#and they were just.. filling with blood. as if they had a horrible accident and the blood was even pooling out of their eyes like tears | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

asdfghjklmals · 1 year ago

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ACCIDENTS✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff, angst. no smut. mentions of pregnancy, sex, injury, blood, and abortion. suggestive comments. WORD COUNT: 4.5k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, boyfriend!gojo, pregnant!oc, established couple.

SYNOPSIS: during oc gojo girlfriend's yearly check up with shoko, she finds out she's pregnant. how will satoru act when he finds out? AUTHOR'S NOTE: i did make some changes to the beginning compared to the preview that i posted! thank you @mdnxghtjj for staying up late with me to try to make up scenarios on how oc gojo girlfriend would be pregnant by accident lol my google search probably thinks i'm the pregnant one. here is the official start to my version of dad!gojo and the official start to the baby gojo chronicles 🥹 REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, instead please do!

your least favorite time of the year was when shoko had everyone visit her office for a yearly check up. that was a full examination for everyone.

“here, pee on this.” shoko handed you a pregnancy test. you looked at her with confusion written all over your face.

shoko saw your facial expression and reassured you, “it’s just part of the protocol, (y/n). would you rather pee in a cup? last time you told me you hate peeing in cups because you don't want to accidentally pee on your hands.”

“fine... it’s gonna be negative anyways.” you said confidently. you took the test from her hand reluctantly and went to the bathroom.

as shoko gave you a thorough examination, you couldn’t help but peer at the white and blue pregnancy test sitting in the corner next to the sink. it wasn’t your first time using one, but it was always strange taking one. especially for no reason.

"alright, you're done. have you been feeling better since you caught that cold?" shoko asked as you hopped off the examination able. she went back to the sink to remove her gloves and wash her hands. you had caught some horrible cold or stomach bug over a month ago, and it left you with fever, chills, and non-stop vomitting for weeks. you were so sick that you told satoru you wanted to write a will to leave everything to megumi and tsumiki because you didn't think you were going to make it.

“yeah. i haven’t been that sick in so long. i was vomitting like every other hour. satoru thought he was going to die when i wouldn’t let him sleep in our bed. he slept in tsumiki's old room for two weeks, poor guy. i didn't want him to catch whatever it was,” you chuckled at the thought of your 6’3” boyfriend sleeping in a baby pink decorated room.

“(y/n)…”

“yeah?” you turned to face shoko.

shoko asked you cautiously, “are you on birth control?”

suspicion filled your eyes as you peered at the amber-eyed doctor, “yeah, i’ve been on birth control since i was 21… why?”

“your pregnancy test came back positive.”

you stared at the digital screen. the words “pregnant” screamed at you inside your head. were you really pregnant? this was something you never thought would happen, at least not right now.

“that’s not possible, shoko.” you laughed nervously in disbelief.

“according to the test, you are.” shoko looked confused. as a doctor, she was determined to figure out how one of her bestfriends, who was on birth control, got pregnant. she studied your charts and medical records as she chewed on the tip of her pen.

you tried to retrace your footsteps for the past month. you had a very specific routine, and you took your birth control every morning after brushing your teeth and washing your face. your package of pills sat in your bathroom drawer just below the sink as your daily reminder to take your birth control.

shoko folded her arms and cleared her throat, “uhm, i hate to ask you this because i truly don’t want to know, but when was the first time you and gojo had sex after you got sick?”

you thought it was a strange question because wouldn’t shoko want to know when the most recent time you were intimate with satoru was?

“well…” you looked at her sheepishly, a face full of embarrassment, “we had sex right when my cold symptoms went away.” it would’ve been uncomfortable for your aching body, so you made satoru wait. and yes, he complained about it for two weeks.

shoko massaged her temples as she realized what the problem was, “god, (y/n). remember you were literally throwing up all the time when you were sick?”

your jaw dropped, “does that mean i threw up my birth control…?”

“that could’ve been the case, but if you throw up 1-2 hours after taking your birth control, your body might not have the chance to absorb it. your body was technically missing dosages since you were vomiting almost every day for a week…” shoko explained.

you stared at the doctor. your heart was racing and your mind had a million thoughts running through your head. you couldn’t believe that you were pregnant. there was just no way. as much as you and satoru joked about having kids, you knew deep down that satoru wasn’t ready. and you didn’t think he’d ever be. but you were okay with that. you had spent most of your young adult life raising two kids, so you felt like you weren't missing out on much.

“please, don’t tell satoru.” you quietly pleaded with shoko.

“don’t tell gojo-sensei what?” megumi asked from the office door. he dropped his backpack and his gym bag on the floor, walking towards you and shoko.

your eyes widened as you discreetly shifted the pregnancy test under your thigh, “hi kiddo, don’t tell gojo-sensei that i bought him his favorite kikufuku as a surprise.” that was a horrible lie, you're usually better than that.

shoko cleared her throat to try and change the subject, “hi megumi! you’re early for your exam.”

“yeah, i finished jujutsu practice early.” he replied back to shoko as he reverted his gaze back at you, “(y/n), what’s going on?”

“nothing, i just finished my exam. shoko says i’m as healthy as a horse!” you laughed nervously.

“you’re pregnant, aren’t you?” megumi asked you straightforwardly, “you were complaining about your boobs hurting the other day, you felt sick yesterday morning at breakfast, and you complained about being bloated at lunch today. not to mention, you’re always throwing up in my bathroom at home.”

you stopped to think about the symptoms that megumi just listed. you didn’t even consider that being pregnant was the reason why you were experiencing those symptoms. you always thought you were in the clear with those stupid tiny birth control pills.

you sighed, lifting your thigh to grab the pregnancy test. you showed it to megumi. “satoru doesn’t know… and we’re going to keep it that way.”

“why don’t you want to tell him?” he asked you, “are you guys fighting?”

“no, we're not fighting. this whole thing was an accident because of my cold last month... and to be honest, i don't know if your sensei even wants kids.” you smiled halfheartedly at megumi.

“i won’t say anything.” megumi promised. he couldn't imagine satoru gojo not wanting to reproduce and to have mini-satorus running around to terrorize the jujutsu world.

you warned him, “that means you can’t tell tsumiki either, i don’t want her to rush back home from her study abroad program just because of this.” (read 'wherever you are' here)

megumi reached his pinky out to you and you locked yours with his, both of you kissing your thumbs to seal the seal. he wrapped his arms around you in a warm hug. you needed that comfort right now.

“if i do the math, you’re about 5 weeks pregnant, (y/n).” shoko said, “so stop taking your birth control if you want to keep your baby.” megumi’s green eyes peered over at you, interested in what you had to say about that.

“what if i want to get an abortion…?” you asked quietly. megumi’s eyes now wide in horror. 'how could you even think about abortion?' he thought.

shoko sighed, “i think that’s something you should have a serious talk with gojo about. it would be unfair for him not to know.”

you weren’t sure if you should feel excited, nervous, or scared. you were excited because who wouldn’t want to have a child with the love of their life? you were nervous (and scared) because you didn’t know how satoru would react if you told him. you were scared because your unborn baby would be a target to all rival clans, inheriting all of yours and satoru’s enemies. not only that, but also a target for all intelligent curses as well.

later that night: the gojo/(l/n) household

“how was your yearly check up?” satoru asked as you poked at your medium rare steak that you probably shouldn’t be eating now that you were pregnant. he watched you as you rolled a roasted baby potato around your plate with your fork.

“it was fine. healthy as a horse.” you recycled your joke from this afternoon. satoru furrowed his brows, he sensed something was wrong. you were fine this morning, so what happened between the time you went to work and the time you got home?

“are you sure…?” he started to pry.

annoyance starting to rise in your tone. you kissed the back of your teeth, “i just don’t feel well… and the steak is too rare.” you lied. you always ate your steak medium rare. rareness did not bother you, the cow could still be mooing and you’d eat it.

“i can always put it back on the grill, babe. want it medium?”

“well-done, please.” you mumbled, “thanks, sweetheart.”

satoru picked up your plate, extremely confused on why all of a sudden you would eat a well-done steak. it was very unlike you. he kissed you on the cheek to try to ease whatever it was that was bugging you. you wanted to tell him so badly that you were pregnant. you never kept secrets from each other. you watched him slide on his slippers, opening the door to the patio with catoru following behind him. he slapped your steak on the grill again while looking out at the tokyo skyline.

during this time, you wondered what kind of father satoru would be. you imagined he would be the carefree type of dad. he would be the fun, loving, lenient father while you were the one to lay down the rules. that’s how it was when you were both raising megumi and tsumiki. your eyes started to well up with tears at the thought of satoru possibly becoming a father. was this the pregnancy hormones getting to you?

you quickly wiped your tears as satoru made his way back into the apartment with your steak. he closed the door behind him and sat down next to you at the dining table.

“why were you crying just barely?” he asked softly. he could sense your cursed energy wavering from the patio. he knew every mood you were in just because of how your cursed energy looked to his six eyes.

“i wasn’t crying,” you said adamantly, “my eyes were itchy.”

satoru understood that whatever was bothering you, you didn’t want to talk about it. normally, he would pry and pry until you would finally tell him what was wrong, but tonight, he felt that he shouldn’t. he cut your steak into bite-sized cubes for you, just like how you always did before you started eating.

you caressed his cheek with your hand, giving him a soft smile in appreciation.

“should we go get some ice cream with the kids tomorrow? i promise i’ll treat.” he asked, knowing that ice cream always made you feel better after a shitty day.

“yeah. i need that dairy-free double scoop of chocolate ice cream right now.” (read ‘seeing red’ here)

the next day

you had taken half a day off to meet satoru, nobara, yuji, and megumi in shibuya to grab the ice cream that satoru promised you last night. you and satoru walked next to each together as your spirit birds flew overhead. the students were following behind you with their ice cream cones.

“i still can’t believe gojo-sensei has been dating (y/n)-sensei for over 10 years.” nobara hissed at her two partners as she watched you and satoru walking together in front of them.

“why is it hard to believe? sensei is a pretty good looking dude.” yuji said nonchalantly.

megumi sighed and explained, “that’s not the point, itadori. the point is that (y/n)-sensei is way out of his league.”

“you seem pretty close to her, fushiguro.” yuji pointed out, noticing that megumi always defended you no matter what the topic was.

“i kinda owe her and gojo-sensei my life.” megumi grumbled, “they took me in when i was five.”

nobara looked at him, wide-eyed, “you mean… they adopted you when they were 18?! and (y/n)-sensei is basically like your mom?! oh my god! he needs to put a ring on her immediately for all he puts her through!”

megumi knew the reason why you two weren’t married yet. it was for your safety, not because gojo-sensei didn’t want to. he would’ve married you right after high school graduation if that was the case.

you giggled to yourself as you scooped chocolate ice cream to feed to satoru. he grabbed the spoon from you, licking it clean.

“their conversation is so funny.” you said to him.

“are you listening to them with your shikigami? you’re so nosy.” satoru playfully chastised you.

you called back your birds with your hand signal as they flew closer to you and satoru. they seemed to be flying happily as no danger was around. “your students are wondering why we aren’t married yet.”

“you already know why.” satoru put the spoon back into your ice cream.

“you don’t want to make me a target.” you recited back to him. satoru gojo believed that if you were to marry him, you would be a target and gain all his and the gojo clan’s enemies. that would make you the achilles' heel to the strongest sorcerer known to man.

“it’s not like people don’t know that we’re together.” you rolled your eyes, “i can take care of myself, satoru. i'm pretty sure the kamo clan is out for my head as we speak.” (read ‘love at first fight’ here)

“i know you can take care of yourself. i just think it’s safer this way.” he shrugged.

“but i want to have kids too. i’m not getting any younger.” you inserted, hoping he’d take the bait to talk about having kids.

“what are you talking about? we have two kids, megumi and tsumiki.” satoru said nonchalantly, you wanted to face palm your forehead to how oblivious he was.

digging deeper, you added, “i want kids with white hair and blue eyes running around.”

“hate to break it to you sweetheart, but they won’t be getting blue eyes. there can only be one six eyes in a lifetime, you already know that.”

“what about your white hair?” you tip-toed to ruffle his hair as he laughed, grabbing your hand.

“what about your black hair and beautiful green eyes that i love so much?” satoru grinned at you, “if you want, we can practice reproducing later tonight?”

you threw an ice shard at him, hitting his infinity. “no inappropriate jokes around the students, please.” you chastised him as he winked at you. you scooped another bite of ice cream into your mouth as you frowned.

“so feisty… i’m in for a world of trouble if our future kids ever get your attitude.”

“if that’s the case… you better get ready.” you muttered under your breath.

satoru didn’t hear your comment. “hmmm? what’d you say?” he asked.

“nothing, eat your ice cream.” you replied, quickly shoving another spoonful in his mouth.

"ouch, brain freeze." satoru grimaced.

one week later

time was ticking as the baby in your stomach was growing. you had to tell satoru you were pregnant.

your morning sickness was horrible. you didn’t want satoru to catch onto anything, so whenever you felt sick, you ran to the bathroom near megumi’s room across the apartment instead of your master bathroom. (see the apartment layout here)

“babe?” satoru found you in the guest bathroom, hurled over the toilet, dry heaving. “are you okay?” he crouched down to pull your hair back, “do we need to go see shoko?”

“no, it’s fine.” you pushed him away, “leave me alone, please. i don't want to you see me like this.”

“and why would i leave you alone? there's clearly something going on with your health again.” he comforted you, rubbing firm circles on your upper back.

after your morning sickness session in the bathroom subsided, you miserably dragged your feet back to your bathroom to brush your teeth. satoru leaned against the bathroom door frame, arms folded. you turned to face him.

“don’t you have a mission today?” you asked him, hoping that he'd leave soon.

“yeah, i do. but don’t change the subject. what is going on? are you sick?” satoru asked. the past week you had unintentionally become distant and avoided having deep conversations with him. he felt the cold shoulder from you emotionally and he hated it. he was starting to get fed up.

“no. i’m not sick.”

“do you have some type of terminal illness or something that you’re not telling me about?”

“no, satoru!” you scoffed in disbelief. he was so smart and cunning in battle, how could he not put 2+2 together for something as simple as this?

“do you want to break up with me? is that it? are you tired of me?” he asked quietly.

how could he ask you that after 10 years of putting up with him?

“no!!!” you shouted at him.

“then what is it, (y/n)?!” he finally snapped after a week of trying to be patient, “what are you hiding from me?” satoru’s voice raised an octave as he got more frustrated as the conversation was going nowhere.

you couldn’t handle it anymore. you clenched your fists, water started pouring out of the apartment faucets and showers from your raging cursed energy.

“i’m pregnant!” you shouted back at him.

satoru lifted his blindfold, his blue eyes widened, jaw dropped. it was as if time stood still for him. the only thing he could hear was the sound of your angry breathing and all the faucets flowing throughout the apartment.

“what…?” satoru whispered, “that can’t happen. you’re on birth control.”

“that’s what i thought too. but shoko confirmed it.” you told him as tears started to form on your long dark lashes.

“damn it… damn it. damn it!” satoru hissed. he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing off his blindfold and throwing it at the bathroom counter. “why didn’t you tell me?”

his reaction hurt your feelings, “because i didn’t know what your reaction would be and clearly you’re not happy about it.”

“how far along are you?” he asked, ignoring your comment. he walked towards you to stand beside you, putting his hand on top of yours. you flinched as you took your hand back to wipe your tears away.

“6 weeks. it’s early enough that i can get an abortion.” you sniffled.

“just… don’t make any decisions right now.” he said. it sounded like he was begging you, “we can talk more when i get back from this damn mission.”

satoru leaned towards you. he grabbed the side of your head to kiss your temple, “i love you, (y/n). i'm not mad at you.” he whispered.

satoru’s mission

it took everything in satoru not to leave you behind at the apartment alone after the way he reacted. why did he have to be assigned such a lowly mission? any of the students could’ve handled it, so why did it have to be him out of all people and out of all the days?

he teleported to shinagawa where it was reported that a curse was terrorizing an elementary school. it looked deserted when he arrived at the front gate.

satoru raised two fingers to put up a veil, “emerge from darkness, blacker still. purify that which is impure.”

he walked into the school, his six eyes sensing the curse right away. it couldn’t have been more than a grade 2 or 3. he heard a bloodcurdling scream, leading him to the gymnasium.

“please help!” a woman’s voice screamed and begged as the curse towered over her. satoru teleported in front of the woman and swiftly blasted the curse away with sheer force, exorcising it immediately.

“are you alright?” satoru turned to ask the woman. he stopped dead in his tracks.

she was pregnant.

“please sir, save my baby.” she begged as she was bleeding from her abdomen. her hands and arms shielding her womb protectively. the curse must’ve already injured her before satoru arrived. he kicked himself for his late arrival. he could’ve prevented this if he came earlier.

he lifted the injured woman in his arms, “don’t worry. i’ll save you. nothing will happen to you or your baby.” he promised as he teleported to the closest hospital.

tokyo shinagawa hospital

“it looks like the patient and her baby will be fine. she was close to full term. if she lost any more blood, her and the baby would’ve died.” the doctor reported back to satoru as ijichi stood next to him, documenting everything for the report that he would have to fill out later.

satoru was deep in thought about how this woman begged him to save her baby and not herself. it was the fact that she so selflessly put her baby first that really got to him.

he thought about you and what you would’ve done if you were in that woman’s shoes. he knew that you would protect your baby with your life because he would do the exact same thing. satoru felt his protective instinct skyrocket now more than ever.

satoru’s heart felt heavy. he immediately felt guilty knowing that you thought he didn't want to have kids and how hard this must have been for you the past week. he wanted to be there for you, but he was terrified of the unknown. would he be a good father? would he be able to protect this baby? and were you even happy being pregnant with his child?

“ijichi, can you take care of the rest? i have somewhere i need to be.” satoru asked impatiently.

ijichi complained, “are you sure you’re not just trying to pawn off your work to me?”

“there are two people who need me right now.” satoru waved as he teleported back to the apartment. the two people in question? you and the baby that was growing in your belly.

back at the apartment

you felt satoru’s cursed energy appear as he teleported back into the living room. he walked towards you and hugged you tightly, surprising you.

“can’t. breathe.” you said as your face was squished into his firm chest.

he immediately let go of you, scared he hurt the baby by embracing you so tightly.

“i know what you're thinking, the baby is fine.” you said as you hugged him back even tighter in return, “did you know the baby is the size of a sweet pea according to my baby tracking app? so they wouldn't have even felt that hug.”

“that’s pretty small.” he said, chuckling softly. he paused to take a deep breath, he then looked down at you, “can we talk?”

you nodded as he guided you back to the couch, sitting down in the soft white cushions as he sat on the floor in front of you, holding your hands.

he looked you in the eyes, “don’t get an abortion, (y/n).”

you blinked twice, “well, that’s not what i was expecting. what changed your mind?”

“i never said i didn’t want kids, babe.” satoru said defensively.

you mumbled as you folded your arms, “you made it sound like you didn’t. and your reaction when i told you i was pregnant earlier today doesn’t support that statement.” avoiding eye contact with him.

he grabbed your hands again and explained his point of view, “i was upset that you hid it from me. and i was surprised because you were on birth control which is supposed to prevent pregnancy. and i was really fucking scared.”

“scared? the satoru gojo scared of a baby the size of a sweet pea?” you emphasized. he furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“i had a come-to-jesus moment during my mission.” he started to say, “(y/n), i’d do anything for you. just like you would for me. but now… we can’t put each other first anymore. we have to set our priorities elsewhere.”

“what do you mean by that?”

“we have to think of this baby and how this baby will always come first now.”

you were quiet, processing what satoru just said. yours and satoru's lives were going to drastically change. this baby would be your number one priority in life. you and satoru spent the last decade caring deeply for each other and being each other's prime concern, now this baby would come first.

you realized that he was terrified of having this baby be the center of his universe, knowing that the baby would be defenseless without you and him. satoru wanted to protect this baby with his life, just like the mother he saved today who wanted to save her baby's life.

being a parent meant that you would always have your heart living outside of your body, and that would make you vulnerable to extreme pain, but also let you experience indescribable love. and that was something you were willing to risk experiencing in life with satoru.

“you're right, babe. i agree.” you said softly, you held his cheek in your hand. “you really want to do this? you really want to be a dad?”

“hell yes i want this.” satoru said confidently, holding your hand against his cheek.

“how dare you get me pregnant, satoru gojo.” you jokingly reprimanded him.

he kneeled forward into you as he kissed you softly, “sorry, it was an accident.”

EXTRA:

“babe! show me this baby app you’ve been using this past week.” satoru demanded playfully as he pulled you into his lap. you grinned as you grabbed your phone to pull up the ‘what to expect’ app.

“so! baby gojo is the size of a sweet pea or a nail head. and they’re .25 inches small.”

"baby gojo... i like the sound of that." he smiled at the thought. he nodded, a signal for you to continue.

“it says that baby gojo’s face is forming and taking shape! i hope they don’t get your big head...” you laughed as satoru frowned.

“my head is not big!” he defended himself, “moving on.”

“it says that the heart starts to pulse around this time and we should be able to hear a heartbeat at my first pre-natal appointment…” you said with a smile.

“i’ll make sure i request that day off.”

“you better! or i’ll have a word with principal yaga.” you smacked his chest playfully with the back of your hand. “baby gojo supposedly looks like a tadpole with a tiny tail. and i won’t feel any movement for awhile.”

“so you can’t feel it move or anything?” satoru asked curiously.

“no, but i’m feeling these pregnancy symptoms.” you complained, “my boobs hurt, my heartburn is worse than usual, and the morning sickness is killing me.”

“okay, so basically, don’t touch your boobs anymore, carry extra tums for you, and hold your hair for you when you throw up in the morning. got it.” satoru noted.

you glared at him with your emerald green eyes, “please stop talking.”

wanna know how the rest of oc gojo girlfriend's pregnancy goes? read the next chapter, ‘milestones’ here.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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jyoongim · 6 months ago

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~ BLOOD & BLISS ~

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

—————————————————————————————————

It has never crossed your mind that your husband, your Alastor, was a killer.

You decided to meddle and found that many of Alastor’s clothing was missing.

All replaced with new clothes.

You also noticed that your shovel was missing and so were his hunting knives.

Where were these things and why were they missing?

Alastor had a habit of keeping the newspaper, so you went through each one that talked about a missing person or killing.

Every one occurred when Alastor was gone to work.

Your mind started to whirl. You thought back to when you visited your mother

”A killer is right in your backyard”

You had played it off as your mother just being concerned for your well-being…but now that you thought about it…

What was Al doing when he was at work?

You always listened in on his radio shows,but due to your pregnancy you haven’t really listened in.

You thought about when Alastor was home.

No killings.

But you remembered the bags filled with red liquid that you saw in the cellar.

That liquid was blood you were sure omit, but Alastor had reassured you that it wasn’t.

The bags mysteriously disappeared and now thee cellar is locked.

He said it was a deer carcass but the texture of the blood wasn’t right.

Then the stew.

A normal stew that your husband had made.

But the meat wasn’t right.

And Alastor was a damn good cook, but it was something off about the meat.

And now his clothes, that were hidden were covered in blood.

You stood in the kitchen. You looked around.

Nothing was out of place. It looked as it always did.

was that always like that?

Your backsplash was quartz, you should know you picked it out, but this backsplash wasn’t.

quartz doesnt stain….marble does.

You took your finger and dug into the cracks of the stone, feeling for any residue of something.

You pull your finger back and deep red stained your finger.

You looked at it and tilted your head.

Was it….only one way to find out.

You popped your finger in your mouth and gagged.

Blood.

You were shaking.

why the hell was blood in your kitchen?

——————————————————————————————

All Alastor wanted to do was take a nice hot shower and cuddle with you. Work has been chaotic with police reports and everyone wants to ask their opinion on the radio show.

He entered the house and shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, you were no where to be seen and it was quiet.

He decided to take his chances to see if you were in the kitchen, he didnt smell dinner, but that didnt mean that you werent in your little domain.

His eyes landed on the laundry cluttered on the table, his brows furrowing seeing the clothes he had meant to dispose.

“Darling?” he called; the sound of footsteps could be heard upstairs and finally you appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

You didnt greet him like usual. You stood guarded.

He felt his shackled rise but he remained calm.

A charming smile stretched across his face

“No hello kiss? Im wounded dear”

you frowned “Al…you want to tell me why when I was washing clothes that i found blood stains?”

You walked to the laundry and lifted out the spoiled clothes that were horribly washed and stained.

Al stiffened but composed himself “Had a bit of an accident that all dear”

Your eyes narrowed “An accident? then explain why my backsplash was replaced”

He tilted his head “replaced? Dearest the backsplash ain’t been changed its the same”

You waddled over and pulled the tile you had dug out, revealing a red stained wall.

”I had this kitchen made exactly to my liking. I had materials used that were durable and easy to clean. Quartz doesn’t stain, so tell me. Why is my wall stained?”

Alastor was quiet.

”This is blood Al! Why is there blood on my wall? In our house?”

”I skinned the deer in the kitchen. I didn’t want you throwing a fit,I know how much you love your kitchen dear, so I tried to clean it, but it was already too much and stained so I just did a slight home renovation.”

You shook your head “Youre lying” Alastor stiffened.

”What?”

”Youre lying. You’ve never skinned anything in my kitchen. Al…” you huffed, rubbing your belly for comfort.

”I’m a lot of things, but stupid id not one of them. You think that just because I hate the outdoors that I don’t know what deer blood looks like? This color is wrong. The meat in the stew was wrong and those bags…what was in those bags in the cellar?”

Alastor was quiet.

“Things in this house is missing. The shovel, the knives, your clothes have been replaced and my backsplash is different. What the hell-”

”It doesn’t concern you”

You blinked, stopping your rant.

”e-excuse me? Doesn’t concern me? Doesn’t concern me?! Alastor we are having a baby! How are we suppose to raise a child if you’re a killer?!”

You immediately stiffened.

oops.

Alastor’s eyes darkened “what did you say doll?”

Your stomach lurched.

Your heart was pounding in your chest.

”Y-Youre a killer…its…its you.”

He laughed.

A deep sound coming from his belly as he twirled in a circle in disbelief.

”Oh doll! That’s a good one. You have been reading the papers again huh? Oooh that’s a good one” he shook his head as he chuckled.

”Baby…that is one big accusation.”

He approached you slowly.

”A few bloody clothes, some missing items, a rancid stew and you think I’m a killer? What you think I’m the Bayou Killer?”

His smile fell.

”that’s a wild imagination you got dear”

Alastor took a deep breath as he settled his hands on your round hips “I’m no killer doll. I just got roughed up by a couple of goons who didn’t like what I had to say on the radio. That’s all it is”

He leaned down, almost like he meant to press his lips to your forehead in a reassuring kiss.

”there’s a body in my flower garden” you whispered, making him pause.

He blinked, a shaky chuckle escaping him “what?” He pulled back

”there’s a body in my flower garden.” You repeated, you felt a pain in your stomach, a hand going to rub the babe inside you soothingly.

”there’s not a body in the garden ” Alastor said, firmly.

”Then go look”

He sighed and went to make his way to the back porch and you followed behind him and once he stepped onto the porch, you quickly shut the door and locked it.

Alastor spun around. “Dearest?”

You were breathing hard as you stood on the other side of the door

”I am going to report you”

He frowned, hand wrapping around the door knob and jiggling it “baby this isnt funny…open the door”

You shook your head, he began to violently jiggle the handle, you backed away “no. If you wont tell me, then the officers will”

you disappeared into the house, leaving him banging at the door, his voice booming as he rammed against the door.

You had locked every door to the house and hid the keys.

Your back was aching and your stomach was twisting.

You could hear banging and Alastor’s voice echoing as he shouted at you to let him inside.

You ran upstairs and locked the door.

You paced.

Your head was spinning, your breathing was harsh and your stomach was hurting.

You groaned as you rubbed your belly

”its okay its okay” you whispered to your baby, rubbing your stomach.

A loud bang was heard throughout the house making you jump awake.

What the hell….

You quickly got up, grunting as pain shot through you.

It was dark now, the house pitch black and quiet except for his footsteps as he moved through the house.

”baby!” Alastor called.

You were sweating and in pain.

You groaned as you made your way to the bathroom to hide.

You heard a loud hacking noise, wood crunching and heavy footsteps.

You winced as you sunk into the tub.

it was quiet.

too quiet.

The doorhandle to your bedroom jingled, turning before a knock was heard.

You stayed quiet.

”Dearest open the door” you head him say, muffled through the door.

You said nothing.

How the hell did he get in house?

A loud bang to your door knocked the hinges.

A low grunt was heard and again a thud.

Over and over he rammed against thee door and then it was quiet.

You felt a pressure and then wetness coated your thighs. Your eyes widened and you gasped as clear liquid dripped from between your legs.

oh no…

WHACK!

Your head shot up.

WHACK!

The sound of something hitting the wooden door echoed.

”Youre making this harder than it needs to be” Alastor grunted.

WHACK!

An axe.

He was hacking at your door with an axe….

“I really did it for you dear.”

Wood crunching and cracking.

”You weren’t meant to know. No. Not my. Sweet wife.”

THUD!

WHACK!

CRACK!

Your fingers dug into the smoothness of the tub as you felt pressure in your hips.

The sound of wood cracking met your ears and then footsteps.

You let out a low grunt, forehead pressing into the cool tile.

A low, disheveled huff was heard and the door to the bathroom flung open and there was Alastor, holding an axe and breathing hard.

”You weren’t meant to find now. I made sure that you weren’t meant to know. Youre the only good thing that I have and I would be damned if….dearest?”

Your hair was sticking to your forehead and your face was contorted in pain.

Alastor threw the axe down and rushed to your side, face concerned.

”what is it? What’s wrong?”

Your eyes clenched as you grunted.

Alastor’s eyes looked you over, blood was slowly pooling into the tub.

You groaned as a wave of pain shot through you, leaving you breathless.

”The baby…the baby’s coming”

—————————————————————————————————-

Sorry it took me so long guys! BUT the long awaited chapter is here! Whew! What a whirlwind!

@nightshadelm @th3-st4r-gur1 @amurtan @peachedtvs @southern-bayou-beau @karolinda007-blog @simphornies @yourdoorisunlocked @purplecatsandhearts @thewinchestah @alastor-simp @alastorsgirl48 @alastorsfawn @alastorsaries @alastwhore666 @hazelfoureyes @okay-babe @altruisticalastor @certifiedcrybabyyy @vexendoe @charlottemorningstarsdarling @dennsfz @smoky000 @prosciuttosblog @popamolly @zombiesnips-blog @ilikemyteawithmilk @alastors-altruist @alastors666creampie @catherine1206 @catmunist @preciousbabypeter @cxrsedwxrlds @voxsmalewife @cutiebimbo @littlebluefishtail @dickmastersworld @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorthirsty @callmeoncette @theangeliclibrarian @evedenn @doctorswife221b @sweet-radio @nkirukaj

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #human alastor x wife reader #human alastor x reader #human alastor

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sonotpattismith · 19 days ago

Text

my blues for my brain (megumi fushiguro x reader)

word count: 8.7k inspired by: fate by grey reverend content: angst, fluff, mentions of car accidents, hospitals, invisible string theory, me pretending gojo is still alive for my mental health

“Please don’t leave me here.”

These words were ones all too familiar to you, in an all too familiar scenario. The difference was, it wasn’t you clinging to life with blood soaked skin. Instead, it was the strange boy that had just raced out of the over-priced cafe that you worked at to make a dime during your summer semesters.

You could recall the exact, desperate words falling from your own lips as a good samaritan crouched in front of you just a few years back, your fingertips just a hair away from death’s door. In an act that would serve to veer you off any sense of understanding for your purpose in life, that person didn’t leave you to die, despite the chaos that was ensuing around him. When you woke, you had more questions that filled your prayers than thanks.

Why did you live if others had died the same fate that was allotted to your own life? There was meaning to everything that happened in one’s life— at least that’s what everyone told you when you woke in your hospital bed. What was the meaning of this though? Were you meant to find a new purpose in your life; was this meant to steer you in the right path? If so, why did you end up working a minimum wage job as you scraped up enough money for a college education you still had little to no clue what you wanted to do with yet?

Up until that day, as the pale stranger’s desperate grip on your hand slowly weakened with his waning consciousness, you were sure you had failed whatever god saved you all those years ago. As the man before you opened his eyes for the briefest of moments to beg for your mercy, you thought meaning had finally found you.

“You’d think for a café in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Tokyo that there would be a little more excitement in here every once and a while.” Your coworker droned as she stared at the front door, which hadn’t opened in exactly forty-one minutes. Who was counting though?

You shouldered into her with a half-hearted smile as you made yourself a mid-shift drink. Today’s choice happened to be a matcha latte, though you often switched it up for the sake of having something new to look forward to everyday. Peering back at her and then toward the hustle and bustle just outside the shop, you sighed dejectedly. What meaning did standing behind this counter for hours a day have? Perhaps you should be enjoying the life that was granted back to you so fortunately, you thought as you trailed an absentminded finger down the scar that ran down your arm.

Snapping from your haze, you offered her the most encouraging smile you could muster in the midst of your perpetual existential crisis.

“Staring at the door isn’t going to make customers appear.” You scolded, and she peered over at you with a bored glare, to which you chuckled lightly. “Quick, pick a syrup, and we’ll put it in my matcha to see if we’re horrible at our jobs or not.”

At this, an amused smile stretched across her face, and she quickly straightened up to look over the options. As you two bickered over which of you had more abysmal taste than the other, the rare chime of the front door interrupted your concocting session. The both of you snapped up like dogs who just heard their food bowl rattle in the next room.

Appearing slightly out of breath and frantic, a man stepped into the café. There was a determination in his step as he rushed over to the register and rested his hand atop the counter to lean in with purpose. There were prominent, pink scars lining his face, so large in size and quantity that you wondered what kind of trouble someone seemingly your age could have gotten himself into already. Forgoing your growing curiosity, you mustered up a welcoming smile.

“Welcome! Can I get—”

“Did you see anything strange passing around here just a second ago?” The two of you spoke at the same time, but he paid no mind to your cut-off question as he stared expectantly at you.

Your mouth slowly shut, brows furrowing in the process as you tried to recall anything that had happened in the last five minutes, but the only memories that surfaced were you trying to decide between lavender or hazelnut syrup.

“Maybe we have, but we reserve the right to withhold answers for paying customers, actually.” Your coworker chimed in with a mischievous smile, clearly just desperate for any business on this slower-than-usual day. The raven-haired man sighed indignantly.

“This is serious—”

“So is our no loitering policy.” You had to repress a tickled smile at her persistence. She smiled triumphantly as he grumbled and frantically fished a few spare yen from his pockets and slammed them on the table.

“A black coffee!” He growled his order at her before returning his attention to you, a scowl set deeply on his already intimidating face. Beside you, your coworker mumbled something in reference to his boring order before working to prepare it. “Now what did you see?”

You almost felt bad after the fact, that you could only pathetically shake your head at his question.

“I’m sorry, I really haven’t seen anything. What are you looking—”

A frustrated grunt from the disgruntled man cut you off, and before you knew it he was storming out of the café. An amused scoff escaped you as you watched him leave, and your coworker leaned against the counter beside you.

“Just our luck— we ask for entertainment, and we get crazy.” She commented with a shake of her head. “He left his coffee, too.”

This made you tear your gaze from the door to the lidded, brown cup she set down on the counter. His yen were still sat messily before you, and you suddenly felt bad for having coerced him into buying something. Peering out to see him speaking to a few pedestrians just outside the shop, you grasped the cup and exited your post behind the register.

“Hey!” You called out, ignoring your coworker’s questioning as you poked your head out the door. Sighing when he appeared too preoccupied to notice your calls, you prepared to try one more time as he continued his frantic trek through the bustling city. “You forgot your—”

The blaring sound of a truck’s horn sliced through your attempted good deed of the day, and you could only watch in stone-cold horror as the offending vehicle slammed into your distracted customer. His uniform-clad body jolted across the street with a velocity you had trouble keeping up with. Your eyes wouldn’t allow you to stop following the movements no matter how hard you tried though. The steaming cup in your hands slipped from your trembling fingers before splattering across the ground in tandem with the stranger’s blood across the street.

Vehicle’s horns were blaring behind the truck that had come to a screeching halt. Behind you, your coworker rushed out, shouting words you couldn’t process in your shell-shocked state. You watched with vast, unblinking eyes as his body finally rolled to a stop, and he twitched out in agony. With unwavering precision, you could swear you knew the exact pain that was coursing through his body at that moment; the fear that must be setting his wounds ablaze. It wasn’t that long ago that it was you, laying in uncertainty, at the mercy of whoever might have felt your life was worthy enough to try saving.

So, you ripped your arm out of your coworker’s frantic grip, and your legs raced toward the scene. The truck driver was stumbling out of the driver’s seat, a horror-stricken expression etched onto his features as you dropped down to your knees beside the barely conscious man. Blood coated the corners of his lips as he continued to weakly sputter up the substance.

“Oh my god,” You babbled mindlessly, hands hovering over him as you contemplated what to do. As if reacting to your voice, his head swayed in your direction, but his eyes remained shut. He was pale— dare you say even paler than he was when he walked into your shop just moments ago. “Call an ambulance!” You shouted at the truck driver, who seemed to be too shell-shocked to spring into action himself. Upon hearing your frantic order, he immediately began fumbling with his cellphone.

Turning your attention back to the stranger, you noted he was now struggling to pry his eyes open, a deep navy color squinting back at you.

“Can you hear me?” You questioned, fingers twitching with the urge to turn him on his side in an attempt to prevent him choking on his own blood. You didn’t know what was broken though, so you opted to carefully tilt his head toward you. He only stared deliriously up at you as blood began to ooze from the side of his mouth. “Is there someone I can call?

Megumi’s mind was in a state all too familiar to him though. It clung on the border between life and death, and, in the past, it was a constant struggle of whether or not it was worth fighting to get through. Now though, he was desperately grasping at the straws of his consciousness. It was his first mission by himself after the trauma his mind and body had endured during the Culling Games. After everything he’d gone through, all the battles he’d fought and the mental strife he’d worked through, this couldn’t possibly be how he left this world. A meaningless and pitiful death— is that what he would have to show for when his friends asked what became of him in the end?

“Hey, hey, stay awake, okay?” Megumi was pulled from his wallowing thoughts by the frantic voice above him, and it sounded as though he was under water, though it wouldn’t surprise him if there was blood in his ears as well. His lips parted, but all that left them was a strangled groan. Your fingers, still warm from his black coffee that had just been clutched in your hand, squeezed gently at his cheeks as though to rouse him from sleep. They slipped from his face and fell into his hand, giving his fingers a soft squeeze. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Weakly, you felt his trembling fingers grasp back at your hand. You found yourself smiling encouragingly at him, though you doubted he could see it. The sirens of an oncoming ambulance had you looking behind you, and you could see the flashing lights in the distance cutting across the traffic. From your peripheral, you saw your coworker racing out toward you, pushing through the small crowd that had formed.

“He just— it came out of nowhere. He’s—”

“He’s suspicious as fuck.” She finished for you, concern pooling in her eyes as she grabbed your free hand in an attempt to tug you up. As you stumbled a bit, you felt the stranger’s cold hand grasp at your wrist, turning your attention back to him. “Let’s go, the ambulance is already here. This guy was probably caught up in some seriously shady shit.”

She was right, and you knew it. It was evident from the grotesque and oddly placed scars that lined his face, the strange uniform he donned, down to the odd questions and abrupt departure he had graced you with before the accident. Still, your memories of meeting the exact same fate kept you empathetically tied to his side as you peered down at him apprehensively. He opened his eyes once again, and it appeared as though he was mustering every last bit of strength he had left. His fingers wrapped around your wrist desperately as his lips parted to plea with you.

“Please don’t leave me.”

It was a cry that was so uncharacteristic of him, but he only knew one thing at the moment. The warmth of your hand and the soothing sound of your voice was the only thing tying him down to the land of the living. Without your grounding, he felt he may slip away, resigned to the fate he had just fought so valiantly to avoid.

The plea clutched at your heartstrings as the paramedics rushed to the scene. They were bustling around you, asking you questions while simultaneously shouting foreign terminology at each other as they immediately began tending to the situation at hand. Your eyes remained locked on the stranger’s as they slowly drifted shut, and he offered one last desolate squeeze to your hand before darkness seemed to consume him.

“Ma’am,” The gruff voice of the paramedic beside you pulled you from your trance, and it was then that you noticed the tear that slipped down your cheek. Blinking it away, you looked up at the man, still shell-shocked. “Do you know this man?”

“I…” Your words got caught in your throat as his final plea rang in your ears. Glancing up, you saw your coworker on the other side of the sea of medical personelle, shaking her had at you with wide eyes. In your palm though, the limp, cold hand of the stranger still lay. “He’s my partner.” You lied in a haze, watching as they prepared to carefully shift him onto a stretcher.

Your lie earned you a ride in the ambulance beside him, staring in an absent haze as the team moved like ants around him, peeling his lids back to check his eyes with a tiny light, cutting his shirt down the middle to check his vitals, prying an oxygen mask over his parted lips and expertly starting an IV on his limp arm despite the rustling of the fast-paced vehicle. They attributed your inability to answer any questions to your shock, which was partially true, but you also feared revealing your white lie to them with the wrong responses.

Police were awaiting you at the hospital when the ambulance came to a screeching halt. They questioned you about the accident and what you had seen. You complied easily, however couldn’t help but grow nervous once the staff at the hospital asked you to fill out paperwork on your ‘partner’s’ behalf.

The pen in your hand shook as you stared down at the first blanks.

FIRST NAME

LAST NAME

Of which you knew neither.

“Is everything alright?” The soft voice of a compassionate nurse questioned as she typed away at her computer, likely awaiting your information to complete his admission.

You looked up at her patient eyes, and you couldn’t hold back your lie any longer, explaining to her what had actually happened. Her slow nod made you feel guilty, as she thanked you for your honesty and explained the paperwork would be different now as they had no way to identify the stranger. He had no identification on him, and the cellphone they’d found in his pocket had shattered in the midst of the accident.

Perhaps you should have gone home after you’d given them all the information they needed, but you stayed in the small waiting room, anxiously bouncing your leg and chewing on your lip. As hours seemed to pass by, you’d perk up each time someone would come in, hoping any of the visitors would be coming to claim the stranger that was currently being tended to in the intensive care unit. They each came and went though, and you remained the only one awaiting him under the fluorescent lights.

Your eyes were beginning to burn when the nurse you had spoken to hours prior walked carefully up to you, that compassionate smile everpresent on her lips.

“I know there’s no relation, but I thought you’d like to know his condition is relatively stable as of right now.” She offered, causing you to sit up in the stiff, plastic chair.

“Thank you— really.” You sighed breathlessly to which she nodded in return. For a moment, you wondered if you were overstepping by asking for anymore details. Casting your eyes down to your lap, you chewed pensively on your lip. She seemed to take note of your bashful apprehension, smiling knowingly.

“You’re currently the only contact we have for him. There wouldn’t be a problem if you wanted to pay him a visit.”

So, with your fingers wringing nervously at the hem of your shirt, you followed the nurse through the unit and to the room he was occupying. Though you had seen first hand the damage the accident had done to him, you still had to bite back a shocked gasp upon seeing the various monitors he was hooked up to, as well as the clear tube running into his mouth and down his throat. You had endless questions for the god-sent nurse, but she had already mentioned that her shift was ending, so you didn’t want to hold her any longer.

“He hasn’t woken up yet, but they can still hear you, you know?” She explained with an encouraging smile as she leaned against the doorframe. Tearing your gaze from the various lines and tubes connected to him, you peered back at her in shock, but the nurse only nodded affirmatively at you. “It helps. Especially since he’s by himself.”

Following her polite goodbye with a promise that she’d be back on shift tomorrow morning, you were left alone with the stranger. It was silent in the sterile room, only the persistent beeping of his monitors filling the space around you. A shiver ran down your spine as if the below normal temperatures of the hospital were finally catching up to you as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

“This would’ve been a lot easier if you had stayed back to drink your stupid, black coffee.” You began hesitantly as you circled the raised bed. Pursing your lips, you slowly sat down on the chair beside him. Toying with the end of the blanket that hung off the bed, the ragged rise and fall of his chest caught your attention, and you wondered how much of it was thanks to the tube running down his throat. “I wonder if you ever found what you were looking for.”

As an assistant came in to check on him, you peered awkwardly down at your lap while they checked his vitals. Once done with the routine checks, you watched her move the blanket back over him and gently adjust certain chords to settle more comfortably around him. It made your heart warm that they seemed so attentive to his comfort, even if he wasn’t conscious enough to notice. You thanked her quietly as she departed from the room.

“You know the nurse’s assistant was the only one in the room with me when I first woke up after my accident.” You explained to the unconscious man before you. A fond smile settled onto your lips. “My parents had stepped out for a while just to get some food. Just their luck, huh? He held my hand while I was waking up so I wasn’t all by myself. It meant the world to me.”

It felt as though Megumi was trapped right back in the barrier between his mind and his soul— helpless to find an escape. This time around though, he had more of a will to fight. There was no way he had gone through everything and exhausted his mind, body, and soul, all to meet his demise because he didn’t look both ways before crossing the damn street. Another part of him wondered if this was fate granting him mercy. Perhaps if he didn’t die here, hooked up to all these tubes and machines, his cards held something sacreligious— a gruesome and grotesque death rather than the comparably mundane one that had befallen him. After all he’d been through, maybe this was blissful; the only happy ending that could be promised to him.

As he lay in that strange veil of unconsciousness though, as if at the bottom of a pool, looking up and barely able to see the sun’s light poking up from the surface— someone was there with him. Your voice sounded as though it was just above the feet of water that separated him from life, muffled but still familiar. It was the same voice that had coaxed him into trusting his body to let go, not knowing whether or not it would be strong enough to reemerge again.

His brows furrowed— that he could feel, and he willed himself to swim up to the surface as the soft hum of your tired rambling filled his ears. Why were you here? Why were you still here? The sorcerer needed to know, and the urge pushed him to keep struggling against the surface pressure that weighed him down.

You weren’t sure how long you had sat there mindlessly babbling to the unresponsive man. Wariness was beginning to weigh down on your eyes and shoulders though, likely because you had been up since four that morning to prepare for your shift. If you stopped talking, you thought you might flop over and pass out yourself. He couldn’t be by himself when he woke up, you determined.

Some staff had come in and dimmed the lights in the room what seemed like hours ago, so they weren’t so harsh in your tired eyes as you tilted your head back to stare at the ceiling while spewing out anything that came to mind.

“My coworker finally texted me, you know. She said the only weird thing that passed by the shop today was you. Are you in some kind of gang? It would explain the uniform and all the…” Your rambling slowly died out as the sound of sheets rustling filled your ears. In an instant, you were sitting up properly in your uncomfortable chair. His hand twitched against the sheets, and you breathed out in anticipation as you watched his face contort in discomfort. The chair you had been occupying for hours slid back as you stood up abruptly to get a closer look. “Hey— can you hear me?”

Megumi forced his eyes open with what seemed like all the energy left in him. He half expected to be in Shoko’s infirmary with his friends hovering obnoxiously over him, or even in his room where he’d awake in his bed and realize he’d dreamt the entire scenario. The blinding, white ceiling tiles above him were different from the ones he’d grown accustomed to over the years though, and the dull ache radiating through his body served to remind him that he certainly hadn’t been graced by any reverse cursed technique.

Those mysteriously dark eyes stared incredulously up at the ceiling, and you could see the confusion begin to morph onto his features. All too soon, that confusion shifted into panic as he tried to speak, only to be met by the grueling realization that there was a tube shoved down his throat.

“It’s okay!” You quickly reassured, placing a careful hand on his shoulder to redirect his attention. With the little he was able to move, his eyes shifted as fast as he could manage to look at you, wide in subtle horror. You took your eyes off him for a second to push the nurse call button to alert them of his waking. “You were in an accident. You’re in the hospital.”

As he peered down at the state of himself, he only seemed more unsettled. You figured it was the mangled state he was left in that freaked him out, but what was going through his head was the mission he’d left behind, along with the curse that was likely still running rampant. Still, his inability to speak paired with his limited mobility certainly didn’t do much to settle his nerves. You watched him become more agitated as he attempted to move each limb to no avail, likely thanks to the arsenal of drugs coursing through his veins.

“It’s alright, you’re okay.” You insisted, peering out the open door to see if the nurse was nearby. Looking around the room, you left his side for a moment to quickly snatch up a marker from the white board on the wall. You uncapped it and placed it in his hand, securing his weak grip around it before offering your arm. “Is there someone we can call? What’s your name?”

As he stared incredulously down at your offered up arm, your questions were a jumbled mess in his disoriented mind. All that kept running through his head were questions of who the wide eyed, eager girl at his bedside was, and why her voice had been the only thing he could recall from his supposed accident. Megumi’s fingers trembled as they fought to lift up the marker. A muffled grunt escaped him as he tried to get a grip on it, and it clattered to the floor along with the last string of his patience.

The sound of the marker clanking against the squeaky clean floor rang in his ears, taunting him in his weak state. Just as he began his attempted thrash against the scratchy sheets, the nurse finally stepped in, picking up her pace a bit as she saw the state of agitation he was in. In an instant, she was dialling someone for help, though you couldn’t be bothered to listen to her, desperate to get any answers out of the stranger. Once again, you offered up your hand to him, placing his fingers against your awaiting palm.

“Trace it on my hand, something—”

“Don’t push him.” The nurse urged as more staff members seemed to flood into the room. She was maneuvering over to the line of his IV with a syringe as she attempted to deescalate the situation herself. “He wasn’t supposed to wake up; if he becomes too agitated he can injure himself further.”

“Wait—” You attempted to stop her as she pushed what you assumed was something to calm him down into his line. Logically, you knew it was in his best interest, however your gnawing curiosity had you hoping he would stay conscious for the least bit longer to provide any answers. It only took seconds though, as the drug flooded his system, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to settle back against the flat bed. His eyelids moved torturously slow as he blinked hazily, and you knew the opportunity had found its way to evade you.

“I-I’ll wait outside.” The dejected reminder fell from your lips, though you were sure the staff were too occupied to pay you any mind. Just as you moved to get out of their way though, the stranger’s weak fingers laced around your hand. With the waning of his already deplorable strength, you felt the pads of his digits press against you, urging you to stay. Looking up with a quiet gasp, you found his half-lidded eyes on you, a desperation in them that seemed so misplaced on his hard features— even if you didn’t know him.

Megumi thought maybe if he held onto the now familiar presence that had been beside him all this time, that it would be the one thing to keep him alert enough to continue pushing through the haze of his unconsciousness. Whether it was your continuous, honied voice that pulled him from his drug-induced coma, or the fact that he’d pulled himself out of the depths of chains much stronger than the pharmaceuticals currently in his system, he didn’t know. What he did understand, was that your gentle fingers brushing against his knuckles was practically the only thing he could still feel, and it brought him a comfort he was not prepared to surrender just yet if he were to be pulled under again.

So, you clung on to his hand as his eyes slowly shut, bleary irises focused on you till the very end as the staff bustled around the room and spoke with the doctors. Even as you felt your own lids growing heavy that night in the darkness of the intensive care room, you couldn’t bring yourself to untangle his fingers from yours. Unable to fight the gravity that weighed down your body to remind you you had been up since four that morning, your head slumped forward and rested on the edge of the bed beside your conjoined hands.

You hadn’t the energy to think about how odd you may have looked clinging to a complete stranger as you snoozed. Instead, the embarrassment hit you when the kind nurse from the previous day, seemingly having recently clocked in for her shift, gently woke you the next morning with a prepackaged breakfast sandwich. With burning cheeks, you used your free hand to frantically smooth your disheveled hair down and wipe at your under eyes that were undoubtedly smeared with yesterday’s makeup before accepting the food with a shy but grateful smile.

You waited for her to finish her morning checks on her patient before tearing into the sandwich as your rumbling stomach was demanding of you. In the meantime, she updated you on his condition with jargon that you tried hard to keep up with, but it was offensively early in the morning. Nodding along, you suddenly wished you had paid more attention to all those hospital dramas your roommate used to watch incessantly. A relieved sigh escaped you when she departed, letting you know to press the call button if you needed anything.

“You’ve really gotta get it together soon, dude.” You commented through a mouthful of bread as you peered over at him thoughtfully. At the very least, you thought, his hand seemed warmer than it had yesterday, and you could only hope that was a good sign. “This hospital food sucks.”

Tossing the wrapper into the small trash bin nearby, you huffed out a sigh. Leaning in closer to him, you hesitantly pushed the thick, black hair away from his face, brushing it gently back against his scalp. A gulp forced its way down your throat at the sight of the thick scars that lined his eyes, and you found yourself carefully brushing against them with baffled curiosity.

“Who are you?” You whispered, and for a moment you could swear his brows twitched into a furrow.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s bad luck to cheat death?” A smoothly amused voice beckoned from the doorway.

You instantly flinched away from your hovered state over the stranger, the hand that was grasped in his tightening in surprise as you looked up. Leaning against the entry was a tall man that nearly took up the entire door frame. His hair was a striking white that almost rivaled the blinding lights of the hospital room. Though concealed behind dark-rimmed sunglasses, you caught a glimpse of his startling blue eyes as he seemed to tilt his head in amusement at the scene before him. What captured your attention most of all though was the uniform he donned— one nearly identical to the one the mystery patient had been wearing during the accident.

“Geez, after all you’ve been through, and a truck is what takes you out?” The man’s quip was this time directed at the John Doe, shaking his head with a smile as he slowly strolled into the room.

“You know him?” You breathed out in relief, watching the fond expression on the man’s face as he scanned over the injuries.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, he’s my student.” He responded casually, hands shoved into his pockets as he circled the bed curiously. “I assumed he was just ignoring my calls. Go figure, huh?”

The casual lightheartedness in his tone only served to confuse you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that of all the people that came to claim this stranger, his teacher was the first? On top of that, how was he not brimming with concern upon finding the student he seemed so close with in intensive care? Your eyes skimmed down the strange uniform on his long body, lingering just a tad too long on the swirled button on his chest.

“So, what’s the deal? You a girlfriend he didn’t tell anyone about?”

Snapping up from your trance, you felt your face heat at his accusation, and you quickly shook your head. The corners of his lips twitched up in amusement.

“I saw the accident happen.” You explained, allowing your gaze to drift back down to the patient. The edges of your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you recounted the events of the last twenty-four hours, and you were struck by the absurdity of it all. “He… he asked me not to leave— you know, before he passed out.”

“So you didn’t?” His question sounded more like a statement, you noted. You nodded with a soft sigh. Peering up at the teacher with a pursed lip, your free hand reached up to graze the oddly-shaped scars on your upper arm.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just… was in a similar accident not too long ago. So, I empathized with him— that kind of fear, you know?” You felt the need to explain it to him, as you were sure you looked like some sort of stalker at the moment. The man didn’t respond, peering pensively down at you for long enough to make you squirm in your seat. “I guess I should go now.”

A wave of unnecessary guilt crashed in your chest as you slowly stood from the chair you had been in for countless hours. Giving once last, lingering regard to the unconscious man, you gulped down the confusing lump in your throat and smiled softly.

“I hope you find whatever you were looking for.” You whispered, gently sliding your hand from his and placing it carefully over the blanket. Nodding respectfully at the man who had been silently watching the entire encounter, you began walking toward the exit. As you hand grazed the door frame, you turned around apprehensively to find the white-haired man already peering back at you knowingly. “What—What’s his name?”

With a fond smile, the man looked back down at his student as if to say we have a lot to catch up on when your ass wakes up before looking back at you.

“Megumi.”

His name rang through your mind in the droning days that followed your fated encounter. With every order you rang up, his frantic entrance replayed in your head. Each unfruitful study session paved way for the cinematic replaying of his awakening, projected onto your imagination over and over until it became your favorite film that lulled you into relentless, insomniatic nights.

You wondered if his condition had improved, if he had left the hospital, if he was wondering about the girl who he clung onto at his most vulnerable. As the days dragged on, and you wistfully poured out a customer’s black coffee, you realized you had left those answers behind in the hospital room that morning. Still, the more logical part of your mind told you it was for the best given the concerningly curious circumstances of his accident. Additionally, the equally mysterious man that had come to claim Megumi only fanned the flames of your suspicions.

Despite the impending sense of danger that came each time that supposed teacher’s words rang in your head—

“After all you’ve been through, and a truck is what takes you out?”

You weren’t sure if it was your concern over his recovery, or the gnawing curiosity about the life he led that had you walking back into the hospital almost a full week later. Whichever it was, it was strong enough to push down the nerves fluttering in your stomach as you walked up to the familiar reception front desk. It was the same woman that had you fill out the paperwork when he was first admitted, and, despite it taking her a bit, she remembered you.

“Listen, I’m really sorry, but the process isn’t as easy now that someone signed his paperwork. I can’t disclose any information to you.” She explained apologetically as you slumped forward on the cold desk. There was a certain sorrow in her eyes as she watched you sigh in defeat.

“I mean— could you just tell me if he’s okay?” You pleaded, already dreading the thought of having to leave that day with no answers.

“I wouldn’t even be able to confirm or deny that that patient is still in our system.” It seemed it was upsetting her just as much to deny you, and it wasn’t your intention to make her job anymore difficult than it was. “I wish I could have been of more help to you.”

You nodded in silent understanding, offering a grateful smile nonetheless as you pushed off of the desk to take your walk of shame out of the building. Perhaps it was a sign; the thought fleeted into your mind on what seemed like the endless trek to the door. This denial was the closure you needed to move on from this bizarre, chance encounter that happened to mimic one you witnessed firsthand just years ago. In stark terms, whatever seemed to be lying at the bottom of the mysterious well that was Megumi— wasn’t your business.

In the same notion though, maybe it was fate that that oddly large, white haired man was strolling into the very doors you were trying to exit, coffee and a paper bag clutched in his causal grip. Your mouth opened and closed as you looked up at him, unsure if he’d even recognize you or care enough to acknowledge your being there. As if sensing your silent stare, he glanced up from his phone for a moment, doing a small double take upon seeing you.

“Pick up another straggler?” He teased, sliding his phone into the pocket of his uniform with a known smirk. His head tilted toward you. “What was it this time? Just so happened to be around when they mysteriously fell out a window?”

Despite the fact that his seemingly playful nature was making you feel more comfortable, you still couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your face. Attempting a breathless chuckle, you smiled nervously at the man.

“The hospital should start paying me commission, huh?” You quipped with apprehensive amusement. A short but genuine laugh broke through his teasing facade, and he nodded for you to walk with him. Pushing past the slight shock of how easily this was going for you, you stumbled after him.

“I’m assuming you’re not here to see me?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you watched the bright tiles passing under your feet as you followed him through the hospital. Once again, you were hit by the realization that you were meddling in something you seriously had no business in. Still, the nonchalant man leading you through the hallways didn’t seem to have any sort of reaction to your curiosity.

“I’m really sorry if I’m overstepping, it’s just been kind of eating me alive.” You confessed with a halfhearted chuckle.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, our little overachiever isn’t in intensive care anymore.” He informed with an almost proud smile.

“Really?” You didn’t intend to sound so relieved, but it was an almost instantaneous reaction.

“Yuuup. Officially graduated.” He confirmed as he wiped mock tears from under his sunglasses. “Go see for yourself, his room’s right here.”

As he stopped in front of a cracked open door, you hadn’t even realized the man had been leading you to pay Megumi a visit. Glancing up at him unassuredly, you didn’t have a chance to ask if he was sure before he was waving you off nonchalantly.

“Actually, if you don’t mind taking my stuff in there.” The teacher requested, not giving you a chance to protest as he shoved the coffee and bag into your hands. “Forgot my phone in my car.”

Your brows furrowed for a moment, cause you could have sworn you had just seen him slip the aforementioned phone into his pocket just as you ran into him. There was no time to question it though, because in an instant, his freakishly long legs were traversing him back down the way you came in. With a barely noticeable huff of disbelief, your gaze drifted to the cracked-open door in front of you. You shook your head before pushing in anyway, trying to be mindful of the nearly overflowing coffee cup that was desperately trying to spill onto your hand.

“Shit.” You muttered under your breath with a flinch as you felt a scalding drop offend your skin.

“You’re not Gojo.”

“Shit!” You repeated with a start, posture jolting up to face whoever it was that damn near just sent you to the afterlife.

What you hadn’t expected to see was the very awake and very alert Megumi sitting up in his hospital bed. His mouth was free of the tube that once restrained it, though you could still hear the after affects of it in the rasp and crack of his voice. In fact, the only thing he appeared to still be connected to was an IV pole and what looked like a heart monitor.

You could have killed the tall stranger, whom you presumed was the Gojo character he was talking about, for not thinking it important to warn her that Megumi was no longer unconscious before you waltzed into his room so nonchalantly. In truth, you expected to drop by, see with your own two eyes that the man hadn’t succumbed to his injuries, and be on your merry way.

“Ow! Fuck,” You were babbling at this point, pacing around for anywhere to put down the damned coffee cup that had just scalded your hand in tandem with your startled jump. The black haired man watched you silently, almost moving to get up to help you before he remembered the brace that wrapped his right ankle. “I’m so sorry— I had no idea you were awake.”

Your frantic apologies continued spilling from your lips as you ran your stinging hand underneath the sink that sat in the corner. You did it partly to soothe the pain, but another part of you just didn’t think you could face the poor man after completely invading his privacy.

“That weird guy with the sunglasses told me to come in, but then he just—”

“You were the one that stayed with me after the accident, right?”

Unable to gage the flat tone in his voice, you slowly turned the faucet off before finally turning to face him. In the time you hadn’t been looking, it seemed he had pushed the hair out of his face, and he was sitting up a little higher in the bed than you remembered. The book in his lap laid open and forgotten, his large, dark eyes focused intently on you.

“Uh, yeah.” You admitted softly, wiping your hands nervously on your bottoms. “You were outside the cafe—”

“I remember.” He stated flatly, making you bite down harshly on your bottom lip. Megumi was coming off as rude, guarded, irritated— he knew he was, but he couldn’t for the life of him gather his thoughts well enough to express the gratitude he felt for you. Even more so though, he couldn’t possibly bring himself to understand the curiosity and fondness that had been festering over the past few days in your absence.

A silence enveloped the room, and you suddenly wondered where the hell his teacher was— desperate for anything to break the tension.

“Well, I should probably go.” You finally mustered out, setting the bag and cup down onto the counter before turning to leave. “I-I’m glad to see you’re doing better. Sorry again to—”

“Wait,” Megumi urged, leaning forward so quickly it had him wincing with the pressure on his injured ribs. Your hair swayed as you whipped your head back at him in question, and you thought you saw the slightest pink hue on his cheeks. “Sorry, I’m… on a lot of meds. You don’t have to leave.”

His excuse made your brow slowly quirk up, an amused smirk barely concealed on your lips. Attempting to push down your amusement, you pursed your lips and glanced out the door for any sign of Gojo’s return. Upon seeing only the hospital staff bustling around, you slowly made your way over and sat down on the chair beside his bed. For a moment, the two of you simply stared at one another in silence, both of you unsure of what to say next.

In your brief study of his now conscious face up close, you noticed each sharp feature of his, from his straight nose, to the strong line of his jaw. Somehow, despite their dark hue, his wide eyes seemed to soften his face even if just minimally with every caress of his long, thick lashes against his cheekbones. You wanted to avert your eyes to stop the incoming flush in your cheeks upon the sudden realization that Megumi was incredibly attractive, but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away.

In a last ditch effort to preserve any dignity, you were grasping at straws to say anything.

“What were you look—”

“Why did you stay?”

The both of you began simultaneously, but his question made you clam up. There wasn’t malice in his tone, but a raw curiosity instead, an urge to understand. His brows were slowly settling into that familiar furrow you remembered seeing on his sleeping form constantly.

“I— You asked me to.” You answered simply, your voice quieter than it was before. A small huff of breath raced out his nose at your response.

“So you just do whatever strange men you just met tell you to do?”

“I think I preferred you when you still had a tube down your throat.” You laughed breathlessly, a little shocked at the sass that emanated from the seemingly reserved man. Almost immediately, he rolled his pretty eyes at your comment, but there was a ghost of a smile threatening to assassinate the cool-boy persona he had built up.

“Why did you stay?” Megumi asked again. There was more conviction in his rasped tone this time. Subconsciously, your hand creeped up to grasp at your scarred upper arm, and he followed the motion intently. His gaze narrowed slightly at the raised skin, a hint of recognition flashing in his eyes as he continued to stare.

“Two years ago, I was in a similar accident. There was all sorts of hell breaking loose in the city, so I didn’t think anyone would help me, you know?” You recounted with a sad smile, feeling your breath tremble at the memory. “I still don’t know how they got me out— some guy that was around. He almost ran right past me. I never got to thank him, or ask him how he got me out from under the car. I was already in the hospital when I woke up.”

He processed your words for a moment, blinking slowly down at your scar as the puzzle pieces seemed to click together in his mind. It sounded too familiar— just as the marks on your arms were ones he’d surely seen before.

“And that scar— you got it from the accident?” He assumed, though he already knew the answer. You nodded, looking down at it yourself and allowing the tips of your fingers to trace each curve. The corners of his lips twitched up on their own accord, eyes softening with the revelation that fate had always been on his side. “Kind of looks like a bite.”

There was a subtly bemused tone in his voice. You didn’t quite understand where it was coming from, but as you inspected the mark closer with this perspective, you hummed in fascination.

“I don’t really see it.” You mumbled.

In an instant, his fingers had reached out to fold gently around your arm. Your eyes fluttered up to look at him in surprise, but he was still focused on your mark with a soft fondness. Swiping his thumb over the raised skin, the pads of his fingers mapped out the familiar canine marks of his demon dog.

As if the feel of it ignited his memory, he could almost perfectly recall the sight of the large hound tearing through the wrecked car as Megumi exorcised the curse that had been at the cusp of the mangled traffic jam. Working on his command, the boy watched as the dog emerged, dragging a girl out of the rubble by her arm. The skin around the bite was already bloodied and bruised, but you certainly still had more of a chance of survival than you had before the damned bite.

At once, there was an understanding in his still foggy mind that the machinery of right and wrong he had grown accustomed to over the years was far more prophetic than he ever cared to give it credit for. It didn’t matter what reason you gave him for staying by his side that night, because he already understood it wholeheartedly on a much different level than he had anticipated. Megumi had always been the type to search for reason in his own kindness while cynically picking apart the kindness of others. After all he’d been through, perhaps this was the final nail in the coffin of his nihilistic pattern of viewing his moral compass.

“See, Megumi? I told you your knight in shining armor would come back for you!” That familiarly sarcastic voice that you had now been able to name Gojo, had the both of you flinching back from the unexpectedly intimate moment. Megumi’s face seemed to sour instantly as the man strolled into the room with a wide smile. “This kid was driving me insane, asking me about you as soon as they pulled that tube out of his throat.”

The patient grumbled, and if he had more strength and less shit hooked up to him, he would have thrown a pillow at his teacher. Glaring dangerously at him, Megumi swatted his hand away as the older man began to ruffle at his hair in mock affection. Despite his clear mortification, you smiled amusedly at the scene before you.

“Thanks for looking after the little guy for me.”

“I’m starting to think I should get a job here.” You joked back as you stood from your chair. You looked back at Megumi, who’s hard gaze was slowly melting into subtle confusion as he watched you rise. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

You bowed in thanks to Gojo before making your way to the door.

“You’re leaving?” Megumi stopped you at the exit for the second time that day. Had you looked now, you would have caught the deadly glare he shot his sensei’s way for ruining the moment.

With your hand on the door, you turned around to offer him a warm smile, one that had his shoulders slumping forward as if enveloped in the most welcoming of blankets.

“Gotta get to work.” You explained regretfully, chewing on the inside of your cheek. In a spark of confidence that was surely spurred on by the fact that you still had endless questions for the man, you continued with a bashful grin. “But you know where to find me. Maybe you can actually stay for your order this time, hm?”

Gojo almost had to turn away to hide the laughter bubbling in his chest upon seeing the dumbstruck expression on Megumi’s face as he could only muster up a small nod. You found yourself nodding along with him.

“I’ll have your order ready.” You teased with a wink. “Black coffee, right?”

The boy breathed out in disbelief, watching with pink tinted cheeks as your hair swayed behind you while you took your leave. He wished with everything in him, since fate seemed to be playing so mercifully with him these days, that his ankle would miraculously heal in time for him to chase after you to catch one more glimpse of your glittering eyes and incandescent smile. Perhaps he had already had his fill of fate’s luck for one lifetime though, because he could only remain seated dumbly on the hospital bed, jaw hanging down just a hair as he breathed out.

“Right.”

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oepionie · 2 years ago

Text

—"GOTTA ESCAPE THE VOID." overblot mc!

SYNOPSIS: The Ramshackle prefect has a reputation for frequently encountering fatal magical mishaps. And when a magical accident involving Crowley almost kills them, Crewel resolves to take matters into his own hands. But it appears that his impulsive decisions cause the prefect to reach their limit and go off the rails.

⊹ [ cw ] — heavy warnings, please read before you proceed. arguments with father, self-depricating thoughts, mentions of blood, protective parent, thoughts of offing self (only once), overblot mc!, miscommunication w friends, crying, physical fights ◞

⊹ [ tags ] — angst! gender neutral reader, crewel really embodies the 'cruel' in 'cruella', ace gets mad at you :(, deuce tries to comfort you through it all, crowley feels guilt (wow), crewel is vry vry angry and punches crowley, crewel has a mother gothel moment<3◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 2.5k+◞ | 🦇masterlist◞

YOUR VISION WAS NOTHING, but a myriad of colorful blurs and shapes. Muffled voices spoke to you, but everything was practically just incomprehensible, panicked babbling. The heavy pressure of metal was pressed up against your windpipe, restraining your breath as it wound tighter and tighter. Though, a few seconds later, it vanished as if it had never existed, bursting into bright magical sparks.

The gush and pool of blood surrounds your dirtied, tangled mess of hair, a dark scarlet seeping into the knotted strands. Kneeling before your body, Crowley felt his heart skid to a stop. The sight of your fatigued form writhing around the ground tore at his chest, claws of guilt digging in deep and dragging across thick tissue.

"Prefect…Can you hear me?" The crow murmurs, clawed hands pressing against the side of your pounding head as he guides it to rest atop his lap. Vibrant blooms of red stain the dark fabric of his pants, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Dad…it hurts s'much." You slur in hushed tones, your eyes wringing shut from the pain. That was enough for Crowley to put his arms around you.

He shielded your body with his torso, hands clawing at your back as he wracks his mind of what to do next. Hastily turning round, he shifts his gaze to the surrounding students, all of them looking equally mortified.

"What are you standing around there for?! Call the nurse!"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

Drip. Drip

The pungent smell of alcohol and medication fill your senses as you groggily blink awake.

The familiar creaky wood of Ramshackle's ceiling greets you as you pull yourself from dreamland. Looking over both sides of your bed, you smile once you see both Deuce and Ace seated on a nearby couch. Both of them were quick to jump up and approach you, fussing over your bedridden form.

"Thank Sevens." Deuce murmurs, tenderly combing your damp hair back. You roll your head to the side to face him, but wince at the sudden throb of pain in your spine. Ace darts over and hushes you, gently repositioning your head to face front once more, making sure your neck was supported by a pillow. "Hey…It'd be great if you don't move so much…"

“Right. Makes sense. 'Nways…how bad was my injury?” You mutter, your recollections of the past event still foggy. All you could remember was that Crowley had fired a spell, and you somehow got into the crossfire.

“Fucking horrible.” Ace scoffs, looking at you sternly.

"Yeah, take it easy for a bit. The injury was…pretty serious. It was a miracle that the spell missed your head by a thread…" Deuce murmurs as he presses a gentle hand on your bandaged forehead.

Strands of blueberry hair fall loosely at the sides of his face as he stares down at you with worry. "You were out for three days."

"Ah…well—you know, me and my dumb non-magical ass. Always getting into trouble," you giggle, a cheery grin stretching over your cracked lips. Though it rapidly drops when you realize your two friends aren't laughing with you.

Ace shifts his gaze to the floor, hands clasped into a fist. "You're not dumb, prefect…"

"Well—I kinda am," You snort, tugging the blanket closer to your chilly form. "I really have to stop being around the old man's magic shows."

Unconvinced, Ace only shakes his head and scoffs at your jokes. The ginger reclines back into his chair, hands vigorously tugging and pulling at his hair. "You aren't. The real issue here is that deadbeat crow. I mean...hasn't he learnt anythin' from last time? What kind of idiot treats his child—"

"It wasn't his fault, Ace." Pushing yourself off the bed, you immediately interrupt him, voice stern as you rush to defend Crowley. "He didn't mean it. I got in the path of his magic. And—I'm pretty sure he's already beating himself up over this."

Sinking back into the bed, you clasp both your hands together. "It wasn't his fault. Sure, he's reckless and all but…but he's still my dad."

Silence washes over your room.

Ace was visibly frustrated, the blunt tips of his nails dug deep into his skin, nearly piercing past skin. With a final scoff, he stands from his chair and quietly excuses himself from the room.

The door slams shut with a blaring bang as both you and Deuce were left alone.

Sighing, the freshman takes your trembling hand in his, clasping it tight as his body temperature warms the cool skin. He draws your right arm up to press your palm against his cheek, eyes looking deep into yours.

"Professor Crewel is pissed," Deuce whispers as you trace gentle circles on his skin. A pair of shaky cyan eyes meets your concerned ones. "He was planning to—"

Deuce's mouth parted open and close and yet he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. You cast a questioning glance his way, but Deuce shakes his head, disregarding your questions.

"…nothing."

Surprise washes over you as you stare down at Deuce's hunched over form. It…wasn't like your friends to be so dismissive.

You, Ace, and Deuce had always been good friends. Sure you had your differences but you always communicated openly with one another. Nobody has ever been this...secretive.

Just…what was happening?

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sickening crack of a bone echoes through the faculty room as the rough knuckle of Crewel's fist connects with Crowley's face. The headmaster reels, mask flying off as his hands fly to his bloodied nose.

Everyone in the vicinity quieted as the only noise heard was the potionology professor's labored breathing.

Then, without hesitation, Crewel surges forward. Loud commotion and screaming could be heard in the meeting room as everyone quickly circles around the two. A couple of hands seize Crewel by the arms, but the professor only grows more agitated, attempting to fight past the herd.

"Let me go!" Crewel roars, tugging his arm free as he attempts to swing a fist at the headmaster. "Dire! This is your fucking fault!"

"Divus! Calm yourself!" Trein scolds, arms locked tight around the man's torso. A few more pairs of hands restrain the professor as he is forcibly pushed down onto a couch.

His face was the epitome of unrepressed rage: With his cheeks drawn back in a deep sneer, eyes bloodshot red, and hair a knotted mess.

Trein stands before the younger man, looking down at him with disgust. "Have you no shame? What will the prefect think once they hear of this?"

Across the room, Crowley spits out a little blood, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. For the last three days, the crow has been suppressing all of its emotions; however, all of a sudden, he is overcome with an unfettered and unhindered flood of shame and rage.

When the headmaster finally turned around, he fixed Crewel with an expression so scathing that the potionology professor felt compelled to charge at him again.

Once, coldly, sharply, and bitterly, Crowley laughed. "It's my fault, you say? You think I don't know that?"

"Oh please—Dire. I couldn't care less about what you think." Crewel seethes, venom practically dripping from his lips. The alchemy professor strides forward, heels clicking against the floor as he grabs Crowley by the collar.

"You're a failure of a father. All you've ever brought their way is danger." The professor cackles kicking the crow's skin.

Digging deep into his red handbag, Crewel snatches out papers and jams it into Crowley's chest. The crow unravels the creased pages to read the text on the document, eyes ripping wide open as he realizes what it was.

"You…can't possibly." The headmaster sputters, hands shaking as he reads the texts again and again.

"Oh, but I can." Crewel sneers, taking pleasure in the look of fear Crowley sends his way. He snaps around, coat billowing up behind him as he briskly walks towards the entryway. "I expect those papers to be signed by tonight."

Before walking out of the room, Crewel spares the headmaster one final glance. "The prefect departs this Monday."

Days after the event were all followed by violent storms that appeared to go on forever. Every night and day, the rain endlessly poured down from the bitter grey skies and roars of thunder echoed through the dewy clouds. Some days, it was nearly impossible to go to school.

It was almost as though Mother Nature herself was upset.

Just like how everyone was.

Crowley and your other friends shunned you like you had the plague. Even bright Kalim greeted you with a deep frown, a flimsy excuse slipping off his lips as he ran away. Only Deuce stayed by your side through it all.

The blueberry had told you everything was alright—that everything was normal and fine— but you couldn't help but be skeptical.

So when Crewel came to visit, you welcomed him right in. Eager to hear what he has to say.

The clatter and click of your father's heeled boots echoed through the walls of the dormitory as he examined the premises, comparing it to his own much more lavish flat back home in the city.

Finally, after an excruciating 5 minutes. his gaze flitted over to your bedridden form.

And the words he utters out next shatter your entire being.

"I'm withdrawing you from NRC."

What.

The glass clasped in your bandaged hands slips from your grip, smashing onto the oak wood of Ramshackle's flooring. You raise your mortified gaze to scowl at your professor, jaw dropped open in shock.

"What?" you breathlessly utter. "What do you mean?!"

"I'm transferring you to another school." Crewel replies, pushing himself off the fireplace and slipping his thick fur coat off his shoulders. The scant light emitted by the candles atop your study table did nothing to help you navigate his form as he strode around your bedroom.

"Now. You might be asking why? For one, look at the…accommodations Dire provided you with."

Crewel kicks a piece of splintered bark aside while making a gesture towards the disorder and wreckage all around you.

In the evenings, you had to use candles because the ceiling lights seldom ever functioned. The flooring had so many tears and holes that they were virtually falling apart. On occasion, you could even see the scuffle of rats beneath. The roof leaked, horribly; You had no money to fix it so you placed a bucket below instead. The front door was broken, barely hanging on its hinges, evidence of all the times your friends visited and never bothered to knock.

All of these problems and so many more were present, but this dorm was with you since the very start. It provided you with a roof over your head…it helped you survive.

"So what?" You retort, leaning back into your bed and sinking deep into the scratchy yet familiar pillows. "I don't mind it!"

"A foolish decision." Crewel sneers, running a hand into his hair. "Your accommodations aren't the only problem. Your self-destructive habits endanger you as well!"

There it was.

Groaning, you wring your hands through your hair, tangling it up. "When are you gonna stop saying that I'm self-destructive!?"

"When you start acting like somebody that actually cares about their life!" Crewel barks out, hands grasping your shoulders. The sudden increase in volume makes you recoil, but you were stubborn and refused to give in just yet.

"But I do care about my life!" You sputter out. "Why can't you just—"

"Remember what happened when Rosehearts overblotted?" He reminds you, "You charged towards a bloodthirsty tyrant with no protection, no magic, and no plan." Crewel then crosses his arms over his chest, addressing you with a pointed glare. "And you have the nerve to tell me you're not self destructive?"

"Riddle is not a tyrant!" Crying out, you slam your hand against your bedsheets, face twisting into an unsightly sneer. "I was trying to save my friend!"

Crewel gets right in your face, returning the expression of anger you sent his way. "Those friends of yours only care about you when you're useful!" he thundered, jabbing a finger into your chest.

That comment immediately silenced you.

Your hand was clasped over your mouth, jaw dropped wide open in disbelief as a sharp gasp escapes your dry throat.

A poisonous and dangerously harmful feeling gripped at whatever remnant the professor had of a heart. It colored his thoughts with regret as he began to feel a twinge of guilt, the weight of words sinking in.

There was a deep sigh of resignation from Crewel before he put a hand on your shoulder and looked you deep in the eyes, voice lowering to a softer lilt. "Why is it that every other person in that dorm had the sense to run away from the blots, but you didn't?"

Kneeling down, your father gazed at you with such vulnerability in his eyes as he murmurs, "Do you know how terrified I was every time I'd get the same message from Dire that you were out fighting overblots again? Putting your life at risk for those rabid dogs?"

The recognition of your destructive habits hit you like a splash of ice cold water. With a guilty and uncomfortable grimace on your face, you averted your attention to the floor. "I just wanted to help."

Slowly rising to his feet again, Crewel casts a deep frown your way. "I know you do, but you're careless with your life and if you're not careful…one of these days, you're gonna die."

"I will not hear anymore disagreements about this, do you hear? I've allowed you to run rampant around these past few months. You will so as I say and I'll have you transferred by the end of this week." He says simply, dropping a pristine sheet of paper clasped in a clipboard before you. Your dull eyes flicker across the title as you grudgingly reach for the pen he offers you.

TRANSFER APPLICATION.

That blank line at the end of the page is swiftly covered by your shaky red signature and Crewel is powerless to stop the relieved sigh that heaves past his lips.

A surge of victory, certainty, and an intense sense of relief overpowers the tangled and conflicting sentiments of guilt that were swimming through his chest.

You were safe, that's all that matters.

With a grieving heart, you nudge the pen and page back to your father dismissively, placing them both atop the bed. Crewel re-rolled the page and tucked it back into his handbag along with the pen.

The professor raises a hand to gently pat your shoulders as he bends down, pressing a kiss atop your head. "Father knows best."

As Crewel quietly takes his leave, he is none the wiser to the formation of impure, tainted tar-like blot dripping from your tears. Curling in yourself, you tuck your head into your knees, a broken sob spilling from your lips.

A sick and twisted feeling arises in your heart as you replay the argument you had with Crewel, and you start to wish that maybe, just maybe, Crowley's spell had succeeded in striking you.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Oi…Henchhuman?"

Drip.

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cyber-dump-171 · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 1: Roadside Help

The End is Near (Gravity Falls x Reader)

← Prologue | Masterlist | Chapter 2 →

Word count: 6.9k.

WARNING: mentions of violence, nausea, blood, injuries, weapon and gun usage, a monster, and body horror.

Note: thank you for the likes and reblogs! Btw, this is the first time I write a character with a country accent, I apologize if it's horrible xdd

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‘Good evening, folks! Or is it morning? Well, either way, fantabulous of you to tune in at The New Wave Network, where we’re grooving no matter the time of day! It’s the 2nd of October and the clock strikes at 1:15 a.m. Hoo boy! We’re just a few weeks away from Halloween, so, let’s set the mood with Shadowplay’s new wicked song “The Graveyard Shift”. Have a listen, folks!’

As you step on the accelerator, pine and cedar trees zoom past your window and the outside world becomes a blur. You've been surrounded by greenery and nature for two hours now, and while it's been a pleasant sight at first, you're quickly becoming concerned as the scenery repeats itself. Your destination seems completely unreachable, almost non-existent.

When you woke up two days ago, you didn't expect to uproot your entire life and move halfway across the country for your job. It started when you arrived at the precinct that morning; a week earlier, rumors of a possible promotion in your unit had spread like wildfire, leaving your colleagues and friends suddenly on top of their game.

For example, Craig, who always had food stains on his shirt and an unshaven face, wore immaculate button-downs and slicked-back hair. Jack, who had always flipped the bird at your boss whenever the old man wanted something, now happily made his coffee and showered him with sickly sweet compliments.

You, on the other hand, were content with your position as a forensic scientist. That's not to say that the possibility of a better salary and even having your own office away from the row of wall-to-wall cubicles wasn't tempting, but you weren't exactly desperate for a change within the precinct. You were planning on moving sometime soon.

But that thought flew out the window as your boss immediately dragged you into his office and offered you the opportunity. But what the rumors didn't tell you was that it wasn't a promotion... you were being transferred to another precinct to fill an empty position and it offered better benefits, like a new house and a higher salary... though it was in the middle of nowhere.

It was a tempting offer, and you almost gave in when you were shown a picture of the beautiful house. But something kept nagging at you: the town. Gravity Falls? Never heard of it. Sure, you don't know every single place in the United States, but something about it told you to not take that chance.

When asked why you were chosen, your boss simply replied: “You’re the perfect candidate for this.” He didn't let you probe further into his answer but fervently insisted on hearing your verdict. He almost checked the "yes" box on the form until you physically stopped him.

“I’ll think about it,” that didn’t last long, because as soon as you exited the office and made a beeline to your cubicle, you ran into Jackson Murdock, an asshole who thought he was more important than the moon and who worriedly took far too much pleasure in pestering you, leaning against your desk and sneering that he would love to take said “opportunity”.

So, without a moment’s thought, you turned right back around and shook your boss's clammy, wrinkled hand. His smile was rather off-putting as he handed you the paperwork.

And that's how you found yourself here, your entire life packed into a myriad of cardboard boxes shoved into your car as you drive through a darkly lit, foggy forest. You were supposed to arrive five hours earlier but ended up getting stuck in traffic due to a massive accident.

The soft rock tune from the radio fills the quiet space as you tighten your grip on the steering wheel, desperate to stretch your legs. “Fucking hell, where are you, Gravity Falls?” as if on cue to your annoyed tone, you finally drive past a massive weathered billboard with the town's name accompanied by a: ‘Nothing to see here!’.

“Finally,” you murmur in relief as exhaustion tugs at your eyes, the coffee from earlier did nothing to keep the sluggishness at bay. You lean forward, eyes squinting as your foot deftly shifts to gently press against the brakes, slowly decreasing the car's speed. The last thing you want right now is to miss a possible exit into town and end up deeper in the woods.

Speaking of which, you knew that Oregon was famous for its breathtaking scenery and gorgeous natural landscapes, but where the hell were you driving? Outside your window, the forest looked like something straight out of those recently popular horror movies that everyone in the precinct was talking about.

Tall, monster-like trees stretched far into the sky, their dense foliage and branches so intertwined that it was almost impossible for any of the moon's rays to penetrate through and illuminate the dirt road. Past the bare nature that forms a pathway, there is nothing to see, not even other trees, rocks, or signs of wildlife. It's completely pitch dark and dead.

Your stomach is in knots, perhaps from the lack of food or the scenery outside. Whatever it is, you need to get through this as soon as possible, because you're exhausted, and the less you're near this road, the better. You crank up the heat a little more and take a sip of the now-cold coffee that sits on the cup holder, as the engine of your car hums quietly climbing over a dirt hill, its dim headlights breaking through the thick fog.

But before you get very far, you come across a peculiar sight. Down the small hill, parked on the right between some large rocks, is an old, somewhat battered red pickup truck. Exaggerated clouds of thick smoke billow from the raised hood, and through your window you notice a pair of hands clutching some tools in a desperate attempt to repair the car.

Curious, you approach the vehicle and catch a glimpse of what you assume to be its owner, blowing away the gray clouds while coughing furiously, his small round glasses barely hanging from the tip of his nose and his green patterned shirt stained with grime. Your headlights cast a shadow on the car, and when the man hears the sound of your car’s engine, he lifts his head excitedly, but accidentally smacks his forehead against the hood.

You cringe at the image and watch as the poor man stumbles away from the truck, holding his head in pain as he almost falls to his knees. You feel sorry for the guy, not only did his car break down in the most eerie place possible, but it also happened in the middle of the night. Still, you remain cautious, silently reaching for the police-issued Taser tucked in the left pocket of your coat, which is haphazardly lying on the passenger seat on top of your purse.

Even though the man looks scrawny, and you assume that if he were to throw a punch it would only leave a nasty bruise, you can't help but think that he might want to inflict some harm on you. You've read countless files, back in the archival rooms of your old precinct, of victims who kindly stop to aid others only to be robbed or even murdered in return.

Dazed, the man looks up in the distance at your car, and his eyes light up in pure relief at the sight but are quickly replaced with desperation as he furiously wails his arms around, silently begging you to stop. Meanwhile, you maneuver the vehicle to the side of the dirt road, harshly pulling on the hand brake as you swiftly attach the taser’s holster to your belt before quickly lowering your sweater to cover it.

Cold, harsh air bites at your warm skin as you lower your window, making sure to keep your feet near the accelerator and your left hand on the hand brake to book it as soon as this man tries to do anything remotely suspicious. Soon, two shivering hands cling to your windowsill and you’re finally able to get a better look. You noticed that he clumsily cleaned his face and glasses using his sleeve. ‘He’s rather cute.’

“Yer a lifesaver! I’ve been sittin’ here for what feels like a whole eternity!” he exclaims in a thick country accent, giving you a closed-eyed smile as he shivers from the freezing wind. You make a small note of his fast speech and silently wonder if it’s the temperature or an underlying anxious habit.

“No problem, what can I do to help?” you don't mean for your voice to sound so monotonous, but you're exhausted from the long drive and the eerie atmosphere isn't helping. The man removes his hands from your car, opting to shove them into his pants pockets as a puff of condensed breath escapes from his mouth, his back hunched at an awkward angle. “Do ya happen to have a lantern or somethin’ to light up this here mess? I just wanna see how bad this damage is.”

You decide not to blurt out that his car might be beyond repair, as you swear the thing will burst into flames in a matter of minutes. Instead, you wordlessly reach for the open cardboard box on the floor of the passenger seat, silently thanking yourself for putting your work stuff in the front, as you quickly find the lantern and hand it to him. “Careful, it’s an industrial flashlight so it might be a bit heavy.”

The man beams at your actions, his cold fingers gently brushing against yours as he takes the lantern from your grasp. “Thanks a bunch! Could ya give me a hand here and hold this light for me?” he asks rather cheerfully as you mull over your answer. Well, the faster he gets his car fixed the sooner you’ll be able to get home and sleep.

After a few seconds of silence, you wordlessly nod before rolling up the window to preserve the little heat left inside and then turning the key on its side, your car ceasing its small vibrations as the motor shuts down. You don’t waste any more time as you grab your coat and kick the door open, immediately slipping on the warm attire as your teeth slightly chatter. ‘Fucking wind, why is it so cold? It’s not even winter, yet.’

The man has already made his way back to the pickup, and your tired eyes notice that the amount of smoke coming from under the hood has, thankfully, decreased. Taking wide strides, the dry leaves crunch underneath your boots as you quickly approach the man and gingerly slide your hand out of your pocket, your index pointing to the flashlight.

He perks up at your presence, but when his gaze lands on your face, you notice in the dim light that a small blush adorns his pale cheeks.

He stares at you for a few seconds with a dumbfounded expression, and it's only when you clear your throat and jab your finger forward that he seems to snap out of it, clumsily handing you the lantern as he focuses on the car's motor. A rather awkward silence ensues as you simply shine the light on the battered machine and he quietly tinkers with it. You should ask him his name.

“So, what are you doing out here at such an hour?” you ask, holding back a yawn. The man doesn't look up from his work, but you notice a small, rather endearing smile on his lips. “Oh! Well, my college buddy moved out here about a month ago and was lookin' for a research partner. Asked if I'd help him out and here I am!” he remembers enthusiastically as he looks at you for a moment, quietly inquiring about your reasons for being here.

“I’m the new Chief of Police in Gravity Falls,” if he was about to try something, then perhaps mentioning your work would dissuade him from that thought. Instead, however, his eyes twinkle with what you assume is excitement as he gives you a broad smile. What a bizarre man. “Well, I reckon we'll be seein' each other a whole lot!”

Suddenly, as if processing his words, he pales at the implications of his sentence and stares at you, eyes wide. “N-Not like that! I’m a law abidin’ citizen, I-I swear! We ain’t doin’ anythin’ illegal!” his panicked reaction gets you to laugh out loud, the light slightly shaking in your grasp. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I get what you were trying to say,” as the laughter dies down, the two of you fall back into silence, but this time it is more comfortable.

Unfortunately, it doesn't take long for the man to let out a frustrated sigh as he runs a dirty hand through his caramel blond hair. “Darn it… radiator’s busted,” he mutters under his breath. He won't be able to start the truck tonight; he'll have to look for a spare part. But your conscience won’t allow you to leave him here, especially when you feel as if something might jump out of the bushes and attack you.

Yes, the forest is creepy, but you doubt it is plagued by cryptids. At most, some predators are lurking around.

You lean over to take a look at what's in his truck; there aren't many boxes or luggage stuffed in the back seats, and it seems like everything fits perfectly inside your car. “Hey, how far’s your friend’s house? I’ll take you there,” he perks up, a hopeful expression washing away the worries and stress of the broken car. “Really!? Oh, bless your soul! It should be ‘bout ten minutes from here.”

The man scurries off to put his tools away and pushes the hood shut before getting his luggage out. Meanwhile, you leave the right-hand door of the back seat open as you start to take some things from his hands, wanting to hurry the process as the cold has now seeped into your bones and you can't stop shivering. You think the cold will kill you before any imaginary monster can.

Soon, the man's truck is empty and locked, but just as you're about to climb into the driver's seat, he lets out a small gasp and rubs his hands roughly against his trousers before extending one to you with a polite smile. “My mama would give me a piece of her mind for bein’ so poorly mannered. I'm Fiddleford H. McGucket, pleased to meet ya.”

You return the greeting firmly, noting that his hand is calloused and freezing, as you reply curtly with your name. Fiddleford repeats it under his breath, testing to feel how it rolls off his tongue, but a strong gust of wind causes you both to rapidly let go of each other's hands as you hurry to get into your car.

You waste no time turning on the heater, both of you breathing a sigh of relief as the warmth relaxes your muscles and soothes your frozen skin. Soon the wheels are turning and the sight of Fiddleford's truck grows smaller and smaller as you make your way along the foggy road.

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The ride is peaceful as Fiddleford leads the conversation, telling you a few facts about himself before turning his attention to you, his dark eyes full of curiosity. You cringe a little, not meaning for your voice to be so flat and your responses to be curt, but you're still getting used to socializing and you're tired. You also don’t understand what’s so interesting about yourself.

But Fiddleford doesn't seem to mind, enjoying the brief silences and conversations he has with you as he stares out the window. You also finally start to see some signs of civilization in the form of crude wooden signs haphazardly nailed into the trunks of trees, indicating how far the town is. After a few bumps in the road, Fiddleford pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it.

“Ok… so, when ya see that sign sayin’ we’re three kilometers from the entrance to Gravity Falls, turn left,” from your peripheral vision, you watch as he extends a finger and motions to the side. “Your friend lives quite far away from town,” as the words leave your mouth, you’re made painfully aware of the taser still strapped to your belt. You hope that Fiddleford didn’t trick you… you were starting to like him.

Thankfully, your comment seems to resonate with him as he turns to look at you with an excited expression. “Right!? Told’im the same thing! But he said the place was perfect ‘cause there’s a ‘large concentration of specimens’ or somethin’ like that. Gosh, what a pain s’going to be to go to the market every week,” you can help but quietly chuckle as he huffs in frustration, relief coursing through your body.

Soon the two of you return to your normal routine, and before you know it, you're turning your blinker on and maneuvering the steering wheel as the car begins to enter the man-made driveway. A few meters ahead, you see a bizarre A-shaped house with the lights on, and Fiddleford exclaims happily, "That's the house!"

But just as you're about to step on the gas to start driving up the hill, a figure suddenly dashes out of the trees and you instantly hit the brakes, stopping the car just in time to avoid hitting the person standing a few inches from the hood. You and Fiddleford lurch forward as you gasp in shock, staring with wide eyes and fast-beating hearts at the scene ahead of you.

You grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white as you hold your breath from the momentary fear that quickly turns to worry. In front of you, a young boy, no more than 16 years old, stares blankly at the window like a deer caught in the headlights. His face is deathly pale, his cheeks sunken as his chest rises and falls at an increasingly rapid pace, puffs of white steam quickly condensing against the cold air. It’s almost invisible, but you notice he’s trembling either from the cold or fear.

But what makes your stomach fall is the state he’s in. Three long cuts decorate the lower part of his jaw, the blood around the wound is dried, he has a busted lip and a large bruise surrounds his left eye, you can see that he is having trouble keeping it open, perhaps it is already starting to swell.

His blond hair is disheveled, mixed with twigs, leaves, and dirt. There are several cuts and other wounds on his neck and near his stomach, his shirt has four large gashes, although he does not appear to be bleeding in that area. But that does not explain the fact that his hands and part of his forearms are covered in dirt, moss, and a combination of fresh and dried blood.

From what you can see, he's wearing pajamas and doesn't appear to be armed or carrying any kind of weapon. Nevertheless, he appears to be in a state of hysteria and shock so any sort of rapid or sudden movement could lead to a violent reaction or you could scare him away. You must approach him with caution.

You get out of the car, taking care to open the door gently but quickly, not hearing Fiddleford's warning to wait. The sound of the door seems to wake the boy from his stupor, and as you expected, his face falls swiftly and he begins to back away, his body shaking uncontrollably. “Please… don’t hurt me,” his voice trembles, filled with panic as his eyes become crystalline, tears threatening to spill.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just worried, are you okay?” you stay put, making sure your tone is as gentle as possible to not alarm or scare him away. You notice that the atmosphere outside is deadly quiet, you can’t hear the singing of the crickets, much less the howling of the wind. ‘What the hell is going on!?’

“I need to know you’re human,” the boy demands in a shaky tone, having put a good distance between you and him. You raise an eyebrow at his request, but he seems deadly serious as his forehead furrows and his jaw clenches, his fists balling up as if ready to fight if you don't comply. “How do you want me to prove I’m human?”

For some reason, the question seems to put him at ease, as he relaxes his posture though he remains rather hostile. “I… I don’t know but… I-I just don’t know who to trust,” through whispers, tears spill from his eyes as he holds a hand out, terrified. You stand still for a moment, completely confused as to what to do, but it seems the best way to calm him down is to tell him about yourself.

“My name is (Y/N),” you begin and gently close the car door as you take a step forward. The boy perks up, teary eyes staring at you in confusion. You continue, slightly shivering as a gust of wind passes by, yet you don’t hear anything but your voice. “I’m 27. I graduated from Backupsmore as a forensic scientist… um… I hate bees and my favorite color is-”

Before you can finish, the boy suddenly bolts from his spot, his frail arms quickly wrapping around your torso and hugging you as tightly as he can. Unfortunately, due to the force, you come tumbling down, your back harshly scratching against the dirt. You're shocked for a moment, but then you feel his tears rapidly soaking your sweater and his bloody hands tightly clutching the material as he wails loudly, the sound reverberating through the dead ambient.

Somewhat stiffly, your arms embrace the boy, one hand gently rubbing circles on his back, which is shaking as he sobs. His skin is frozen, he's been out for a long time. Fiddleford quickly gets out of the car and crouches down beside you with a worried look on his face, quietly asking you if everything is alright. You just give him a small smile in return, hoping to reassure him.

"M-Miss, please help me, I'm so scared," he mumbles between loud cries, hiding his face in your shoulder. You just nod and guide him through some breathing exercises to help him think more clearly and calm down. When the crying ceases, you take off your jacket and drape it over his shoulders hoping it will warm him up a bit, while Fiddleford gently places a hand on his head.

"Let's start at the beginning, what's your name?" your question in a soft tone. The boy lifts his face from your shoulder and two red-rimmed eyes look at you sadly. "M-My name is L-Lawrence W-Woodworth," he replies scared, the words barely leaving his mouth as he shivers. "Nice to meet you, Lawrence. This is Fiddleford, my friend," the brown-haired man gives the boy a slight smile as he nods.

"You have to tell me what happened, how did you get here?" Lawrence shudders at your words but dryly swallows, as if to gather courage, and begins "W-We were coming back from my house, Dylan, Kyle and I... we were working on a s-school project. And out of nowhere, I don't know what it was, but s-something came out of the trees and..."

His palms harshly wipe away at his eyes, though he winces as he grazes the injured one. Fiddleford silently encourages him to continue as he rubs his shoulders. “I-It ripped Kyle’s s-stomach out… D-Dylan called 911 and t-then in the woods something that looked like Kyle but wasn’t Kyle… it even talked like him… it was just standing t-there and i-it started to chase us… w-we got separated and somehow I ended up here…”

You can't believe what you're hearing. If it weren't for the fact that Lawrence looks completely paralyzed with fear, you'd think this story was taken from a horror book. Could the monster be a product of the possible trauma of seeing his friend badly hurt? Or did they mistake the killer, who was standing at a long distance from them, for a more twisted version of a friend? Those are the only explanations you can currently come up with.

You look up and notice that Fiddleford has a much more serious look on his face, he seems to believe everything the boy says. But before you can question him, a bloodcurdling scream followed by a distorted roar echoes through the forest and Lawrence looks up, what little color he had regained in his face drained away. "DYLAN! OH GOD IT'S DYLAN! I HAVE TO GO GET HIM!"

Lawrence is about to run off into the woods when you grab his wrist to stop him from moving, causing the boy to yelp in pain. "Sorry, but you're not going, you're injured and putting yourself in more danger. Fiddleford, take Lawrence to your friend’s and call the police. I'll look for the other boy," you order firmly, before getting up and going to your car, opening it forcefully and diving between all the boxes.

Behind you, you hear Fiddleford gasp in surprise, his boots breaking several branches as he quickly approaches your figure. “(Y/N), be extremely careful, please. Whatever it is, it's dangerous. Please tell me you're carrying a weapon or somethin’,” the man exclaims worriedly. You quietly nod before you notice a small, thin, black briefcase, unfamiliar to you tucked between some cardboard boxes labeled “kitchen”.

Quickly, you unlock the clasp and open the lid, revealing a Smith & Wesson Model 4506 stored in the middle. Your stomach twists, this would be your first time using this thing. But you swallow that fear, a kid is in danger. Fiddleford gasps as he watches over your shoulder as you quickly load the gun with nine rounds and strap the holster to your belt, right next to the Taser. "Don't worry, it's police-issued, I've got a license and I know how to shoot."

You quickly head over to your driver’s seat, shut the car off, and grab the lantern that you stored in the glovebox. As you turn around, you quickly shove your car keys in Fiddleford’s unexpecting hands and turn over to look at Lawrence, who’s now standing up, still trembling. “What does your friend look like?” you walk over to the car, momentarily covering one of the headlights.

“D-Dylan’s tall, has short curly black hair, dark skin, and glasses. H-He was wearing… I-I think I white T-shirt,” you nod, creating the mental picture of his friends as you begin to sprint over to the forest. “BE CAREFUL,” Fiddleford’s voice filled with concern sounds distant as you book it, the cold wind cutting at your skin.

The forest is deadly quiet, the only sounds you can hear are your rapid breathing and the crunching of dried leaves and twigs as your boots stomp over them. Your stomach curls into a knot and your mouth goes dry as the faster you run, the darker your surroundings seem to get.

"DYLAN!?" your voice echoes through the trees as you flash the light around you. There are only trees, trees, and more trees! They are all starting to look the same. And the fog makes it worse as you can barely see past a few feet in front of you. You exhale exhaustedly, pausing for a moment as you try to regain your sense of direction. Your muscles ache from the sudden movement, you were more used to a life behind a desk than running in the field.

"OVER HERE! PLEASE! HELP ME!" your head whips to the right as you hear the distant screams of a young boy. There was no time to waste, as the force you used to push yourself forward caused the soles of your feet to kick up a patch of dirt and moss. You call his name again, trying to locate him more easily, and he answers, his voice much clearer now.

Soon you come to a clearing illuminated by the moonlight, and sitting against the trunk of one of the trees, his head tucked between his head and a hand on his left shoulder, is the boy who fits Lawrence's description.

"Dylan? My name is (Y/N), I met your friend, Lawrence, I'm here to take you to safety," you say breathlessly, watching as the boy slowly lifts his head, tears streaming down his face as he quietly holds back a sniffle. "L-Lawrence is okay? H-He's not hurt?" you nod softly and quickly walk over, kneeling in front of him and as you give him a warm smile.

"Yes, he's with my friend now, and help is on the way. Are you hurt?" now that you're closer, you notice that there's a deep cut on his left cheek and that his glasses are nowhere to be found, most likely lost while running through the woods. As you gently encourage him to roll over, Dylan hiccups, having cried the last of his tears, before carefully removing the hand that was holding his shoulder.

Underneath his bloody palm are two deep, heavily bleeding cuts that look very similar to the ones on Lawrence's shirt. Up close, the injury looks unnatural, and you can't put your finger on what could have done this; you assume it could be something like a hook, but the width of the gash is much wider than a butcher's hook or something heavier. "I-It got me when I tripped on a corner. I managed to f-fight it off though," he admits sheepishly, dropping his head back to his knees as he recalls the encounter. So that was the scream.

"You were incredibly brave, don't be ashamed, Dylan," you whisper comfortingly, focusing your attention on treating the wound. Placing the lantern on the ground, you grab the bottom of the sweater with both hands and pull in different directions with enough force that the threads begin to snap. Ripping the fabric until it reaches above your belt, you pull so that it goes around your waist, gathering enough to make a makeshift tourniquet.

Dylan watches quietly as you successfully separate the torn piece from your sweater. "Okay, this is going to hurt, but I'm going to wrap this around your wound, okay?" he nods shakily at your instructions, lowering his knees and stretching his injured arm out to the side. You quietly guide him to take deep breaths as you slip the fabric underneath the armpit and tightly twist and turn the cloth, softly apologizing when he winces or gasps for air.

After a few seconds, you tie a knot with the remaining cloth, successfully stopping the bleeding for the moment. Dylan tests his arms by stretching and moving the limb before standing up and grabbing the lantern left on the grass. "Where did the attacker go?" your eyes scan the area around you, but the overwhelming darkness and fog make it impossible for you to see what is beyond the clearing. The area is so quiet, so devoid of life, that you can hear your heartbeat, which begins to pick up as you hear the crunch of leaves and twigs.

Dylan and you have not moved an inch.

"Mooooooom," a distorted and crooked voice wails sadly from the trees, shaking you to your core. Its pitch goes up and down as it gets closer and closer to where you're standing, calling out in pain, searching for its mother. It doesn't even sound like a human, let alone an animal, it's as if something is painfully trying to imitate human speech.

Then you remember what Lawrence said: something that had the appearance of his friends yet it wasn’t him. There's no way... there's no way that things like that exist… Those are just myths, right? You feel Dylan tense up next to you and the light source emitting from the lantern begins to shake in his grip. The creature is determined to find you, it keeps calling out, and whatever it is, it is big, as the ground beneath it shakes and rumbles slightly whenever it takes a step.

"When I tell you to run, keep going straight until you find a hut. Don't stop and don't look back," you command in a hushed whisper, feeling your heart pounding loudly against your chest as your nimble fingers quietly unlock the holster and grab the handle of your gun. “O-Ok, please be careful, ma’am,” he replies, holding the lantern tighter.

Soon the footsteps are shaking the pebbles scattered across the ground and the mushrooms growing in the trunks of the nearby trees, and you can feel the vibrations in your ears. Beside you, Dylan slowly begins to back away from the noise, inching closer to where you first entered, while you stare at the source of the sound. "Mooooom... I want my mom," it cries again, this time louder, and you shudder at the disgusting tone in which it speaks.

"I hate it... why does it sound so much like Kyle?" Dylan whispers through clenched teeth, this time further away from you. So you were right, it's trying to imitate human speech, but you wonder why it's calling to its mother. You don't have time to answer as a massive figure begins to break through the mist, and you hold your gun tightly, raising it so that the barrel points straight at what you assume is the creature's head.

But you freeze up as soon as the thing reveals itself. The monster is incredibly tall, it reaches to the middle of one of the pine trees and you estimate it to be about two meters in height. It is dragging its arms on the ground, massive hands with dirty nails pointing up towards its pale and bony palms, and its head is tilted to the side, in a childlike manner.

Sunken and completely hollow eyes with a single silver dot are staring directly at you, the toothless mouth is open wide, creating an oval shape in which you can’t see anything other than an empty void, while distorted boyish cries are coming from the deepest parts of its throat.

Worst of all, you finally understand what Lawrence and Dylan were saying. It has copied the appearance of a young ginger boy, but because its body is so large and deformed, it looks as if it has stretched an image of what you assume to be Kyle and plastered it onto its body.

The skin is ghostly pale and looks pulled and torn, its hair is a mangled mess with various bald spots revealing a fleshy black interior, and its "clothes" look painted over and reveal a thin torso with paper-thin skin that closely exposes a skeleton with way too many bones for you to count. It twitches unnaturally as it just stands there, looking at you while begging for his mother without moving.

You can't begin to comprehend what the hell is in front of you. It doesn't feel real, the lack of sound around you, the intense fog, and the imagery make it feel like you're in a lucid nightmare. But you're brought back to reality when you realize that Dylan is still behind you, crying softly as he stares at the mockery of his friend's image. "Run on the count of three, okay?" you don't take your eyes off the creature.

"One," your body's facing forward, you move your dominant leg a step back, both feet planted firmly on the ground as you aim the barrel to hit right between the monster's eyes. It doesn't move, only keeps twitching and wailing in a deep tone.

"Two," you steady your body and take a deep breath as your finger hugs the trigger. Behind you, Dylan prepares to run. Once he's gone, the moonlight will be your only guide during the fight. Your heart beats faster as you take one last breath...just get this over and you’ll go home…

"THREE!" without wasting a second, you squeeze the trigger and fire, a flash of bright light shooting from the barrel and the bullet lodging deep inside the creature's head. The sound of the gun being fired echoes through the forest and you swear you can hear birds flying from the trees and some of the sound comes back. Dylan has already started to run, straight ahead as you instructed.

The shot sends the monster reeling a few steps back, but in retaliation, it lets out a distorted roar so loud it makes your eyes vibrate with pain. You don't let that deter you, though, as you load the second bullet into the chamber and prepare to fire at the creature's chest, right where you think its heart is. Unfortunately, it recovers rather quickly and stands up shakily before charging at you like a bull, swinging one of its gigantic arms in your direction.

You're able to dodge the attack, but the limb is so heavy that as soon as it hits the ground, the force knocks you to the ground and the weapon almost slips from your grasp. Luckily, you hold on tight, but the creature is relentless, one of its clawed hands grabs your right ankle, its sharp, bone-like claws digging easily into your flesh, tearing some of the skin. You grunt loudly, your teeth clenched as tears sting your eyes, but you aim the gun at the creature's shoulder and fire.

As the bullet connects with the skin, the monster screeches and painfully removes its claws from your ankle, nursing its new injury instead. You back away as fast as you can, grunting in pain and after a considerable distance, you do your best to stand up, limping slightly as you plant your feet firmly on the ground and load another bullet.

And you fire the third one.

And the fourth.

And the fifth.

“Won’t you just die already!?” you scream in frustration, fear and paranoia seeping into your mind as you watch the monster rise from the ground once more, five small holes in different parts of its body spilling a tar-like liquid onto the grass, staining it. It's almost invincible, no matter how many bullets you fire, it seems to do nothing but temporarily stun it and make it scream horribly.

You jump to the side as the monster charges forward again, but it miscalculates and runs straight through the tree instead. The impact is so powerful that it leaves a massive hole in the trunk, but it is temporarily stuck there; as it struggles to free itself, you waste no time finding its ankle and stomping down as hard as you can.

You almost fall forward...you did not expect its bones to be so fragile. But you almost rejoice in pure happiness as you've found its weak spot; it seems that physical actions are more effective. So you don't stop, kicking and punching with all your might as your limbs easily leave dents and holes in the monster's body. Your hands and boots are covered in the slimy dark substance, but you don't care, you're not going to die here.

In your angry tirade, you fail to notice that the creature is now free of the trunk. It turns, an arm swinging violently, making contact with the side of your torso, sending you flying to the other side of the clearing, where you crash hard into another tree, the air escaping your body as your lungs burn from the pain and your back cracks loudly.

Tears cloud your vision as the monster walks toward you, its actions mimicking a predator that has finally caught its meal. Your hands desperately search your surroundings for your weapon, but as you cough violently, you realize that the weapon has been crushed under the creature's weight on the other side of the clearing. “Oh fuck,” you mutter as the creature stands before you and wastes no time reaching down, its claws digging into your neck as it lifts you into the air.

You struggle to free yourself, your throat slowly crushed under the monster's grip, as something cold and plastic digs into the side of your hip. The Taser! As dark spots begin to fill your vision and your lungs burn, your hand reaches for your belt, unlatches the holster, and shakily pulls the device out.

Your scratched thumb quickly locates the switch and flips it on, and with all your might you jam the probes against the monster's skin and squeeze the trigger. As the volt of electricity coursed through the thing's insides, it let out a blood-curdling scream before dropping you to the ground. The pain is so great for the creature that it falls to the ground, rolling on its wrist.

But even though your world is spinning and you want nothing more than to throw up and fall asleep, you push through the pain and stand up shakily as you sprint to the monster and mercilessly stomp on its head, its skull cracking against your sole and the grass. You keep going, even when there's nothing left but a messy pile of mush and the tar-like substance, you don't stop.

You want this thing dead. Gone. Fuck whatever this thing is.

“(Y/N), STOP! It’s already dead!”

══════════════════

Tag list:

@rotknox @devotee-of-bill

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #stanley pines x reader #stanford pines x you #stan pines x reader #stan pines x you #stanford pines x reader #fiddleford mcgucket x you #fiddleford mcgucket x reader #bill cipher x you #bill cipher x reader

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priksie · 3 months ago

Text

Koba X reader

Warnings : none yet.

PRT 1

Words count : 1840

a change in your plan

This is my first fanfiction, I never used any platform to write before. Do not hesitate if you have any advice or words and stuff for me to use as this is also not my first language.

Do not hesitate to correct me if my grammar is bad either 🫶🏻

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After months and months or research for a job you finally managed to get one, but a very particular one. You never thought you would be there in such a horrible place, but you needed the money too much to actually let it pass...soon enough you would be outside without a roof over your head if you hadn't got this one job.

Soon enough you will wonder if having that roof was even worth it , do you really want to sleep in a bed with what you have done or seen during the day? Thinking all night about how much of a horrible person you are for helping those people and helping them with their action?

Will those animals ever forgive you for adding more pain to their life ? Will they take revenge and make you regret? You wouldn't even blame them, you deserved that hate. You didn't deserve their pity and you told yourself that all day long , all night before falling asleep in your sheets full of shame.

-----------------------

It's been 7 months since you started working in the laboratory, it's hell on earth. You could hear animals in pain all day even when nobody was touching them. Their body had been enduring so much that some of them couldn't even just breath without suffering.

The simple fact that you have to walk past them all the time all days was making you nauseous even more...but you couldn't just leave now , you have been there so long.

You started trying to ''help'' them with their pain , giving them more food behind your colleagues back or faking giving them some medicine you weren't sure we're....without pain. Always trying to speak gently, not being aggressive or rough to show them that you weren't a treat for them as much as the other.

You tried to leave , finding other work places but it wasn't a success. you never got any response back for another one.

During those long months of screaming and torture one always got your attention more than the other , he wasn't like them.

More attentive, more intelligent.

He was different, something was different with him. you couldn't explain why exactly something felt off.

Following order , that primate was acting submissive when your colleagues where there. You could feel he was only pretending , he was sneaky to try to get less hurt by the human around him.

The poor creature probably never saw the light of the sun outside , never got close to animals of his kind. You felt bad for him, especially since he was getting a lot of attention in general , like he was their favorite muse to use.

As time passed you learned you couldn't get too close to him , he was vicious. But you wanted to, you wanted him to trust you in general.

Koba.

Koba was his name and for some reason you always thought that it fits him well. He seemed to always be looking for any human approvals when any were around. He was even saying his name if you asked him how he was called which always made your blood freeze. He isn't stupid. He is far from being just a stupid animal like they think he is.

He knows you were weaker than the other , that you cared more than your colleagues. That you will always look at him with pity and that you were naive. You didn't do much to him, he didn't have any real reason to want you dead. Sure , you were still working with them helping them when you HAD to but you never did anything you weren't obliged to do. You always had some nice gesture towards them, trying to make their life less terrible even if it wasn't much.

He could feel it , he could smell the fear in you when you accidently get too close to his enclosure. Even then...the snack that always filled your pocket always gets to him too, never leaving him without any. You just didn't take as much time as you did with the other.

Koba didn't waste any time to look at you with that horrible stare of sadness when you were the one having to come clean around or if you had to be the one coming to feed them , sometimes you wondered if he was practicing that stare to try to make you feel even more bad for him.

Of Course if you could you would free him, run away and make sure he was safe somewhere else.

BUT YOU COULDN'T. NOT LIKE THAT , NOT YET.

------------------

Today was no exceptions , you had to go clean and feed koba with a few of the others.

You wouldn't admit it , you feared koba a lot but you also....cared for him more than the other , you always had better biscuit on you just for him in particular.

When you got to his small enclosure that honestly looking like a tornado had been stuck inside , he didn't even look at you at first and only looked at the blanket he had torn apart. The room was a mess and you will definitely need to go grab a new one for him later. Who wouldn't go crazy in such a small space when you needed so much more , koba didn't have anything else to do either way to occupy his time.

Placing your hair behind your ears , you called his name and that's when he looked at you.

Slowly, he walked towards the door where you saw his hand reach for you, like he learned to do when someone was coming towards him , understanding that most of the time he will actually get something especially if it's you that was coming.

With no wait you gave it to him, same for the biscuits and only after that he went against a wall again to eat. He wasn't on his guard as much as the other when you were the one coming , he knew you weren't the real danger here.

Sometimes you wondered if you could walk in and clean , like you could with a few others and a colleague already told you that you could but you didn't trust koba enough for that so you never did.

Until then you always asked someone else to do it for you, but for once....maybe you should do it alone , maybe you could start building some trust with him.

He could hear you breathing , you weren't confident and you didn't seem comfortable either. He wanted you to trust him, he wanted you to be close and not because he needed a Friend to be with him , or at least he didn't trust you Enough to actually think you would ever be a friend for him.

He wanted a way out , koba only saw you as a way to get out of there. He knew you were most likely to take pity on him, he could easily make you vulnerable if he wanted to. Even if you were scared , he noticed that you started to care more and be more attentive to him than before and that you seemed to actually look to get '' closer '' even if you weren't confident enough just yet. The primate had a perfect idea for that , and he waited until you started to walk away in the idea of getting a new blanket for him. Koba took every piece of the destroyed blanket from the ground and made a pile with it , so everything wasn't laying around and you will just have to take it and throw it out.

He was looking at you coming back , with the fresh and new blanket. he picked up the pile of torn laundry from the floor and seemed to be waiting for you to take it.

She came closer to the door and looked at him through the glasses , he cleaned . He cleaned his own mess and was waiting for you almost like he was waiting to see if you would be....proud ? He doesn't know himself why he cared so much to still have any human approval of his actions, he always ended up wounded by their hand.

Should you go inside ? Wondering if you could really trust the ape to not try anything.

No, it probably isn't a great idea to get yourself with him in such a small space.

You sighed , you got your badge to open the door with a shaking hand. You weren't sure if it was smart of you , but he didn't seem to look to cause any harm , he was just trying to give the mess to her so he didn't have it with him anymore.

Her heart beat got faster as she pushed the door open and went slowly inside , her hands reached for the pile of ruined laundry.

The door closed again, she was inside and stuck with him. Once she had the fabric in hand , she handed him the new one and koba took it from her hand. This interaction felt weird for her, he didn't seem aggressive, neither did he look like he would try to escape or anything. Maybe he was just testing you and you were doing the same without realizing it.

It's only when your hand tried to reach his head , that he suddenly stepped back. His teeth are on full display for you to see and he was standing on his two feet but not too long before he retreated , you tried to push your luck too far. He didn't trust you , not that far. All the time human hands were on him wasn't for a good reason. Why would he believe it would be different with you? Even if he wanted to trust someone the fear of the abuse was still there and will probably never go away. Even if you never showed him that you would hurt him , he wouldn't be taking any risk.

please let me go. I do not feel safe so close to you.

You retreated too, you didn't want to die here today , you never thought you were able to escape a cage so fast in your life.

Was koba ever lonely? Did he ever want anyone close to him ? He couldn't possibly be happy to be all alone.

You looked at him through the glass door between the two of you , and he did the same but he looked at you differently. He couldn't talk , he didn't have any other way to show you he absolutely DIDN'T want you to touch him. He didn't do that to hurt your feelings , why would he have thought of that he doesn't think so far. he just wanted you to let him have his small comfort zone and not to approach it when he had the choice on it since he usually doesn't really have a choice.

'' I understand '' you let out , carefully as you showed your hand like you would to any human to show you weren't a danger or that you weren't armed.

Her heart was still beating fast , she wasn't someone who thought he was a weaker creature and she knew well he could have killed her easily if he wanted too and if he didn't learn than hurting human will results in him being even more in pain.

He wasn't to blame , humans in this place were.

You would never admit it , but you care for him much more than he thought and you would do so much for him if you could and not only free him from there....but you will never let anyone know those thoughts of yours. Even if he escaped , could he ever trust humans again? He probably never knew anything else , she doesn't know if he ever had any human being nice to him before.

No one knows that but today was probably the last day he would be in a cage either way. Everyone's life will be changing , and nothing will ever be the same.

#planet of the apes koba #planet of the apes caesar #planet of the apes #planet if the apes fanfiction #koba reader #koba x reader #planet of the apes reader

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sunfyresrider · 1 year ago

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The King's Wife

Aegon II Targaryen X Fem!Reader

Summary: After the miscarriage of the king’s first born child you must go through your grief alone. That is until he summons a dinner where all truths are revealed. Tags: child loss, semi toxic relationship, fluffy ending. Author’s Note: Hi anon! This is for your lovely self<3 I rewrote this like ten times I'm sorry

You loved your husband more dearly than anything in this world and he loved you all the same. It is rare that a person enjoys their betrothed let alone loves them. It was a perfect match, created by complete accident. The Hightowers needed allies, an army, and for their king to have heirs. You needed a husband, a home and a family to replace your own. Truly, it seemed impossible everything worked out so beautifully.

Until it didn’t. The old king died after your marriage, the one he did not attend. Within a week your entire world had been uprooted and torn apart. You had yet to produce an heir, but it had only been a handful of months. The Hightowers either waited too late or the king died too soon, you didn’t know which. One moment you were lying in bed peacefully with your husband, the next you were standing in the dragonpit adorned with a crown.

The coronation was masterfully crafted to be an affair of the ages. To be remembered by all the small folk and Lords who attended, to prove Aegon was the one and only rightful heir to the throne. And you were his beloved queen. You never expected Aegon to wholly embrace his new duties, to faithfully serve the realm. In the several years you had been married he never once showed care for any of it. Obviously, there was a side of him you hadn’t yet seen.

For every hour in the past weeks since a crown was placed atop his head, he had been busy. He would scheme in the council room meticulously making plans to destroy the Blacks. He worked tirelessly to ensure the small folk’s love, to coerce lords to join his cause and dispose of those who did not.

Needless to say, your husband had become a complete stranger. You saw him at night when he dragged himself into bed with a large sigh. You attempted to comfort him, to love him, but were. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just so exhausted I can’t bear to move.’ An excuse, you thought to yourself. You took to sleeping on the edge of the bed, facing the wall instead of the man you were supposed to be. You tried to remind yourself this was not intentional, he was a new king in the midst of the war, it wasn’t your fault he could not be bothered.

Mayhaps you should have been more understanding, maybe you should have forced him to give you the same attention as he used to but there were now other more important things. As the days flew by you became increasingly ill with something you could not name. You rarely left the bed now, too fatigued to fathom moving.

In fear that you may be contagious, you have started sleeping in separate chambers. If your mind wasn’t so dazed by whatever plagued you, you would be far angrier. The vomiting began on the third day and seemed to not stop. Every food or medicine placed in front of you made you gag. It was impossible to keep anything inside when it all wanted to come out.

The fourth day was when you realized something was horribly amiss, though you told no one. It started in the morning, the worst cramps you had felt in your entire life. You panicked at the sight of the blood but forced yourself to bite your lip. You couldn’t risk bothering everyone during such a time filled with turmoil. It lasted three hours, the pain, the blood, and the tears mixing into your sweat. A babe no larger than your foot was born, deceased.

You couldn’t put into words the feelings that were boiling inside you. The signs of pregnancy were barely there, this couldn’t be happening. It didn’t feel real, watching your single trusted handmaiden wrap the babe in cloth and take it away. It didn’t make sense; you hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary to cause this.

There were no signs of pregnancy in the past months. No growing belly or swelling feet to accompany all of the other king list of ailments that came with being with child. This was cryptic and it needed to remain that way, no matter how much pain you were in.

There were far too many things to take into account. You failed to birth a child, the one thing women are praised for in this realm, and you couldn’t do it. If the council discovered the truth, they may have your marriage annulled and you discarded. What is a queen’s worth if she cannot produce heirs? What is a wife’s worth if she cannot produce a family for her husband? In this world you would be seen as no better than a whore.

Thus, you distanced yourself from him entirely. You would mourn alone, sleep alone and heal alone. If you told him only worse could come from it and you simply couldn’t handle it. The hours turned into days, days into weeks and weeks into one month since you laid with your husband… It was past time you ventured outside of your chambers.

____________________________________

When you had first met, Aegon believed your love was one that could withstand any dissension. However, it was becoming increasingly clear he was wrong. Very few people in this world loved the king, a surprising fact considering he was THE king. You were the first to show him true love and probably the last… Slowly but surely his insecurities were becoming all consuming. The feeling of his heart being gutted out increasing by the hour.

What had he done to scorn you so? Ever since you wed, he had changed his behavior, became a better son, a more dutiful king and adoring husband. Mayhaps he should have reached out to you more but how could he when you were so determined to be alone? Aegon had his downfalls but surely it wasn’t so bad you stopped loving him. Was it?

He forced you to attend supper, alone… You sat at the far-left end of the table, as far from your husband as you could. The table was set with luxurious food from across the realm, none of which interested you, all of which made you nauseous. It was eerily silent; the only sound being made was Aegon’s silverware hitting the plate.

He was detached from this dinner, his mind was elsewhere, somewhere, anywhere but here. His eyes remained fixated on his food attempting to ignore the tension between him and you. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed the growing distance, the refusal to share a bed with him, the constant look of apathy plastered on your face at all times. You were growing to hate him, and it became increasingly clear every day…

It was a miserable affair. Occasionally he glanced up from his plate and your eyes would meet. He gave a small smile and nod, which would be met with a faux smile on your part. Your plate remained empty; you remained almost completely still as if completely disassociated from the world around you. It was harrowing, watching his wife lose all interest in him. It didn’t matter what he did, you remained in constant dismay.

“Is something bothering you?” He sighed, dropping his fork on his plate and gazing into you. “Nothing is bothering me, your grace. Is something bothering you?” He raised his eyebrows, sinking back into his chair. You’ve never referred to him as your grace let alone any formal titles. “You’re deflecting.”

“If I was deflecting, I would have changed the conversation.” You spoke in an irritated tone, avoiding all eye contact. Perhaps you truly did not love him anymore, he thought to himself.

Aegon's eyes hardened, his lips thinned. He stared at you for a few moments, before he slammed his hand down on the table, making dishes clatter together.

"Yes, something is troubling me!" He shouted. This was the first time he ever raised his voice to you in your entire marriage. "For the past few weeks, you've barely spoken a word to me. I have tried to start countless conversations with you, but they all go nowhere. You refuse to share a bed with me, you refuse to accompany me to meetings…”

You stood up from your seat, tears beginning to form at the corner of your eyes. “I? For weeks I tried to lay with you, to comfort you, but you refused my affection at all times and swat me away like a fly,” you shouted. Aegon's nostrils flared, and he clenched his fists on the table. ”Oh? And what sort of 'affection' do you expect me to give you when you're laying here like a corpse! Sulking about the entire keep like a ghost!" His throat caught, and he took a few seconds to breathe to hold it in, but his eyes were red, rimmed with tears.

“You don’t care at all do you?” You yelled, fingers shakily gripping the edge of the table to keep your balance. "No, I don't care!” A deafening silence fell across the room. You stopped crying, regained your composure. “I believe it is time for me to go to bed. Goodnight, your grace.” You walked out of the room calmly, ignoring the hurricane of emotions in your heart.

Shit

“Wait!” Aegon made chase, but you picked up your speed. “Leave me alone!” You lifted your dress so you would not trip as you made a dash to your chambers. “No!” The sounds of your voices carried through the keep as he chased you down. The guards and select nobles watched the chase in shock, disapproval and embarrassment for you both.

Your feet scurried across the floor, tears freely flowing from your face. You ripped the door to your chambers open, flinging yourself inside to try to escape him. As you tried to will the door shut his body slammed against it, throwing you back. Aegon forced himself inside, slamming and locking it behind him. You stared at him, too heartbroken and angry to speak. He panted, “no more. No more running. We’re going to have this out.”

You turned to walk away, further into your chambers. Aegon grabbed you by the wrist, surprisingly gently. "Please, stop hiding," he spoke between breaths. "Every day I have not had a moment's peace since you’ve gone away. Every night I have not slept because you are not there. I- I’m sorry I raised my voice, I’m sorry I did not pay you enough attention. I’m sorry for whatever sin I have committed to drive you away.”

You turned to face him, tears streaming down his face, cherub cheeks painted a soft hue of red. “I can’t go on like this. I can’t live not knowing if you still love me.” His words broke you, reopened the wound your lost child left. You loved him, you loved him more than anyone in this realm. "I had a miscarriage," you whispered. "I didn't know how to tell you.”

“W-what?” Aegon was confused, ceasing all of his movements the second you uttered the words. You began to sniffle, guilt eating away at your heart. “I- I didn’t know I was with child. It happened so suddenly and I- I” You couldn’t finish your sentence between the sobs. He pulled you close, burying your face in his chest, “i-i’m sorry. I’m sorry” you wailed like a newborn babe.

“Shhh, don’t say sorry.” He pushed down his feelings of regret to comfort you. “I should have been there. You should have never gone through that alone.” Aegon held you tightly as you cried, tears streaming down his own face. He murmured soothing words in your ear and stroked your hair until your sobs subsided. Finally, you lifted your head and looked into his eyes. They were filled with love, concern, and a hint of fear. "I still love you," you said softly. "More than anything."

Relief flooded his face, and he pulled you into a deep kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of the past, present, and future. It was a kiss full of forgiveness, love, and hope. When the kiss ended, Aegon brushed a strand of hair from your face and smiled. "We can make another babe if you’d like." His poorly timed inappropriate jests normally fell flat but to his surprise and enjoyment, you laughed. it was a happy, pure laugh, the kind that he hadn't heard in a long time.

#aegon targaryen #aegon fic #aegon x reader #aegon x you #aegon angst #aegon fluff #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon ii angst #aegon ii fluff #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fic

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rat-typewriter · 2 years ago

Text

Clumsy - Leon Kennedy x Reader

proofread?: I will soon,,,, i promise

summary: You injure yourself; Leon wishes you'd be more careful.

You wished you had been looking where you had been going. Maybe then, you wouldn't have had to experience the horrible moment of free-fall as you realise that you've overstepped slightly and are about to tumble down the stairs. On your way down, not only did you smack your head into the wall - giving yourself a nosebleed - and crack your phone screen, but you landed on your ankle at an awkward angle.

Which really fucking hurt.

For a moment, you lay in a pathetic heap at the bottom of the stairwell - stunned by the whole experience. It was only when you heard Leon’s voice from several flights up that you snapped out of your daze.

“Y/N, Have you got the keys?” You quickly heaved yourself up into a sitting position, rummaging through your pockets - which contained no keys.

Shit.

You could picture them, still sat on your coffee table - now locked inside your flat.

Even from there, you could practically hear the teasing grin on his face as he added. “You always forget them.”

Sighing, you moved to stand - using the handrail to heave yourself up.

“I don’t have them.” You groaned. “God, I’m sorry, I’ve got to stop-”

Pain shot up through your leg - forcing a surprised yelp out of your throat. You veered sideways, grabbing the handrail for support as you doubled over in agony.

“Y/N?”

Leon’s footsteps echoed as he thundered down the stairs, calling your name again.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Ow, fuck.

Blood dripped out of your nose - the warm wetness running down your chin - clumsily you wiped it away, smearing red across your hand.

“Y/N!”

The panic in Leon’s usually steady voice made you feel a little ill (or maybe it was the way your head spun after daring to peer down at your ankle, which seemed to be at an interesting angle). You were by no means squeamish; in your line of work there simply wasn’t room to be. But in that moment - at eleven forty-four at night, in the stairwell of your flat - you weren’t feeling so brave.

Leon rounded the corner and took the last flight of stairs three at a time - practically skidding to a halt beside you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, allowing you to lean on him as he slowly lowered you to the ground.

“What happened?” He scanned your body; swearing quietly as he took in the blood (which although was only from your nose, you realised looked quite worrying when it was smeared across your shirt and hands). “Shit, Y/N. I’m going to call someone-”

He moved to stand and you grabbed his shoulder. “I’m alright!” You blurted out, your voice shaking a little. “Seriously, I’m okay.” You smiled in what you hoped to be a reassuring fashion - but Leon stared back, unimpressed. Admittedly you were not even remotely okay, but hearing your level-headed boyfriend panic filled you with anxiety.

“Yeah - no you’re not, sweetheart.”

You laughed flatly. “Yeah, okay.”

---

You had never thought your city had many potholes, before making the drive to the hospital with a broken ankle. Leon did his best to avoid them all - but for each one he hit, you swore loudly - earning a flinch and slightly alarmed apology from him.

Now you sat in the Accident and Emergency waiting room, alone - save for a drunken girl who had called five (or was it six?) friends to cry about something unintelligible. According to the clock hung on the sterile white wall, an hour and twenty minutes had passed since the receptionist told you that someone would be “right with you” (before disappearing to god knows where).

Despite your best efforts, sleep was out of the question - even when you tucked your head under Leon’s chin, successfully blocking out the garish white lights - the angry throbbing from your swollen foot was too hard to ignore. From time-to-time you felt Leon begin to drift off, before jerking awake; you felt terrible for dragging him out, just because you were so clumsy.

Despite his snarky remarks - rarely did you ever have a legitimate disagreement. You had playful spats and often pushed each other's buttons - but Leon always knew where to draw the line.

You knew he put up with a hell of a lot from you. Even the time your cat died and you refused to leave your flat for a month. He patiently came over and sat with you every single day until you felt ready to come out again. Even when you came back from missions and were too afraid to sleep. He’d sit awake with you watching every film under the sun until you fell asleep. Even the times where you did something genuinely stupid - touching an oven tray with your bare hands, locking yourself out for the millionth time - he’d just sigh and tease you for being such a ditz. But every time his voice - through the speaker of your phone would say:

It’s okay, don’t worry about it.

I’m on my way; I’ll see you soon.

Hang tight, sweetheart.

He was everything to you. You glanced up at him, the movement enough to disturb him from his bored trance.

“I’m sure it won’t be long now.” He squeezed you gently, tightening his arm around your waist and you smiled awkwardly.

“Sorry."

He cocked his head at you, giving you a tired smile. “You haven’t got anything to apologise for. Those stairs are far too steep - they’re an accident waiting to happen.”

They really weren’t. And you both knew this. It was just a regular flight of stairs and you hadn’t been looking where you were going.

You looked down at your foot, which had contentedly settled as an angry shade of purple. You were clumsy. A great officer - you kept up with Leon on missions easily, but you had a tendency to misjudge. It drove your boyfriend mad - your undying (perhaps foolish) confidence that I can make that jump or I'll be able to outrun those guys. His exasperated sighs and swearing under his breath often misled others. It always seemed to come as quite a shock that - although you spent a fair amount of time bumping heads, that not only did you work together - but you also loved one another.

After being separated in missions - no matter how much ranted about how you were too reckless or unprofessional or infuriating - he'd always squeeze your hand.

You didn't know what you did to deserve him. You wished you knew.

Pulling you from your thoughts, Leon pressed a kiss to your temple.

"You're thinking too hard." He spoke quietly. "That's never a good thing."

You shifted in your seat, thinking carefully before you spoke.

"Please don't leave me,"

You felt Leon sir back a little and - even though didn't move to look at his face - you felt him almost spluttering; buffering through various expressions as he scrambled for a response.

He started to speak a couple of times, cutting himself off before he could even form the first word. Finally, he let out a breathy laugh.

"What?" He said, craning his neck slightly to get a better look at your face.

You stared at the floor still, afraid to move. God, you sounded pathetic. So attention-seeking; so whiny.

"I-" You paused to suck in a breath, your throat beginning to shut. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Leon."

He laughed again, this time more firmly, shaking his head. "Do I look like I could function without you?"

What is he talking about? You took deep breaths and tried to steady yourself and focus on him.

He had turned to you, propping himself up with his elbow on the back of your seat. Leon wasn't a massively touchy person - not in public at least - but you noticed how suddenly there were mere inches between you. Even now, you could see a glimpse of yourself, a gangly twenty year-old at the Police Academy in Racoon City - as the boy who sat next to you asked for your number.

He raised his eyebrows, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. "I had no idea I seemed so put together."

"I-" Your voice came out as a sort of hollow whisper. "What?"

He smiled, leaning closer as he laughed again. "M'not going to leave you, sweetheart. I thought it was obvious, but you're going to have to try a little harder than a broken ankle to get rid of me."

A weak laugh forced its way out of you - even when you were a teenager, you had been a nervous-laugher. In the back of your mind, you were vaguely grateful that the drunken girl had now passed out across a row of seats - right then, it was only Leon.

"Really?" You said.

"Mhm." He nodded, barely a hint of his usual smugness remaining in his voice. "I mean - as long as you still want me around - I'm going to need you."

He sat back, raising an eyebrow at you. "I wouldn't want anyone else watching my back."

You giggled again, a memory of your time in the academy appearing in your mind.

"Even the time I tripped us both up in front of Officer James?"

He nodded, laughing. "Yeah, even so."

Leaning into his side again, you felt a little silly. Leon never let you feel unloved, it was just your own insecurity that got the better of you from time to time.

For a moment you sat in silence, comfortably nestled against one another.

Leon sighed.

"Do you think they've forgotten us?" You asked, watching the empty reception desk carefully.

"Probably." He said. "Oh well,"

After another mind-numbingly dull forty minutes, a nurse appeared - taking you for x-rays and various tests. By the time you and Leon finally left the hospital, the sky was beginning to lighten.

Leon watched nervously as you struggled with your crutches, limping through the car park. He made sure to never be more than a pace or so away from you, his hands poised so he could leap forwards and catch you whenever you stumbled.

“I’m not going to break, Leon.” You laughed watching his wide-eyed expression as you faltered slightly - but caught yourself easily.

“I know,” He said, swallowing - but still not taking his eyes off of you. “I’m just here-” you slipped again and he grabbed you around the waist, supporting you. He let out a sigh before continuing. “I’m just here in case that happens.”

“Who would have thought it, stoic Agent Kennedy - all worried, just for little old me.” you grinned, raising an eyebrow - earning a huff from Leon.

“Well, clearly, you need my help.”

“Oh do I?” you stumbled again; Leon caught you.

This time it was his turn to raise his eyebrows, his signature cocky smile speaking for itself.

As much as you hated to admit it, that smile never failed to make you weak at the knees. You rolled your eyes, turning away - there was no way you’d ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “Shut up.” you huffed.

“I didn’t say anything.” he said, feigning innocence. You could hear his smugness.

“You were about to.” you gently shoved him with your hip - causing him to playfully lift you an inch or so off the ground.

“I’d be careful, if I were you, agent L/N. I might just drop you.”

With a fake gasp you responded. “Oh you wouldn’t dream of it.”

---

A/N: Aaa I love leon so muchhh if anyone has only more re4 or re8 requests pls send them!!!

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