are you serious y/n?" bill snatches the other two bottles, throwing them out of his car side window. "what the hell bill?! i was gonna drink those!" she yelled, slurring every word "thats exactly why i threw them" he replied.

they finally reached his house, bill gets out to go help y/n inside. they get inside, bill taking her shoes off and hanging her jacket. he takes her to his couch and sits her down, sitting on the coffee table right in front of her. "we need to talk" he says, y/n not even replying. she just glared at him as he continued speaking. "im worried about you, you cant just go on these crazy benders because you feel like it y/n" he speaks, holding her hands in his to try and get her to listen. "im a grown ass woman bill, im fucking 27 years old. if i want a drink i can drink." she said bluntly, her tone was calm but she sounded like she wanted to yell at him. "this isnt just a drink y/n, this is unhealthy!" bill snapped, getting up from where he was sitting "you can and will die from this if you keep drinking for fucks sake!" he yelled, tears prickling his eyes. y/n scoffed at him, bill takes a breath attempting to calm himself "i care about you y/n, ive been the one to take care of you everytime you go on a bender. you are my best friend, youve been with me since middle school..." bill voice begins to crack "d-dont i mean something to you..?" he asked, tears spilling out of his eyes.

"you think youre special or something?" she replied, "w-what?" he asked, clearly confused by her question. "you think im gonna stop for you? just because you chose to stay doesnt mean that im just gonna quit for you." she spoke harshly, each word felt like a shatter in bills heart.

y/n gets up from the couch "y/n-" "what? you willingly chose to stay in my life bill, you have the right to leave. i didnt beg for anyone else to stay and i wont fucking beg for you either." bill grabs her wrist "please y/n, i just want you to be okay" y/n snatches his hand from her wrist "no fuck that" she said, walking over to grab her stuff "im outta here, see you around bill" she slams the door as she left, the sound of the door triggering bills tears. he flops on the couch, face in his hands as he cried. he cared so much about y/n, he knew the words she said she didnt mean; but oh god were they so painful to hear. he didnt want to see her asleep in an alleyway again. or worse, dead in a casket. bill just wanted y/n to be like the way she used to be; smiley, bubbly, kind, beautiful. she was still beautiful but now she was also mean and vile. what happened to the y/n bill once knew? will she ever come back or is she just...gone?

authors note!! omg two stories in one night? woah crazy! anyways, i enjoyed making this one and i hope you guys enjoy it too>.< love you guys<33

#tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz #gustav schäfer #georg listing #bill kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz angst #georg listing angst #gustav schafer angst #tokio hotel angst #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x reader #georg listing x reader #gustav schafer x reader #tokio hotel x reader #emo #y2k #bill kaulitz being sexy as hell

62 notes · View notes

marivoid · 5 months

Text

Entry 31

Day 223

This is him. One of the only people that can help me find The Doctor. The Heavy-Body Builder.

One problem: The man is the definition of "Looks scary, is a wet cat of a man." He definitely TRIED to be intimidating, but he failed pretty miserably at it when I met him after being unconscious for 10 days.

(Yes I did a double take. I still can't believe I was out for THAT long)

Picture this: Me walking towards a towering city of collapsing buildings with dust filled air. Eyes focused on the small blinks of light that just barely escape the smog- I'm thinking that I've finally made it! Comparator City!

And then I get absolutely BODIED by a huge hunk of metal. I wish I were kidding. My poor spine! My arm! It got freaking CRUSHED! I was sent flying a decent few feet and ended up crashing into an old light pole (Again. OW.) All that I can remember happening next is that same hunk of metal approaching me and some guy jumping out of it. But then... Well. I was out like a light.

Managed to wake up (after what felt like) a few hours later and oh GOODNESS did it hurt. My back, my right side, my stump of an arm- It all hurt! But there was somebody in the very dim room with me. The same person that crawled out of that hunk of metal.

"Thank goodness you're awake!" He had said when I first gained consciousness. "I was worried that you wouldn't stabilize! You've been unconscious for over a week!"

"I've been WHAT?!" And of course, when I sat up I saw the damage the man had done to me. Machines were strapped all over my body, an IV drip sticking out of my arm (Where he found a clean needle I will not ask.) a whole heart rate monitor- He was stacked! But from the state of everything, he was telling me the truth. "You knocked me unconscious for a week?!"

"Well it's r-really been ten days-"

"TEN DAYS?!"

"Yes- Yes I know it sounds absolutely horrible but! But! You're recovering at an accelerated rate! You should be good to go in a few days? Maybe three? The experimental drug is working great for you!" He had been blabbering and talking so fast that I nearly missed that detail.

"Experimental- I'm sorry, EXPERIMENTAL DRUG?" Of course I had been outraged back then. (Even looking back now I'm still a bit ticked off at being used as a guinea pig for a drug that could have killed me, but hey! I'm alive now!) "You used an EXPERIMENTAL DRUG to heal me."

"Yes! And it worked!" He stepped away from me to grab my prosthetic arm. "And! And I managed to upgrade your arm! It got destroyed- Again I'm so sorry about that- but hey! At least now your map and compass aren't an extra item to carry around!"

"So you fixed the nerve sensors? The solar panels?"

"Uh- No. Unfortunately I don't have access to the receptors or the proper solar panels you need." He had explained while reattaching my arm. "But! But, it works a lot like mine!" He flashed his brass arm, glowing a soft red. "It's powered by redstone! Should last you a solid month before you need to recharge it!"

And there was the main problem. "How in the ever loving hell do I get this 'redstone' stuff? Heck, where could I even get it?"

"Easy! Me!" He flicked on a lever on the backside of my arm and it felt... Nice at the time. Sturdy. Like it wouldn't die on me when I needed it most. "I use the Parrot System, so as long as you can get mail through the Parrots you should be good!"

"... The who?"

You wouldn't believe me if I told you this man began to glow with embarrassment. I mean he LITERALLY glowed. Pointy ears and face turning a bright red that GLOWED.

"Right, uh- The parrots! They're one of the middle tier delivery birds! I'm friends with their Flight Master! I... I take it you have no idea who I'm talking about."

"Not a damn clue."

"First of all, watch your tongue. Second! That's okay! I should have enough in store that should last you about three months- But you really need to find the Flight Masters. They'll help you in the long run."

When he stopped his rambling I focused on the newly upgraded arm. It is always a weird sensation, flexing a limb that's not really there. But the small tug of metal fingers and steel plates listening to one's mind is even weirder. And I mean REALLY weird.

"Who... Exactly are these Flight Masters?" I managed to ask him after a few moments of silence. "How do you... Get under their wing?"

"That-" The man paused and the red glow only grew. "That was a horrible pun-" He has a really nice laugh. Small but breathless.

"But it works! I mean, they have to be Birds of a Feather to Fly together-"

"Stop! Stop, no!"

"When am I going to stop, huh?! Never!" And then I started to laugh. I think it was just my mind needing something to focus on other than the glaring new arm attached to my body.

"Goodness you may be worse than Gri-" His laughter died when he barely mentioned a name. I couldn't get all of it, but it must be the Flight Master.

"Worse than...?"

"Y-You will find out eventually." His tune changed from that point going forward.

He eventually gave me his name (Mumbo) and gave me a quick summary of the three Flight Masters.

The Canary: Flight Master of the small, yellow birds that linger around Comparator City. Used by the residents of said city. Apparently the easiest one to befriend.

The Parrot: Flight Master of the robotic parrots that fly around all over the Crashlands. They're more tricky to get a hold of as they have a whole database on who's a customer and who's not. Need to find the Parrot Flight Master in order to get on the list.

The Crow: Flight Master of the Murders. Every crow I have seen so far apparently belongs to Him. And apparently the only way to find him is a mystery to even Mumbo. All I can do is hope for the best with that one.

That was all the information he was willing to tell me. Apparently I struck a nerve by getting him to almost spill the name of the Parrot Flight Master. I'm still resting in this small room, letting myself recover from being plowed by that big old machine.

I even tried asking him what that THING was that he hit me with! But he just shook his head and said it was a prototype I shouldn't bother myself with.

Things are just getting really overwhelming now. So much information to process. How do I find the Canary? Or hell, the Parrot? I'm not even going to TOUCH the subject of the Crow. What about the Demon? Is he still around? Is he in Comparator City? Will I run out of the weird redstone dust before I find the Parrot?

So many questions.

Too little answers.

I think I'm just going to shut off my mind for a little bit.

MLW

G.U.I.D.E. 67

#hermitblr #hermitcraft #the crash #void art #hermitaday #original art #mcyt fanart #mumbo jumbo #mumbo fanart #hermit a day may #martyn itlw #martyn inthelittlewood

52 notes · View notes

dairy-farmer · 6 months

Note

I just had a thought! :3c Multiverse+A/B/O/ shenanigans! And it goes on longer then I expected it too!

Consider!

Tim. Clever, ruthless, barely holding in there. Standing in the ruins of what once was Gotham, air tank running, filters On. The air of planet earth has finally passed the point of no return. The last human hold outs have finally fallen.

He was hoping it wouldn't come to this.

The Great Pyrrhic Victory.

Batman's Doomsday Vault. Buried deep under the rumble of Wayne Manor. With every last Fuck You, Batman ever found. All the "taking you with me" plans, laid out side by side. And Tim?

He needs the one at the very back.

Because this... THING. Won't stop. Not ever. And the Multiverse can't afford that. So Tim fights forward. Runs out of weapons. Bashes in those last few skulls with and empty air tank. And then he digs.

And digs.

He runs out of air tanks, day seventeen. But the rubble filters the poisoned air enough. It has to be enough. Three hours later he hits Vault. Uses the last of his wrist computer's battery to power the entry pad and door. He's in. At least the air is clean here, for now.

And there? In the back? Sits the plain black lock-box.

A sci-fi looking hand grenade with extra bits. The bomb that can Destroy Everything. Not just the world. But the entire universe. Tim's whole reality and everyone in it. He would never consider it, if there was anyone left. Any way to fix this. But there's not.

It's just him, a monster, and the bomb that can end all of this.

He doesn't bother to say good bye. Why give that THING a chance to stop him? He pulls the pin.

And let's go.

Aaaaand it works EXACTLY as it's creator designed it too. VERY big boom. Everything dead. Etc etc. Reality? Hard Deleted. No take backs. But! Creator dude was a coward and a scoundrel. Like FUCK was HE going to stick around and Die with you PEASANTS. Absolutely the fuck not! He just hated you! To death!

HE was gonna hop to a DIFFERENT reality! One that probably had blackjack and hookers! Appreciated his GENIUS! Or at least that had been the plan... until Batman Super DUPER broke his bones for threatening all of reality. As one does.

It was in the file.

Page 17.

Tim only bothered to read to page 15. Because he was short on time and the world was dying. He didn't give a shit about the assholes life story. He probably should have. Because if he HAD? He would have realized he wasn't going to die today.

Instead he's in the Vault.

THE Vault.

The Super Dangerous Batman's Final Fuck You Vault of DANGEROUS EXPLODING DOOM Vault(tm). He's not doing so hot. What with the hiking for days without rest, poisoned air, no food or water, and expecting to die. He's standing in front of THE "destroys the universe" bomb. Blinking dumbly down at it.

These many factors are probably why he fails to dodge.

WHAM!

Getting full body takled by a well rested, highly trained, adrenaline filled Alpha? BIG Ouch. But at least Tim get medical aid and an IV of fluids! Followed by everyone's FAVORITE gameshow~ Paranoid Bat Duel Interrogations, Code Word Exchanges, and General Angry Wet Cat Posturing!

The fact that Tim does not EXSIST here? Doesn't help. But his wrist computer DOES. The OTHER problem? Is this Reality has secondary genders? What? I mean, he HAS heard of planets like that. But...

It apparently trips them out just as much, that he only has one. But apparently Uncle Clark has the same problem. So he's given fake Beta pheromones to where.

He's... surprised they just let him stay. To be honest. But apparently "pack is pack", and HIS family may be gone, but so long as THIS version is alive? He has a home with them. Tim doesn't cry. It's dust. Sweat got in his eyes.

But! This wouldn't be a smutty Ask Thought if it stayed so wholesome, would it?

Because Tim is awkward. Clearly trying his best. But unsure of... how to? Bond. He doesn't HAVE the enhanced sense of smell. The scent glands. The instincts. He loved his family, but they didn't DO touch nearly as often as A/B/O/ packs need for healthy bonds. So really, he comes off as skittish. Jumpy. Abused almost.

In need of attention.

Bruce casually rubbing his shoulder. Clasping the back of his neck. Sitting near him. Duck tucking Tim's arm in his, resting his head on Tim's shoulder theatrically so he can rub his scent on him subtly. Jason slinging arms around him and using him as a leaning post.

And Damian. A child who never knew him as any sort of Rival or threat to his position, who sees him NOW as a battered and abused member joining the pack. A hero in his own right, Tim is no threat to Damian's long held position as Robin. Damian is out here legit RESEARCHING how to rehabilitate abused Betas and Omegas, trying to apply a hybrid approach.

Treating him like an easily spooked cat.

Tim starters getting used to being touched. Cuddled even. Pulled into laps and flopped upon. Honestly, even kinda LIKES this whole nest idea. It's pretty comfy.

But then it goes to shit. In the way it always seems to. Tim has started helping out. Building a record of Red Robin's presence LONG before Tim Wayne appears. Planning outings for when he CAN go out together with the others. Comparing realities. But then? Ivy. And ugly fight.

Heat inducer, straight to the face.

He calls it in. Already used a near by hose to get it off him. But... but he feels sick. Like, lose meal you ate as a four year old sick. Nightwing gets to him. Jabs him with the counter agent. Helps him back to the cave.

But not before a dangerously high fever starts to kick in. Blurred vision. Sever nausea. He's not REMOTELY aroused, but he IS being affected. They scramble to figure out what's happening.

The inducer is poisoning him.

The counter agent is helping, so another, STRONGER dose is applied. But that's all the can do. And even that, is incredibly rough in his liver. And he's still nauseous, still has a fever.

His body just doesn't have the proteins to break down the chemical of the inducer. Bruce sends everyone back out on patrol. He scoops Tim up. He'll tuck him into bed so he can rest. There really is nothing they can do.

But that's not true and they all know it. It's that none of them are willing to SAY it. To name the truth. There very much IS a way to get Tim the proteins he needs to break down the drug poisoning him. And with how deeply nauseous he is, it wouldn't be orally.

But they choke on it.

Eyes lingering on their other-reality pack mate. Frustrated, they leave to go take there anger out on some goons. Bruce himself tries not to think about it, as he carries Tim upstairs. As every jostle and sway makes Tim desperately suck in air to keep from hurling. As sweat catches the light. Making the younger man look like he'd just run a marathon.

He rests Tim on his bed. He's refusing to think about. Helps Tim out of his clothes. Isn't thinking about it. Goes, comes back, with cool water and a wash cloth. Most CERTAINLY not thinking about it.

Tim his thrown an arm over his eyes. To block out the light. Is pulling in even, practices breathes. Utterly miserable. When... when he doesn't have to be. Bruce wets the wash cloth and wipes him down. It's basicly with holding treatment.

Bruce's eyes stray the the sheet, lightly draped over Tim's hips. Only thing that covering him, now. He is horrifyingly glad Tim is scent blind. Tears his eyes away. Tells Tim that... technically... there IS one way to get the proteins into his system. If he doesn't want to wait this out.

For a long, terrifying, moment there is dead silence.

Bruce has ruined everything.

Tim hates him.

He's going to run away and never speak to him aga-

Bruce is pulled from his brooding panic spiral, by Tim dryly pointing out, that in CASE Bruce us unaware? He's fucking huge. And Tim is nauseous as shit right now. He WILL blow chunks. Not exactly sexy. Perfect timing as always, Bruce. Somethings truely ARE universal.

Bruce snorts. But Tim has a good point. This is hardly the most romantic situation. As sensual as sandpaper to the face. He promises to make it up to Tim. Feels that distinctly Alpha thrill at the prospect of GETTING to take care of someone. Tuck them close and provide for them.

For now, he massages. Gently. Careful not to rock. Slides his hand down to gently rub. Twirl his finger around and tease Tim's little cocklette clit, when things are wet enough, drift lower to slid in. Start to gently stretch his hole.

He doesn't have to fit. Today. Just has to get deep enough that no seed will slip out. A though occurs to him. They have heat aids, don't they? He bought them for Dick and Jason. They probably don't USE the smaller ones anymore, since they've grown. But that doesn't mean Alfred would have thrown them out.

Bruce leans down. Presses a kiss to Tim chest. And tells him he'll be right back. He's gonna get something that'll help.

Heads for the Heat/Rutt nest.

And yep. Right there on the high shelf in the back. The smaller plugs and toys. Grab that and a bottle of artificial slick, he's good to go. Back in short order.

The slick makes his fingers slide in so EASILY. He pulls back, picks up his favorite rutt sleeve from where he stashed in the box. And imagines what it will feel like, working himself inside that tight, fluttering hole. Brings himself to the edge with brutal efficiency, but doesn't let himself fall over. Sleave off, crawl forward.

Gently pushing. Still too tight. Tim gasping and gripping his arms, legs spread beneath him. He wants so BADLY to rock forward. To fuck into him. But he won't. Not Today. Just the tip, pushed just deep enough to gush inside, as he cums. He shudders, milking his cock into that body. Then grabs the cute little blue plug that'll keep it all inside him.

Rock it in.

It's impossible NOT to cuddle Tim after that. To wrap him in his scent and body. Instincts and hormones demand it.

His son's are of course FURIOUS. Mostly that he enticed Tim with out discussing it with them or with them there. His youngest, also being an Alpha, tries to stab him at breakfast. It's to be expected. The important thing is Tim feels better.

Tim is ALSO immediately hunted down by Damian, when maiming his father for sexing up Delicate Timothy failed. Scoundrel! Cad! Damian bets he wasn't even gentle and attentive! Barbarian! How could he!

So obviously, it's up to the ONLY Alpha in this household with ANY decency! To fix this! Which is how Tim starts the first day of MANY exciting days to come, by waking up to Damian eating him out like it's his mission in life. Fingers on a mission to find his g-spot or die trying. One overwhelming, if confused, and still waking up orgasm later?

Damian is tucking a pillow under his hips. Adjusting his grip. And..? Oh! Oh, big is genetic! Very full! And he hasn't even hit his final growth spurt yet. Holy shit. Then Damian pulls his hips back and snaps forward, and Tim's not thinking much of anything. Mostly just incoherent babbling and scrambling at the sheets.

Getting That Spot HAMMERED.

Shuddering apart.

Feeling something... different. Pressure. Stretch. Popping in and out, until it CANT and its just dragging the grind, just inside him. Damian shuddering, snapping his hips forward like he wants to FORCE it deep. Like a FIST inside him. Spraying his guts. Full! Oh god, full! It's grinding against everything that feels good. Amazing and like he's gonna die. Tim can SEE the little bulge of seed, from how full he's gotten.

He gets to learn EXACTLY how long it takes for a knot to go down.

"They" get caught Dick. Who hums and offers Tim advice. It CAN be a lot, can't it? Dick meanders over. Eyes trailing over Tim's straining and sweat soaked body. Where Damian is buried deep and knotted inside him. And leans down.

You know what always helps DICK when a knot is too much?

Tim knows that look in Dicks eyes. He does not trust that look. Tim doesn't want to know, Dick.

Too bad~☆! Says Robin number one, grining like a shark.

What helps HIM, is more orgasms, He informs, as his clever hand makes contact with Tim's clit. Tim jerks but can't escape. Pinching, twisting, tugging. Rubbing. Tim whines and jerks, coming apart while Dick watchs. Waits his turn.

It's a long morning.

Luckily, Omegas can't Knot. Unfortunately, that does NOTHING to stop them from bending you in half and railing you through the mattress. Pulling you up into their lap then up and down their cock like a sleeve. Kissing the air out of your lungs as they pin you to a wall, so they can get better leverage, fucking deep and hard like they want to permanently rearrange your insides.

Sometimes Omegas are ALSO Superhero acrobats.

Tim hides out in Jason's room, after he escapes Horny Devil and his beloved gremlin. Gets a shower. A nap. It's a mistaaaaake. Or not? Jason, at least, props him up in a comfy position before sliding home. Apparently stretched him A LOT while he slept, because frankly, the fullness feel nice instead of bloated.

He could almost go back to sleep.

Gentle rocking. Sweet praise being rumbled in his ear. Warm pressure covering him like a weighted blanket. The slow, building, hum of pleasure. 'S nice. Jason even arranged the pillows so Tim could slump face down and still breath just fine!

........you know what? He NEVER gets to sleep this easy. Go for it. This is nice. Unlike SOME people, at least Jason is being thoughtful. Have fun.

And Jason does have fun. Tim drifts in and out of a light snooze. Getting some sleep, getting some orgasms. Waking up to an absolutely GUSHING hole stuffed with cum. An exhausted Jason cuddled up next to him. The sheets may be beyond saving.

He has to shower, again.

Sticks to the walls. Hugs corners. As he keeps an eye out for Fuckwing the cuddler. Tim is HUNGRY damn it! He missed both breakfast AND lunch thanks to him! He eats quickly. Does not notice Alfred's exasperated look. The Beta can smell everything, after all.

And since HIS room is compromised. Tim, having learned nothing, decided to hide in Bruce's room. The perfect place to nap!

Which is obviously exactly where Bruce finds him. Smelling like bratty, young adult drama and jealousy, exhausted on his bed. Poor Tim. His kids fighting over Tim Time should NOT be taken out of Tim. They'll learn THAT the hard way, when he inevitably avoids them to rest.

Bruce, luckily, already learned all this in his playboy phase.

Want a massage? Some juice? Cuddles? I'm VERY non-threatening. Here if you ever feel horny. Let's get you all nested up, hmm?

And Tim's not even an Omega. He's not an ANYTHING. But damn if that's not effective. Bruce paying attention to him. Talking in that low, soothing rumble. Touching all soft and gentle. Not pushing or demand, just warm and smelling so GOOD and just.....

He's squirming out of his clothes and dragging Bruce down on top of him. Feeling incredibly decadent and kinda bratty. Pay attention to him. Fill him up and make him feel good. He's pouting and demanding and feeling clingy. And wonder of wonders?

Bruce doesn't scold him or scowl. But grins so indulgently, hums and hushs. Yes, yes. Of course. His little pillow princess, gonna get so full and knotted.

And Bruce is huge. But Jason stretched him so, SO much. So Bruce can rock into him now. Punch the air out of him, little by little, as he gets filled up. Whine and pant as his clit his teased. As Bruce fills him even when it feels like there should be no room left. Until he bottoms out. Grinds with little rocks of his hips.

Slides back and seems to take Tim's insides with him. Slowly. The more. In and out. Held still. Praised as his insides stretch out. As it starts to feel overwhelming good instead of just overwhelming. Faster. Harder. Whimpering and drooling as everything is pummeled by the snap of those hips. Fucked.

He's not even knotting him yet.

Bruce making him orgasm first. Almost dragging it out of him. So his body will relax enough to TAKE it. Then the pressure. The short, brutal little rutts against Tim's best spots. Made all the more sensitive having just orgasmed. Each one making Tim jolt and squeeze, milking that quickly expanding pressure. Having it GRIND, almost cruely, against where it feels best.

Unable to move, barely able to BREATHE, as he finally locks and begins to gush. Pumping deep. Filling and filling. Hot hands, rubbing to ease the strain. Or maybe just in fascination. He's been with Beta's but never someone who body straight out WASN'T designed for this sort of thing. Not poorly designed for. NOT designed for.

Tim looks almost pregnant. Not heavily. Just that tiny swell. But it's enough to wonder. Are they even compatible? He finds himself hoping the might be. Let's his hand drift down as he leans forward to press kisses to Tim's face. Works him up to another orgasm. See? Being knotted is nice. Feels good.

It's a bit awkward due to the angle, thanks to his own poor planning, but he is able to cuddle close to Tim. Who is finally getting used to it. Is nested in pillows, covered by Bruce, and filled to the brim. High as a kite on hormones thanks to the near but not quiet pain and repeated orgasms. There'll be no Red Robin on patrol tonight.

Tim of course, can barely walk the next day.

Which means he can not escape his brother's. Who love him VERY much and have multi-step plans to becoming THE favorite. Tim may soon become the stabby one, if they don't let him rest. Alfred is the favorite. He has food and doesn't keep Tim from his work.

(That's a lie. He loves all of them. But his fuck bruises have fuck bruises, so currently they're all BASTARDS. Dead to him! Hisssss!)

-🐼🐼🐼

!!! the angst of tim losing his universe but then ultimatly sent to another, an a/b/o one where he's the object of their desire but he can't fully handle it because his biology just isn't fully compatilble but that doesn't stop them from trying!!!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

70 notes · View notes

polyhexian · 1 month

Note

TW: Suicide

You've got that headcanon that Hunter makes a few suicide attempts after Belos's defeat; how would that factor into the eventually au?

Does he not attempt it cuz instead he just shoves so much of his self-loathing onto Jasper that first year after? Or cuz having his dad around in general just helps somehow?

Does he try it like he did in your Loving is Letting Go fic but instead of calling Camila he calls Jasper? Does he still call Camila, but she calls Jasper instead of Darius? Does she still call Darius and then Hunter doesn't want them to tell Jasper this happened because he feels awful about it but it's like, dude, there's no way your dad isn't going to find out about this?

Jasper having to deal with the realization that while he feels like he's dead, and he wishes he had died, and he's so, so tired of existing, he can't stop yet because apparently his son is having some similar issues and if this happens again Jasper is probably the only person who'd be able to locate him, teleport to him, and heal him all in 60 seconds tops.

OKAY SO IVE BEEN ROTATING THIS IN MY HEAD ALL DAY

There's a couple of sort of "Nate draikinator fanon canon" things like, hunter has killed three people and who they are, vee tried to kill him once, he tried to kill himself that one time and called Camila for help when he changed his mind. Lots of little things that I generally repeat unless I have a specific reason to change them.

I definitely think he still does it. He's come out of an extreme trauma and he's adjusting to a new normal and it's completely to be expected he's going to have wild and violent emotional swings as he tries to come to terms with everything that has happened to him. A lot of it IS guilt, that he feels like a massive burden who is never going to recover and he's just going to ruin the lives of anyone who cares about him (just like he ruined Jasper's) and that's terrifying and heavy and soul crushing and miserable. And one bad night he just snaps and makes a very poor spontaneous decision in a manic depressive spiral of self destruction. But he still changes his mind at the last minute and calls for help.

And I think he's still calling Camila. He's not thinking clearly but she's an emotional rock for him he relies on and he's going to call her. Then we have her dilemma: call Darius or Jasper? Both can teleport, but jasper is an incredibly skilled healer.

But he's also incredibly unstable, and she doesn't know if she can trust him to keep his cool jumping into the old throne room when it's covered in hunters blood. So she calls Darius. And when HE gets there he realizes it's Pretty Bad and calls jasper. Even tho hunter is like noooo noooo don't call him noooo. And jasper pops in and there's only like one second where Darius actually recognizes him as present and afraid and himself before he fully locks down into serious GG mode and drops to his knees.

So MEDICAL MAGIC STUFF he tells Darius to hold pressure because he can't heal the wounds yet until he gets as much blood as he can back in him, because you can't just regrow blood, so he's immediately drawing circles so that blood gets pulled off the ground and out of his clothes and he's basically picking it apart to filter out particulates and dirt or anything before he can put any back in, and only some of it is good since some is already old cuz hes been here awhile. And hunter is crying and apologizing and jasper literally is not even acknowledging him. He's fully 100% on task. Refills what he can and heals the cuts but advises Darius that he could still die of exsanguination without a blood specialist, and then says he is too low on magic to translocate two people so he has to take hunter to the hospital without him, and tells him like "you're going to tell them he's a stage 2 triage, massive blood loss from radial artery damage, and that you want to see [name], the resident blood specialist and NOT [name] because she hates him and can't be trusted with his life" and Darius obviously has like a moment he tries to argue but jasper like. He's in GG mode. He knows how to deliver an order.

Which leaves him sitting there on his knees in front of the throne in the dark soaked in hunters blood

Just like. Staring at nothing. Because jasper is 100% not home right now

Or also maybe he's fixing up hunters blood and realizes there's not enough clean blood here to save his life so without even missing a beat he tears off a sleeve, ties a tourniquet around his arm and pulls it tight with his teeth and then cuts himself open just to get some for him. Darius horrified like the fuck are you DOING and jasper just completely deadpan informing him that their blood is completely identical like twins so he can safely use his and he can safely lose quite a bit of blood himself before hes in trouble, so it's only makes sense. And besides he can heal himself when he's done. It's not a big deal. Obviously.

So like. Hunter's good. He's safe. Darius is gonna bring him to a hospital anyway tho. Obviously. But jasper is just like. Not fucking home rn. He's truly going through it. He's already convinced HE'S dead. And jasper has never struggled with suicidal or self harm thoughts in his life, any time he has ever hurt himself was for a reason. He can't possibly fathom what hunter is going through because it is so DIFFERENT from his experience. But he knows he waited too long, he didn't even save hunter, Luz did, and it was too late because he has everything he needs now and he still wants to die. He should have acted sooner. He should have taken the risk that hunter would get killed if he tried to liberate him sooner because he waited too long and it's too late.

And also hunter called CAMILA and Camila called DARIUS. Not him. Hunter didn't call him even though he can teleport and heal. Not even Camila called him despite the fact he can teleport and heal. Hunter is dying and he doesn't call him for help. He calls his mom who can't even help him instead. He's just going to be so utterly crushed by this. Meanwhile Hunter is struggling with the kind of overwhelming shame and humiliation that comes with an aborted suicide attempt. And he doesn't want to see jasper because he's terrified to see him, he feels like- like he broke his whole life and he can't even be grateful for it, jasper sacrificed everything for him and Hunter tried to just throw it in the trash and he's ashamed of that and guilty and miserable.

And jasper is STILL just sitting where he got left staring at the throne and sitting on his knees covered in his and hunters blood.

I literally cannot give eventually jasper a fucking BREAK, can i

30 notes · View notes

fanta2y · 8 months

Text

Inherently Worthy Pt. Two

part twoo yalll !! i hope you guys enjoyyy, thank you for all the likes on the first part <3

cw: talk of death, mentions of loss of weight and sleep, talk of injuries not very descriptive

word count: 2.1k

part three

The first thing you notice when you come back to is the throbbing that seems to cascade through your entire body. The second thing that filters through your dull senses is the low murmuring you can’t make out. It's like a gentle hum in the back of your mind, the voices are familiar but your head is swimming and the only thing it can seem to focus on is the aching pain in your joints.

You felt your eyebrows pinch and a groan leaving your lips before your consciousness really caught up with your actions. You attempted to shift, willing your eyes to open but the bright lights that shone through your eyelids made your body not cooperate.

A hand rested on your shoulder and gently pushed you back down, the voice said something. But it felt like your head was still swimming in the cotton, you remembered the mission. The curse, the wound, the blood. You remember feeling like you were going to die, you remember thinking you were going to die.

But everything else was hazy shades of black, you remember bits and pieces of movement and voices. Something deep in your chest telling you you're forgetting something, someone. Your brain is too focused on everything else to pay the weeping of your heart much attention.

A confused noise left your lips, your eyes still not wanting to open.

“Brat, stay still. Your gonna hurt yourself again.”

Ryo.

That got your eyes open, practically shooting up into a sitting position on the bed. The flare of pain you felt radiating from your side made you regret the decision fairly quickly. Hunching in on yourself, whimpering.

“See… you are so stubborn, woman.” He groaned, shaking his head at your antics. He shuffled around your bed, his hands softly putting you in a more comfortable sitting position. Doing a quick glance over your wound to make sure you haven’t reopened the freshly healed wound.

Your eyes never left his face, you're not sure why you felt so emotional seeing him after everything. It's not like he was the one who almost died. But something stirred in your chest, and you just couldn’t force your eyes away from him.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it!” Gojo said cheerily, breaking you out of your trance. A blush crept up your neck, turning your ears a light shade of pink. Sukuna choked on his spit, coughing into his hand and you're sure you saw his cheeks turning pink too.

But your mind must be playing tricks on you.

Gojo ruffled your hair as he walked past the bed you were in, still being monitored in Shoko’s office. A genuine smile on his face, one you return in earnest. As he leaves the door, going to shut it behind him.

“Don’t go to crazy, she’s still recovering.”

Were his last words before the door closes behind him.

It took a second for the words to register before your cheeks were flushed bright red, hiding your face within your hands. You wanted to throw something at him.

“I’m going to kill that bastard,” Sukuna muttered, shaking his head. As you looked up at him, you saw it again. The light pink that dusted his cheeks, the tips of his ears matching. The sides of his lips quirked up in an almost smile, one that was infectious and made you smile too.

You wondered if that was just your imagination too.

“How long was I out?” You asked, moving your vision down to the hands that sat in your lap. Fiddling with the bandaids that covered them, the IV that stuck out on the backside of one. If you had to guess, a day maybe two? You didn’t think the wound was anything remarkably bad. Jujustu Sorcerers get hurt like this all the time, it came with the job.

But the silence that followed your question had you thinking things might have been worse than you originally thought.

Your eyes looked up from where they were fixated. Confusion sunk into you. But as you looked at him, the longer the silence stretched on. You began to notice things.

He had dark purple bags under his eyes, he looked tired. His shirt was uncharacteristically baggy. He was heavy on his feet, his eyes had never been particularly bright but these eyes were almost dead-looking. The more you noticed how awful he looked, the more you grew concerned.

How long were you out?

“Ryo?” You called, hoping to get his attention. His eyes looked forward unseeing, like he was lost somewhere. You almost got scared that you weren't going to be able to find him.

Hearing his name from your lips seemed to pull him out of his haze, he clears his throat. His eyes fluttering close and he takes a deep breath.

“2 weeks.”

Two Weeks?!

That was crazy, impossible even. The wound had been bad, sure, you lost a lot of blood, sure. But two weeks? With Shoko’s RCT and all the medical supplies this school had in its back pocket. You were confused as to why it had been two weeks. You felt like you were missing something, something important.

“What do you remember?” He finally turns to you, his eyes still abysmally dim.

You allow yourself to think for a moment.

It was just like any ordinary mission really. Gojo had given you the rundown of what to expect, grade level, how many curses all that. It was simple enough, a few grade 4 and 3s, and a single first grade. Something you had handled before.

You remember Ryo’s incessant nagging about letting him come along, but you were adamant that you could handle this. That it wasn’t anything crazy and you would be back sometime tonight.

He had always been a worrier, you teased him by calling him a worrywart a lot. It was met with sheepish grumbles that never failed to make you giggle. But this time he was more serious about coming with you, which you couldn’t quite place how it made you feel.

A part of you felt warm and gooey inside that he cared enough to want to put himself where he could protect you, another part of you felt almost offended. Did he not think you were strong enough to complete missions without his help?

The thought grated against your ego and caused the hard push back. You had something to prove now, and look at where that got you.

After getting there, the old mall was just that, an old mall. You could feel the dark energy of the cursed spirits, but nothing suffocating. It felt like every other mission. You exorcised the lower-grade curses and moved to find the grade one. You had found it with a practiced ease, being a second-year Jujustu student meant you had plenty of experience exorcising curses.

You remember fighting with it, it being a bit stronger than you had anticipated. But you still weren’t worried. You were more than confident in your abilities to take this ugly fucker out. Until it sliced you. All the confidence oozing out of you along with the still warm blood now pooling on the floor. After that, you went into autopilot and exorcised it as quickly as possible. The memory of how exactly you did it was hazy with the blood loss.

Recounting all these memories to him, he listened intently. He stared unnervingly quiet as you continued on and on about how relatively normal the mission was. Nothing out of the ordinary besides your nearly life-threatening wound, well you guess it wasn't nearly now.

“How was I out for so long? I don't understand.” You asked, and once again he stilled.

Something was wrong, you could feel it in the way he was acting, in his body language in the way he was talking to you.

Suddenly he sighed, pulling the chair you assumed he was once sitting on closer to the bed. He sat down, placing his head in his hands.

“You died.”

Everything stopped, it felt as if time itself stood still. Died? That's impossible, if I died then how the hell are you sitting right here in front of him. Carrying on conversation, your heart beating peacefully in your ribcage. Your lungs expanding and deflating just like everyone else's.

Theres no way you actually died.

Not giving you a chance to respond, or even fully process his words. He continued,

“When I got to you, you were barely alive.” He takes a deep breath, attempting to stop the onslaught of memories. Feeling the blood seeping through his fingers, watching your skin lose its color.

Inhale. Exhale.

“Gojo warped us back here, but something with the warp and your wound. It made you worse, and you died,” He sounds choked, you swear you can see the tears glistening in his eyes, “you died in my arms.”

The last part was barely a whisper, if you weren't already listening so intently you would've missed it.

You stay silent, shocked into the state. You felt almost numb, hearing the recounting of your own death. Knowing he had to experience this made your heart clench, guilt pooling in your belly. You were the one too stubborn to let him come along, you were the one hellbent on proving yourself worthy.

Worthy of him.

He didn’t look at you as he recounted, he couldnt bare it. Everytime he saw your face all he could see were the wide, dead eyes. He sometimes could still see the red staining his hands, even after the countless times he scrubbed at them. Scrapped under each fingernail to rid himself of the remnants of you.

“So how did I..?” You trailed off, confusion still poking at the back of your head. Swimming its way through all of the other emotions you were experiencing at the moment.

If you really had died, something you still find hard to actually believe, how did you end up not dead? You didn’t think revival was possible. Unless Gojo had some secret cursed technique he wasn’t telling anyone about. But with that ego of his, something made you doubt that that was the case.

“Even though you were dead, Shoko continued to do her RCT on you. She healed your wounds and continued to pump cursed energy into you. It was a long shot, but since you hadn’t been dead that long, it somehow got your heart pumping again. And then it was just a waiting game to see when....if you were going to wake up.”

At the end of his talking, he finally turned to face you. You really got a good look on how hed been doing these past weeks. The bags you saw were much worse, deep purple. They almost looked like bruises, his eyes were bloodshot. Whether that be from crying or lack of sleep it was hard to tell.

In all the time you knew Ryomen, in all the years of ‘friendship’. You had never seen him like this. He was a rough around the edges type of guy. He had a nasty temper and an even nastier mouth. And when he was angry he was sure to make it everyones problem.

He said some mean things and done some mean things. Many would consider him heartless, or cold. But, ever since you had first met him something told you he was different. You noticed the way his eyes shined when his little brother, Yuuji, rambled on about some new manga he was reading. Or when Fushiguro would be able to land a hit on him during training.

How his lips would curve up ever so slightly when on the receiving end of one of Panda’s and Inumaki’s pranks before swiftly chasing them out with harsh words and loud screams. You noticed that his center, his heart, was gooey. It was soft with the care of those he deemed worthy of his love. And that was a hard battle to win within itself.

But seeing him completely debauched and destroyed, only made the guilt grow and fester. It began boiling in your gut, you willed yourself not to focus on it. Not right now, you didn’t need to worry him any more than he clearly already was.

Silently, you moved forward on the bed. He opened his mouth to reprimand you but was stopped by your frail hands making contact with his cheek. You cupped it there, and he had to will every bone in his body to freeze, to stop himself from nuzzling into your palm.

“I’m here now, I’m okay. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, trying so hard to push aside your struggling emotions to comfort him. To be there for him. All of this pain and suffering was your fault, you had overestimated yourself, and had been too prideful. And this was the consequence of it.

His hand shakily grabbed onto your wrist, closing his eyes with a deep breath.

“I know.”

authors note: I LOVE THIS PART !! i really love the way it turned out and i think it sets up for the rest of the story really nicely :)) with the whole RCT thing, dont come for me if its not accurate this is an AU so it works cause i say it does LOL but anyway, thanks so much for reading !! I hope you guys enjoy :))

67 notes · View notes

swmmi-kti · 1 year

Text

Run!

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x Fem Slayer Reader.

Part Two: here Part three: here

--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--

Kyojuro seemed to have it all together. You somehow had survived final selection with him and on the off chance you saw him he always seemed to be three steps ahead. So it really was no surprise when you had learned of his status. Kyojuro Rengoku, the flame hashira. It had a nice ring to it.

Really you only got to see him ever so often but when you did it was a nice form of catchup. He was always eager to tell you about what he’s done and what new slayers he may have met. Even what new food he may have tried.

Rarely ever did you guys stay longer than one meal always off to slay demons. But that didn't mean that there wasn’t something there. Something in your very being that you knew all too well.

Sometimes when you had bid Kyojuro goodbye you wondered to yourself did he perhaps feel that way too? Or was it something silly that you rather not whisper into the world. Maybe too scared that hushed winds would travel and let him know about your harboring feelings.

However on the rarest occasion he had invited you to join him to a feast while he spoke of his most recent adventure.

You had only ever only heard rumors about a boy who traveled with a demon and to know that the Hashira were okay with it well it eased your mind a bit. He spoke loudly, eating without a care in the world as he continued to tell you about Tanjiro. The Umai’s sprinkled here and there didn't startle you as it had done sometimes before.

He turned to your hushed figure as he finally looked at you since the last time you spoke. Always as stunning, always breathtaking.

Rengoku men are always known to love only one woman.

“So Tell Me! Any New News You Would Like To Share With Me?” He spoke loudly now, crossing his arms over his chest.

You looked at your bowl that was somehow full. You figured you just enjoyed Kyojuro’s time so much it made the hunger go away. So without thinking you handed the soup over before placing your finger on your chin as you began to think.

“Well there’s not much going on with me if ill be honest Kyojuro-San” you said nodding a no as Kyojuro tried pushing your meal back towards you. “If im honest i think ive come closer to death than i had imagined”

That Made him stop before he had even begun to eat. Eyes now full of concern as he looked at you. “Death? What even do you mean”

“Don’t look at me with such worry. You are closer to death than i” You stated blankly. True, being a slayer meant he was always out to possibly die. Being a hashira never made it less threatening. However you laid your head on your hand as you stared at the ceiling to recollect your thoughts.

“There was a demon which I thought I could handle but I ended up more beaten than I had prepared myself for. When morning came and the demon was no more I collapsed. It was by some miracle one of the citizens found me and nursed me well.” You said now fully looking at him. Noticing he had not at all taken even a sip from the soup.

“Are you not hungry?” you asked, looking at him.

He looked down at his plate. Seeming that he had lost his appetite while speaking with you. “You could have sent for help you know?”

“I know but it was my mission. Besides it is an honorable to die for the cause we fight for. I wouldn’t mind dying so long as the demon i died to also dies” You said eating the leftover shrimp tempura you two shared.

“Id prefer you didn't die at all”

“I do too”

“I mean it Y/n” He spoke bowl now being held by both his hands as he looked down to it. Could he be brave? Would he be able to tell you all that runs wild in his mind? “I’ve been imagining things with you”

“What?” you asked a little bit shocked

“I know its foolish and i know your my friend and all. But I imagine that I met you, us as humans and there are no demons. Sometimes i imagine that we go on dinner dates. I imagine coming home to you on days where its just a little too much for comfort” He swallows down hard

The sudden awareness he has of your eyes on him made him swallow down the shyness he never knew he could have.

“I picture Meeting you here, an everyday normal woman who has stolen my heart” He said the blush now appearing as he tried averting your eyes, laughing a bit “Isn’t that ridiculous? Tell me it so”

You couldn’t even help how hot you suddenly felt. How aware you were about how close you two sat. How maddening it was to be so close to him physically and emotionally.

“I think its best if i go Rengoku-San. Thank you for the food However i hope to see you sometime soon”

Your gaze didn’t meet his. Your face red and running impossibly hot, His eyes, his demeanor shifted that like a child who just got scolded. Did he really mess this all up?

However with a shaken breath you smiled at him. Holding his empty hand and placing the small hair pin that held it all together. Your laugh was shaken as you looked at him, his bewildered eyes staring at you

“A promise Rengoku-san! I must go!” You spoke rather loudly before running out of the establishment. He knew this hair pin was very special to you. It held a lot of meaning he knew as much.

With a reddened face he placed it safely besides his scabbard held tight by his belt.

Paying for the food he left quickly too. His heart was beating ever so fast. He hoped he would see you very soon.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #x reader #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny kyojuro #demon slayer kyojuro #kny rengoku #kyojuro rengoku #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader

192 notes · View notes

bluejaysandblackbats · 8 months

Text

Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn't die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 8/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Eight: Pain in the Head

I hung out with Tim's friends and worked on character sheets. I spent three hours there before I told Tim I had to go. I had a great time. Don't get me wrong. But I was nauseous and didn't want to be sick at his house. Ives planned on sleeping over at Tim's place, so I didn't have to feel bad about leaving him home alone. I got a ride to the manor, and Bruce sat on the porch waiting for me as soon as I arrived. "Where have you been?" Bruce asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, Bruce... Can I go inside now?" I asked.

"You're pale," Bruce replied.

I wanted to lie down and nap, but I could tell Bruce didn't plan on letting things go. I didn't have the time or energy to explain myself, so I did what any reasonable teenager would do. I made myself throw up and burst into tears. "Jason," Bruce sighed before helping me to the family room. He couldn't accuse me of anything while I was sick. That and throwing up stopped the onset of a migraine.

"I'm so sorry, Bruce-."

"It's fine... When is the last time you took-. I swore I wouldn't ask you that," Bruce replied.

"I didn't think I needed them anymore... I thought I'd been feeling better lately," I replied. Bruce felt my forehead.

"I've been home for two days, and you-. Jason, I'm sorry for walking out on you. I wasn't trying to hurt you... I'm-. Our bond is different from the bond I have with anyone else. I'm holding on for dear life with you... And I know I'm losing you. I feel like you're slipping away when I look at you.

"I can't take the thought of knowing you suffered because I chose to leave you alone that day. Jason, you're so precious to me... And I'm terrified that if I let you talk about what happened, you'll say what I've been most afraid to hear," Bruce confessed. I wasn't in the mood for a serious conversation, but he was finally willing to speak about what happened to me.

"I don't hate you... And I don't blame you for what happened. I've been trying to tell you all this time," I paused, "I'm sure Dick told you I wanna die sometimes... But you don't realize what I have to experience every day."

Bruce exhaled through his nose. "Go ahead..."

"I wake up under debris almost every day... And then I lie about my nerve pain, which I know everyone can see. By the time I get to the mirror, I'm already so disheartened by the countless efforts I've made to appear normal that I barely notice my scars anymore. When I shower, my skin still hurts like the burns are fresh, and I want to cry, but if I do, I'd never get anything done. Then, I come down for breakfast... And sometimes the medications I'm on make me so sick I don't want to eat, but I know I'd be worse off if I didn't.

"Then I go to school, and you wouldn't believe what they say about me," I swallowed hard.

"Jason-."

"But I endure it because I know I have to... What I can't stomach is the isolation. Don't ice me out, Bruce," I begged. Bruce sighed.

"I don't know how-. I can't pretend that almost losing you didn't change the entire way I had to look at our life. You can't be Robin anymore, Jason, and I feel awful for having to take that away from you," Bruce whispered.

"You're saying our, but you mean mine. How can you expect me to step down from being Robin when you can't even walk away from being Batman?" I asked.

"Jason, it's been over a year, and you're still healing. I can't risk putting you out in the field again. Gotham needs Batman-."

"Bullshit," I snapped.

"Language-." "Oh! Go to hell! I told you about all my issues, thinking you would finally see me, and I realized you're no better than the rest of them!" I yelled. I couldn't help but get mad. I should've seen it coming. He'd never had the guts to say it, but I knew this was his way of shutting me out for good. It pissed me off. I threw my crutches and hobbled upstairs.

"Jason! Jason, you can't-!"

"Screw you!" I yelled as I went to my room. I slammed the door and packed my bag. I almost forgot I felt sick. He saw me as weak. That was the worst thing he could've ever opened his mouth to admit. He was no better than everyone that gaped and gawked at me. I was his walking tragedy, and I'd be damned if I let him treat me like a ghost.

I started packing with tears in my eyes. I wanted to get out of there before I said something vile. "Jason, don't be like this! Please come out and talk to me-."

"Bruce, I need to get the hell away from you before I say something I regret!" I hollered. "And I guarantee that if you follow me, I will never come home! Leave my crutches and get away from me!" I sat down and texted Tim. He was the only person I could trust at that moment. I asked him to come to get me, and he texted me immediately. I waited in my room until Tim texted me, and I left my bedroom. Bruce left my crutches in front of the door and retreated like always. I slung my duffel across my body like a messenger bag, hoping it wouldn't throw me off balance.

I swung the door open and left it like that. Tim took my bag and opened his mouth to ask if I was okay, but he kept quiet. It was for the best because I was in a particularly heinous mood. I fell asleep in the car and woke up in Tim's guest room. He was on the floor with Ives, eating pizza. My head throbbed, and I felt sicker than I did earlier. Ives glanced at me and got up to turn the lights down. "Sorry, were we too loud?" Ives questioned.

"No, I-. How long have I been out?" I asked.

"Thirty minutes... Maybe an hour," Tim answered, "Do you need an aspirin?"

I pressed my palms against my eyelids. "No thanks... Tim, do you-? Who carried me in?" I asked.

"We both did. Tim got you out of the car but wasn't strong enough to get you up the stairs. It was a team effort," Ives answered, "You're heavier than you look." I let out a soft chuckle despite the pounding in my head.

"Know how I asked you to move in with me?" I questioned. "Could it still work if it were the other way around?"

"You wanna live here?" Tim asked. I nodded. "Alright." I was shocked. I thought he'd say no, but he looked thrilled.

59 notes · View notes