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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 10 months

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Blood

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Joel comes home to the smell of blood.

Warnings: PLEASE READ angst without a happy ending, death of an infant, death of a child, main character death, loss of a child (stillbirth), loss of a partner

A/N: Please read the warnings above. If any of them feel even remotely uncomfortable for you, please do not read this fic.

I don't own photos, dividers or characters.

Over the past twenty years, Joel’s become familiar with blood in ways he’s never wanted.

He’s known it dripping from his daughter, himself, Tommy.

One time he tried to list off all the people he’d seen bleed, whether or not he knew their names.

It smells sickly and sweet. He thinks the smell is the heat of life as it swirls up and out of the wound and into the air.

He never knew how warm a human being truly was, until that early September night, Sarah panting in his arms.

It had been an abnormally hot day for the month, the relentless Texas summer still lingering in the air, like a sun-warmed sidewalk, autumn still not fully committed to its task yet. He had been so hot all day, and through the night, as he screamed and ran and ran and screamed.

There was a faint trickle of sweat going down his back, his shirt sticking to his skin.

But when his daughter gripped at him, when he pressed his hands against her stomach and pressed down down, the blood had seeped through. It was hot, uncomfortably so. It ran down his wrists and made his fingers slippery, stained his arm, stuck his fine hairs to his skin till the blood crusted over into brown.

It burned him wherever Sarah touched him, red handprints imprinted onto his skin that he punched Tommy over when he suggested that maybe he find something to wash them off.

Joel didn’t like blood. Didn’t like it even when it meant his survival, that his heavy boulder of a life would live to see another roll up and down the mountain.

Even in Jackson, he hated it.

The sight of it sat in his stomach like hemlock, the smell filled his lungs like tar.

When Joel saw blood, blood poured from his eyes.

So, when Joel comes home from patrol, the house he’s worked long and hard to call home, has made sure to keep the slither of blood away from, he has to stumble to the kitchen table to catch his breath.

The sweet smell hangs in the air like mustard gas. He sees the yellow fog of it twist and turn each corner and hang heavy at his ankles, grave-like and sombre.

He wants to throw up.

He follows the fog, follows the smell. The nausea rises and falls inside him like the tide, relentless and without fail. The impassivity of the ocean terrifying. The threat of eternity.

When Joel opens the door to the bedroom he shares with you, the bedroom he’s worked long and hard at to call his, the bedroom he’s rearranged for you dozens and dozens of times over the past eight months as your nesting had gotten stronger until his back gave out, he stumbles and holds onto the doorframe to catch his breath and finds it doesn’t come to him.

You’d traded a lot for those floral sheets. Had worked long hours to be able to afford them, and cooked as hearty a meal as you could when you finally got your hands on them.

There’s so much blood that it’s turned the bedding and your dearly-loved sheets nearly black. You’re holding something grey and covered in blood to your chest, rocking it gently, sweat stuck to your forehead.

You seem the ghost of the woman he knew. The one who got up and sang off-key without any music for a full house at the Tipsy Bison and stole Joel’s heart in one fell swoop of an eagle’s wing, your voice sounding like wind chimes. There’s a brush of blood on your forehead, the roots of fingers following a palm.

Your eyes are hazy and delirious but still they light up when they see him, “Hi, Joel.”

He walks into the room, he hears himself talking to you but doesn’t realise when he managed to do that. He sits down on the bed and it’s warm and wet. A few seconds later, he feels the blood crawl into his jeans.

You mumble something and with a butterfly of a smile you hold out your arms to him. Joel finds himself stroking the face of his daughter, running his hand down the bridge of her nose, smaller than his pointer finger.

One of your breasts is out of your shirt, milk runs from it and pools down into an oasis of white. There’s a dribble of it against his daughter’s mouth.

You’re saying something again, “...eager to see you, Joel, to see her father.”

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve found the strength to be talking like this. When he touches your forehead, you’re burning. He remembers that one night when he took you out dancing. Where he watched you move like a sirocco from the bar counter and got you drinks to cool off. He remembers pressing his lips against your hot skin, right below your hairline, he remembers your arm, strong and steady as it wrapped around his waist.

It had been a long time since Joel had done anything of the like in public like that. When he pulled away he found his heart beating out of his chest without control. He was scared you would be able to see it moving against his shirt. A rapid rise and fall like the beat of a rabbit’s foot.

“Isn’t she pretty, Joel?”

He swallows and nods, says that she is because it’s the truth. The scrunched up, wrinkled face, colourless and lifeless, is beautiful because she was inside you for eight months and Joel spent those nights he spent with you talking to his daughter inside your womb. He hasn’t seen anything more pretty.

“Lovely,” his voice is hoarse, and he hates how his tongue is cottony. He wants to say more and he only repeats himself, “Lovely.”

You shift and groan but keep moving until you place your child in his arms. Your hand remains on her head, brushing your thumb back and forth, “Aren’t you happy?”

“Why didn't you call for someone?”

“I love her so much, I didn’t think it possible to love someone like this…” you let out a tired sigh and Joel feels the faint heated brush of a bit of your life pass against his neck. You lay down against your pillow. “She’s not latching…”

Something inside him hallows out. Joel feels wind churn in every corner of his chest, braiding in and out between his ribs. His bones feel dry, the insides of them empty of any marrow. They hit against one another as the bleeding thing inside him continues to beat.

“I’ll go get Maria-”

He wonders why he didn’t think of this sooner, of getting help, why he didn’t run straight out the door when he smelt blood in his house, when he saw you in bed, more of your blood outside of you than in.

“No,” an urgency hangs against your voice like an anchor. You reach out to him, “Stay with us for now.”

Joel’s jeans are dipped in your blood, he feels it press mercilessly against his skin.

He looks down at the baby in his arms, viciously silent, heartlessly still.

Sarah had a set of lungs on her when she was born. Had screamed so loud it filled the room.

“Alright.”

When Joel dips his head to kiss your hairline, you smell like blood. One time, in the low light of your fireplace, before you’d moved in with him, you’d pressed your head against his neck and murmured that you used to use Dior perfume, that it was the only luxury you permitted yourself before the world set itself on fire.

After he’d have sex with you, you smelt like sweat and Joel and skin. Heated and vibrant with life, Joel would press his front teeth into your upper arm until you pressed him away and called him an animal.

When you came back from your shifts in the garden, you smelt like earth. Something rich and dark. Some mysterious force of nature clinging against your clothes and body, making you glow.

He wonders if he would have fallen in love with you back when you sprayed yourself with designer perfume. If you would have let him into your life enough to have him put a piece of himself inside you to grow. Selfishly.

His daughter lays heavy in his arms.

He always noticed that, once the haze of the blood had cleared. When the blood had cooled down and the life had left its cells empty and deflated.

How weighted Sarah was, when she wasn’t carrying herself and entirely dependent on his arms and strength.

“Joel?”

Nausea crawls up his throat like a slug, and he swallows it down. “Hm?”

“Aren’t you happy?” Your voice is meek and small. He feels he could cup it in the palm of his hand and have room to spare.

“Are you?” A childish smile grows on your face, your eyes glazed over, slightly out of focus. He supposes your happiness is his, and he nods before you respond, “I am. Very much.”

You’ve made him a father again, after all.

He leans down and kisses your baby. She’s still warm to the touch. He wonders how long ago this had happened to you.

He wants to be mad at you for not getting help, for not calling for Ellie or him, or Tommy or Maria or any person in this black hole of a settlement.

If he said he was happy though, he supposes he’s happy.

“I’m tired, Joel.”

“You’ve good right to be.”

If he closes his eyes, he’ll feel the gentle movements of his daughter against his chest.

“I think I might sleep.”

Your lips have lost colour. There’s a dull certainty inside your voice now.

“You do that, baby.”

There’s so much blood in his jeans he fears he won’t be able to wash them out, that he’ll have to throw them out along with the mattress and the bedding.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here.

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miraclecherryblossomsblog · 7 months

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From my reincarnated sukuna's s/o drabble

Tw pregnancy (reader has sukuna's kid), death of unborn child, mentions of starvation

Seeing all these fics were suku tries to impregnate us made me think....

What if at that time reader was like pregnant when they died? Like even after sukuna's sealment urame tries to save sukuna's s/o and unborn child but the moment he finds them its too late, both them and the baby are already to gone to save. They find their body in a cell outside the villages, already thin and dry(???) from starvation, since that was the only way for the socerers/ villagers get rid of them.

But years later reader's reincarnated and so is the unborn kid, the lil one being reader's younger sibiling now, but after they encounter sukuna the lil one's hair starts to change color by the few weeks...from its original color to a pinkish color

Ya'll see where im going with this?

#look idk if urame died or got sealed too #unless i find otherwise this is gonna stsy like this #i dont mind spoilers but just mark it if yall wanna tell me #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #tw pregnancy #tw starvation #tw torture #i think #fic?#tw death of a child #jjk spoilers #sukuna fic

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chaosresponcibly · 2 years

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Son

It’s been a thousand years since her son died.

The world changed, the people changed, and she created no other child. Why should she? Having reached perfection once… why try again?

But here he was.

Standing before her, just as he’d always been.

This wasn’t the badlands, this wasn’t Mezalea-- but there was its king. He was dressed differently, wearing a short toga with a green sash. Still, there was her son… placing an armor stand in her jungle.

And then he was gone, disappeared off into the distance.

Not to his mesa, she’d checked. She knew the land’s new king--- the younger child of the ocean. But, just like her son, he was different.

She watched the strange item her son had given her.

She wrapped herself around it, placing life into its wooden bones, draping it in a cloak of the beautiful magenta of her son’s mesa.

‘Hermes,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘Son of Stratos, son of Sanctuary.’

“Father?” The protector held the child tight to his chest. Maybe, She decided, she could love her son’s beloved too.

It’s been a thousand years since her son died.

It’s been a moment since her grandson spoke.

#empires #empires fanfic #empires smp #empires smp hermes #empires Joel mentions #empires Sausage mentions #empires smp season two #empires smp season one #empires smp mother tree #yes this is perspective of the mother tree #yes she's the nature magic of the sanctuary #yes she created Hermes #headcannons #tw death #tw death of a child #fluff? angst? idk #someone give tree mom a hug she's sad

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atbussysparks · 2 years

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Et benedictus fructus ventris.

#art #fanart #traditional illustration #traditional art #this started as a joke #tf2 fanart #team fortress 2 #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #dad!spy #ave maría #michaelangelo #religious #catholocism #tw death of a child

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maximummusesarch · 6 months

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[Belated Really Invasive Questions meme! That verse with Pietro.] △

"Will you tell me about your family? Or write it down?" Tess toys with the crushed ball of scrap metal her son molded into a malformed Halloween bat, sets it down with a plink. "How they lived. Who they were, I mean." Pietro knows some. The kids know Erik's family died, and that they light candles on Yom HaShoah, but they're too young for... the rest.

Her voice is even, but she regards him in the sober, vaguely wary manner of a woman who knows what she's asking of him. "For the candles. And for memory." In case something happens, G-d forbid, and they lose some of those threads connecting past to present.

"I'll ask you this one time." Clink goes her fingernail against that little metallic 'sculpture'. She doesn't look away from him, which is... no small thing when broaching this topic with the Master of Magnetism. "Never again, if you say no. I'm not here to dig at your pain."

Send me a △ and ask a really invasive question aimed at my character

He almost falters, when Tess asks the question. Some would like to say that one gets better at managing the pain. That while it never gets easier, one learns better how to endure it. Erik has wondered where in the world that time was. So long after the Shoah, and it was never easier. The memories were never easier to bear. The weight of it all still as suffocating as that first day after the war had ended.

But through pained breaths, he answers. Someone should have the record of this, after all. He's gone through so many different false identities and aliases that he knows how easy it can be to lose track of paper records.

"My father, Jakob, was a soldier during the first World War. It was only after the war him and Edie, my mother would meet. She worked with garments. They would have two children, myself and my younger sister, Ruth. My father had a brother, Erich. He was a watchmaker, once, and he was the first of us to see what would happen in Germany."

He pauses, feeling like he's choking on his own words. "When the rest of us fled Warsaw, Erich stayed behind. Even if it had happened yesterday, I doubt I would be able to recognize the body."

Another pause. "My father did his part to keep us in high spirits in the beginning, but quickly he knew there was little he could do. And Ruth... she spent her last days sick."

He's about to say something, but he stops. He keeps the mass grave to himself. Only to himself. No one else needs to know that.

"I'm sorry..."

Tears well in his eyes before falling. "I cannot speak of this anymore. I'm sorry."

[Question Ranking: 11/10]

#||ERIK LEHNSHERR||#themckaytriarchy #tw holocaust #tw genocide #tw death of a family member #tw death of a parent #tw death of a child #tw death of a sibling #tw death of a minor #[ask to tag]

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dandylion240 · 1 year

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Hayle pulled Evan close, holding him as the sobs tore through him with bone shattering severity. There wasn’t much in the way of comfort he could offer. Only time could dull the pain that would never completely go away. “It will get better,” he murmured as the subs abated.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” he gulped air, striving to control his swirling emotions.”I know it isn’t fair to be angry at Chris and it just makes me feel worse than I do already.”

“He understands that too,” Hayle offered him a hand.

“Josie adores him,” Evan said with a smile “and you. It’s just…it’s gotten so hard. This time of year. Knowing that last year this time we were looking forward to having our son. I didn’t expect to feel like this.”

“It will get better in time,” he repeated. “Go home. Talk to Jayden. Tell him how you’re feeling.” Evan nodded knowing he was right but unsure how he would bring up the subject. He didn’t want to ruin the festivities Jayden had planned for the kids.

#hayle ward #evan o'neil #ts4 #christmas wishes #tw death mention #tw death of a child

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bisexualmultifandommess · 10 months

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The amount of times I’ve had to pause this episode 😭😭 holy shit that guys a monster to do that to a kid

Athena was amazing in this episode I actually love her so much and I’m glad her dad is okay

#he makes me feel so uncomfortable #don’t know how you could do that to a little girl #tw death of a child #tw sa implied #911 #911 show #athena grant #911 spoilers #the devil you know

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elliot-morey · 2 years

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Shattered into ash {Self Para}

In which Elliot is too late to save a kid.

When: Between September - October 23, the last scene happens on Oct 23 Triggers: Allusions to the death of a child, and death by fire

If you want a summary please feel free to hit me up. I know it’s a heavy topic and people might not want to read it. There are no descriptions.

There were many things Elliot loved about working in a bigger city. There were more situations he got called out on. Not all fires, but he rescued people, he took part in a squad call hoisting himself down a cliff bringing the victim to safety.

He got called for simple potential gas leaks, he took kids on tours of the rig and if they had a light day he got to bring them on a ride around the block.

Of course there were fires, some were horrible but he trained harder. He focused in despite his lack of focus when he hung out around the house, he was focused, calm and collected.

All qualities of a good lieutenant if he wanted to take the exam and try for it.

But Elli liked being a foot soldier, he liked running into the fire. He liked saving people.

Every time that bell rung, Elliot hustled to get geared up rushing out to a call.

“It’s a group home. A lot of the calls before this have been fake but I want us to check it out non the less.”

Everyone nodded, especially since it was kids no one would take this lightly.

As everyone piled out of the truck Elliot watched the headcount happen.

“One of our boys are still inside.”

“What’s his name?”

“Justin but he’s deaf he won’t be able to hear you.”

“Morey! You’re up! Get in there and get that boy out.” Elliot nodded getting his gear on just in case as some other boys snickered.

He never spent much time in group homes. It was only a brief stop before he was placed in another home. Young enough to be desirable.

That wasn’t the point though, not as he scanned each room. Too small, too many beds. Locked fridges and cupboards. None of it was abnormal but Elliot still hated it.

Spotting a little head in the corner, Elliot pulled off his mask and helmet leaning down.

Hi are you Justin, My name is Elliot. I’m here to help.

Are you here to take me back home.

I’m sorry but I’m not. We need to leave, the fire alarm was pulled.

Glancing around Elliot grimace, no flashing lights and a deaf child. None of this was safe.

I pulled it.

Why did you do that.

Because everyone is mean. Because no one listens to me, because i don’t want to be here.

I know it’s not a great situation but that is no reason to pull an alarm. We need to make sure those alarms are only pulled in real danger so we come when we’re needed

But what if i need you now. Mom always said firefighters were the best heroes. They would help no matter what.

They will but if there is no fire you can come down to us at the station and talk to us. You can reach out to your case worker. Pulling the alarm is not the right call. Now we need to get you outside before we can make sure everything is safe. Would you come with me.

It took some coaxing but it didn’t take long before Justin took his hand and Elliot could lead him out. Ready to give the woman running this place a piece of his mind.

_________________

Elliot of course couldn’t leave things like that, not when no one knew how to communicate with the boy. Not when it wasn’t up to code. Even on his days off he was traveling down to spend time with Justin.

He just sat and talked, learned about the drug addicted Mother that was in rehab. That she wanted to take her son back as soon as she was clean.

Elliot taught a few some signs so they all could communicate. He even splurged and bought them a giant lego set to work on and build because everyone in that house was smart. They just never applied themselves.

They hadn’t gotten as lucky as Elliot had with his family. They would continue to bounce around house to house or even stay here.

Places like this shouldn’t exist. There should be no need.

But he only had so much time left with this boys and the way Justin ran to him every time, Elliot wasn’t sure how he would manage to leave this area.

While he didn’t want to transfer. There was part of him that did.

But with Iz’s campaign this weekend that wasn’t a thought he could address right now.

____________

With Iz’a campaign event over Elliot planned on talking to someone, anyone about the situation. Justin was too smart to stay like this. He wasn’t being cared for as well as he could be.

Maybe Elliot could take him in. Just long enough for his Mother to finish her rehab.

That’s what this fostering was about. Making sure Justin returned to his Mom.

He had even started to talk about it around the house.

He just had to make the call and maybe talk to his family. After all he would be staying in Swynlake full time in just about a week now.

Elliot should have known better. He should have acted quicker, as soon as the alarms blared and the address was read out, no one spared Elliot a look as they all rushed to their stations speeding down the road.

Elliot knew for a fact Justin had stopped setting off the alarm. After he got Elliot’s number he just texted him when he needed him.

Something was wrong.

Pulling up to the house, Elliot froze in place for a moment before scrambling out of the truck. The House was already ablaze. It was only his firefighters that stopped him from running in without being properly geared up.

As others headed in, Elliot was stuck with the house, focusing on dosing the fire and preventing it from spreading even more. But the blaze grew hotter and hotter and kids were rushed out, one by one and Elliot tried to find Justin.

He should be the one going in there. He knew all of his favourite hiding spaces. He knew where to look, he called them out over the radio but no one radio’ed back that they had him.

With the blaze under control and the headcount confirming what Elliot already feared, he rushed in blinded by his tears pushing him even faster even when his name was called out.

The building wasn’t safe.

But if it wasn’t safe for him, it wouldn’t be safe for Justin either.

But Elliot wished he had listened to the warnings because he wasn’t sure he’d ever forget the scene when he opened the door.

______

It wasn’t hard after that to request the time off.

Elliot wasn’t even sure he had.

Honestly he wasn’t all that sure how he or his car got home.

All he did remember was staring at the lego figure on his side table and his Mother bringing in some food and pressing a kiss to his head.

#self para #tw death of a child #tw death by fire #tw fire

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gabriclknox · 2 years

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“i’ve always been crazy, but it’s kept me from going insane.”

INTRODUCING GABRIEL T. KNOX:

BASICS.

Name: Gabriel “Gabe” Knox

Birthday/Age: April 14, 1980/42 years old

Gender & Pronouns: Cis Man/He, Him

Occupation: Owner of Zodiac Brewery

Residence: Canyon Point

Time in Great Falls: Entire life

BRIEF BIO.

Born to Thomas and Lyla Knox, Gabriel is the eldest of four. Early on, Thomas set his expectations for his son-- he wanted Gabe to become a lawyer, or a doctor, something with prestige. But Gabe was a wild child and had plans of his own. Between fighting and failing grades, he’s kicked out of high school during his sophomore year.

Went to work as a hand on Ward Ranch. Learned a lot about life and becoming a man. Also discovered his love for the rodeo. Spent the next several years living for rodeo nights and neon lights.

Eventually met his future wife, Addison, and proposed once she found out she was pregnant. Became a dad at twenty-seven to their firstborn son, Tyler.

Had a major riding accent at the rodeo, ended up with broken bones and a concussion. Addison basically made him take a step back from ranching and the rodeo. During that time, he got his GED and started working with this uncle, who owned Zodiac Brewery at the time.

At thirty-three, he formally left Ward Ranch and took over the brewery.

After a surprise pregnancy, he becomes a father once again at age thirty-five to twins, Logan and Lochlyn.

Tragedy struck a year ago. After Addison’s car breaks down at Logan’s soccer practice, Gabe comes to pick them up. On the way home, a drunk driver struck Gabe’s truck, killing Addison and Logan instantly and critically wounding Gabe. He suffered two lumbar vertebrae fractures and as a result, had to relearn how to walk.

He’s been a recluse for the last year and is still struggling physically and emotionally. Still attends physical therapy and now walks with only a slight limp. Has developed a drinking problem, but is trying hard to be the rock his broken family needs. Being a single dad is tough: Tyler is now fifteen and going through a rebellious phase, meanwhile seven year old Lochlyn is starting to ask questions that Gabe doesn’t know how to answer.

QUICK FACTS.

Loves karaoke-- he will embarrass the hell out of you. Despite his antics, he’s actually a fairly decent singer and dabbles with guitar & piano when he gets the chance.

Has two pets: a Blue Heeler doggo named Ozzie, and an orange tabby cat named Goose (yes, that’s a Top Gun reference because it’s his fav movie).

Still loves the rodeo and loves to go ride whenever he can.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Friends, ride or die, buddies from high school, etc.

Family members (one younger brother, two younger sisters, multiple cousins)

Employees

Babysitter(s) for his kiddos

Enemies, rivals, etc.

Flings, fwb, blind dates, crushes, etc.

Anything!

#( intro; gabriel knox. )#tw alcoholism #tw car accident #tw death of a child #tw death of a spouse #tw physical injury

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