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mystic-story-lover · 5 months

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~ Texas Death ~

Adam Page x Unnamed Female!Reader

Word Count: 1589

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Blood Content Warning, Public Sex, Fingering, Penetration, Oral (Male Receiving),

Type: Fluff & Smut

Summary: Hangman reflects with his girlfriend on his Texas Deathmatch against Swerve

A/n: Okay, I saw this match and instantly knew this was going to be written

~~~

Sometimes, Hangman really pissed her off.

Tonight was AEW’s Full Gear, and her boyfriend was to fight in a Texas Deathmatch. She knew the match was going to be brutal, and she knew that Adam would be taking bumps that made her nervous, but she was also pissed. After promising her that he wouldn’t do anything reckless to get himself hurt, she watched him get glass in his back, fuck around with barbed wire, and play with staples. Out of most things in matches, Hangman knew that was one that grossed her out.

“Babe, how many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry?” His voice came from behind her.

“A million? Two million?” She retorted with questions of her own. “I had to watch one of my best friends take staples to the face. Do you know how gross it is to see staples in another person’s body?”

“It was for the show, and I warned you there would be things you didn’t like in it.” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“I thought you meant glass or thumbtacks, not a fucking staple gun.” Her hands flew into the air in exaggeration.

Hangman sighed, knowing she was right. For effect of the show, nobody warned her about the staple gun coming around, especially knowing how much she hated it. There’d been times that seeing them has caused her to become queasy, and he felt bad for the lack of warning. Jogging to catch up with her, Hangman let out a breath, hoping he could make it up to her. Once he’d caught up with her, the cowboy reached out for her wrist, catching it in his palm. Using the opportunity, he spun her around, giving her a chance to look at him. Hell, he’d drop to his knees in front of her if that’s what it took for her.

With wide eyes, she sucked in a breath, taking the time to truly look at him everywhere. She noticed the way the dried blood lingered on his body, but any cuts were cleaned up already. Her hand shook as she reached out for him, and he grabbed it with one of his own, bringing it to his chest.

“You’re still bloody,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t get it, why are you still covered in blood?”

“Because Darlin’, I didn’t care about cleaning myself up until I checked on you. You were right, I should’ve told you about the staple spots.” He spoke gently, still holding her hand.

“I don’t know what to say.” She replied, a small smile appearing on her face.

“You don’t have to say anything, I’m just glad to see you smile.” A smile came on his face as he answered her.

Her actions were wordless, but they held a tension that the blonde didn’t expect to come from this. As her finger slipped under his chin, he looked at her eyes, and he noticed they were darker than normal. Using the resting finger, she brought Hangman’s face down to her level, and wrapped her arms around his neck. The small smile turned into a cocky smirk when she leaned up to kiss him, which he reciprocated.

“Darlin’, what are you doing?” He panted out, pulling away from her lips the slightest bit.

“All I’m doing is kissing you.” Her voice came with an innocent tone, but he knew by the look in her eyes that her thoughts were far from.

“You really want to do this at work?” Another kiss from her sealed the answer he needed, and he backed her into a wall.

The two weren’t far from his dressing room, but she knew that he was still sharing it with the rest of The Elite, leaving it useless to them. Thankfully, they were in a dark hallway, one that was barricaded from most sights by wooden crates. There was only one way to see down the hall, and that was to come up right next to the boxes, meaning they’d be hidden with ease.

“Didn’t think I’d be getting this treatment tonight.” Hangman let out a little chuckle as he moved his feverish kisses to her jaw. She leaned her head back against the wall, welcoming the feeling of his lips on her body.

“Neither did I,” a moan escaped her when his lips connected with her sweet spot. When his teeth contacted the flesh, a whimper followed his action. “Seeing you the way you are, I changed my mind.”

“No complaints here.” He whispered below her ear, bringing his lips back up her neck.

“Hangy, please, I need you.” She moaned out, panting as she leaned her head back in pleasure.

Following her needs, the cowboy backed away, giving him the ability to turn her around. While her hands collided with the wall, he pressed himself right against her, allowing her to feel his cock through his gear. To not waste any extra time, he quickly tugged her leggings down, her lace underwear coming off at the same time.

“Touch yourself for me baby.” He grunted, palming her ass in the process.

She did as he told her, bringing one hand off the wall and letting it fall to her pussy. Small silent whimpers fell from her lips as her fingers met her clit. Adam listened to her gasp as she slipped two fingers into her entrance, and he lowered himself to a squatting position so he could watch her. He’d always admired the sight of her completely at his will, following everything he told her to do, no matter how badly she wanted his hands on her. Tonight, he wouldn’t make her wait long, as he stood upright again, he began to unbuckle his belt. He listened as she continued to pant, his rock-hard cock only becoming painful while restrained. Still reeling from the pleasure between her legs, she listened as the sound of a zipper interrupted the moans she let out. The following sound of fabric falling only increased the slickness at her core, and she released a louder moan as his hand encountered her ass.

“Take your fingers out Darlin.” He spoke, kissing her left shoulder blade. Again, she did as he told, removing her fingers and bringing the hand back up. “Taste yourself babe.”

Following instructions again, she took both fingers in her mouth, sucking on them. A muffled moan came from her as she could taste herself. A grunt of approval came from the taller man behind her, and he placed his lips on her middle upper back as he spread her legs a little farther with his foot. Using the extra room, one of his large hands that rested on her ass now found its way to her hip, allowing him to hold her steady as he began to slide inside of her.

“Fuck, Darlin’, you feel so good taking me in.” Hangman grunted, and she moaned at the feeling.

Allowing her the time to adjust, he gave a few sloppy and gentle thrusts. When she started moving against him, he knew that he would be able to move faster. With his free hand, Adam reached for her long locks of hair, wrapping them around into a makeshift ponytail, and pulled her back against him. Whilst the point was to stay hidden in the darkness of the hallway, the smack-smack-smack of their bodies connecting could be heard from down the hall.

“Shit, that feels so good.” Her pants were quicker than they’d been before, the result of him lifting one of her legs, giving him a new angle.

“Fuck, I know baby. Want to make you feel good.” He grunted, biting her earlobe after his words.

No longer able to control the volume of her moans, she bit her lip, an attempt that failed. The pleasure that she felt became too much, and she couldn’t keep silent anymore.

“Adam, oh right there. Please Adam.” She begged, a whining tone following her.

“Please what Darlin’?” His question was cocky, and they both knew it.

“Touch me, please, I’m so close.” Another loud moan followed as Adam’s lips met the spot where her shoulder and neck meet.

“My hands are already on you baby.” He chuckled when he groaned. “Let me hear you scream my name when you come baby.” He whispered in her ear, nose snuggled into the side of her head as his fingers slid down to her clit.

The feeling of his breath on her ear followed with his skillful fingers playing with her bundle of nerves nearly sent her over the edge, and Hangman felt her clench around him. The thing that sent her over however was when his teeth bit into her earlobe, and his free hand spanked her at the same time. She clenched around him, squirming against him, and he heard her screaming his name.

“Fuck, baby, I need you on your knees. Want to come in your mouth.” He grunted, pulling out of her swiftly. As soon as her knees connected with the cool tile, his hands formed her hair into another pony. Thrusting quickly, he took control of her throat, and she relaxed it to take him farther in. She felt the way his hips stuttered, along with the hot ropes of cum as he finished in her mouth.

“Shit, that was hot.” He whispered, and she nodded along.

“Yeah, except for us who heard it down the hall from you two!” Adam Cole called from the Elite’s locker room, and the couple laughed.

#~ my story :) ~#tw mention of injury #tw mention of blood #tw talks about blood #aew imagine #aew smut #adam page imagine #adam page smut

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sorcerav · 4 months

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yall I can NOT make this stuff up

the second I a) get over covid and b) get my writing mojo back, I slice my pointer finger open while cooking 🫡 I have to wear a splint bc of it so typing is HARD. 2024 is testing me already I s2g

#› ooc ‹ 𝕣𝕒𝕪 𝕤𝕒𝕪𝕤 ☽#tw mention of injury #( I have so much muse this is so ANNOYING )

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ermine-57047 · 2 years

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Random and very disorganized Octonauts HCs(and thoughts in general) because i'm love them so much

Inkling is the oldest. He is the resident Old Man[affectionate]. He and Natquick are the universal grandfather figure.

Barnacles will adopt anyone who becomes an Octonaut.

I find it adorable and somewhat amusing that both Barnacles and Shellington are both the younger sibling.

The Octonauts are sibling coded imo. Shellington, Dashi, Peso, and Kwazii are like siblings, Tweak is like that older sister that everyone knows is In Charge[TM] when the parental figure(s) is gone.

When Koshi grows up, along with being an Octonaut, she becomes a successful writer, publishing a well-known autobiography. She recounts her adventures with Dashi and the Octonauts in a series of books, Little-House-on-the-Prairie style. She titles the series 'Sisterly Mysteries' :]

Barnacles is pretty emotionally repressed. Toxic positivity go burr. Get this man some therapy I beg of thee.

Paani is multilingual.

Paani is very self-sacrificial.

Please don't whitewash Paani in human versions of him he is literally Indian I sWEAR TO GOD-

I know this is widely accepted fanon but Kwazii is trans and has ADHD.

The little nick in Kwazii's ear is from when an earring got torn out of his ear during a mission when he was still new to being an Octonaut. It was originally a smaller wound, he tried to hide it(bc he was more prideful then), but it got infected and a bigger chunk of cartilage had to be removed. Peso helped with that.

#tw mention of injury #octonauts #headcanons

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quinnick · 1 year

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Guess which tumblrina dumped boiling hot water on their hands! Thats right! ME

#tw mention of injury #Sometimes working at a coffee shop means you dump boiling water all over your hand #quinnick gets personal

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kal-culator · 2 years

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Hey I hope it's ok for me to ask for some advice here. My sky kid wears the eyepatch mask from season of assembly and I've worked it into her character a bit. Like as a human I don't draw her with the eyepatch but she is blind in that eye. And as a sky kid she always tells different over dramatic stories for why she has the eyepatch (krill attack, took a red rock to the face in eden, fell on her face while skating and cracked the mask, etc) but I haven't come up with a real reason for her to have it. Anyways I want to cosplay her but I've come across some stuff saying that using an eyepatch as part of a costume is ableist, which I understand. But would it be ableist even when wearing a mask with the eyepatch on it? I also considered just picking a different mask for my cosplay but then it feels like it's wrong to erase a character's disability just so that I can cosplay her. I know it's up to me to do my own research on the subject but since I've seen you draw Sei with a scar no matter what universe he's in, maybe you would have ideas on how I could make this work?

First of all, I don't mind the question, and thank you for asking my advice, in fact.

Second, your oc idea sounds absolutely fantastic; the idea that they overdramatise the whole thing just to get a snicker or two out of people's reaction is a fun concept and they sound great.

Third of all, where did you read about wearing an eyepatch for cosplay purpose is ableist?

It gets long so the rest is utc <3 also a small tw for mention of injuries:

Personally saying, I don't believe using an eyepatch in and of itself is an insulting thing to do. It's a piece of clothing, some people use it for aesthetic, some use it for medical purposes, pirates use it so they can see better in the dark.

I mean, if wearing an eyepatch as a costume is making you an ableist then we wouldn't have some badass pirates and characters now, would we?

Sei, and well, any character really, has a scar because of their lore reasons. Doesn't have to be something grim! They can just accidentally got cut by a splinter or glass shards. It's normal! It happens!!

Anyways what I'm saying is, you'll be fine wearing eyepatch for your costume. With or without the mask. Don't be worried about people calling you ableist just because you enjoy dressing up as character that you made and you love.

Remember, as long as you're not actively or purposely trying to harm others, it's fine to wear eyepatch however you want. Take it like a glasses with no lens, you can wear that on daily basis for aesthetic purpose only without being offensive to anyone, right?

Good luck for your costume!! <33 I hope it turned out great and you're satisfied with it!!

Also I asked some friend about this and they have a small message for you too:

#prince does ask #anonymous #tw mention of injury #tw injury

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hey-imma-fangirl · 1 year

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If a guy can't pay for a drink

It would cost him an arm and a leg

Yes 😂

#thanks for the ask!#welcome back to the casino au #tw mention of injury

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just-an-anxious-mess · 2 years

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CW: poem about grief, contains various depictions of bodily harm and fatal scenario's such as tsunamis and parasites. Reader discretion is advised

Grief. It can hurt you hard and fast or creep up on you slowly and swallow you whole before you can scream.

Grief is a hand closing around your throat, pushing down on your windpipe until every breath is a struggle and you're choking.

Grief is a predator, stalking you from the shadows, creeping closer and closer before pouncing, giving you no time to react.

Grief is a towering tsunami rushing you, consuming everything in its path, impossible to outrun and before you know it your drowning, desperately trying to find the surface but you keep colliding with debris and getting tumbled around by the current.

Grief is a parasite, eating away at you sneakily until it's too late and you collapse. If you don't address it it can claim your life and will be too far gone to remove.

Grief is a fire burning from the inside, exploding from your mouth out of control, burning everything within reach and causing damage that can be hard to fix.

Grief is a silent killer, capable of hiding in plain sight and striking when you least expect it. No warning signs or alarms, just cold calculated assassination.

Grief is a snowstorm, blinding and isolating, cutting you off from everyone and making you lose your way. Numbing every part of your body until feeling is a thing of the past.

Grief is a poison, making it less potent in one instance and then ten times as bad the next and you never know which you'll get.

Grief is a disease, breaking you mentally, emotionally and physically, leaving you bedridden and drained of energy.

#just an anxious mess's writing #tw grief #tw mention of death #tw mention of violence #tw mention of injury #tw mention of drowning #tw mention of parasites #ask to tag anything else #grief poem

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7ateninetales · 3 months

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Kaisa's resting, so here's a picture of my chonky guy.

You should appreciate the lengths I went to get this photo. It involved strapping a rotom phone on a Zubat and a lot of blurry photos of leaves.

Don't worry, I didn't leave Crobat in his saddle.

Also, don't worry about Kaisa, she's doing fine and will be back tomorrow. When she tried to pick up Voltorb, she got shocked. I guess she was so surprised that she fell over backwards and smacked her head on the ground and got a bit of a concussion. Luckily, she heals quickly, [Content containing sensitive or classified information has been removed. If this was done in error, please contact the E4 Information Protection Committee via this link.].

Voltorb is fine too!

-Aoryn

#7ateninetales #rotomblr #unreality #pokemon rp #pokemon roleplay #tw mention of injury #pretend censorship

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thespacedragons · 1 year

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I have a scene I want to get out of my head so I’m writing it I guess. (Not part of a fandom, they’re original characters just so I don’t accidentally confuse you with names) This ended up so much longer than I thought it would I apologize.

(Possible trigger warnings: mention of wound(repeatedly), sedation (Technically?), knife, sorry if I missed anything)

Eiron had just lured the hostile magic user away from the nearest city. It had been a task to get him away from the person he seemed to be going after, but she’d done it. Now they were deep enough into the forest that she didn’t have to worry about anyone else getting caught in the crossfire.

She turned to attack him, but there was someone else right behind her. And they were approaching quickly. She grabbed a couple vines with her magic and grew them up in a cross to block the stranger’s advance. She stumbled back a little before regaining her footing and taking a few leaps further back, not taking her eyes off of the stranger. In the same motion, she threw some seeds towards them.

The stranger initially jumped back from her cross of vines before approaching them curiously. “These aren’t attacking me,” they stated, looking up to make eye contact with Eiron.

“No?” Eiron didn’t know what else to say, she hadn’t meant to attack them so obviously the plants wouldn’t. Eiron could see the stranger more clearly now, and he didn’t look human or fairy. His hair was pure white, but his eyes were a deep, glowing, gold. That was a trait that was only common among demons. “Who are you?” Eiron was careful to keep her tone level, not wanting to jump to conclusions, but not wanting to risk anything either.

They simply cocked an eyebrow. “A bit rude to ask for an introduction without giving one yourself, wouldn’t you say?”

The trees shivered behind Eiron and she threw a handful of seeds that way, quickly capturing her original target when he emerged in an attempt to surprise her with vines encompassing his body.

“Again the vines don’t attack.” The stranger took a few steps forward, and Eiron moved the crossed vines in warning.

“I don’t want them to, so no, they don’t.” Eiron snapped, more on edge by the second.

They didn’t stop moving, so Eiron used the handful of seeds she’d thrown earlier to trap the gold eyed stranger in their own cocoon of vines. Now that they weren’t so much of a threat, Eiron turned back to the one she knew was hostile, writhing to try to escape the vines.

Eiron regretted that simple action, as there was a small hissing sound behind her, and by the time she’d whipped back around, arm instinctively pushing the hostile away from the noise, the stranger had gotten behind her, arms pinning her against them, something sharp against a wound made earlier on her right shoulder, and a hand placed warningly against her neck.

“Why protect him? Hmm? I can feel your anger towards him. Either kill him or tell him to get out of here so we can have our own chat, yeah?” The stranger moved his hand off her neck, giving her left arm more room to manipulate the vines around the hostile.

She dropped the vines quickly and roughly towards the ground, causing a startled yelp. She began to release the vines, but then tightened them around his throat and said, “If you ever do anything to that village again, or any village for that matter, I’ll hunt you down and end you, understood? Now get out of here.” She released the vines, not waiting for nor expecting him to say anything.

After he had run out of sight, the stranger pinned her arm again, once again resting their hand on her throat. “Now,” they almost purred, “Let’s talk about those vines you’re using, hmm? I’ve never heard of a human who could use them without anger turning them violent, so what kind of anger do you have to make them so calm?”

They assumed her human, good. That meant they would let their guard down a bit. “I’m just not angry.” Not a lie, but not enough to satisfy them either. Enough to buy a little time to think, to feel, to find something that could grow in a way that would help her.

“Ha!” The disbelieving laugh nearly stabbed the sharp object into Eiron’s wound, making her hiss quietly. “Humans can’t control those vines without anger or fear. Frankly, you don’t seem very afraid, too much confidence for that.”

Eiron wouldn’t call it confidence, well, maybe, but more in her abilities than herself. She had found the perfect thing to help her, wild lichen, and through her magic, it became longer, stronger, just long enough to quickly wrap around their neck and pull them back, Eiron going limp and ducking down as it did so. Eiron ran several leaps before glancing back, just in time to hear a hissing sound as the stranger dissolved the lichen to nothing.

A second later, she was pinned, thrashing, to the ground. They flipped her over to face them, and to put the sharp thing, a dagger as it turned out, against her wound again.

“Now, now, that won’t do. Perhaps I should cut your legs off so you’ll answer my questions.” They grinned as Eiron shuddered at the prospect of having another set of limbs lost. “So, let’s try this again, shall we? How is a human controlling those kinds of vines as you are? A human shouldn’t be able to-” Their eyes widened, and for a second Eiron thought they had figured it out, but then they asked, “What are you doing? Stop.”

Slightly more pressure on the dagger, and Eiron hissed. “What are you talking abou-” Then she felt it, her vision blurring gently, thoughts becoming less solid. Black faded in from the edges of her eyes until she could no longer see, she thought there might have been weight on her, pain from somewhere. And then she lost consciousness.

When she awoke, the first thing she felt was the pain in her shoulder, she reached up, and found that it was wrapped. She sat up and looked around, she was in a cell. Worse, she was in a cell with the golden eyed stranger, who was already awake.

“Morning.” They smiled. “So, I take it you didn’t do that.”

“We probably got too close to a midnight lotus. But how did we get here?”

“Oh, don’t take my greeting as permission for small talk. I still want to know the important answers.”

“Unfortunately,” Eiron said, sickeningly sweet as she flicked her fingers and vines from outside made an extra wall in the cell between them, “I don’t want to give them to you.” She’d left one hole, just large enough for them to make eye contact from their respective sitting places.

“How cute,” he hummed. “You think that’s enough to stop me from getting to you?” He disappeared from the hole for a minute, then his voice dropped threateningly, “What did you do differently? Hmm? Why can’t I-” He stopped and then his face was in the hole. “What did you do?”

Eiron smiled innocently. She’d simply used some of her pure magic. More energy, but worth the outcome apparently.

The sound of keys jingled outside the cell, and soon enough, two guards came into view. “Who. Did. That?” One of the guards asked, pointing at the vines down the middle of the cell. The other had obviously done something to implicate her, because the guard’s eyes flicked to them before coming down on Eiron. “How did you do that? We took your seeds.”

Eiron’s hand went absently to where her belt should have been as she responded, “There were some outside, also, I’m merely protecting myself from them. I haven’t done anything illegal so why am I here?” She moved her thumb in the direction of the vine wall and the one behind it.

“Not done anything? You just confessed to making that wall, using those vines is illegal because of the damage they can do! You’re lucky they aren’t spitting acid at you right now.” The second guard spoke, the first one nodding. “Now, what are your names so we can put it on the record for who’s in here?”

“I think you should give us your names first.” The stranger said. Was he a fairy, then?

“You can call me Fernt, and you can call him Lirna.” One of the guards responded. A good response when dealing with a possible fae.

“Very well, you may call me Maerthskar.”

No, no, no no no. They hadn’t just said that. That couldn’t be true. Eiron’s eyes widened and she couldn’t help but look at the wall she’d grown. Maerthskar could not be free. Not after what she’d sacrificed. So they were a demon.

“What about you?” Lirna tapped the bars a couple times to get her attention.

“You may call me Skir for now.” It meant grounded, in her language, as in flightless, cursed to walk. Fitting.

The guards walked away, presumably to write down their names, and Eiron stood, walking towards her wall of vines, shrinking it quickly, feeling the other trapped now in the corner. She released their face. She knew that her eyes were no longer gray, but the blazing lilac of her fury.

“Oh.” He quirked an eyebrow, but she tightened the vines before he could speak further.

“How are you free?” She asked, loosening the vines just enough for them to breath and speak.

“How? As if they’d tried to keep me in. I just poked through the flimsy layers.” They were almost laughing.

It took everything inside of her to not crush their throat. “You ‘poked through’ the layers? I sacrificed my wings to contain you, you should not have been able to ‘poke through’ anything.”

“A fairy, then. That explains a bit. Unfortunately, I felt no fairy magic in my bindings, I had a fun time, too. I’d poke through one layer of magic and they’d hastily put up more even flimsier layers. You gave your wings to the humans, such misplaced trust.” They sounded almost sympathetic at the end, and her blood boiled because of it.

The guards jingled back down the hallway, and she walked to the door to see them, forcing herself to calm down just enough to make her eyes gray again. “Where am I? What city?”

The guards looked at the scene in the cell, but didn’t seem too bothered by it. Pretentious. “Tern city.”

Perfect, she could settle this quickly. “I would like to speak to the Lord Nerthin, please. Tell him he owes me a favor.”

The guards glanced at each other. “Lord Nerthin died a few years ago, and his son has been ruling for seven years.”

Had it been that much time? “Then tell Caenin I want to speak with him.” The guards began to shake their heads. Eiron clenched her left hand, vines encompassing the demon’s head. “Just tell him that Eiron wishes to speak with him, and that she wished to use his father’s favor. It won’t hurt any of you to do that. He can refuse, although I wish him not to.”

The guards left, and Eiron released Maerthskar just enough to let him breathe. Her anger seeping back in, she hated feeling angry, but they’d killed so many, family, friends. To think that the humans might have asked for her wings, only to use flimsy spells to keep Maerthskar in check? It made her furious. She should just kill him right now, ancient laws or not. Immortal or not. No. It would be too much of a hassle to find their soul should she kill this body.

Sooner than she would have expected, she heard hurried footsteps down the hall. A young man that bore no resemblance to the child she last saw save his emerald eyes came into appearance.

“Eir-” he stopped as she jerked a finger to her mouth, eyeing the other in the cell with her. “I am so sorry! Also, this is not how I am going to make you use father’s favor, I will let you out.”

“Caenin, how is Maerthskar free from where they should be?” Eiron knew her eyes were still violet, and she was trying to sound calm, but she was anything but.

His eyes widened. “What?! How long has? How?”

“I do not know. But since they are free, I know that my wings were not used to keep them trapped. I know you will not use the favor to release me, I have a different favor in mind. So, Caenin, where are my wings?”

#writeblr #original story #snippet?#idk if you'd call this a snippet #i might end up writing more i might not #ummm #my writing #tw knife #tw sedation #tw mention of injury #cliffhanger #sorry about that #but i might end up writing more #so i guess if you like it tell me if you'd want another part as a reblog of this or as it's own post and i get to learn to make links?

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indulgentdaydream · 4 months

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Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

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yami-the-outcast · 2 years

Text

Aight, let's play the game of "guess who's got too many oc's?"

It me

I got too many

I could make my own Jojo part at this point

But I digress, I have more

Atlas came about as I was watching Stone Ocean, I wanted a character that looked big and intimidating but has a soft spot for cuddly and cute things. He's also a healer, his stand Fall Out Boy and it's ability; Phoenix, portraying the softer and kinder side of fire and flame. Phoenix allows FOB to burn away injuries, for example setting a severely laceration on a leg aflame, the injury charring over until it flakes off to reveal healthy pink flesh underneath. Unfortunately, the process is rather painful, feeling just as intense as a burn despite not actually causing injury.

He's been through a lot of stuff, starting with a rough childhood after being sold into the Russian mob when he was just a child. With FOB granting him the power to conjur flame from nowhere he was quick to become an intimidating figure as he grew older, earning himself quite the reputation as one of the youngest torturers who wouldn't hesitate to cause the most grievous wounds to those who he needed information from. After all, he had the power to fix them up anyway.. though the healing process wasn't exactly a pleasant one for anyone.

At some point in his young life, Atlas found himself.. disappointed...

He had done much, though also very little. He'd experienced life as a toughened adult, but he'd never really been happy with what he was doing. It was only a way to get by. He wanted to do something else.. he had all this power and apparent respect from others, but still felt as though he couldn't be who he really wanted.

So one day, he said fuck it. Started indulging himself, wearing the soft colors, petting the little creatures, enjoying himself. Trying to be the person he really wanted to be.

That.. went fairly well for him, though eventually he chose to leave his home country and try a life in America to get away from his criminal past and the ties he'd made there. He had a few good months there, carved himself out a decent life for a 17-year old with his stature and appearance, before a simple case of wrong-place-wrong time found him being sent to Green Dolphin Street Prison.

Of course, this was no mere coincidence... and unfortunately for Atlas, his skill-set and his temperamental stand were fairly valuable to a certain priest. Though he was stubborn and proud, ultimately he became nothing more than a hollow figure who would do as he was bid once his memories were taken from him. As such, Atlas remembers nothing of who he was or what he was doing in this prison. Though ultimately, thanks to some help from Emporio he managed to slip away and start cracking into some of the mystery of the prison with the other stand users until Jolyne came along with her mission to save her father. He might not remember who he is, but he wants to help these people he is learning to call his friends...

He's fairly quiet, but honestly this is thanks to a poor grasp of English. He can mostly understand it, but doesn't like to mentally translate before speaking it in fear of embarrassing himself, so he simply opts not to unless he has to.

#jj/ba naga au #extreme cuddling #naga oc #tw mentions of trauma #jjba oc #oc #jjba oc stand #tw mention of injury

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