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velvetures · 2 years ago

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Omg I love your stories so much especially the cod ones 😍😍😍 could you please write a ghost x reader oneshot where the reader maybe gets shot taking a bullet meant for him and maybe they are in an established relationship please with a happy ending

Ignoring Orders & Accepting Lead

A/N: I loved this req. and I hope you're okay with the direction I took this in. I'm trying to get the other asks I've been sent finished in a somewhat timely manner... haha! Honestly, I never thought anyone would enjoy my writing as much as all of you have. <3 Summary: Established relationships mean occasional arguments... You and Ghost have one before a mission. And the make-up conversation is a little less than standard for most couples. T/W: Canonical Violence, guns, knives, Blood, Death (non-major characters), severe injuries, tension, hurt/comfort, HAPPY ENDING, Ghost being a bit overprotective, Reader being a smartass, not proofread.

Arguments with Ghost happened a lot more frequently than anyone would ever suspect. While he liked to stay quiet when the opportunity arose, it was also know that if you could avoid a conflict, you would just to make sure the temperature of the situation didn’t rise too high. As a pair, it made you great operators, just for the skill-set you each had as well as the predisposition to get things done quickly, and quietly. As for being in a relationship, your character’s held zero influence on the way that you cared about each other of how that would display itself during moments of tension or disagreement. Especially in moments during missions where things weren’t going to plan, and your ideas severely countered Ghost’s.

One of those fights had occurred right before you’d been dropped into a very small town outside of Culiacán, Sinaloa. At HQ, Price was splitting everyone up for their distinct purposes, and you’d been immediately assigned with Ghost for an infil job. One requiring both of you to get in and get out of the well-known cartel stronghold without getting caught or being killed. Naturally you accepted the task without so much as flinching, whereas Ghost didn’t have such an easygoing attitude about it.

He was fucking furious.

First he tried threatening Price, demanding that you not be listed for that and go with Soap for the much less risky job of tracking down a small-time dealer who’d been listed as having information valuable to the task force. Price wasn’t stupid enough to not recognize where Ghost’s rage was coming from, and just simply said that if you wanted the job, there was nothing he could do about it since you’d already read the briefing and knew the entire plan just as well as anyone else. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear from the Captain, and that made things all the worse for you when you said you weren’t going to let him go in alone.

One of the worst fights you’d ever had with Ghost since your partnership became a fully-fledged romance happened right off the helipad being fueled-up for your departure. God it was miserable, and it hurt every ounce of you to have to defend yourself over the one thing that you were certain you could do. Your job. Understanding Ghost’s protective instinct was one thing, but there had to be a line drawn where him throwing his weight and rank around to limit your exposure to risk couldn’t be done anymore.

He’d been totally insensitive to your side of the story, and was obstinate that if you got on the helo, he’d not do a damn thing to keep you safe once you got to Culiacán. Merely to prove the bullshit point that you couldn’t to the job without him. That statement alone had you strapping into your flight harness quicker than Ghost could utter ‘jesus christ’ under his breath. Totally stonewalling you for the entire flight and practically acting like you didn’t even exist. Hell, he wouldn’t even go over the mission plan as was typical, leaving you fully to fend for yourself and follow his lead without even a hand signal to lead you through it.

Everything on entry went smoothly.

No guards were stationed in the underground sewer tunneling, leaving you very dry and unhindered on the half-mile walk from your drop-point to the access ladder leading up into the basement of a massive chapel-turned-base of operations. Whether or not you’d been keeping up or not didn’t appear to phase Ghost in the slightest, and he continued on and up into the basements without so much as glancing your way. You were quickly losing your patience, and getting than much more hurt with hoe easily he could turn off the affection and care that he always had for you. Sure, he wasn’t the coddling type, but you’d never wanted that from him; but this was a whole different level of coldness.

Inside the basement there were stockpiles of cocaine, pre-packed on shipping crates with a printed docket of everything contained on each. Just seeing that much shit all in one room made your head spin. It was one thing knowing it existed, and understanding that tons of it were being shipped all over the world, but actually being in a room surrounded by it from almost floor-to-ceiling was quite overwhelming. And Ghost’s own utterance of the sheer volume confirmed that it wasn’t just your own imagination leading you to think this was way too fucking much to handle. Bad part was, you couldn’t touch any of the shit or destroy it, and were solely on the objective of cloning their hard drives and bringing them back for examination.

Clearing stairwell after stairwell, and only needing to dispose of two guards -quick work with a sharp knife- you’d been able to access their massive data stores collected in what appeared to be nothing more than a personal server farm. Kept extremely cold for the benefit of the rows of towers, you’d been given the small cloning chip needed to transmit data back to HQ. But you needed a window of up to fifteen minutes to ensure everything was fully copied. You -and Ghost- both knew that fifteen minutes was far too long to just stand around with your thumbs up your asses and just hope that no one wondered why the two guards you’d shanked hadn’t checked in, or come to make a round inside the server room.

Ghost very instinctively covered the access door to the room, not even bothering to demand you give him the chip or take care of the data itself. A small reminder that he wasn’t totally untrusting of your skills, but still not large enough of a show that made you feel any less miserable about how your relationship was quite strained at the moment, all of something as small as a fifteen minute window of gathering information. By some miracle, you watched the progress on a small tablet linked to the chip and HQ’s data stores, watching it hit one-hundred percent in just under eight minutes. Perfect. It couldn’t go much smoother than that.

You were tapping Ghost on the shoulder, and giving a small thumbs-up just as the sounds of footsteps running up the stairwell outside began echoing. More than just one or two. It was actually a lot more than you even had the ammunition to handle, considering the job was deemed covert. Neither you or Ghost went without some protection… but you’d been packed out a lot lighter than normal. Right away he was stepping back from the door and checking his watch with a stern look in his eyes. One you recognized as realization that you’d have to fight your way out of this. Ugly, bloody, and violent.

Exactly what he didn’t want in the fuckin’ first place.

Ghost was inside of his own mind, trying to balance out the fear of you being in the middle of a cartel fire-fight and the rage he still felt when you just wouldn’t fucking listen to him right from the beginning. He knew what cartels did to women, and a pretty one like you wouldn’t have the mercy of just being killed. No. They’d fucking torture and toy with you until there wasn’t anything human left inside of you. That’s why he’d been so goddamn adamant that you stay behind for this one.

The data you’d copied over was bullshit compared to you living and breathing for another day. And Ghost couldn’t stand to think he’d walked you right into this place without at least trying to show you that he cared enough to see you live. Dying wasn’t a fear of his, but there was nothing he dreaded more than the mental image of you bleeding out in his arms all because of his own fucking mistakes.

Yet, here he stood. Having to make the decision on what to do or how to get you both out of here alive if he could even manage that in the first place. Part of him was already preparing to let them take him and give you enough time to slip away. You were fast enough. Small, so they’d have a far harder time picking you out in a crowd. But if he’s assumptions were correct, the tunnels would still be clear.

He gave you one last look, and grabbed hold of your vest to pull you behind him; Hearing the footsteps of more than six men filling into the large room outside of the server farm. Some barking orders to check down the hall, while others were meant to stay posted at the stairs to block off anyone flushed out. Ghost felt his own body starting to get cold. So desensitized to the violence he was already prepping himself to commit that if it wasn’t for you being there, he’d had already burst through the door and met them head on.

“Fuckin’. Listen,” He snapped as quietly as possible. Your ears perked up, happy to have just heard him speak, even if he sounded downright vicious. Your little hand tapping at his ribs as confirmation you were paying attention sent a shiver up his back.

“Don’t engage unless they’re right in your way. Take the tunnels out, I’ll be right behind you.” He barked out the orders under his breath.

Ghost couldn’t help but feel your hand fist into the material of his shirt. You didn’t like that one bit, and he didn’t need to see your face to know better. Because for whatever reason, you had it in your thick little head that he needed protecting as much as you did. Like it was your job to make sure he didn’t get hurt. Cute and a little bit amusing, Ghost hadn’t the slightest clue where you got the idea from or why it was such a massive trigger for him to challenge it. But right now, there was no fighting about it. He’d not take no for an answer, and when you didn’t give a confirmation right away, he growled in impatience.

Reluctantly, you gave it with a small tap rubbing your thumb over his hip bone.

One minute, Ghost was pushing open the door and spotting only three men within direct threat distance and seeing only one man standing at the top of the stairs. A split second of decision had him throwing two knives, and charging at the third to ensure that you’d only have to take care of the one remaining. He sunk a third knife in, feeling the man sink to his knees and drop to the floor, retrieving two of his blades before turning around right as the sound of a pistol registered. Ghost realized his fatal error in the squeeze of a trigger too late.

Only you saw what was coming, and Ghost watched you crumple to the floor between the shooter and himself; Stopping the man from shooting him in the back, but catching you somewhere of your front that residual splatter from the rained over his mask and tac vest. Everything around Ghost slowed, nearing an entire halt to the earth as you fell limply to the ground. Not even moving to try and cover your wound or catch yourself from the fall to the marble floor. Nightmares couldn’t compare to the sight of you crumpled in a heap of gear and bulky material after watching you purposefully allow your life to be traded for his.

The shooter wasn’t lucky enough to squeeze the trigger again for the knife that embedded itself in his forehead. Retribution. Quick but not as instantaneous as it would’ve been with a gun of his own. He was forced to see his own death approach with the snapped rotation of a throwing knife Ghost had sharpened days ago. He wanted to it last longer… make the bastard pay for it. Torture him for as long as his body could take, then give him just enough time to recover and start all over again.

But you needed him… Fuck. He needed you.

On the ground, you knew you’d taken a shot. But the adrenaline and immediate blow of it had you frozen on the floor. You couldn’t really tell where you’d been shot, or how bad the damage was. Truthfully you’d never experience it, and while many of the stories you heard over the years of your service, nothing they ever did to explain it was touching the utter fire radiating through your body. What you did know was that you were bleeding, and the shot had missed your tac vest; A small stream of blood was rolling through the grout lines in the floor, staining the white marble a sickening color.

Seeing Ghost on a knee in front of you, eyes wide and searching over your face was the next hazy image you recognized. His mask was shifting with the motion of him talking, but your ears were ringing. A pitchy and high whine blocked any other sound, even Ghost’s voice which you’d always been so very keen on paying close attention to. You felt awful. Putting him through this after you’d literally just had the fight about you getting hurt. Guilt flooded your limited emotional capacity, and as Ghost readjusted to pick you up, you felt tears rolling down your face.

You’d not had a single second to react to the fourth man in the room, him having the jump on visualizing Ghost facing the other three. It made him a vulnerable target. And in the split second you had to do something, you’d jumped in the way. Laying out totally flat to use your entire body to shield his. Hoping to god luck was on your side. At this point, hanging over Ghost’s shoulder limply as he rushed down the stairs on his way towards the basement, you weren’t sure if luck was on your side or not.

Thankfully, your hearing was slowly coming back in certain frequencies.

Sounds of gunfire and sirens blaring from the street level let you know that everyone within a few miles of the cathedral would be on the lookout for intruders. With all of the people who’d seen you, killed, no descriptions could be sent out or blared to citizens under control of the cartel. It didn’t help that Ghost was the largest man in the city who just happened to have on a skull mask and carrying a woman leaving behind noticeable drips of blood as a gruesome kind of trail to follow.

“C’mon baby, answer me!” Ghost panting yell finally registered, and you were able to manage a weak pat on his lower back. You felt his hand squeeze the back of your thigh for a moment before his pace slowed from a quick run to almost a crawl.

“We got company…”

There hadn’t been any men in the tunnel. But now that Ghost was less than fifty yards from their extraction point with a “medical” heli waiting for their return; three men were posted at the gated slope leading up to the hillside entry. The Lieutenant could feel your blood soaking into his shirt, wetting his shoulder. A bad reminder that you needed to get the fuck out of here right now. But he couldn’t get rid of those fuckers unless he put you down.

He squeezed at your thigh again to get your attention.

“I need - need to -fuck- set you down…” Saying those words utterly destroyed Ghost. You were the only thing he cared about right now, but the longer he put this off, the risk of you dying loomed closer.

“Need ya t’stay right here… okay? Don’t come out…”

Carefully you felt him settle you behind a large sewage drain pipe connecting from the street into the small walkway. Easing your back against the curved brick wall and once again taking a very hard look at you. This time, he could see where the bullet had just missed the edge of your tac vest, entering through the ripped hole in your shirt just below your collarbone. Every hopeful fiber in Ghost wanted to believe it wouldn’t be non-lethal. But if it shattered your collarbone, the bullet fractured and clipped a vein or small artery, there was plenty to be concerned about.

He would’ve packed the would just to stave off the blood flow. But he didn’t have the luxury of time. And whether or not Ghost would ever admit it to himself, repeatedly shoving his finger into your wound would render him down to a shell of a man. He couldn’t hurt you. Fuck, he couldn’t hurt you.

“Stay here… I’ll be right back.” He whispered against your forehead, pressing his masked mouth to your forehead.

You leaned into him, hearing his words and consciously noticing just how difficult it was to understand the words after hearing them. Almost like you couldn’t natively speak english and the meanings just weren’t instinctual anymore. God it took everything to comprehend that he was planning to clear the rest of the way, leaving you here. Eyes trailing after him sluggishly, you fought with your own arms to try and scoot back just a little further to peek between the large pipe you were leaning against to see if you could spot Ghost or the targets.

Being told to stay was always a difficult order for you. Even if you weren’t shot and struggling to manage simple bodily functions. Surprisingly, you were able to see the shadowed figured standing guard right at the gates you’d come through, holding rifles and totally unaware of Ghost lurking within such easy range. You wondered why he didn’t just shoot them, and get this over with.

Why he needed stealth when the entire city was looking for you didn’t make a lot of sense in your mind. Until you saw five more men walk down to join the others. With one cut of your eyes to look at Ghost, you realized he had anticipated more and planned of making quick work. It’d been a long time since you watched him work alone. Nearly two years. Attempting to shift your shoulder it rocked your entire system. Biting your jaw to keep from making noise, you tried focusing through the tears in your eyes as the only man who held the key to not only your life, but your heart in his fist.

Ghost kept reevaluating his odds with each step closer. Feeling distracted in the worst way with the guilt of leaving you unprotected, and in no position to defend yourself in the case that he wasn’t able to take all of these men alone. Those odds -either realistic or narcissistic confidence- didn’t phase the Lieutenant in the slightest. He was fueled with rage. And while these bastards hadn’t done anything, just being in his path was a death sentence.

The fight started smoothy and efficiently, taking out the largest of the men and using his half-dead form as enough of a shield to eliminate the threat of three 12.7x99mm wielders, too surprised to shoot off five rounds. Another three surrounded him with nothing more than machetes swiping through the air with near misses. One smooth draw of his own pistol dropped two men, and when Ghost turned around to face the third the butt of a shotgun smacked across his vision, dropping him to his knees and hearing his pistol slide across the floor out of reach.

He hauled himself to a knee, watching the man throw the empty shotgun away and approach with a knife, glinting in the sunlight just on the outside of the tunnel. Ghost could actually hear the rotor blades of the helicopter cranking up, set into motion by the small tracker in his belt giving the pilot a comm-less tip off. He’d have to fight this hand-to-hand, and while he didn’t feel the least bit tired, Ghost knew a long fight only risked you further. And fuck if making you wait didn’t make his hair stand up on edge. Even in your state, he knew better than to think you wouldn’t start getting worried in the next couple of minutes.

His opponent took the first blow and used the hilt of his large blade to connect fully with Ghost’s jaw. A heavy crack sounded, but the Lieutenant merely flinched; Throwing his own weight on the weight-matched man, and there ensued a grappling match that risked deadly knife wounds being grazed against straining forearms and a battle of wills that totally opposed one another on every basis… Save for being the last man standing. For the second time in a single mission, Ghost found himself at the razor’s edge of a knife pressing against his throat and no really foolproof tactic of getting out of it.

“Seré el que te mate, fantasma..” The man breathed hotly against Ghost’s ear, jerking the knife closer and fighting the sheer strength in the Lieutenant’s arm. “Colgaré tu cabeza en mi pared, bastardo.”

Ghost fumbled with his other hand under the pressure on his throat began taking away the normal dexterity he functioned with; Trying to find a knife on his belt, or any kind of weapon at this point. Only all of them had been embedded in the dead bodies scattered around them. It had been a bad decision to listen to Price when he said to pack lightly. It would be the end of him.

Simon Riley didn’t show himself often during missions. Always locked away in the recesses of Ghost’s mind, quietly biding his time until there was the few-and-far-between moment for him to appear for a few moments. Typically in the darkness of your shared bedroom with your face pressed between his shoulder blades and your little arm wrapped around his waist.

Simon loved feeling your hand against his belly, twitching your fingers in your sleep and reminding him just how soft and loving you were; Happy to hold his hand tightly in the middle of unconsciousness just like you did when awake. Ghost did everything he could to protect Simon from anyone and anything that could hurt the other half of himself. But hearing another pistol register loudly in the tunnel, echoing back and forth for almost a whole minute; Ghost found himself losing control to Simon.

He felt the man above him slump in dead weight against his back. Muscles slack and the knife held to his throat clanged to the concrete. Looking in the direction of the shot, whatever protective grasp Ghost had on himself utterly dissolved. You’d managed to lay yourself out on the floor, hardly propped up on one elbow with your smoking pistol shaking in your hands. Tears spilled over your cheeks and with each second that passed, he could visualize the pain you felt from such a rough kickback in how you abruptly dropped the pistol in front of you and collapsed flat on the floor with a low groan.

He couldn’t have moved to your side faster.

Immediately picking you up again and making the very short but tense run back to the heli; all the while the pilot was looking between his instruments and the sight of Ghost holding you close to his chest in the floor.

“No one… threatens… to kill you… but me…” You mutter pained, bearing a muddled smile up at Ghost.

Unbelievable… Ghost hardened his stare, putting pressure to your wound and watching in quiet grief that he needed to cause you pain.

“Good shot… did good baby…,” He whispered back weakly, burying his face in your neck and squeezing you against him. Desperate to get you home and safe.

“Gonna ignore how you refused to follow a superior’s orders three times…” He added stiffly, feeling you twitch when a spasm in your shoulder seized. You just bit out another pained noise, coughing a bit with the dust being kicked up from the helicopter lifting off.

The look you gave him couldn’t be seen as anything other than pure, innocent, and unflinching devotion. It nearly ripped Ghost out of the body you clung to, leaving Simon bracing you against his chest as the pilot at the front started giving information to the rest of the squad about fifty miles away at a safe house. Much too long for the Lieutenant’s liking. But close enough that he could get you to his squad and they could ensure you didn’t leave him.

He couldn’t stand losing you, and they’d make sure you didn’t.

“Simon,” Sweet and weak, your hand cups his cheek as you bring him out of an initial trigger. “M’not leaving you anytime soon. Love you too much.” Your eyes close as your head leans agains him trustingly.

His chest crumbled in on itself. “Love you too, baby… I love you too.”

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated! <3

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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ssawhatthehell · 10 months ago

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Imagine the new member of the BAU has CIP (congenital Insensitivity to pain - doesn’t feel painful stimulus, or extreme temperatures).

After new member nearly gets hypothermia because they forgot their jacket at the hotel in freezing temperatures, there’s a designated “emergency wellness kit” that includes a hoodie/jacket carried by a team member or kept at the station or local precinct.

After any dangerous situation (which let’s be honest, they are in general excluded from or delighted to the rear of the entry team so it’s rare) there’s a near mandatory wellness check in case there’s any cuts.

I’m sorry I just can’t stop thinking about the team leaving the hotel one morning and it’s 40 degrees, everyone is wrapped in jackets and scarves except this one member and suddenly Hotch or Derek or JJ is shoving a jacket into their arms that they fished out of a bag in the back seat.

Edit: this has shot off much more than I imagined it would. If anyone would like some blurbs or something involving CIP/CIPA BAU member, please let me know!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds OC #criminal minds reader #behavioral analysis unit #bau team #bau x reader #aaron hotchner #jason gideon #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #spencer reid #penelope garcia #david rossi

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myownwholewildworld · 9 months ago

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chapter 9 | main masterlist | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 11

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now) summary: recovery, if at all possible, is hard work ― but you're not alone. joel is there to hold your hand, through thick and thin. until death do you part. a/n: hello there! c: i hope this chapter puts some of you out of your misery, because it did me lol i'm sorry for the emotional damage you have endured so far, i'm giving you all a hug and forehead kisses 🫶 hope you enjoy this one! as always, all interactions welcome. thank you all so much for the warm welcome this series has gotten so far! love y'all 💖 p.s. there's a second a/n at the end of the chapter 👀 warnings: 18+, mdni. angst. being sick. references to suicide and navigating grief. mentions of blood and murder. description of wounds. joel takes care of you. a bit of fluff. reader talks briefly about her past with her family. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n. joel’s and reader’s pov. dividers by @saradika-graphics w/c: ~5.8k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t do this to me, not yet, please―”, Joel’s voice faltered as the lump in his throat threatened to suffocate him.

Panic was running so high, he couldn’t even hear his own racing thoughts. His shaking hands hovered over your cheek before cupping your chin. Your eyes were shut, your lips slightly parted, your hand still resting across his chest. To unknowing eyes, you just looked asleep, but your skin was burning so hot that Joel could only touch your forehead for a few seconds at a time.

“No, c’mon, wake up”, he whispered as he sat back up on the bed, holding your frame between his arms.

Fear froze him in place, his muscles cramped. Joel knew what was about to happen, but he had had no time to digest it yet, to wrap his head around the fact that you were going to die. He couldn’t lose you ― not you too. His heart shrunk painfully in his chest, oppressing his lungs to the point where it was difficult to breathe. The panic he had managed to keep at bay was overtaking his senses, setting in quickly.

Joel forced himself to breathe. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale ― until his heartrate dropped to somewhat normal levels. He could still feel his blood rushing through his veins in waves, but at least his chest had stopped hurting a little.

He looked down at you, burning in his arms. A fleeting thought crossed his mind ― why were you having a fever so severe? He had not seen anyone come down with a temperature when bitten, although he never stayed around for long enough to find out, so what did he know?

But it didn’t really matter how it was happening, but that it was happening. Joel was not ready to let you go, even though he promised he would murder you when the end was near. You had taken it back, but once he accepted, there was no turning back.

Joel Miller was many things, but he was not a quitter nor a liar. He would be true to his word.

He caressed your cheek as you shivered so hard that your teeth chattered together, brushing his mouth against your forehead. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here”, he mumbled, although he was not sure if you were listening.

His heart flipped again at the realisation that he needed to make a decision about the when. Letting you suffer like this, when the end was inalterable, was cruel of him. Extremely cruel, especially because you were not able to stop your own suffering as you had wanted.

One hour, one hour and then I’ll let you go, he pledged to himself as he enveloped you in his arms.

This time you trembled so hard, you ran your elbow into his ribs. Joel mouthed an exclamation as he held you in place. He might be cruel, but not so insensitive to let you hurt like this. So he laid you down on bed and got up to run to the en-suite bathroom.

He almost sighed with relief when he saw a big bathtub. Praying for running water, he opened the tap and almost thanked God for the miracle. Joel let the water run for a few minutes until it came out clear. He tested the temperature, and it was so cold that the hairs on his forearm stood up.

Joel returned to the bedroom and sank a knee on the mattress to pick you up. You whimpered something, but your words were so slurred he couldn’t understand what you had said.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I got you”, he reassured you, his lips gently pressing against your temple.

Lifting you off the bed, Joel walked towards the bathroom with you curled up in his arms. Your bottom lip was quivering because of the effort your body was making to generate heat. But you didn’t need your core temperature to rise up but to come down and Joel knew that.

Sucking in his breath, he stepped in the bathtub, the cold water a shock to his body. But he was not going to leave you alone, not when you needed him the most. He would crawl through living hell on a path full of broken glass for you, so a bit of cold was not going to kill him. He slowly sat down, keeping the balance, and set you down between his legs, your back resting against his torso.

“Fuck”, he whispered while his body acclimatised to the cold water.

You suddenly groaned and Joel’s alertness went through the roof. He held you in his arms as you stirred, trying to get away in your haziness.

“Cold, so cold”, you mumbled, your eyes fluttering open for a brief second, your trembling hands looking for something to hold on to.

Joel captured both of your hands in one of his so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.

“I know, I know, baby, but I need to cool you off. You have a fever”, he reasoned with you, but your neurons were firing up so much with pain that your brain could not really register his words.

“Joel, it― it hurts, please make it stop”, you begged, more unconscious than awake.

The lump in his throat grew bigger at your plea. He knew he had to do it but couldn’t find the strength. Was he a coward? Was he so afraid of solitude that he would put you through such hellish torment?

“I will, darlin’, I will. Just gimme a minute, please”, Joel murmured against your temple, holding you tight, his breath shaking with anticipated sorrow.

He did not want to say goodbye. Joel was fucking scared of bidding you farewell ― his heart racing so fast, the pain in his chest returned worse than before.

Joel remained still in that bathtub with you in his arms for half an hour, until his skin was desensitised. Your shivering calmed down to the point it was almost non-existent now and you had stayed quiet for the last five minutes, your chest rising and falling in a steady pace.

His movements were slow and smooth, not wanting to wake you up as he stood up still holding you. Stepping out of the bathtub, Joel grabbed a towel nearby, walked you to the bed again and carefully laid you down on the bedsheets. With light touches, he dried off your damp skin, ensuring he did not wake you up at any moment. You looked so peaceful, so painless now, he didn’t want to disrupt you too much.

With pursed lips, Joel gently removed the wet bandage protecting the bite and concernedly inspected the gnarly wound on your forearm. The teeth marks were so clear, he could count a full set of adult teeth. The lesion was still festering, blood and pus oozing out from time to time. But, weirdly enough, it seemed to be better than a few hours ago. It was less reddened, less swollen and, overall, less hideous looking.

You had to be a trooper if your body was really trying to heal that, because, from what he knew, there was no coming back from being bit by a clicker. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as Joel feebly patted the wound with the clean towel and replaced the bandage with a fresh one.

He then clothed you and as he was putting on your foot the last sock, your eyes opened for one second, full consciousness still evading you. You were in and out, catching brief moments of lucidity.

“Joel? I love you”, you managed to whisper before dosing off again.

“Me too, darlin’”, but you were too far gone again to hear him say it.

One hour turned into fifteen. Joel had gone through all five stages of grief in that time, and now was back to square one.

Denial.

This could not be happening to you ― you did not deserve to die like this. You were a very bright light on the shore, the lighthouse who guided him home when he thought everything was senseless, pointless. You had managed to teach him how to weather the worst tempests, how to keep the boat afloat even though the waves were bigger than him. Joel had been able to touch the sand for the first time in what felt like a lifetime of loss, all thanks to you. You were a beacon of hope, of positivity, and you deserved so much better than this.

Why you? Of the thousands of people walking this damn earth, why you? Destiny was laughing at him, snatching you away when he had just let himself feel the love you had so sweetly offered.

Anger.

He pinched the bridge of his hooked nose while the fingers of his free hand nervously played a melody on the arm of the chair he was sat on. Joel was pissed off at himself, for allowing himself to feel, to doom you the way he always did the people he loved.

One look at you, curled up on bed, was enough to make him hate himself for what he did to you. He might not have been the one who bit you, but he was the one who put you in harm’s way first. Had he been more attentive, less in his head, he could have prevented it from happening.

A shimmering but fading rage consumed what remained of his broken soul. Like a city burnt down to its foundations, only a barren wasteland prevailed inside his empty carcass.

Bargaining.

He got up from his resting to aimlessly walk around the bedroom, his sight never leaving you, worry distorting his features.

If he could, he would trade places with you in a heartbeat. Damn him, he would sacrifice countless people in your name if that meant you could remain by his side. You were worth more than a thousand lives in his eyes. Joel would kill for you, would commit atrocities for you if that meant you could be with him.

He probably was a selfish motherfucker for thinking that way, but his pain was blinding his judgement. And you would hate him for it ― he could hear your voice in his head saying, “I’m not worth that much, Joel.” But you were, yes, you fucking were.

The thought of not having you by his side brought overwhelming anxiety upon him, one he thought long forgotten.

Depression.

His demons caught up with him in the end.

With a heavy, trembling sigh, he sat down on the bed. Tucking a stray hair strand behind your ear, his gentle touch lingered on your neck. Your heartbeat was strong, and Joel wondered how long it would take for it to slowly die out. And at that moment, his would wither away too.

He just didn’t have it in him anymore ― Joel felt defeated, purposeless. Life would eventually become meaningless, and he would destroy himself, just like Tommy had predicted. His brother would be better off without him too, so there was no point in looking for him and his new-found group. It still pained him how quickly Tommy had ditched them, as if he could not wait to get rid of them, of him.

When he lost his precious Sarah, Joel deemed the world an inhabitable place. Darkness became his most trusted companion at the most dreadful hours of his existence. Until you shone a light which scattered the gloom away.

Acceptance.

It is what it is, Joel thought, conquered by the dreary circumstances.

He was no god, so couldn’t change the past. Your fate had been attached to his the moment you two met. And like a moth attracted to light, Joel could not stop but fall for you. You had showed him what true romantic love was and he should be grateful for the time he had with you. And he was but was greedy too ― he had wanted more. So much more, even in this post-apocalyptic world.

Joel bent down to kiss your forehead, realising your fever had subsided when his lips didn’t burn like before. At least he had done one good thing for you. Joel laid down beside you, wrapping you in his arms one last time before he would become, once again, the ghoul. Your ghoul.

Just one more minute to pretend, he told himself. Joel had finally come to terms with what was expected of him.

And then, as promised, he stood up and stilled in front of the nightside table where the gun had been resting for hours now. Two bullets were all he had left, but it was more than enough for what he intended. This time round, you would not be there to stop him ― it was almost poetic that his goodbye to you was a mirror image of how you two met.

Surprisingly, when Joel reached for it, his hand was steady, his finger wrapping around the trigger with a determination he did not really feel. His mind had gone blank the moment his palm caressed the grip.

The faster, the better, he coaxed himself as he checked the magazine one last time.

As if his soul had left his body, Joel watched himself from afar turn around to face you. The barrel of the gun delicately kissed your forehead. He wouldn’t look away ― if he was strong enough to kill you, he should be too to watch you die at his own mercy.

A blur of memories impregnated your brain, so vague you could not differentiate them. Or were they just a product of your imagination? You were not sure. You were a baby, but you were also a teen at the same time ― the chronology was so mixed up you could not tell the different versions of you apart.

You felt like your brain had melted inside your skull and were not able to produce logical thoughts. It really felt like mush after all the hurt you had endured. You barely remembered anything except for the searing pain that had consumed you, overwhelming all the nerve endings in your body to a maddening point. But after being surrounded by a blanket of coldness, you felt substantially better.

As time went on, your thoughts had become clearer, but a crushing sense of tiredness rendered you bedbound. Your limbs felt like jelly, your eyelids were glued to your globes, and your throat felt so dry that if you tried to pronounce a word, the effort would tear at your vocal cords. So you let yourself be swayed by the gentle waves of your imagination, drifting away into a realm of soothing possibilities. A place where nothing bad could ever happen ― a place where you had your happily ever after with Joel.

The passing of time escaped you ― for all you knew, it could have been days when you started to feel better. Your body had almost fought off the ailment that plotted your demise, although it still had a few battles ahead. Even if you had begun to come back to your senses, you were lucid enough to understand you could not push yourself into normalcy just yet.

Suddenly you felt a cold touch on your forehead and slowly wrinkled your eyebrows. Joel’s lips were usually warm when they brushed your skin, not icicles numbing your feeling. It took you a few attempts, but you were finally able to flutter your eyelashes enough to see.

And what you first saw once you regained consciousness was the barrel of a gun pointing at your forehead. Holding the firearm was Joel’s hand, gripping it so hard his knuckles were white. You had to blink again to clear your sight, cloudiness still fogging the edges.

“Joel?”, you called out, focusing your eyes on his for the first time in what it felt like ages.

He did not respond. The silence was so dense, so filling, you could listen to both of your hearts pounding hard against your chests, as if they were trying to escape and reunite, soothe one another until they calmed down.

“Joel”, you repeated, your voice raspy and hoarse.

You saw the doubt, the fear, dancing freely in his pupils. They were so dilated you could barely see the beautiful brown of his irises. Joel’s eyes were slightly widened, his breathing so agitated his chest moved up and down quickly. But the gun never left your forehead, his hand balanced.

“Fuck me, now I’m seeing things too”, he whispered so low you almost didn’t catch his words.

As the hefty mist dissipated in your brain, you understood what was happening.

You had asked, he had committed. Joel was about to put an end to your suffering, just as you requested. But there was no more suffering within you, not to the point where you wished yourself dead. Now it was… manageable.

He really was going to do it, even if it meant killing the last remnant of humanity within himself. Such act of selfless love brought tears to your eyes. You truly had to love someone to be able to let them go. To be the executioner’s hand ― the sacrifice was even bigger. Joel willing to forego his own being for you meant so many things, it was difficult to put them into words.

“Joel, look at me. Look at me”, you mumbled controlling your wavering tone as you gently pushed down the barrel by caressing his hand, your thumb gently rubbing his skin.

Even though he had been watching you, he was not really seeing you. But your request seemed to finally pervade, because you saw the change in his eyes ― a spark lightened, the brown gaining ground to the black. They broadened while focusing on you for the first time.

“Baby?”, his voice broke on the second syllable, the gun falling on top of the mattress.

You nodded, teary-eyed, as you tried to sit back up on bed. But you were still weak, dizziness overtaking your sense of balance, making the room go round you in a dangerous spiral.

Joel felt your light-headedness as his own, because he quickly sat down beside you, his strong arm wrapping around your shoulders to keep you close to his torso.

“What― How― How are you feeling?”, Joel stammered for a second, not letting his hope win against dooming reality.

“I― I feel better.” You looked up at him, his gorgeous eyes pulling you in so fast. Your surprise was reflected on his pupils, none of you really understanding how it was even possible. “I don’t know, but I do?”

“Promise me.” He requested, not demanded, while his fingers traced the outline of your jaw, subtly caressing the skin behind your ear.

You turned your head to kiss the palm of his hand before glancing up at him again.

“I promise, Joel.”

He sighed so hard, you felt his relief pouring out. And so did yours, although you didn’t want to get your hopes up, in case this was the crash before the falling. You had not had an experience close to death before, but it surely wouldn’t feel like this. The agony your body had gone through, although still lingering, was not even half of what it had been some time ago.

The pain had receded, but the overall ill feeling still remained. Your immune system was up in arms, and you could literally feel it fighting off the infection. Your forearm, where you had been bitten, itched like hell. Unaware, your fingers tugged at the bandage, looking for some relief to the uncomfortable feeling.

Joel’s fingers laced with yours to prevent you from scratching yourself.

“You’re gonna make it worse, sweetheart”, he mumbled before a big, heavy pause. “I don’t know if this is supposed to happen, if this the calm before the storm or― I don’t know, but I’m honestly grateful that you’re awake.”

You felt the uncertainty smearing his words. But you did know this wasn’t normal.

“It’s not like this. People start fading away, becoming unresponsive, twitching, you can see their souls leaving their bodies. And you try to talk to them, reason with them as they get closer to you, you ask them to keep their distance and… and they just can’t control themselves, even if you beg them. Sometimes it takes hours, sometimes days, but they only get worse, never better…” You explained, memories of a far-away life flooding back. You kept the tears at bay.

Joel cupped your chin, forcing your head up so he could examine your expression. His lips formed a flat line, his jaw clenched, because he felt the affliction in your explanation.

“Who?”, he simply asked.

“My brother. He… he got infected first. Mom and dad, they… had to snatch him off me. They both got bit in their trying to save me.” You choked on your own words, that moment was too painful.

But it was the pain what reminded you of your love for them.

It was the pain what, for now, kept their memory alive.

“My dad had to… you know, shoot him so he would stop coming for me.” Not being able to contain it anymore, your eyes welled up with thick tears. And Joel wiped away each one of them with his thumb as they ran down your cheeks. “Then mom went first. It took her like ten hours to completely lose herself. And then dad… he endured it for a day and a half. Towards the end, the agony was so great, he just couldn’t take it anymore.” Your voice became a whisper as you buried your nose in Joel’s chest, his hand gently running up and down your spine.

As you closed your eyes to keep the tears away, the loud noise of your father’s rifle ricocheted in your imagination. You couldn’t save him. He had asked you to go outside, to leave your family’s home, but you couldn’t just quit on him, on the man who shaped you into who you were today. So as the bullet fired and a thudding noise broke you, your knees gave way as your fingers tightly wrapped around the doorknob.

Joel kissed your temple, a comfort you had learnt to crave. “I’m sorry I asked.”

You shook your head no, not wanting him to apologise. And as you tried to reply, the back and forth of your head brought upon you a sudden feeling of vertigo.

The room spun around, the walls closing in, crumbling on top of you. And then you felt it ― acid rushing up your throat, the bile burning as it went up. Bending over yourself, you missed the mattress by an inch and threw up on the floor.

“Shit”, you heard Joel mutter as he held your hair back in a ponytail, his free hand rubbing the small of your back. “It’s okay, darlin’, it’s fine”, he reassured you, keeping close to you, his mere presence comforting you.

Luckily you had not had much to eat, so you emptied your stomach rather quickly. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you straightened your back and Joel immediately hugged you tight.

“I’m sorry”, you apologised, mildly embarrassed although there wasn’t much you could have done to prevent it.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He dismissed your apology while wiping the pearly sweet off your forehead. “The fever has not returned, but you should rest, you’re still weak.” Joel scooted over to the edge of the bed so you would have plenty of room to lie down.

You smirked at his concern but happily obliged. You were indeed very tired, albeit you had perked up since this morning. This morning. You had just realised it was dusking again, the twilight colours pouring in and painting the walls in its beautiful warm hues.

“I’ll go see if I can find a bucket and something to clean up.” He kissed your forehead before exiting the room.

The quiet peace in the room were so calming, you involuntarily shut your eyes. All your muscles ached, product of fending off a very high fever, as if you had spent a full day working out. You might not have lifted a finger in hours, but it truly felt like you just had had a marathon session in the gym.

Suddenly you heard a noise and startled awake. Joel had left a glass of water on the nightstand, and was down on his knees cleaning the sick off the floor.

“I was just resting my eyelids, I swear I wasn’t sleeping”, you said jokingly, a soft smile on your lips, as you reached for the glass and downed it to quench your sudden thirst and rinse your mouth.

Joel chuckled ― the first sign of laughter you had heard from him in what it felt like forever. Your heart made a little backflip in your chest.

“Sure thing. I think you should keep on resting your eyelids, you do need it.”

“But I just woke up”, you pouted, not wanting to fall asleep again. Not wanting to leave him alone.

He put the bucket with water and the cloth aside, his hands resting on his knees, and gifted you with one of his perfectly raised eyebrows.

“I ain’t going nowhere and I need you rested, so go to sleep now. Don’t drive me mad already, you just woke up”, his tone was somewhat serious, only softened by the grin transforming his mouth.

“I like you a little mad”, you confessed a universally known truth.

“I bet you do.”

Joel leaned over and tenderly kissed your lips. The faint, loving caress of his mouth was all medicine you needed, you longed for. So you scrunched the neck of his shirt in your fist, holding him in place, as you deepened in his mouth. Just a tiny taste, you thought to yourself.

The dancing that ensued was soft, undemanding. But then it gradually changed, the stroking of your tongue against his growing in intensity, your quick breaths becoming one as if you were sharing lungs.

Joel groaned and broke contact.

“No, sleep. You won’t distract me”, he rasped, clearing his throat.

Pursing your lips, you huffed, almost rolling your eyes at him.

“Sleep, I said.” This time it did sound like an order.

Was he afraid you wouldn’t wake up? Fucking yes, he was. From time to time, Joel would check on your pulse ― his lips subtly ghosting your artery to ensure it was still rushing under your cool, velvety skin. The fever had completely subsided too, which was a fucking relief. With light fingertips, he lifted your bandage just one inch �� the wound had stopped festering and, in fact, seemed to be healing.

He still couldn’t understand how you were recovering instead of succumbing to the bite. Were you immune? Because if so, a whole new world of danger would be lying in wait if someone discovered your secret. Most people would fear the unknown, would label you a freak ― a monster. Joel had gotten to understand human nature far too well in the last year, so he was already anticipating the worst-case scenario.

He could be mistaken though. Albeit the possibility was slim, very slim.

An uncomfortable groan slipped out of his mouth, trying to adjust his posture. With his arm under you, your nose nudging the center of his chest, Joel felt a tingling sensation running up his forearm. In his attempt to awaken his dead limb, you perked up at him, all sleepy and groggy.

“Sorry, can’t feel my arm anymore”, he apologised as you stirred against him, giving him the opportunity to free his arm from your weight. “Should go have a look outside, see how the bridges are holding up.”

You squeaked and pulled a face in your languor. “Mhmm, okay. But come back soon, I rest better knowing you’re here.” Your sincerity caressed the rough edges of his healing heart.

“You won’t even notice that I’m gone”, he vowed in a sough.

The silken linen draped around your waist, so satiny you thought you were surrounded by the soft pillows of a cloud. You felt rested, although still achy.

Pins and needles in all your muscles, every time you moved your flesh would protest. But despite the exertion every inch of your body had sustained, you felt infinitely better than a few hours ago.

With your train of thought coherent again, questions invaded your mind. So many, a cacophony of inner voices echoed in your brain. You grunted heavily, just wanting another moment of peace.

“Just shup up”, you told yourself, in the hopes that your internal narrator would heed the warning.

The heel of your hands buried in your eye sockets, forcing yourself awake. With care to not feel dizzy again, you sat back up on bed, your back against the cushy headboard. The room was silent ― so well isolated from the outside world you couldn’t hear how the city of Chicago was roaring.

What a rollercoaster the last two days had been. So much had happened you barely had time to take everything in. Your own calamity had eclipsed the tragedy of losing the people you allowed yourself to love.

But maybe it was better this way ― less emotionally draining. Maybe your heart couldn’t assimilate any more misfortune. Maybe you just should be grateful for being alive, even if it pained you ― even if survivor’s guilt chipped at you.

Feeling a knot in your throat, nothing to do with being sick this time, you slowly got up, testing your equilibrium. Once you felt safe standing, you walked towards the dresser in the room. You had sweated so much battling the fever, your clothes were patchy with perspiration. After rummaging through the belongings of the kind donor of the flat, you found a pair of jeans, a tee shirt. Your heart stopped at the sight of a measly Christmas jumper.

Then it hit you. You had spent Christmas Eve curled up in a bathtub with Joel, fighting for your life, and there were only a couple of hours remaining until Christmas Day was over.

Tears sprouting, the jumper wrinkled between your shaking fingers. If life was to be as expected, you would now be in Joyce’s living room, exchanging presents. You had traded some food stamps to get Joel an acoustic guitar.

Upon your arrival to Chicago, which now seemed to be an eternity away, he had told you how much he liked music, how soothing he found it to be, how his old man taught him when he was just a kid. You had asked him what his favourite song to play was, snuggled in his arms, and he had undoubtedly replied: Helplessly Hoping by Crosby, Stills and Nash. Joel had said, ghosting your lips with his, how much that song reminded him of you, but specially of himself.

That had tickled your curiosity. You had never heard it before so did some research into it ― but couldn’t find the lyrics nor the melody. By gifting him the guitar, you were hoping to listen to it from his fingers for the first time.

Now it would never happen, not unless you found another guitar, which was an almost impossible task. You had spent weeks looking for someone with a guitar they were willing to part with.

With a heavy sigh, you changed clothes and shuffled around the room, looking for bits and bobs that might be useful.

The sound of someone bursting in woke you up ― you had nodded off unintentionally on the couch. Your heart jumped out of your chest, racing so fast you almost threw up again. Joel turned the corner of the corridor, and you gasped.

His white tee shirt was soaked in thick red, green and black. It was obvious he had run into trouble and had to fight his way out. You got up, heart on your tongue, and closed the distance to reach him as he lunged himself forward towards you.

“What’s happened?”, you asked breathlessly. “Are you hurt?”

“Shit is coming down real fast. We need to leave the city. Now”, Joel whispered as he approached, but stopped before hugging you, realising all the dirt, blood and guts on his tee shirt.

You didn’t care. You wrapped your arms around his waist, your ear flat against his chest. The rhythmic pumping of his heart appeased you. Just a bit.

“Joel, are you hurt?”, you insisted, worried sick, as you looked up at him.

He shook his head no, cradling your face.

“I’m okay, but we gotta go, sweetheart. We can’t stay. The bridges have been overrun; the clickers are this side of the river now. If we stay, we die.” His words were infused with a sense of urgency.

“I’ve packed some bits while you were gone, in case we had to leave”, you remembered, pointing at the two backpacks on the sofa.

“What would I do without you?”, Joel praised you, pressing a faint kiss on your mouth. “I know you’re still not feeling great, but we don’t really have any other options.”

“I’m fine enough, let’s go.” No, you didn’t feel one hundred percent, but you would have to.

In less than a minute, you both were out the door and running down the stairs.

“I’ve got a car in the garage in the basement, running won’t get us far”, he said, tugging at your wrist to guide you down another flight of stairs.

“A car? How?”

“Don’t worry about it”, he answered quickly. Too quickly.

You all had to do what you must to survive. How he had obtained that car ― it didn’t matter.

Running towards the Jeep, you jumped in and so did Joel. The wheels screeched as Joel reversed and then pressed on the gas pedal. The doors to the garage burst open as the front of the car hit them. You held on to the handle as well as Joel’s forearm as he focused on dodging any obstacle in the way ― living or dead.

Looking through the window, you saw herds of people running. The screams filled the air, impregnating it with death and mayhem. It was dark, but if you had paid enough attention, you would have seen the devastation, the destruction.

Buy you didn’t want to see. You had already been witness to the end of the world. You didn’t need the reminder.

So you looked away, Joel’s rugged face being your focal point. You scrutinised his expression, the lines forming between his eyebrows and on his cheeks. How his lips pursed with worry, how he clenched his jaw. He hadn’t said it, but you read his body language too well. He was doing a great job managing his anxiety, but you knew it was there, flaring under the calm surface.

You glanced at the road ahead. A sign reading “Rockford” told you Joel was taking you west.

Whatever cardinal point he chose, it would be alright. As long as you had Joel by your side, you both would be just fine.

a/n (again): AHHHHH 🚨 the cat is out of the bag 😫 soo yea, reader is immune, been dying to tell you for ages now, THE RELIEF lmao but there's a reason to it (and it's hiding somewhere in the chapters!)! is anyone of you able to guess why? 🧐

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

@fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille

@harriedandharassed @thepalaceofmelanie @eternallyvenus

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motions1ckn3ss · 2 months ago

Text

autisticjolras headcanons (except it's just my behaviours)

does NOT like physical touch UNLESS it involves someone playing with his hair. at this he transforms into a cat

does not mind physical touch as long as he is the one to initiate it

is constantly sat bug-eyed without realising it and it makes him incredibly unapproachable. he often wonders why people do not sit next to him on the train until he catches a glimpse of himself in the window going through a tunnel and realises he resembles a maniac

speaks in quotes. 70% of what he says is a reference to something obscure that only certain people will understand (see here: spongebob, etc)

frequently goes non-verbal in group settings and appears to be in a trance-like state. snapping out of this is exhausting for him

stims by tapping his fingers against each other in a pattern. often this is done to the rhythm of whatever he can hear at the present moment

cannot abide the feeling of denim and so exclusively wears corduroy trousers as opposed to jeans

blunt to the point of rudeness. he has a matter-of-fact manner of speaking which can make him come across as insensitive

is unable to regulate his own body temperature and as such will frequently leave the house in a t-shirt in december in order to avoid sweating and overstimulation

cannot leave the house without his emotional support headphones

if he announces he is hungry when out and about everyone has approximately thirty minutes to find a restaurant before he explodes. do not take this lightly please he will literally combust and burst into flames

#les mis #les miserables #enjolras #headcanons

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moriitis · 4 months ago

Note

This is my first time doing this, but—

A snow day Toby x reader scenario? Been thinking of my favorite hatchet-wielding proxy in snowy weather <3

Or alternatively a mission/outing during snowy weather, whether or not it’d affect his movement and sight (not to mention the temperature insensitivity from his CIPA likely playing a role).

so sorry this took me awhile. started off well, went sloppy. hope its okay nevertheless.

Toby Rogers x Reader. SHORT.

Word; 3.4k.

Content/Warnings; mild language, mentions of sex, mentions of kissing, mentions of suicide.

The heat blowing from the vents within the car didn't do much to ease the cold from your fingertips as you hastily rubbed your hands together in a desperate attempt to warm them, cupping your hands together and blowing some air between your thumbs. 'It was cold as fucking balls' Toby had said once and shit, he was sure right. It had to be below freezing at this point, the cold so bitter and sharp that you felt it stir the bones beneath your very flesh. Toby's truck, which felt more like a pile of junk, did little to preserve the heat within its' skeleton as you sat shivering in the passenger seat. The hood of the truck was up and blocking your vision as Toby meddled around with the trucks insides, trying to stir it to life but it seemed even the truck refused to budge from the cold itself. You huffed impatiently, your muscles ached and the lull of a campfire whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You wanted so desperately to get back to the cabin with the fire, some blankets and a good ass book. Only you were stuck with this brunette who claimed he 'knew how to work trucks' and the same brunette mumbling and cursing to himself outside. He was lucky he couldn't feel the cold though and a part of you couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern at how long he'd stood outside for. Craning your head, your forehead pressed against the pane of the window as you tried to catch a glance of Toby as your legs bounced restlessly.

Being stuck in the middle of these woods didn't help. It was getting dark and you knew you were both still quite far away from the cabin itself. Before you began to find yourself lost in thought, the hood of the truck slammed shut suddenly which honestly, made you jump. You could tell from the way it slammed shut that Toby was getting impatient, frustrated even as he came trudging back over to the drivers seat. The door swung open and he collapsed into the seat with a huff. His presence made the air feel thick with tension as you pursed your lips. His fingers, which were red from the cold, curled around and gripped the fabric of his trousers. The silence lingered for a beat until he spoke;

"Well, it's ff-fucked-" he shrugged, avoiding your gaze. You could tell a part of him couldn't bare to look at you because you knew deep down, he had no idea how to fix cars - let alone trucks. It was hard for you to conceal your smirk as he finally turned to gaze at you and you could only sigh. It was so cold, your breath was visible in the air and it lingered for a moment.

"What do we do?" you finally asked, brows knitting in concern. Toby couldn't help it, but being the man here in this situation, he knew he had to care for you and look after you somehow - it would be gentlemanly of him. Only, he wasn't particularly sure what to do and he glanced out the window for a moment to ponder. His heart knew that really the two of you should get to walking but his pride didn't want him to leave this truck behind. He sighed, moving a hand up to push the cap off his head and tussle his hair in irritation. His eyes squeezed shut as his fingers gingerly moved to his brows, rubbing his temple as he tried to think of a solution that could both benefit you and him.

"We'll have to walk," he practically groaned. As if this could get worse, you were freezing, cold, hungry and your muscles craved the soft touch of mattress beneath them. You sighed, mimicking his moments as you rubbed your face.

"Right," you croaked softly, reluctantly moving from the seat to open the passenger door. The cold was like a punch to the face as you stepped out. There was a gust here and there which really made the cold so bitter. Toby switched the car off, pulling the keys out the ignition and stuffing them into his pocket before following your lead.

The snow was thick off the road, at least knee deep as you took big steps off into the clearing of the forest. Toby lingered by the truck and as you turned to glance over your shoulder, you could see the annoyance on his face. Honestly, a part of you couldn't gather as to why he had such an attachment to this truck. It was rusting, it sounded like crap and seemed as if every bump he took it were about to fall apart. It must just be a Toby thing. Finally, he stepped away from the vehicle and jogged up beside you, motioning his head that all was good and the two of you could depart. With your hands stuffed as deep as they could into your pocket, you tucked your nose deep into your coat. The cold was unforgiving, unwelcoming as it attacked every exposed part of your body. Honestly, you wished you couldn't feel the cold either and as you glanced at Toby every now and again, you envied how comfortable and relaxed he seemed to be as he walked quietly beside you. It was obvious that he was annoyed or irritated, mostly because he would be chatting your ear off with utter bullshit. His silence always suggested something and you understood his emotions completely. It it weren't for the damned truck, you'd be home by now!

You could hear Toby fiddling with the keys in his pocket, an occasional jingle here and there as he toyed with the keychain. The forest was unwelcoming as you glanced up to take in your surroundings. As much as you hated to admit it, you knew every rock, tree and lake in these damned woods and you knew for certain that this walk was going to be a long one. Snow fell softly above the two of you. It wasn't rapid nor treacherous, just small, gentle flakes that would decorate the tops of your heads. The snow was deep however and each step was a battle you were both trying to tackle, taking big steps or having to face the cold and just walk straight through it. The problem was, the snow began to soak through the fabric of your clothing and now your legs were cold, wet and numb. A horrible combination. Then, from just the corner of your eye, you saw Toby stop and quickly you paused in your tracks too, glancing over your shoulder toward him.

He had a hand outstretched toward you and as soon as you made eye contact with him, his hand motioned you over. "C'mere." Was all he uttered and with a questioning look, you reluctantly stepped over toward him. Before you could question what his intentions were, he doubled over slightly with his back facing you. "I'll carry you." The sudden act surprised you and you remained motionless for a moment as you blinked away the confusion. Why on earth would you want to be carried? Well, it was a nice offer but you were more than capable of walking for yourself. You glanced down at your soaked through pants and a shiver ran up your spine. Well, the cold was starting to numb your legs and Toby was taller than you, which meant his strides would quicken the walk within minutes. Though, a part of you couldn't help but feel bad, like he had somehow tuned in on your shitty mood and had somehow noticed how unpleasant the cold was for you.

You couldn't help but scoff out a little laugh in disbelief, shaking your head softly. He looked so dumb too and your little chuckle alerted him, causing him to snap his head around to shoot you a little glare. "Hah.. no, no. It's okay. I'm okay," you persisted, throwing your hands up in the air to wave them dismissively. Now you just felt plain rude. It seemed he wasn't taking no for an answer and groaned softly under his breath.

"Just get on my b-bback before I ff-fforce you." You had to stifle your laughter for a moment, admitting defeat and trudging over behind him. You were unsure how to go about this admittedly, you didn't want to jump on him and then make him land face forward into a pile of cold snow. Shit, the idea made you want to kill yourself.

Slowly, you reached over and ran the palm of your hands over the roundness of his shoulders and it was there you slowly, and rather awkwardly, lifted your leg for him to grab it. It was painfully embarrassing and you were thankful his back was turned as you quickly hopped onto his back as softly as you could, wrapping your arms securely around his neck. With both of his hands secured around the plump of your thighs, he pulled your knees up to his hips and secured you with a little jump before turning back and continuing into the depth of the forest.

Being this close to Toby, feeling his brown hair tickle your nose and his scent linger so strongly was enough to make your heart pound softly. Honestly, a part of you was nervous. Nervous that you were too heavy, that you might fart or that you were just being a nuisance altogether but it seemed Toby was unfazed as he kept a secure grip on you.

"Thank you," you uttered sheepishly into his ear, feeling your cheeks grow hot despite the cold and beneath you, you could just feel Toby shrug.

"Kein Problem, schatz." It was there a silence loomed over the two of you again and softly, you rested your cheek against his back. The gentle sway, the touch on your thighs, it was nice and oddly enough, you felt comfortable. Your relationship with Toby always had moments like this, the soft moments that had you questioning what the hell the two of you were? Friends with benefits? Unlikely, you two hadn't fucked before - despite the lingering urges that was evident in the air sometimes. Sure, you had exchanged a kiss here or there and it was sloppy and unexperienced but you never saw that as anything more than friends just.. kissing? Were you friend-zoning Toby and you were just oblivious to it? Perhaps and now you couldn't help but take into consideration the amount of things he did for you, the times where he would step up for you, look out for you, protect you in more ways than one and the times his hand would linger atop of yours and then he would laugh anxiously and explain he had 'forgotten.' Oh, you were such a hopeless romantic and yet you couldn't see his advances or intentions because you were just, well, plain stupid. Your brows furrowed in frustration and you huffed softly.

"Sorry about your car," you finally uttered, apologising for something that wasn't your fault and yet you felt you took a part in it somehow.

"I'll get it in the mm-morning," he replied, voice gruff as he quickly took a moment to clear his throat. With a simple nod of acknowledgement, you took a moment to glance up at the sky above you. The unforgiving winter season meant that darkness was fast approaching and it was already beginning to loom over you in a dangerous sheet of black. Pursing your lips, you rested your head back down.

"It's getting dark, shouldn't we just call Tim or Brian?" It wasn't a bad idea in the long run but Toby suddenly scoffed which said otherwise. Clearly, he didn't want his pride getting hurt more than it already had today.

"Fuck no!" His reaction earned an honest laugh out of you as you shook your head softly, admitting defeat in that subject alone. Then that familiar silence again. Despite his kind gesture, the cold nipped at you even harder and you couldn't help but want to walk just to generate some heat. You shuffled once and then again in some attempt to warm up and Toby, feeling your shuffling, glanced over his shoulder questioningly toward you. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm just getting cold back here."

"You wanna get down?" he questioned, stopping and standing still. You nodded slowly, a part of you feeling guilty, though it seemed to not bother him as he slowly crouched down to let you slide off his back. Your feet reconnected with the floor, the snow crunching beneath your feet - ankles feeling soggy and wet.

"Thanks."

Then the two of you set off again, your hands stuffed back into the depths of your pockets as you nestled your chin closer to the collar of your coat. With each step, you knew that you were getting closer to the cabin and it brought reassurance knowing that soon you'd be nestled up close by the fire draped in nothing but blankets. Maybe if you closed your eyes for a moment and just thought about a nice, warm, crackling fire, it may just warm you up. Only, closing your eyes while walking in the forest didn't seem the brightest idea and as your foot connected with the ground, your shoe got caught around a branch and sent you falling face forward. With your hands nestled deep into your pockets, you had no time to react and catch yourself and as your face connected with the snow, it seemed Toby didn't have good reflexes either as he practically watched you face plant into the snow. Shit, you were thankful the snow was there to begin with because any ordinary fall like that could've resulted in you breaking a nose or losing a tooth! The sudden cold that attacked your face made you gasp, thus inhaling lumps of snow as you tried and failed to scurry to your feet.

All the while, Toby stood over you watching in amazement that somebody as stupid as you could be even more.. stupider and you could tell by his facial expressions that it was becoming harder to conceal his laughter that he ever so wanted to let out. As your attempts to jump up failed, you admitted defeat and simply rolled over in the snow, allowing you to look up at Toby with a face of displeasure. His lips pursed, a first sign of trying to not laugh and then quickly he adverted his gaze. You were glaring at him because you knew, just knew, that he wanted nothing more than to bark a heap of laughter at you and your luck. This wouldn't have happened if his junk ass truck didn't break down!

"Don't fucking laugh," you warned sternly and it was there he retrieved a hand from within his pocket, bawling it into a fist to cover his mouth as he tried to swallow away his chuckles that were already beginning to seep out. "Help me up, don't laugh!" You practically whined and it was there it sent Toby spiralling, you just knew he was replaying your fall on repeat inside his head right now and he had to double over for a moment to catch his breath. It was rare to hear him laugh so hard and begrudgingly, you tried to hide your own smile in the process.

"Okay, fuck, fuck!" he threw his hands up in the air, letting another fit of laugher escape from him as he tried to wave it away. His head shook and he had to hold his stomach, another hand on his knee as he doubled over. There was no point asking for anymore help, might as well let him laugh and get it over with.

"You done?" you asked after a moment, his laughter simmering down finally as he turned back around to face you. It seemed that seeing your face and seeing you on the floor only set him off again and as his laugher run out into an echo in the forest, which frankly mocked you more, you endured for a little while longer with a disapproving huff.

"Alright, alright-" he sucked a breath and wiped a tear from his eye before turning his attention back to you again. It seemed he got what needed to come out as a hand outstretched toward you. "I'm done, s-ssorry, that was just too funny." He was still chuckling a dry chuckle here and there.

"Glad that was so funny for you, Toby-"

"Oh god, here we go, ss-shut up and take my hand."

"No, no, I'm serious, you really enjoyed that, huh?" Toby only rolled his eyes and shook his head, motioning his hand out toward you.

"Stop having a hissy fit and take my hand, for fucks sake," he chuckled.

Too petty to take his hand, you made a motion to help yourself up, hands pushing you up off the floor and to your feet. Of course, as you helped yourself up, you scooped up some snow in your hand and as soon as you were to your feet, you quickly hurled the ball of snow at Toby. The aim was sloppy and the snow hadn't formed into a proper ball yet, so just lightly smacked him on his neck. Fearing for your life, you began running off in a fit of giggles, practically bunny hopping over the snow in a desperate attempt to flee him. Toby always took things too far, he'd either accidentally hurt you or not know when to stop and you knew you were in deep shit now as you heard his slew of Germanic cuss words behind you. Turning your head over your shoulder to catch wind on how close he was, a snowball unexpectedly came crashing into your face and quickly you threw a hand up to wipe away the snow, another snowball soon came hurling toward you. Thankfully, you reacted quickly and darted to the side, letting the snowball whizz past you and land on the wood of a tree nearby.

"This is your karma!" you called out in between laughs, quickly scooping up some more snow in your hands and bawling up into a proper ball. You took shelter behind a tree for a moment, to catch your breath and await for the brunette. Despite his outburst, you could hear his chuckles approaching and quickly you pounced, aiming the snowball and landing it on his torso. Then, you darted off into another sprint. You were unsure if you were even going the right way anymore but a part of you couldn't care as you weaved from each snowball and tree that both equally came toward you at lightning speed. Then just as you bent over to scoop up more snow, a hit on your ass promptly made you jump up and snap your head around to Toby.

Quickly, the brunette bit his lip and bit back a chuckle, throwing his hands up defensively. "That was an accident, I s-s-sswear!" You narrowed your gaze. "I'm serious!" Though he were chuckling, almost as if he had done it on purpose and quickly you threw the half-assed snowball in your hand toward him. He quickly turned, letting the snow hit him on the side of his torso as he chuckled.

"You asshole," you jested, a disapproving smirk flashing across your features as you shook your head. Toby shrugged, turning back to face you.

"You started it." You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Fuck, you hated him at times. After catching your breath, you attention turned back into the forest. It seemed the running had quickened your pace as you could see the smoke bellowing from the chimney in the distance. It was a sigh of relief, it seems maybe Tim or even Brian may have got the fire going. Turning back to Toby, you noticed him trudging over to your side. "Hey, not my fault your ass is so big," he sneered, which caused you to quickly scoff and push him softly. He laughed, an honest laugh which warmed your heart and it was there you couldn't help but chuckle alongside him.

"Looks like we're nearly there, that's a relief," you huffed softly. "I can't feel my toes.. or fingers," you uttered, glancing down at your hands before flexing your fingers out and in again. They were numb and red and you were certain your toes had to be the same. Toby peered down at your hands before glancing back up at you.

"Well, let's go then," he mumbled softly before heading off again, two strides ahead of you as you hurried to follow behind.

This whole evening wasn't really how you expected it to play out. It was obvious that his truck would up and die sooner than later, but it sucked that it happened when you were in the passenger seat!

Regardless, you didn't mind spending more time with Toby, even if it meant freezing your ass off.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #ticci toby #toby rogers #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #ticci toby x y/n

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aajjks · 2 years ago

Text

Debt (m)

synopsis. you’re so unlucky that he’s lucky.

warnings. yändērē, sädïstïc bëhävïöür, öbsëssîvë thoughts, öbsëssïön, hê ïs sö ËVÏL, ünhëälthy rëlätïönshïp, yändêrê jk 10x, mäfïä köök, mëntïöns öf kïdnäppïng.

note. HAPPY KNJ DAY! send asks? ENJOY!

“Aren’t you tired of fucking crying all the damn time?”

His words pierce you, how can he be so insensitive to you? He kidnapped you, of course he doesn’t care about your emotions.

He never did.

That’s why you left him.

You only sob harder and don’t look at him, what is the point? His face is the only thing you get to see these days, you feel like you’ll go insane.

“What e-else can I do! P-Please let me go..” your body temperature is burning, you sit on the dirty floor, your clothes are dirty, your heads hurts but this man doesn’t care.

He’s cruel, you hate him.

“Yn. I won’t let you go. So stop fuckin crying, it’s starting to annoy me.” Jungkook groans, you push your head deeper into your lap, he frustrates you to no end, if only you could kill him so you could leave.

“I hate you! I’ll never love you!”

“Do you honestly think that I give a fuck about that? Baby you should know me better.” He tsks, you want to scream from frustration but you can’t.

Because you’re too numb.

“Yn are you seriously that dumb? Huh? Really?” This man makes you want to pull your hair out of your skull, you want to die.

“Yes! I was dumb enough to love you once!”

He tsks again, you roll your eyes as you turn your head in his direction, tilting your body, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Jungkook, sincerely fuck you.”

“Oh but you have, so many times, remember?” He smirks, locking his eyes with yours, you want to wipe that smirk off his face, but you don’t have the energy.

He’s too strong for you.

“We broke up jungkook, get over it. You never deserved me, you lying asshole!” His eyebrows furrow in amusement, you’re entertaining him, oh he’s so sick.

“You broke up with me, baby I never did so it’s not over until I decide it is.” He folds his arms, the tattoos so visible, he’s sitting on that chair so comfortably while you’re on the cold hard ground.

“And you even had the audacity to try to replace me in your life, it makes me laugh at how you think I can be replaced, baby.” You notice him grit his teeth.

Oh now he’s the one that’s getting frustrated?

You want to laugh, he is such a narcissistic person, he thinks he’s so special to you, he was, once. But not anymore.

“What’s his name? Kim Namjoon, eh?”

You scoff, “what a fuckin stalker you are, Jungkook.”

“Of course. You are mine. I kept my eye on you every single day. My men did some digging and guess what, turns out that your boyfriend is in debt.”

“I know everything yn.”

He stands up, while you gasp in shock. You watch him walk towards you, his black shiny shoes hit the surface, his eyes never leave yours for a minute.

“W-What?! You’re a liar, why would you think that I’d believe you?”

He leans down infront of you, matching your level, “I never lie when it comes to you yn.” He looks at you with intensity. “You know that.”

“So, him and I had a little conversation. I approached him of course. And… let’s just say, you are a very unlucky woman in love.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes.

“But I’m lucky, guess what baby. We had a deal. I offered him humbly to clear up his debt and… in return for my favour to him…”

You don’t like this at all, you know this expression of his soul too well, his lips curl up into a smug smile, his eyes are twinkling, yet a dark hue covers them, oh you’re so in trouble.

“I get you back, forever.”

You let out a sob, you finally let it out, Jungkook doesn’t try to comfort you, he just watches you, “n-no…”

“Oh yes baby. Looks like he sold you. And I put my price on you.”

He chuckles, a sadistic cruel bastard.

“And now you’re mine forever, baby. Forever this time.”

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mirensiart · 4 months ago

Note

Twilights pain tolerance seems absurdly high, comically so. And is indeed very funny, but I can't help but think, does he have some version of CIP/CIPA? (congenital insensitivity to pain)

It's a genetic disorder that makes it so a person doesn't feel physical pain. It messes up the body's sensory input, so it can also affect how they feel stuff like temperature.

I dunno, I think it kinda fits him.

Twilight's high pain tolerance is both a bit/done more for comedy and a result of the wolfie transformation being extremely painful but he's so used to the extreme pain of the transformation so other hurts/pain don't phase him much cause of it

It was never meant to be that deep 😅 but I embrace all pain/illness headcanons u guys throw at me 👀

#miry's ask box #lu pain sharing au

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fcthots · 2 years ago

Note

it is i...🏍️ anon...finally online when your inbox is open lmao. ty for the love on the motorcycle ask!

lately i've been thinking about being in a fight w jason and you're both ignoring each other all day but he still pulls you close the second you're both in bed bc he just instinctively has to hold you and ask if you're warm enough and tell you he loves you even if he's grumpy about it and refuses to say anything else

also thinking about makeup sex

(p.s. my crazy orange cat says hello, he's not quite gus but i think there's a spiritual connection)

Omg tell knockoff Gus I said hi

also omg YES ur back and with amazing asks as always <3

The fight started bright and early that morning. Jason was in a bad mood and said something dumb so you went defensive and said something insensitive. It was the same song and dance that had happened a thousand times.

Jason blew off steam during patrol and it was nearing 3 am. When you talked, you fought, so you remained silent. Brooding. Maybe you spent too much time around the bats.

You sigh as Jason takes his shirt off before bed. You aren't really mad at him, you're just annoyed. And stubborn. This "fight" would have been long over if you both weren't the most stubborn individuals on the planet. In your defense, he started it.

He lays down in the bed and closes his eyes. You figure that's that. You'll just go to sleep and see how you feel in the morning.

The second your weight is shifted onto the bed, Jason has you wrapped up in his arms. Night routine is still on then. The only difference is that he doesn’t look at you.

A slight shiver runs down your spine at the cold sheets. "Are you warm enough or do you want me to turn up the temperature?" His voice is gruff and lacks the usual softness, but the word themselves still warm your still salty heart. Even when you're fighting, he still cares for your comfort.

"'S fine." Your voice is tired and slightly clipped but the way you hugged his arms closer to you betrayed your care.

Usually he'd make you face him so he could kiss your forehead, but tonight he places the kiss to the crown of your head.

"Love you," he grumbles, eyes still closed.

"Love you too." You don’t think either of you would be able to sleep if the words were left unsaid.

He hums in acknowledgement and gently runs his fingers up and down wherever he can reach until you both pass out.

Tomorrow, he'll make you breakfast in bed and it'll be like the fight never happened. Tomorrow, he'll look you in the eyes and tell you he loves you. Tomorrow, he'll look you in the eyes as he undoes you.

But, for now, you'll smack him when he shifts to get more comfortable, just to be petty.

#saph’s love letters #jason todd #jason todd x reader #saph’s thots #red hood #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x you #🏍️ anon

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bird-in-the-space · 3 months ago

Text

Bayverse Version (Part 3)

You meet Ratchet and learn that these robots are capable of turning into vehicles. Then you meet two rather annoying Autobots before finally meeting Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots.

(Author's note: Well... this might end up into a series 😅)

Warnings: some cursing, trouble standing up and walking, the twins saying a bit of insensitive stuff, mentions of some people wanting to do research on you, and your fate becoming clear.

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

You waited with Emily for something to happen. The shivering finally stopped, and the temperature became somewhat tolerable. You still felt cold, but not like you were freezing to death. It felt weird not to feel some sort of warmth come from your body. It was natural for a human, but now you were made of metal that was cold to the touch. The only warmth you could feel was from within your chest even though it was faint. You could only suspect it was coming from your heart, which did not feel like a heart with its strange pulsing.

Emily said it was supposedly your ‘spark’, the cybertronian equivalent of a heart. You did not know how to feel about it.

She also filled you in on everything she knew about the Autobots, so you would be somewhat prepared to meet them.

Soon enough, another one of those robots appeared. He was tall with a green color scheme. He introduced himself as Ratchet, the Autobot’s medical officer.

He was calm and explained the injuries you had sustained to your frame—or 'body,’ as the proper term goes. You felt more at ease with his presence, so you allowed him to perform a check-up on you using the scanner on his arm.

You sat patiently as he scanned you from head to toe. It showed green on most parts, but red around your waist.

"You show no severe internal damage, which is good, and the injuries you sustained from hitting the bridge pillar appear stable," Ratchet said as he stopped scanning. "However, you have sustained damage to your external frame, which means you won't be able to transform into your alt-form," he explained.

You frowned, confused by the last term. “What’s an alt-form?” you asked.

“It is our vehicle mode. The form that allows us to move vast distances and hide ourselves when necessary,” he answered.

You looked at him with surprise. “You can turn into vehicles?” you asked.

“Pretty cool right?” Emily chipped in.

“Strangely though, my scanners indicate that this damage came before you attacked that Decepticon,” Ratchet stated.

“Well, she fused with my car, which was wrecked by that Decepticon before the Allspark fragment in her necklace activated, and she became… you know… this,” Emily answered, motioning toward you.

"That explains it. If the vehicle you fused with was damaged, it's no surprise that the damage carried over after transforming into a cybertronian. Luckily, this isn’t a difficult issue to fix. Scanning a new vehicle mode should do the trick," Ratchet explained.

“Now, (Name). Putting the outer damages to the side. Do you feel anything else that feels off in your body?” he asked.

“Minus the cold and the bad headache. I feel fine,” you answered.

“I can only conclude they are due to your human consciousness adjusting to your new body and brain functions. Cybertronians’ bodies are significantly different from humans, so your human consciousness might be trying to find anything familiar to your former human body. You might feel discomfort for a while, but I suspect they will go away once you are fully adjusted,” he reasoned.

“But if they continue. We can make adjustments to fix them. Your body is now cybertronian, so it should be no issue for me,” he added.

“But for now. We will wait and observe how they will progress,” he stated.

“Now. What about your mobility functions? I heard from Que that you were able to stand up quite quickly,” he questioned.

“Yeah, but then my head started spinning around like in a circus, which made it difficult to keep my balance and made me cause a mess,” you explained, glancing at the equipment you broke in your hysteria.

“In fairness, you were having a full-blown panic attack,” Emily said.

“Yeah…” you looked down awkwardly.

“Hm. Taking your circumstances, it’s not an unreasonable reaction. “ Ratchet stated. “The disorientation could have been due to the sudden movements and your consciousness not fully comprehending its new body.”

“Now, that you are in a much calmer mental state. Would you mind trying to stand up again?” he asked.

You looked at him with a raised brow.

“I wish to conduct a few mobility tests. Nothing too drastic. Just stand up and take a few steps so I can assess and perhaps conclude any need for physical therapy,” he explained.

“Okay. I can try,” you said, preparing to stand up.

You carefully placed your feet against the floor, before pushing yourself into a kneeling position. Using the floor as a support with your hands, you slowly started pushing yourself up until the floor was out of your reach and you tried to use your knees.

“Easy. Go on your own space,” Ratchet softly encouraged as he and Emily watched you try to stand up.

Your knees began to shake, causing your joints to release metallic sounds. Fear of falling shook you but you kept yourself calm, even though you felt like an egg trying to balance itself on a moving wooden plank. You then pushed yourself to stand up, nearly tripping from the sudden shift of weight.

“Easy. Don’t try to push yourself too fast,” Ratchet said, supporting you so you wound’t fall.

“You’re doing great, girl,” Emily added supportingly.

You took a deep breath as you steadied yourself. A familiar sense of dizziness lingered in your head, but this time, it was mild and quickly faded on its own. Standing upright, you felt slightly disoriented upon realizing just how much taller you had become compared to everything around you.

Still, a small sense of pride swelled within you—you were standing.

“Okay. I think I’ve got this,” you said. The disorientation became easier to manage, even though your legs still felt like noodles attached to boulders.

“How does it look up there?” Emily asked.

“Everything is… ten times smaller,” you answered.

“Alright. This looks promising. Being able to stand up is a good sign. Do you think you’ll be able to take a few steps?” Ratchet asked.

“I’ll try,” you said and focused on your legs.

You tried to move your left leg. However, picking it up felt heavy, and when you finally managed to make your leg move one step forward, you lost your balance, causing you to wave your arms frantically to keep yourself standing.

“Steady, Steady!” Ratchet said, watching you.

Managing to balance yourself, you then tried to take another step. However, it ended up in another wobbling episode and you nearly fell.

“Nope!” you gave up, kneeling to get support from the floor.

“I can’t do it. My legs feel like giant boulders, impossible to move,” you said, crawling back to the metallic bed and sitting down.

“Hmm. It seems your mind has trouble adjusting to the physical aspects of your body. I note the need for physical therapy. “ Ratchet wrote on what seemed to be a large tablet.

“We’ll make a schedule to help you adjust properly and exercises to help you handle your new body mass. However, if your limbs feel too heavy and keep weighing you down. It is possible to adjust them to make them more lighter,” he explained.

“Great. So I have to learn how to walk again,” you stated sarcastically.

“Since your condition requires it,” Ratchet added.

A weird feeling buzzed into your head, causing you to wince painfully.

“Ha! Look at the newcomer! Can’t even walk!” a voice said.

You then saw two new robots. They were smaller than Que and Ratchet and looked like twins, even though one was red and the other was green.

“Wobbling around like a sparkling!” the green one said, clearly making fun of your walking attempt.

“Shaking like a maraca is more like it. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone who could be so shaky,” the red one added.

You frowned, rather annoyed by their presence and tone.

“And you two are?” you asked.

“We are the twins. The name’s Skids. This is my brother Mudflap,” the green one introduced as they walked in.

“We are two of the baddest Autobots here,” the red one, ‘Mudflap’, boasted.

“We heard we received a newbie who nearly murked a Decepticon. Pretty badass, but not nearly badass as us,” the green one, ‘Skids’, said.

“But then we heard that you are a human who came back from the dead as a transformer,” Mudflap continued.

“So, we then became curious to see you and introduce ourselves. What’s your name, Shaky?” Skids asked.

You looked at them, pretty baffled by their attitude and use of human slang. “(Name)...?” you answered.

“(Name), huh? Not a shappy name,” Skids said.

“Well, she used to be a human. What else did you expect?” Mudflap asked.

“Something perhaps cooler… these humans don’t have many cool things,” Skids answered.

You felt even more confused by them.

“Anyway! I got a question, Shaky,” Skids said.

“Yeah?” you said and waited.

“What it was like to die and come back as a completely different being?” he asked.

You looked at them, shocked and appalled. What the fuck?

“Who the fuck asks things like that?” you exclaimed.

“What? I’m just curious. It’s not every day someone comes back from the dead,” Skids replied.

“Oh! How about you get closer? I show you what dying is like.” you said, prepared to stand up. Ratchet then placed his hand on your shoulder, stopping you and pushing you back down against the metallic bed.

“I think it's time for you two to go. Don’t bother my patient or it's with the wrench for both of you,” Ratchet said.

“Now!” he commanded and they started leaving.

“A bit of a short fuse with this one,” Mudflap muttered.

“Later! Shaky! Don’t go crashing into anything,” Skids called out as they left.

You sighed in annoyance.

“Well, those two are lively,” Emily stated with an amused smile.

“And I decided that I already hate them,” you muttered.

“Don’t get too worked up. It is not unusual for them to act like this. I’m sure you'll get used to them sooner or later,” Ratchet said.

Lennox and your dad then walked into the room after the twins left.

"Alright. I believe we have the situation solved. You will be staying under the NEST’s and Autobot's custody from now on," Lennox stated.

"Well, it's not like I can go home like this," you uttered.

You winced when you got that weird brain buzz again. It was strong enough to hold your head and groan in pain.

“(Name) what’s wrong?” Emily asked.

“These headaches are being weird again,” you answered.

When you opened your eyes, you noticed a new bot entering the room. You had to stretch your neck to get a better look, as this robot was taller than both Ratchet and Que. His color scheme was red and blue, with some fire patterns running across his frame. His footsteps were strong enough to shake the floor slightly.

You looked up to him with a small sense of intimidation and fright. Holy hell! He’s huge!

"Greetings. I am Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots. You must be (Name) (Lastname)" he started. His voice was deep and strong enough to send shivers down your metallic spine. He definitely had the voice of someone who would be in a leadership position.

"Uhm.. yeah... yes, sir," you stuttered rather timidly.

"I apologize for the circumstances, but considering your situation, we believe it would be best for you to stay under our care," Optimus said. "Your condition is unique to both us Autobots and NEST, as the Allspark has never brought someone from another species back to life as a transformer," he added.

"Well... can't be helped, I guess," you shrugged before realizing that you were sitting awkwardly.

"Sorry. I would stand up if I could, but my legs don’t really want to obey me at the moment," you said.

"We conducted a few mobility tests. She will require physical therapy to properly regain use of her legs," Ratchet added.

"If that's the case, do not worry. Stay down if you feel unable to stand," Optimus assured.

You relaxed. Your previous intimidation of him began to fade. He actually seemed like an understanding and calm bot.

"I'm afraid there's going to be a bit more," Lennox began. "Because of this situation, the higher-ups want to look into this further. So, expect some scientists wanting to conduct research," he added.

“Oh great…” you said rather automatically.

“But don’t worry though. We convinced them enough only to do light research, anything that goes beyond your comfort zone will not be accepted,” your dad said.

“Like what kind of research?” You asked.

“I do not know, but I suspect some psyche eval, scanning, and everything they can get without going against your consent,” he explained.

"Even if this case is unique for both of us. As she was unwillingly turned, it is best not to prohibit her choice of freedom. " Optimus said.

"So, wait, I get to choose whether I want to participate in this research?" you asked, slightly surprised.

"Anything you're not comfortable with is entirely your choice. But since you're most likely staying with us, your participation might help us assist you better," Lennox said.

"And since you are now a transformer, we can help you adjust and adapt to your new body," Optimus added.

“And what about your war with these… Decepticons? Do I have to participate in it now that I’m a … transformer?” you asked.

“As you are a civilian who had been turned under unexpected circumstances. We will not require you to participate in our war against the Decepticons," Optimus said. “They are something we Autobots and the NEST will handle,” he added.

"We're going to have to do a lot of work to make this work," Lennox said, turning toward Optimus. As he, your father, and Optimus continued talking, you kind of zoned out from the discussion.

So, this was going to be your life now?

A weird buzzing sensation filled your head again, making you wince. You glanced at Optimus and Ratchet, noticing that their presence made the buzzing even stronger. But when your eyes landed on what seemed to be a canister, the buzzing persisted.

Curious, you grabbed one of the canisters and inspected it. After a moment, you managed to open what seemed to be a lid. Inside, you saw a strange blue liquid—and the buzzing in your head grew even louder.

“Hey, what is this blue stuff?” you asked Ratchet.

“That would be a canister of energon. It’s something we use to sustain ourselves,” Ratchet explained.

“Energon?” you questioned thoughtfully. “Why do I feel like I heard that word before?” you murmured.

“Is there something about it?” he asked.

“No. It’s just that I get a weird head buzz around it,” you said, putting the canister lid back and putting it down.

You glanced at Lennox, your dad, and Optimus, unable to follow the conversation about your future. Then, you felt Emily’s hand wrap around your metallic finger. Looking down at her, you saw her offer a smile. You smiled back, feeling a bit more at ease with your situation—and your new reality as an alien robot.

#transformers x reader #various x reader #x cybertronian reader #echoes of the unknown #oc x reader #transformers #transformers imagines #transformers bayverse #bayverse #transformers bayverse x reader

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stirthewaters · 1 year ago

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Little with You

Summary: Cg Wednesday to the rescue after Xavier says some insensitive shit. Warnings: language, anxiety attack, heavy agere themes, blood Word Count: 2.1k A/N: uhh first time writing stuff like this, bear with me please T_T this is all completely sfw and non sexual stuff! Click away if this isn't your kind of thing :))

The hallways felt too crowded, too rough. Tight even. All you could hear was the mingling sounds of talking, laughing, shoes scraping against the floor, sounds that you didn’t usually pay attention to. now it was as if they were all you could hear. As you passed, rain pattered against the windows, a constant drum that no longer felt soothing.

Your mind felt fuzzy; like cotton candy was forming a solid barrier around your brain. It made sense after all; you hadn’t been little in at least a week. What with exams coming up you couldn’t afford to take the time to do so. Unfortunately, that was most likely what was causing you to be late to class. Again. Shouldering through purple uniforms you felt your mind fighting to release from its clutches and to sink into the comforting haven of littlespace; you couldn’t do it. Not here. Not now.

When you turned the corner into a less crowded hall, you paused and pressed your back against the wall, taking deep breaths in an attempt to ground yourself, blocking out every single thought that wasn’t anything close to a big thought. Focused on the feeling of your hands gripping the material of your backpack straps. It helped. A little.

Turning away from the small hall you headed into class; psychology. You would never know why they taught psychology at a school for exceptionally gifted students. Knocking on the door you were greeted by your professor; Mr. Hedgeworth.

“Late again, Y/N?”

Those stone gray eyes that fell on you made you shudder as you spoke up hesitantly.

“I’m sorry, sir- it won’t happen again.”

The man didn’t speak but you let out a soft sigh of relief inwardly as he stepped back, allowing you entrance to the class. You briefly scanned the room and felt yourself frown when you saw the only seat open next to Xavier. He was looking at you too; his frown almost matched yours. No, you didn’t want to sit next to him; it was always occupied by him going on and on about his artwork, how he’d gotten accepted to an apprentice program in town for doing wall art in some cafe. How lucky he was to have gotten the position.

Reluctantly you dropped your bag under the desk, sliding into the chair beside him. You didn’t make eye contact as your head fell into your hand, watching the professor scribble across the chalkboard. The silence was too short until he leaned over, muttering in your ear.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been late three times this week.”

You couldn’t help a soft roll of your eyes as you mumbled in response, “Just a lot of studying for exams; nothing special.” You felt your fists clench with irritation as he gave a soft chuckle, which came off as somewhat condescending to you.

“Come on, Y/N, be real with me. You don’t study that much.”

“Xavier just drop it.”

You kept your eyes ahead, focusing on Mr. Hedgeworth and nobody else. Your whole body felt too tense, your grip on the desk turning your knuckles white. The temperature of the room felt too hot; were you going to throw up? You wished, oh you wished you could be less obvious with your discomfort but Xavier noticed. He was leaning even closer. His shoulder was touching yours. You didn’t want him touching you.

“It’s not…your…your thing?”

You couldn’t help a scowl from crossing your face as you forced out through gritted teeth, “I’m not on my period, dumbass.”

“Okay, geez! Look, I’m just trying to help you, but you’re not giving me anything to work with. Don’t make me guess.”

You didn’t respond feeling your chest getting tighter. It felt as if all the air was crashing in around you and pushing in on your lungs, demanding faster breaths, and Xavier sure as hell wasn’t helping. You grimaced slightly, feeling the walls you’d built around your mind start to crumble as you fought to stay in your right of mind.

“Ohhhh…. Oh.” Xavier’s tone morphed into something akin to irritation; maybe even disgust. You felt yourself stiffen just at the sound of it. “It’s not that baby shit you told me about last year, right?”

The hands found each other, and you automatically began picking at your skin as you tried to pay all of your attention ahead of you. You didn’t want to talk about it. Especially with Xavier. Maybe you were imagining the breath you felt on your shoulder, tickling your neck. Taking your lack of a response as confirmation, he snorted and leaned back in his chair with disbelief, scoffing at you.

“It is, isn’t it? Y/N I thought you were over that.” He leaned his elbows on the desk as he tilted his head, frowning. “You get how gross that is, right? It’s a fetish.”

Your breaths were coming faster and faster; you weren’t gasping for air but it sure as hell felt like you were. You could barely put together a retort to snap back at him as he continued, stating his disapproval loud and clear.

“I mean, what, you can’t handle the big bad world so you act like a baby-? Everyone has to deal with it, that’s so sensitive of you.”

You stood, raising your hand and muttering a quick excuse about having to use the bathroom as you grabbed your backpack and stepped out quickly, gasping for air at this point as you ran for your dorm, trying to get your head to quiet. The hallways were thankfully emptier than usual so you were able to go faster than you normally would’ve.

Slamming open the door to your dorm you threw your backpack aside and slowly slid to the floor, drawing in rapid breaths as you tried to remember your breathing exercises, to ground yourself and calm down, but everything was so muddled you could barely form a cohesive thought.

Frantic tapping interrupted Wednesday in class as she felt the familiar hand on her shoulder. She briefly glanced over at Thing before muttering through gritted teeth.

“What is it now?”

The raven had a bit of trouble understanding his muddled mess of frequent signs and sighed with irritation. “Slower.”

When the hand finally managed to get a sentence through clearly Wednesday’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought, as she paused. Eventually, she raised her hand, speaking coolly. “May I use the restroom?”

Once her permissions had been granted she was quick to gather her belongings, boots echoing against the floor as she hurried out the door and towards your dorm hall. She had known this would happen; you’d been pushing yourself too long, too far.

Arriving at your dorm rather quickly she knocked a couple of times, calling out your name. Met with no response her eyebrows furrowed and the raven pushed against the door, surprised to find it unlocked. A glance around the room proved to be fruitful as she spotted you, curled up in the corner, weakly gasping for air. Crossing the room in seconds she took a seat in front of you, hesitating for a moment as she watched you grip at her sleeves for some semblance of comfort.

Wednesday reached out, gently cupping your chin and lifting it to meet her gaze. She spoke quietly, trying to calm you.

“Focus on me. Only me.”

She watched as your scared eyes, swimming with tears, met hers and you nodded shakily at her. “In. Out. Slowly.”

Your breathing began to deepen and Wednesday let out a soft sigh of relief as her attention turned to your hands; blood streaked around your fingernails, leaking down your fingers in trails. You’d been picking at your skin, no doubt something you did when you were stressed. Oddly, she didn’t like how blood looked on you.

“Stay here.”

Wednesday stood, not making any comment on the soft whimper you gave as she did so. In a moment she returned with some wet wipes, kneeling at your side and taking your hands in hers, giving them a good gentle clean and removing any traces of blood from your skin. Once done she placed the wipes aside and leaned forward, giving you a quick and small kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get you out of this dreadful uniform.”

With her guidance she helped you to your feet, working with you on untying your tie and unbuttoning your blazer; she did her best to keep you from doing most of the work, occasionally glancing at the quiet expression you had on your face. You were close to slipping, that she could tell. As she worked on your belt she muttered casually.

“You know I’m perfectly comfortable with you regressing around me, Y/N. There’s no need to pretend.”

When you shook your head she gave a quiet sigh, her hands pausing as she looked at you directly, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Did something happen?”

Your little nod confirmed her assumption as she huffed slightly, snaking your belt from your pants and folding it. “Who?”

You didn’t respond, seeming to hesitate. Narrowing her eyes, Wednesday cupped your chin softly to have you look at her. “It is acceptable to sign instead of using your words.”

You hesitated, but she felt a small twinge of satisfaction as you signed “Xavier”. Of course. Sighing in annoyance over the idea of him insulting you she released you and headed for your closet, speaking as she went in an irritated tone.

“Ignore him. Whatever he said is wrong. Especially regarding your regression.”

She promptly returned from your closet, two outfits in hand. One was a plain white shirt and jeans, an outfit she’d seen you wear regularly outside of class. The other was a black onesie with a space pattern on the front, accompanied by some fluffy socks. Raising an eyebrow she watched your eyes dart between the two.

“Take your pick.”

When eventually you picked the onesie she felt her gaze soften just slightly. Oh, how your weakness softened her sharp edges; it was repulsive how she behaved around you. Stepping forward the raven wordlessly helped you into the garment, a hint of amusement filling her as she helped you with the snaps on the bottom. “There.”

Taking your hands the raven gently sat you down on the floor, trying to ease your drop comfortably. She could tell you were well in littlespace at this point; you were quiet, shy, and squirmy. It was quite amusing. Wednesday knelt by your bed, retrieving the bin where she knew you kept your little gear. Finding the dinosaur pacifier you seemed to favor she raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for your nod before slipping it into your mouth. When you began to suckle she felt her gaze soften even more. The raven could’ve gone on for hours about her dislike of children but when it came to you being little… it felt different.

After clipping your pacifier to your onesie to prevent losing it she gave your hair a little ruffle, this time unable to suppress a smirk as she felt you melt into her hand. You were always so fond of touch in this state. “I assume you wouldn’t mind a bottle?”

Wednesday saw your eyes light up and she rolled her eyes softly, heading to the small makeshift dorm kitchen you possessed. A quick search of the cabinets was met with a few choice bottles you kept on hand. Choosing a simple fish patterned design she retrieved the carton of strawberry milk you kept in the minifridge, filling the bottle to a reasonable amount; if she had any hopes of getting you to bed later she did not want you having a sugar high.

Returning she handed you the bottle, watching you let the pacifier drop from your mouth to be replaced by the nipple. She took a seat comfortably on the rug, thinking for a moment about her next move; should she offer a bit of playtime or try to calm things down further?

Her thinking was interrupted by a warmth at her side and she looked down in mild surprise to see you snuggling up against her, looking up at her with big eyes. The raven only hesitated a moment before gently pulling you into her lap despite her small frame, wrapping her arms around you and murmuring into your ear, “good bambina.”

The rain drummed against the window of your dorm as she sat there with you, perfectly content watching you nurse from your bottle, holding you loosely to give you whatever comfort she could. She would stay the rest of the afternoon with you if you wished.

#wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednesday agere #sfw littlespace #sfw age regression #agere #cg wednesday #wednesday littlespace #wednesday x little reader

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emobirthdaycake · 12 hours ago

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Okay idk if anyone's touched on this but

Temperature sensitive/insensitive dear..??

I'm personally on the insensitive side, example:

It's friendsgiving or some other big hangout w the crew and Dear and Damien are in the kitchen.

Damien tells them to wash their hands but be careful because the waters still really hot.

Dear turns on the sink, not processing the latter half of the statement. The water is scalding hot. They don't react at all.

Damien: "... Isn't the water like- really hot?"

Dear: "... You tell me. Feels normal to me..."

This also extends to cold water tho, Huxley warning the pool is probably still pretty cold because it's only just starting to warm up, and Dear who doesn't listen and jumps right in telling the group the water feels great! (It was freezing, they cannot tell)

Idk where this idea came from other than Damien's immunity to warmer temps bc he's a fire elemental and wondering if it could extend to other elements in certain ways but I think about it a lot.

#theyve scared lasko several times #on accident ofc #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted lasko #redacted dear

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thekoalapastriesbakery · 2 months ago

Note

I'm just here as a place to put all of your Autistic!Drivers headcannons. I wanna hear them all

🦕 (Sry for the spam lmao)

you absolutely do not need to apologise for spamming at all i love this

okay generally speaking i could probably be convinced that most of the drivers are autistic bc like. these guys have one interest and they know everything about it. like if you sent me just about any driver on my list and asked me to do a fic about them being autistic i would probably not even struggle. (also like. so many athletes scream adhd to me like i know you i've been you just less functional)

for me, though, the drivers who jump out as autistic to me are oscar, seb, kimi r, max, lando, and valtteri. so. uh. here are the reasons :D

(disclaimer of course that this is just for fun and i am not saying the drivers necessarily are autistic so if you're offended by this just scroll ok?)

kimi raikkonen:

the thing about kimi is that he can do facial expressions but he just doesn't a lot of the time

generally speaking he is just 😐 and he's not being mean! he's just not doing expressions for no reason

and he doesn't generally do much in the way of tone variation

he does sometimes of course but most of the time i've heard him speak (especially in clips that people are saying like "this is why he's called the ice man") it's just like no that's autism

i do that shit all the time

also when he is smiling it's generally only around people he really cares about (see: any time he interacts with seb)

to me he is just the pinnacle of unmasked autism

you cannot convince me he hasn't ended up eating chicken nuggets or (insert autism safe food here) and been made fun of for it

lando norris:

have you seen what this boy eats

sensory issues at their finest

the way he stands with his shoulder blades??

the exact same way i would stand to avoid the tag on the back of a shirt

also his facial expressions and tones are very ... unique

also i don't think i can explain this but he's very autistic twelve year old who's just discovered dino nuggets and bluey

i don't make the rules

max verstappen:

the flags

the geography

maxsplaining

need i go on

oscar piastri:

okay look there are sooooo many things i could say about him

i've made two posts dedicated to autistic!oscar before already

(one and two)

and yet

more!

i mean for starters the same expression/tone issues that i think kimi r has but less masked

also the fact that he does smile and he can be really expressive when he's around people he's comfortable with!!

hoodies + shorts? autistic temperature regulation/insensitivity

there's also him on the red carpet at f175 where he just looked very sensory overload

oh and his insistence on winning grill the grid

sebastian vettel:

go watch the grill the grid video of him listing f1 world champions and tell me i'm wrong

you can't

the way he can't sit with both feet flat on the floor

the way he fidgets with his ears (very stimmy to me)

he also just seems to be very observant and trying to base his behaviour off of how other people are acting which lowkey looks like masking to me

i don't think this will make sense to a lot of people but he's like 5 year old boy autism meets teenage girl autism

valtteri bottas:

he's got that pre-teen/middle school girl autism

also that "i just got diagnosed and i'm trying to stop masking because it's making me exhausted" flair

the clothes the colours the hair the humour the everything

everytime he talks i actually understand what he means (never happens with neurotypicals. ever)

so um. yeah ✨

also a lot of this is just vibes like you 🫵 you're like me

#vinnie.fics #vinnie's 500 #autistic!drivers #🦕 anon

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aluyatoktokbang · 5 months ago

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PERSONAL DATA OF "T.ROGERS"

(TICCI-TOBY)

((This is a headcanon I made of Ticci-Toby, a version of mine for my character's story, that's why it has some changes, I hope you like it <3))

Full Name:

-T. (Tobias) Joseph Rogers.

Age:

-25 years old (present)

Height:

-1.85 meters (6'1").

Weight:

-79 kg.

Date of Birth:

-April 23, 1998.

Nationality:

-German (currently residing in Colorado, USA).

Family:

-Angela Sabine Becker, (Mother, Housewife). Current status: deceased.

-Norman Rogers, (Father, Architect). Current status: deceased.

-Lyra Edith Rogers, (Sister, Veterinarian). Current status: deceased.

Current Status:

-Alive (serial killer, thief, kidnapper, with cannibalistic and pyromaniac tendencies, urgently wanted, dead or alive).

Physical Traits:

-Brown, wavy, semi-long, messy hair, beard covering the chin, not very thick, pale and neglected skin, emaciated and tired appearance; prominent dark circles, large dark brown eyes; lack of flesh and tissue on the left cheek, exposing the gums and teeth, with small, healed cuts around it from the car accident with his sister; left-eye blindness due to physical attack, scar across the left eye, bruises and bites due to tics, long, robust arms, large hands, long fingers filled with bites, damaged nails, long athletic legs, sturdy build, highly developed physical condition, and normal body temperature.

Diseases or Conditions:

-Tourette’s syndrome (involuntary vocal, physical, and verbal tics such as whistling, growling, hitting, grimacing, scratching, etc.), schizophrenia, intermittent explosive disorder, metophobia (irrational fear of alcohol, alcoholic drinks, or people who drink alcohol due to trauma with his father), congenital insensitivity to pain (unable to feel physical pain), anosmia (loss of the sense of smell, though he can slightly perceive temperature differences), and obsessive-compulsive disorder (constantly counting, silently repeating phrases or words).

Weapons Used:

-Brutal strength such as legs, arms, and hands in hand-to-hand combat, two axes (one with a wooden handle and the other with an orange rubber handle, both in good condition, sharp and heavy blades), two hunting knives, and a Swiss knife. Any sharp or blunt object is suitable for him.

Skills:

-Very skilled in hand-to-hand combat, very developed body strength, quite fast, agile, and has good aim with axes.

Weaknesses:

-Tends to be clumsy, not good with stealth, not silent due to his tics, which can betray him; tends to be stubborn, obstinate, easily loses patience, and has a bad temper; does not detect any type of hit, pain, or physical wound, whether minor or severe, so he’s at risk of not treating his wounds on time; fixated on his cannibalistic desires, which distracts him too much and makes him unstable; he is a smoker and sensitive to loud sounds.

Extras:

-Constantly checks if he has any severe wounds to prevent hemorrhages that could weaken him or end his life. Carries a pouch with: bandages, stolen money, matches, cigarettes, band-aids, dopamine blockers, antidepressants (helps with tics, he steals them although not always successfully), and a file to sharpen axes. He enjoys carving wood, which helps him control his anxiety and distracts his mind. His favorite food is “Saumagen,” a German dish consisting of pork belly stuffed with various ingredients, almost like a giant sausage. He also grew fond of pozole, thanks to Karen (Santa Cruz). He sometimes acts as a "protective father," to refuse becoming like his father, being overprotective, caring, and emotionally attached. He can’t cook, and many of his attempts end in burning everything, making Cruz end up cooking for him.

Clothing:

-Wears a pair of yellow circular goggles, a black leather muzzle with metal bars and chains hanging from it to cover his identity, prevent himself from biting himself or Cruz; sometimes wears a burlap sack as a "mask" with holes for the eyes, placing the goggles over it, just to feel his identity is protected or because he’s tired of carrying his muzzle. He also wears a grayish-green sweatshirt, sleeves with a tricolor pattern: light gray-green, dark green-brown, and white, with a blue hood; underneath, he wears a black turtleneck shirt with long sleeves, a black denim overall, dark brown military-style boots, leather shoulder holsters to carry his axes on his back, a leather strap on his leg where he carries his hunting knives, and black latex gloves covering his hands, under which he wears bandages and band-aids to cover his wounds.

Modus Operandi:

-He doesn’t have a specific victim, he can kill men, women, elderly people, minors, or anyone who seems a threat or simply to release stress. If he wants to eat human flesh, he becomes selective about his victims, even obsessing over devouring the flesh of someone specific, doing whatever it takes to achieve that goal. He analyzes their health, the quality of the meat, body composition, and vulnerability to attack, being careful to preserve the body in good condition, using preservation techniques similar to those used for pork meat. He doesn’t care about the gender or age, as long as it’s suitable for consumption. He tends to have pyromaniac tendencies and enjoys burning his victims alive just for fun and for the smell of burnt flesh. He doesn’t attack animals because he promised his sister, who was a veterinarian, that he would never harm animals, even if they attacked him. If he did, he would feel guilty. Sometimes, out of necessity, he robs in isolated places at night, like convenience stores, his victims, or places not far from the city.

Personality:

-He has a shy, calm, and nervous personality. His way of speaking is blunt, cold, and reserved, silent (except for the tics), antisocial. With extreme trust in someone, he can be playful, affectionate in his own way, likes to tease, joke, be delicate, courteous, and overprotective. If he feels comfortable or loved by someone, he becomes anxiously attached, even obsessed with that person. He’s somewhat clumsy and careless with things he finds irrelevant. When attacking, he completely loses control of his strength and anger, acting without thinking, blinded by hunger or rage; he’s bloodthirsty. Very rarely does he act like a small, defenseless, innocent child, though it’s unclear whether it’s due to his disorders or as a way to deceive his victims.

Nicknames:

-As his full name is unknown, some call him "The Ax Killer," "The Fireman,", "Ticci-Ticci" or "The Muzzled Lumberjack." Only one person knows his full name but limits herself to calling him "T," his childhood friend (Santa Cruz).

Interpersonal Relationships:

-He had a very close relationship with his sister Lyra before her passing. He also had a good relationship with his mother, who took care of him, helping him with medications, therapy, and home teachings. He had a friendship with Karen Isabella de la Cruz, his best friend and the only one who truly understood, respected, and comprehended him. She never mocked him, even learning about his conditions to better understand him. This caused him to develop intense, anxious attachment to her, treating her as his "partner" despite not formally being one. However, after killing his father and becoming a killer, he never saw her again until later, when he found her changed, having also become a killer. Despite this, due to his anxious attachment, he decided to stay by her side. Their relationship is complicated, at times acting as best friends, at other times like a couple, but without a formal commitment. He likes to overprotect her, causing strong arguments due to differences in thoughts or actions that displeased the other. A toxic relationship developed, to the point of wanting to possess her, to eat her, causing one of the strongest fights that ended in a tragedy leading to his demise.

(It's an old drawing. It's T. Rogers' Headcanon design)

#creepypasta fandom #creepypasta art #creepypasta #creepypasta au #headcanon #tobias erin rogers #toby erin rogers #toby creepypasta #ticci toby #toby rogers #slender proxy #slenderverse

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