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bluebeary-jay · 10 months

Text

scattered thoughts / sharp focus

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel is taken away from you and upon finding him almost-dead... something in you snaps ((kinda part 2 to clouded judgment / clear mind, but you don't necessarily need to read that one))

Tags: ANGST, angst with happy ending, near death experiences, Joel has surprisingly little screen time but you'll see he was there in spirit

Warnings: REALLY graphic descriptions of violence, small panic attacks, KINDA torture(?) 😳, choking, lemme know if i missed something

Word count: 7.5K

A/N: i can't believe i've finally finished it! i aimed for a worthy successor to cj/cm aaand i hope i managed but jeez was it hard. also i told myself i won't be writing sth like that again but i kinda have an idea for the final part (would be hurt/comfort 🤭) so let me know if it's sth you'd like to read. anyway as always happy reading!! 💕🥰 comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, i absolutely love seeing what you think of my fics!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You swallowed your tears and rested the chin on your hands, trying to push back the wave of panic threatening to drown you.

“Tell me again.”

Tommy sighed, his own eyes empty and worried.

“I don’t know who those guys were, but they obviously knew Joel. There was a dark man leadin’ them, and I think he had somethin’ wrong with his lip, but it was too far for me to take a good look. The group consisted of five, maybe six people? And I shot one of them, but he appeared to still be alive when they were leavin’.”

You were silent for a couple of seconds, trying to make sense of it all.

“And where did they take him?”

“I reckon to the old ski resort on the top of the mountain. We ventured pretty far from here to investigate these tracks.”

You nodded and steeled yourself, taking a deep, trembling breath and quickly drying your tears.

“Okay. I’m going.”

“You’re not.” Maria leaned over the table, her expression unyielding. “The decision is final.”

“I am going,” you repeated fiercely, slamming the flat of your hand against the tabletop, but Tommy gave you a stern look, which made you bite your tongue. “Look, I get that you don’t want to lose even more people in a rescue mission–”

“This is not what it’s about,” Maria retorted, almost looking hurt by your words. “Believe me, if I wasn’t carrying another human being inside me, I’d already be going after them. But you have to take other things into consideration.”

“She’s right,” Tommy spoke up quietly, though equally irritably, and you turned sharply to look at him in disbelief. “The route to the resort is very advantageous to fall into an ambush. They could shoot us off like ducks and we’d have nowhere to hide.”

“I don’t care,” you ground out, looking from one to the other. “We can’t leave Joel. He’s your family, for goddamn–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” shouted Tommy abruptly, bringing his hand down onto the table, too. “He’s my fucking brother and was family way before you were even born!”

“Tommy.” Maria kicked him under the table, keeping one hand on her belly. Her husband flared his nostrils, clearly agitated by your words, but you were too angry yourself to care right now. You two glared at each other for some time before Tommy clenched his fists and turned around.

“M’goin’ to get some air,” he said gloomily over his shoulder, already at the door leading outside. Maria sighed and looked at you again.

“Please. Don’t do anything stupid, and I swear I’ll send a group out as soon as this blizzard ends.”

“He can be long dead by then,” you answered gravely, really set off by Tommy’s reaction and his words. You tried to will your tear ducts to hold any signs of stress and worry, not wanting to show your friend how broken and helpless you felt inside. “If it was me, he’d already be halfway there to save me, Maria.”

“I know. But just think about it. If something happens to you…” She shook her head. “How do you think I’d be able to look Joel in the eyes and explain why… how…”

She genuinely seemed at a loss of words, and you sighed, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. But I need to get him home, Maria. I have to.”

With that, you stood up, feeling like you were going to suffocate if you stayed in the room any longer. You didn’t look back even when you heard Maria calling your name softly.

There wasn’t any sense in discussing the matter with any of them – you made up your mind to go and save Joel and there was no way anyone would make you stay. He wouldn’t hesitate to go and get you if anyone dared to lay a hand on you.

You remembered that one time when he killed a group of men who wanted to use you as a bargaining chip to gain entry to Jackson. And how afterward you told him you’d do the same for him, unable to bear the painful and guilty expression on his face.

Now you planned on doing just that.

You were scared – of course you were, you weren’t stupid – and the nerves were practically eating you alive, gnawing at your bones and hurting your muscles from the inside out.

But the worst was the fear of never seeing Joel again. Of something happening to him. And you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t at least try…

“I’m coming with you.”

Your head snapped to the side. There stood Ellie – dressed in a warm jacket and a hat that didn’t cover her ears. Her eyes were full of fire, and you recognized the anger and determination in her expression as the same which were almost suffocating you.

Of course she was eavesdropping on the conversation. It was Joel that it was about, after all, her dad in all but one sense.

And suddenly you understood what Maria meant by not being able to look Joel in the eyes if something happened to you.

“No,” you said curtly, walking past her and out onto the street in the direction of your house.

“I’m not asking for permission.” Ellie was right behind you, and the force of her steps showed just how angry and frustrated she was – just like you felt. “I know you’re gonna go after those guys, and I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” you repeated more sternly, not turning around to face her. You reached your house and fumbled to open the door. “You’re staying and that’s fina–”

You stopped yourself and sighed, pressing your forehead against the wooden surface.

It was unfair. You were unfair. If those exact words spoken by Maria have set you off so much, you wouldn’t be surprised if Ellie…

“You’re not my fucking mom, remember?” the girl barked angrily, and you let out a shuddering breath, stressed to your limits with everything that happened in the last few hours. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do just because you’re older!”

It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine. Everything is gonna be okay.

“I know,” you whispered after a couple of seconds of silence, still not turning around. “I’m sorry.”

Ellie didn’t answer. You repeated your quiet mantra and glanced over your shoulder at her. “But Ellie, I… I can’t let you go. Joel would never forgive me if something happened to you.”

Jesus. Exactly like Maria.

Ellie still looked pissed at your earlier words, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, you’re not the only one who cares about him, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re the one he cares about the most.”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it and furrowed her eyebrows, but the irritation in her eyes dimmed. You gave her a small, apologetic smile, trying not to burst into tears.

“He’s gonna be fine, you know,” you lied smoothly, opening the door. “And Maria said she’ll send a group to retrieve him as soon as the storm eases up a bit.”

You didn’t even need to look to know that she didn’t believe you. To be honest, you wouldn’t believe yourself either in this situation.

You waited several seconds to see if the girl wanted to say something else, but after a few moments she spun on her heel and went back, not saying anything. You stared after her, but when the thick snow made her figure just a fuzzy shape, you gently closed the door and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.

It’s going to be fine. You’ll get Joel back and all will be okay.

You took a couple of deep – albeit shaky – breaths to pull yourself together, and when you were pretty sure you weren’t about to start crying, you made your way into the kitchen. And stopped short.

At your table sat Tommy, fiddling with his thumbs.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you mumbled, trying to calm down your pounding heart. “You scared the crap out of me.”

The younger Miller looked up, but stayed silent. You looked at each other for a few tense moments, but ultimately you sighed and left him in the kitchen, going to your room to get a backpack and another, more fitting, set of clothes.

He was still there when you returned to the kitchen with your stuff, but you didn’t even pretend you weren’t preparing to head out. The man watched silently as you put the backpack down by the door, went to retrieve and reload your gun, and gathered some essentials on the table, not once glancing in his direction.

You were persistent in ignoring Tommy’s presence, but then he finally spoke up.

“We can go before dawn. I’ll get the horses ready and we will take the fourth gate.”

You froze and stopped what you were doing, then turned around and placed your hand on your hip.

“We can’t take horses up there. Not in this weather.”

“We’ll leave them at the fifteenth checkmark. That place in the East where there are so many swallows durin’ spring.”

You nodded, and your gaze softened when you looked him over. Tommy was just as worried about Joel as you were, you knew it. He was just better at hiding it.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” you murmured, feeling terrible that in such a short amount of time, it was a second person you were apologizing to. “But you know I have to go after him. You know that.”

“Fuck,” he swore quietly, sighing. “Yeah, I know. There’s no way I ain’t goin’ either. Just… I just hate doing somethin’ behind Maria’s back.”

You didn’t answer – because what could you say? That he didn’t have to go with you? As much as you wanted to save Joel, pretending not to care about the dangers or anyone’s opinion, you knew you’d probably die if you went alone. But it didn’t mean you were going to ignore all that Tommy was risking by coming along with you.

“You don’t have to, Tommy,” you whispered. “You have your wife to think about, after all. And your–”

“I know,” he interrupted glumly. “Don’t worry. All of us will come back.”

You nodded. You really hoped he was right.

*****

At first, everything was going according to plan.

At least, until Ellie decided to show up.

She surprised both you and Tommy a couple of miles outside of Jackson, probably thinking that it was far enough that you won’t try to send her away.

You tried anyway. You were understandably furious, not only because she didn’t listen to you, but also that she trailed after you both for so long in this weather. Her reveal caused a short screaming match and a couple of nervous tears shed by you, but eventually you and Tommy decided it’d be more dangerous to make Ellie go back to Jackson alone. So she continued with you to the house where you left your horses, then past it and in the direction of the ski resort.

You didn’t know how many people were at the resort, and there were only the two of you – well, three, counting Ellie, but no matter her stubbornness, you weren’t going to let her go in – and an attack was too risky in this situation.

So you decided to sneak in. To distract and draw the kidnappers’ attention long enough for you to get Joel out. It was still stupidly risky, but it wasn’t like there were much more options that wouldn’t end in those guys killing all of you. The plan was that Tommy would find a vantage point and be on guard to take down any threats with his sniper rifle if you were noticed, while you go get Joel.

Ellie… Ellie didn’t take no for an answer. And as much as you hated that she tagged along on this dangerous rescue mission, you had to admit that she came prepared. Apparently some time ago Joel taught her how to make trap mines and she pitched the idea of planting some up the mountain to create an avalanche.

Well, you and Tommy were both very much against setting off a full-blown avalanche, but it wasn’t a bad idea per se. So it was agreed that Tommy will help her set the bombs in some strategic places while you wait for a signal to go in.

The sneaking in part was surprisingly easy. The people staying there didn’t leave any guards outside, probably because they didn’t expect that someone would actually look for them in this weather, and it seemed that there weren’t that many of them inside like you feared. You had a vague idea where Joel might be, based on the positioning of the people present, so you reckoned it’ll be the wisest to wait nearby.

It took about an hour of hiding in one of the empty rooms (you had to change your hiding spot once, because someone decided to randomly sweep the perimeter) before you heard distant explosions and panicked, angry yells, and then a rumble of the mountain. You suspected a fair amount of snow was falling down the slope, and you prayed that Ellie and Tommy were in a safe place when that happened.

You heard the sound of footsteps getting further away. Then more of it. It was eerily silent, and you counted to ten in your head, before slowly exiting your hiding spot.

Just as you suspected, Joel was held in the lobby, tied to one of the decorative columns, and even though his back was to you, you’d recognize him anywhere, even by hands or the back of his head alone. A quick glance around the room confirmed that there was no one around, but still you preferred to stay on guard. You silently tip-toed to where he was sitting on the floor, mindful of all the debris scattered on the floor and keeping your head low, and breathed a sigh of relief when you finally reached him.

“Don’t move,” you whispered, barely moving your lips. Your fingers touched his wrist and he budged slightly. You angled your face closer to the left side of his head, hoping he’ll hear you better this way. “It’s me, Joel. I’m gonna get these off you, okay?”

Not waiting for the reply, you took out your knife and started to cut the thick, coarse rope binding Joel’s wrists. You winced at the burns underneath, but you managed not to cut him, which was a feat with how tight the ropes were. He was very still, probably not wanting to handicap you.

“Okay,” you whispered when the last of the thick strands were cut through, and you carefully slid the remnants of the rope from his wrists. “Now follow me, Tommy is…”

Your voice died down when Joel’s arms loosely slumped down, along with his head, and a second later his torso started tilting to the side before heavily hitting the ground.

Your heart stopped in your chest.

“No.” The whispered word escaped you when you hurried around him, now not caring about staying hidden. “No, no, no, please…”

You rolled Joel onto his back and only now saw the damage done to him – his nose broken, face covered in blood, a gash under his left ear, and a still bleeding gunshot wound in his arm. He didn’t look dead, didn’t have that lifeless emptiness around him, but his eyes were closed and his chest was still. You put your ear to his mouth, desperate to feel his breath on your skin, but…

No, it can’t be, it can’t…

You couldn’t feel anything.

“Joel,” you said quietly, taking his face between your hands, but tears were blurring your vision. “Come on, please open your eyes.” A choked sob broke out of your throat and you shook your head when he still didn’t even as much as stir. “Love, please…”

That’s when your eyes landed on a small, glass vial lying discarded some feet away. You looked from it to Joel, tears clouding your vision, and scrambled forward to check it out.

As you suspected, the syringe – because that’s what it turned out to be – had the traces of a thick, translucent liquid in it left. There wasn’t any writing on it, but the glass was clean, unlike various other bottles and wrappings scattered throughout the facility. You stared at it for a couple of seconds, then fixed your gaze on Joel again.

Just as the sound of footsteps started to echo down the hall.

You froze and strained your ears to make sure you didn’t imagine it, then took a look around the room. The doors were slightly ajar, but whoever was coming here, they couldn’t see you just yet. Panic seized your insides and you turned to Joel again.

“Sweetheart, please wake up,” you whispered pleadingly, shaking his shoulders and slapping his cheek lightly. “Come on, look at me, open your eyes…"

The steps were getting louder by the second. You tore the glove off your hand with your teeth and tried to very quickly check Joel’s pulse, but either in your panic you couldn’t find it, or the heartbeat was too slow for you to pick up.

You didn’t consider any other option.

There wasn’t much time left, so finally you left him and quietly went to hide behind the door, waiting for the incomer to walk in. Your hand reached for the gun on your belt.

And paused.

There couldn’t be any other option… right? Joel was alive, you just failed to find his pulse. He…

He was lying, still in the place you left him, and you couldn’t see his chest moving. The blood was flowing from the wound in his arm, staining his jacket and the floor… Your hand, the one holding the pistol, was covered in it, too…

Then you did something you never expected of yourself.

The gun stayed in its holster, and you went to grab from the ground one of the heavier pieces of debris you noticed before, a long metal pipe. Your hands tightened on the metal, and your eyes stayed on Joel’s lifeless form. You took a stifled, nervous breath. Then a deep, steadying one.

The person in the hall was really close now. Joel still didn’t appear to be moving or breathing, and it made your own chest feel tight and painful.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

But if they did this, if… if he won’t ever open his beautiful brown eyes again, say your name in that entricing raspy drawl…

The doors to your right opened and your face twisted in rage and resentment. Your muscles tensed and focus sharpened.

The man who walked through the door made a noise of surprise at the sight of Joel lying on the floor – and that inhaling sound, that maddening noise seemed to taunt you, because how dared he breathe when Joel’s own breath was stolen from him, when you weren’t sure if it was still there – right before you stepped forward and swung the pipe with all your might.

The man – dark skin, with short hair – fell down with a loud cry when the harsh metal hit him right in the temple. Your eyes scanned his figure for a weapon, and you hit him again, this time somewhere near his stomach, when he made a move to reach for his knife.

“What did you give him?!” you asked with malice and venom that were so alien to you, you almost didn’t recognize your voice. The man’s eyes focused on you for the first time when you kicked his blade away, and his confusion turned to anger.

“Crazy bitch!” he spat, heaving for air, and lunged at you, but the open wound in his skull must’ve slowed him down, because without any problem you managed to raise your makeshift weapon before he could grab you.

Since you met him so many years ago, you always had Joel to watch your back. Now you were alone, but somehow that thought didn’t scare you. It exhilarated you.

An unpleasant, hair-rising crack echoed in the room, followed by the stranger’s scream, when the heavy metal smashed the bones in the forearm.

“I asked… a simple, fucking, question!” you snarled at the man, bringing the pipe down again, aiming for his hand this time. He moved it away at the last second, which enraged you even more, so with a mad, frustrated scream, you smashed his knee, using the pipe’s momentum when it bounced off the floor. “What the fuck did you do to him?!!”

He screamed, loudly and terribly, cursing at you with every shaky breath he took, and–

You felt so unlike you, so… out of your skin, somehow… but you wanted to make him suffer. You wanted to know this inhuman cry of pain that was reverberating through the walls of the resort was your doing and your power over this bastard. Because of what they did to Joel.

Then a loud bang rang out in the air, and you instinctively ducked your head when a part of the door to your side was shot off. You dropped the pipe – no use for it now – and drew your gun, noticing with surprise that your heart was steady and your breath even, as if you didn’t almost get shot just now.

Another bullet was sent in your direction, and a woman’s voice yelled something inaudible, while you stood still and counted the seconds.

Three, two…

In a rapid movement, you came out of cover and aimed at the person standing in the hall, firing twice. The first bullet hit the woman in the arm while the second seemed to burrow itself in her stomach. She fell backwards with a curt cry, and the man lying at your feet roared with rage.

“No! You fucking bitch, leave her alone!!”

Your motions were almost automatic as you put your gun away and picked up the metal pipe again, its end splattered with blood. The man in front of you had to see something in your eyes – despair? emptiness? hatred? – because his face fell and he started quietly begging for you to stop and let him go. At least that’s what you assumed he was saying, because you didn’t listen to him one bit.

“Do not…” you started, unexpectedly calmly, bringing the end of the blunt weapon down. The impact caused his shinbone to break, and you lingered for just a moment to hear the bitter cracks of the shattered bones, “fucking… go anywhere. Don’t you dare move, hear me?”

The man didn’t answer, just cursed and wept in pain. The sound was horrible, but you almost didn’t notice it – or more accurately, didn’t care. Which would be even more concerning if you weren’t aware of the woman lying injured in the hall behind the door, and Joel, still unmoving and cold to the touch on the other side of the room.

Slowly, not hearing the black man’s cries or distant gunshots from where Tommy probably was taking down the enemies, and not caring about the blood of a stranger covering your jacket and pants, you dropped the pipe and took out your gun again. Then you made your way down the corridor, your eyes locked on the woman who shot at you.

She was groaning in pain, clutching at her stomach. When she noticed you, her hand reached for the pistol which lay discarded next to her, but you quickly lifted your own and aimed at her before she touched it.

“Don’t move,” you murmured, which would sound almost soft if it weren’t for the empty look in your eyes. The woman scanned you up and down, and slowly lifted her hands.

“Who are you?”

“What did you give him?” you asked like you didn’t hear her, coming closer to kick away her gun to the far end of the hall. The woman’s eyes followed the weapon, then shifted to you.

“Do you even know what that man did? What is he guilty of?”

“I know. Now answer the damn question. What did you give–”

The door on your left slammed open and you only had time to turn your head before a heavy body collided with you, pushing you to the wall. Your head hit the bricks with an echoing crack, knocking the breath out of you. A man who surprised you grabbed the material of your jacket and slammed you into the wall again, but you managed to grab his hair and yank it hard, which allowed you to step to the side and away from the point of disadvantage that being trapped against the wall was.

The man – taller than you, with a black eye and without one of the front teeth – was quick to recover, however, and catched the wrist of your hand that held the gun, pushing it to the side when you pulled the trigger. From the corner of your eye you could see the woman you shot curling up and covering her head, then trying to scamper away, but the wound in her stomach was a significant impediment.

You fired again, trying to wrestle the gun from the man, but his grip was strong and after a few seconds of struggle he managed to knock the weapon out of your grasp, sending it flying to where you kicked off the woman’s one earlier.

Not sooner than your hands were empty, his elbow collided with your face, hard, and you cried when a gush of blood started pouring from the broken nose and a cut on your lip. Fear washed over you, and sheer luck caused you to duck to the side in time, avoiding a fist to the temple.

You stumbled backwards a few unstable steps, breathing heavily. The guy was smirking, acting like he already won – but you weren’t about to die in this sleazy, stinky place, leaving Ellie all alone and never knowing why they abducted Joel in the first place.

Joel…

“You’ve made a huge mistake,” said the man quietly, taking one, then two steps forward and swinging again. You backed away a second time, feeling your heart pounding in panic and knowing you didn’t stand a chance against a man of his stature.

Finally your luck ran out, and the man managed to hit you in the jaw, making you taste blood on your tongue. Before you could recover, one of his hands shot forward and grabbed you by the throat, and then, still keeping his big hand on your neck, he brought your entire torso down, slamming you to the ground. You hit your head hard and the glass shards on the floor embedded themselves in your skin, but in the next moment the sound of your painful scream was cut short. The grip the man had on your throat tightened, and you started to have difficulty breathing.

Your eyes budged in fear as realization of what was happening dawned on you, and you started to kick and struggle wildly, reaching for your attacker’s face, but he moved out of reach, still putting his whole weight down on you.

Your fists were hitting his forearms, your nails scratching his cheeks, whatever to make him let go. But he didn’t, his hands still squeezing your throat so strongly and crushing your esophagus.

“After I kill you, I’ll go kill your friend,” your attacker snickered, smiling viciously as he watched ice-cold panic enveloping you. “He’s not worthy of keeping him alive that long, anyway.”

Something ignited inside you at his words.

Joel.

You suddenly remembered the many self-defense lessons Joel had given you, so that whenever he wasn’t there to protect you, you could do it yourself. He was always so afraid for your life…

Slowly and with great effort, your fingers crept down, searching for the handle of your hunting knife, while dark spots started to appear before your vision, partially covering the sneering face of the man crushing your windpipe. He said something else – something you didn’t even hear because of the ringing in your ears…

And then with the last bit of your strength, you yanked the knife out of its sheath and buried the blade in the side of his neck.

Several things happened simultaneously: the man cried in surprise and let you go, the woman shouted a warning – too late – and you swung your leg over him, straddling and stabbing the man over and over again. His neck, his chest, his face, you didn’t even see what you were hitting. Screaming your lungs out and burying the blade in him again, and again, and again.

And again.

With an outraged, desperate cry, the woman lunged at you, but the adrenaline coursing through your system made you not even register something cutting deeply the skin of your arm, your veins and muscles giving way. You spun around, tumbling with her to the ground, but quickly managed to pin her down, blocking her arms in place with your knees, and pressing the tip of your knife to her chest.

She immediately stopped moving.

“Last fucking chance,” you croaked with difficulty, your neck bruised and swollen. “What… did you give him?”

You didn’t know if it was the sight of you, bloodied and wounded, the fact that you just violently killed her friend, or something else entirely – but now the woman looked scared.

“Okay,” she whispered, trying not to breathe too deeply, and glanced nervously at the blade pressed against her skin. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just don’t… It was a tranquilizer. Nothing dangerous, we just put him to sleep for a couple of hours. He was putting up quite a fight and the guys were getting antsy that he’ll pull something off before–”

“He’s not breathing,” you rasped viciously, sputtering blood onto her face. The woman flinched and took a shaky breath.

“His heart rate is slowed down, but it doesn’t– it shouldn’t kill him.”

You clenched your teeth, then exhaled. Inhaled.

You have to take a grip of yourself. He is alive. He has to be…

Should be.

The weight with which you had pinned her to the ground became lighter, and the woman sighed with relief when you removed the sharp end from her chest.

“It shouldn’t… kill him?” you repeated emptily, trying to dismiss the pain in your throat when you were speaking.

“No.”

Your head was still buzzing, but you tried to push it to the side, to focus on what was important right now.

“Why… did you take him?”

And just with that one, quiet question, the woman’s expression changed. You were considering letting her go, since you already hurt her pretty badly, but the sudden shift in her behavior set off alarm bells in your head once more.

“He’s a murderer,” the woman said, as if it was the most obvious answer. “A monster that would do everyone a favor if he got put down.”

White, blinding fury flooded your veins and it felt almost as if electricity was cracking above your skin. Your hand held the knife tighter.

‘Put down’, like… like an animal. She was talking about the man you loved–

You weren’t able to stop the hatred and rage flowing out of every pore of your skin. In one swift motion you plunged the knife into the woman’s chest, making her choke and gasp in surprise.

“You cannot call him that,” you spluttered, barely able to speak from the pain. “You…”

And then your hand forced its way lower down, still holding the handle of your weapon. Cutting through the woman’s – now struggling and screaming in agony – abdomen and guts.

They went so far as to abduct Joel, they took him from you, hurt and shot him, wanted to torture him, to make him suffer before they ultimately kill him…

But they didn’t, he can’t be dead, he can’t–

The woman was conscious the entire time as you were ripping her insides apart, and her screams died down only after you reached the navel.

Your vision was blurry and faltering when you stood up, but your heart was still beating steadily. There was an echo of a scream in your ears, though you couldn’t tell if it was your or the dead woman’s voice.

There wasn’t anyone else in the hallway. In the back of your mind you hoped that Tommy took care of any remaining enemies, because if they’d come running here, you didn’t think you’d be able to hear them in time.

Clutching your injured arm, you slowly made your way to the room where you left Joel and the man who attacked you first. Your gun was lying near the entrance and you picked it up before pushing the door open and staggering inside.

The man wasn’t where you left him. Instead there was a big pool of blood, forming into a wide, smeared path leading further into the lobby. At the end of it you saw him, groaning and crawling to the exit.

You reloaded the gun and walked closer. At the sound, the man turned his head and his eyes widened when he saw you.

“You fucking psycho!” he spat, bracing himself on the elbow of his left arm – the only one still working. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! When she sees it, they’ll come for you, and they’ll make sure that the two of you will fucking pay for it!”

His words were flowing through you as you struggled to keep your vision focused. You felt weird – almost like waking up way too early and finding your body not listening to you entirely.

Then you realized. The hungry, burning anger was gone, the embers of hatred slowly dying out. There was only smoke and emptiness left inside you.

“I don’t care,” you mumbled, not loud enough for the man to hear you, but that didn’t matter – two seconds later he was dead, his brain splattered all over the floor behind him.

Your hand was shaking. Cold crept up your limbs, embracing and almost choking you as you breathed in, out, faster and faster as you finally comprehended what you did.

Your eyes moved down to the man’s indented knee, completely smashed into a bloody mess. The other limb was all wrong, his foot sticking in the opposite direction and no wonder he had to crawl to get away from you, you destroyed his legs, you…

You staggered backwards, your pupils darting to the hallway just for a second before returning to the battered corpse in front of you. The back of his skull was gone now, but how did he stay conscious for so long after you smashed his head with a metal pipe? There was so much blood on it… How much pain he must have felt after you left him?

And that woman… He begged you to leave her alone, and you… you ripped her open…

You moved back, back and further away, before tripping and falling to the floor. Your breaths were fast and shallow, and you reached for your neck, sore and swollen from almost being strangled, trying to will your lungs to work.

They were bad people. They took and hurt Joel, and planned to kill him. You had to kill them, they’d kill you in a heartbeat, they…

It wasn’t like you’ve never taken a life before, but it was the first time that you inflicted pain on somebody on purpose – not in self-defense, but because you wanted to retaliate. It was done in revenge.

You didn’t know for how long you had sat there when you heard someone saying your name. It sounded like… No, it couldn’t have been his voice, he was unconscious, he wasn’t breathing…

Suddenly, Tommy’s face appeared in your blurry field of vision – of course it was him, their voices were so similar, after all – and there was a deep crease between his brows. He looked worried and fearful, and–

“Snap out of it,” he said firmly, shaking your shoulders harder than he should have. Your name fell from his lips when you didn’t answer, and his eyes followed yours to a battered body on the floor. “Look at me. Look at me.” Tommy forcefully turned your chin in his direction, and his eyes were full of sorrow and pain. “You did what you had to do.”

You shook your head, swallowing the tears that streamed down your face. He didn’t know what you did. He didn’t understand what happened here, what happened with you… You yourself didn’t know what happened to you.

Tommy brought you closer to his chest, enveloping you in his strong embrace and the smell of leather and gunpowder. You choked on air, unable to stop the sobs racking your body, and deaf to his words, for the only thing you could hear were cracks of bones, screams of pain, and your own vengeful cries.

It was so loud in your mind that you almost missed a quiet grunt coming from behind you.

*****

Joel slowly opened his eye, then groaned and closed it again. He felt like shit and it was so hard to breathe, but he pushed through the pain and discomfort from the wound in his side, and tried again.

The first thing he saw was the greenish curtain, hiding the rest of the room from him, but judging by the fact that he was lying in bed, alive, with apparently all his wounds dressed, he figured it wasn’t the same place that group of angry youngsters took him to.

Lifting his head and turning it to the other side was a tremendous task, but it was so worth it – because there was you. Sitting in a chair next to him, asleep and with your head lying on folded arms on his bed. Joel smiled softly, but then furrowed his brows as a pang of anxiety shot right through him.

Your face was a mess, with cuts and bruises healing, your brow was split, and one of your forearms had a bandage wrapped around it, now a little dirty around the edges. Joel couldn’t see clearly, but your neck seemed… dark, as if the skin was bruised there, too.

What the hell happened?

He lifted his arm – the tingles and needles pierced his stiff limb – and brushed your cheek lightly, trying to wake you.

“Darlin’...” he murmured, and you stirred. He tried to say it again, louder this time, but his throat was scratchy and he winced at the feeling. There was no need for it, however, because in the next moment your eyes fluttered open and then widened when you took in the sight of him, realizing he’s awake.

“Joel!” Your hands – God, he missed the feeling of them – cupped his face gently, and your eyes filled with tears in the matter of seconds. “Oh my god, baby…”

“Hey, hey, I’m fine,” he breathed out quickly, not wanting to see you cry. “It’s okay, darlin’... I’m here.”

You sobbed with a dazzling smile, your beautiful eyes dancing across his features before you darted forward and pressed your lips to his firmly. Joel could almost taste the desperation and worry in your shaky breaths and tears that fell from your eyes and onto his tongue. He wanted to tangle his fingers in your hair and bring you in closer, but a sudden, sharp pain pierced his arm when he tried to move it, and he hissed into your mouth.

“Sorry,” you whispered and moved away quickly, letting out a broken laugh and brushing the unruly strands of hair away from his forehead. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

Joel wanted to ask what exactly had happened while he was out, but before he got a chance, you leaned in again and started softly peppering his face in kisses – first his cheek, then his forehead, then the tip of his nose and his chin. And Joel didn’t have the heart to stop you.

And that’s how Ellie found you both. She gagged when she saw the display of affection, but there was a grin on her face when he looked over at her.

“Gross,” she scrunched her nose. “But I’m glad to see you awake.”

“Yeah, well, I still feel pretty shitty,” he grunted, scanning the kid for any injuries, but she didn’t look any worse for the wear. His eyes strayed to your neck again, and the concern came back double-barreled. “What happened to you, sweetheart? Where–”

“I’ll… go get the doctor.” You stood up abruptly before he could finish, and looked over at Ellie. “Will you stay with him?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The teen shrugged, but now was avoiding Joel’s eyes, and he felt more uneasy and agitated by the second.

“Okay. Be right back, love. Gonna grab you some water, too.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. Joel’s eyes escorted you, and when he made sure you were out of the earshot, he turned to Ellie.

“What happened?”

“Well.” The teen blew out her cheeks and went to take a seat you previously occupied. “You were attacked during the patrol…”

“Yeah, no, that I remember,” Joel interrupted quietly. “They shot me, took me to that ski resort. But how am I here? Did she…”

He trailed off. Ellie looked at the curtain you disappeared behind, then back at Joel. “Listen, I wasn’t there, so m’not sure,” she mumbled quietly. “But after she and Tommy got you out, she was sorta… different.”

“Different how?” he asked sharply. Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, looking away. “Ellie.”

“I don’t know, okay?” she answered in a sudden burst. “She looked like hell. You saw her neck, I think someone tried to choke her, and she had an ugly cut on her leg, a fuckton of cuts and bruises… And the doctor spent hours getting all the glass shards out of her.”

Joel got up as much as he could, feeling a pit of anxiety rising in his chest. Ellie was silent for a while before she spoke again, this time surprisingly softly.

“Remember when you beat the shit out of that soldier when we were escaping QZ in Boston?” Joel nodded slightly – she did, too. “Yeah. She had a similar… kind of look on her face, and it looked… not exactly scary, but alien.” The teen looked up. “My guess is she did some fucked up shit to get to you. Tommy said she’s been having real bad nightmares since then, but he doesn’t want to tell me–”

Ellie snapped her mouth shut at the sound of footsteps, and a few seconds later you emerged from behind the curtain. You had a tall glass of water in your hand and a small, hopeful smile that grew when your eyes fell on Joel’s face.

“I know you’d probably prefer something stronger, but water will do you good,” you said, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were just talking about you. Joel watched as you carefully sat down at the edge of his bed and put down the glass onto the table to his side. “One of the nurses will come here in a couple of minutes. You were unconscious for a couple of days so they want to make sure everything is okay.”

“I told you I’m fine, darlin’...”

“Please.” You gently took his hand in both of yours, staring at him with concern. “For me?”

Joel looked you over, his eyes lingering on your bruised neck and the bandage around your thigh which he didn’t notice before. Then he glanced at Ellie with worry, not knowing how to approach this problem or ask what exactly happened to you.

Your eyes were a little red and puffy, and he briefly thought about what the kid said: that you have had terrible nightmares, that apparently you went through some sort of hell to save him. It seemed that whatever you had done, it took its heavy toll on you. And he couldn’t bear it.

Joel hated the thought of you risking your life for him, of the experience branding you so deeply that you lost sleep because of it.

Because of him.

The only thing he could do right now was to be there for you. And maybe – just maybe, if he tried hard enough – to do something about those of your scars that he couldn’t see.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

“Okay,” came his soft answer, to which you smiled with relief. “Whatever you wish, darlin’.”

No snarky remark, no groaning or muttering could be heard from Ellie, and that worried Joel much more than he’d ever admit. He exchanged a worried look with her while you were distracted, drawing patterns on the back of his hand with tender fingers.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he heard you say quietly, though it was unclear whether you were talking to him or yourself.

Either way, Joel squeezed your hand tighter, now feeling oddly afraid of letting go.

“Yes, darlin’,” he confirmed in a soothing manner. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller angst #joel tlou #tlou hbo #btw i tried to do some research on tranquilizers and anesthesia drugs but i didn't find anything clear so. everything you read is made up #i could have wrote it better but.. eh #it was challenging enough and i can't believe i've spent almost a month on it

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highhhfiveee · 6 months

Text

to surrender (mike schmidt x reader)

part 2 of "to crumble"

part 1: 🩹

tags: MAJOR, MAJOR ANGST, infidelity, non-graphic depictions of sex, non-graphic ending life ideation, some fluff?, lots of pain. this hurt to write, so i'm sorry to all you readers 💔 also, has been proofread but if there are still errors, i'm sawryyyy. also also this is long.

mike can't wait to get home to you.

it's been such a long night, another shift of listless sitting and waiting for something to happen. nothing ever does, and while mike's getting paid to essentially do nothing, he wishes there was some kind of thrill, some kind of excitement. he couldn't believe he'd gone down the career path of protecting forty year old animatronics, and the thought of those creepy things hurried him out of there faster once the clock struck 6 am.

as soon as he heard his alarm, he was packing up his things and locking up the pizzeria, refusing to look back as he marched to his car. he didn't peek at the building at all, pulling away with his focus centered on you. he thought about you on the couch, having dozed off to infomercials after putting abby down for the night, and how around 2 am, you would jolt awake, dragging your body into the bedroom to complete your slumber.

it was saturday morning, and he'd walk into a fairly quiet house. he'd drop his stuff off at the front before traversing to the room, sheepishly smiling at your snoring figure. you were so beautiful, a dream that he never wanted to wake up from. he'd take off his clothes and finally replace the cold, empty space that's consistently behind you, hoping to not wake you as he wraps you into his arms and dozes himself, exactly where he wants to be.

that's sort of how it pans out for him. he drives home in silence, not even taking a second to decompress before he's strolling his way inside. you're on the couch, up and watching a documentary on retirement communities. your eyes flick to him when he enters, and you sit up, yawning and stretching and giving him a languid smile. "morning, baby."

he takes off his security vest and bag, hanging them on their respective hooks, before dropping to the couch beside you. you nestle into him, rubbing your cheek against the soft material of his t-shirt. "morning. missed you alot."

"missed you more," you coo, reaching up to grab his cheek and tilt his face down towards yours, placing a peck on his soft lips. "so glad it's the weekend. get to spend so much time with you."

your kisses intensify, your hand slipping to the back of mike's neck so you're able to go deeper, and he clutches your hips, flipping the two of you over so you're under him, all loose limbs and roaming touches. your fingers feel so good on his skin, and it’s like he's being baptized in a way, completely anew by your heavenly touch. this is all he ever wanted; to be. to be with you, happy.

you pull away from him, capturing his bottom lip between your teeth. the action makes him moan, and once you let go, you're flipping onto your stomach, throwing your tired, lustful eyes at him. "haven't felt you in a while."

it has been a while. the two of you have been working so much, seen so little of each other that he's sure you haven't had sex in a year. the way you rock against him, swaying your hips from side to side on his pelvis makes him concede. "please? before abby wakes up."

you don't have to tell him twice. he's unbuttoning his pants and spitting on himself and entering you, both of you softly moaning out at the feeling. he hasn't felt you in so long, and the sensation of your lush, warm walls around him has him seeing static. you're stretching your arms over the back of the couch, arching against it so he's able to get deeper.

he's so content, so intoxicated with the way he's having you....even just...intoxicated in general.

something's off.

the pleasure he's getting from you begins to evaporate, and suddenly, nothing feels right. it feels null between his legs, and it's like you're fading from him. you're there, under with your spine poking against your skin and your messy bun thrashing against the crown of your skull, but...something isn’t right.

mike closes his eyes. he's sure it's just some sort of deja vu, a feeling of disbelief that he's able to have you like this again after so long. he loves you so much, loves that he can be home with you on a saturday morning, only—

mike's not home, and it's not saturday morning.

“c’mon, i gotta go to work soon.”

the nasally lilt of voice and blue eyes that stare back at mike are all wrong, incorrect from how he knows you. this isn’t you.

it’s not you at all, and the pieces start to come together.

it’s friday night, and he’s not at work like he should be. he’s in a warmly lit hotel room, AC window unit churning in the corner, draped by the ugliest taupe curtains he’s ever seen. he feels so disoriented, tasting the malt liquor on his tongue and gazing at his surroundings with bleary eyes while he instinctively moves his hips forward, trying to catch his rhythm again.

he’s having sex with some girl he met on a hookup website. he's missing work for this, using it as interference for the depression he’s been feeling everyday. it occupies the cavity of his chest with the weight of a million boulders, and even though he's got whiskey dick and he's aware of the infidelity he's committing, he decides that it's better than feeling how he always does. this is better than feeling empty.

his mind is fuzzy, and he's able to stop thinking about his transgression, holding onto the girl's hips and rocking faster, closing his eyes again.

he lets the feeling take him away, the emptiness of his head chorused by skin smacking and soft whimpers. she's not you, but it didn't matter. he didn't have you anyway. you two had stopped being each other's so long ago, though unofficial. you’d felt like a “girlfriend” all this time, holding a title that no longer fit properly.

mike pretends to come, and he's sure his tryst does too, spasming and moaning in this manufactured way that makes him furrow his eyebrows in distaste. he pulls out and heads to the bathroom without a word, tossing the condom in the trash and eyeing his image as he cleans himself off.

his eyes were bloodshot, red spiderwebs dancing trapezing along white. he didn't even remember drinking, or organizing this meeting, or how he even decided this was a good idea. he didn't recognize himself looking into the mirror.

the person staring back at him was the one that ruined everything, and they followed him every time he moved. it solidified the fact that he couldn't escape the liability of what he’d done no matter how hard he tried to absolve it. he was marked with all of his wrongdoings and mistakes, and there was no overcoming that.

the motel room isn't his, and even after splashing water on his face, hoping and praying that he would wake up from whatever this was, and getting dressed, he's still too drunk to drive. beyond that, where would he go?

the only two places he had in this stupid town were freddy's and his house, and both were undesirable to him. he wasn't happy anywhere.

he sits in his car parked outside of the room when everything is said and done. he feels gross. deep down, he can't make sense of what he's done. had the last year soiled his mind that much, leaving him so willing to feel something other than misery that he'd cheat on you?

once upon a time, you were the love of his life. he wants to believe that you still are, that you're just going through a rough patch and that soon, it will feel like the honeymoon phase again. he thought it would stay blissful like that forever, and maybe that was naive of him, but he'd never been so caught up in someone before. he'd wanted to start a family with you, smiling at the thoughts of little ones running around the halls and saddling your ring finger with a weighty cluster of diamonds.

he knew that none of that would ever happen now, even if the stress of life dissipated and you two felt at peace enough to begin planning for it. there was no coming back from cheating, especially not since it had happened to you before. he'd promised you he would never hurt you like that, and here he was. a year later and he'd done it in conjunction with so much worse.

he drops his head in his hands, body convulsing with sobs of agony until the sun comes up. he doesn't sleep. he hasn't slept in almost 24 hours. his skin is dry and raw as he numbly throws his car into drive, somehow getting himself all the way to his side of town. he can't recall the trip, checking back in once he's turning the car off outside of the house.

he doesn't know how he's supposed to walk inside.

he almost doesn't, about to go drive his car off a cliff, but you poke your head out of the opened front door, staring at his stiff frame in his driver's seat. you'd been watching him from the living room window since he'd gotten home.

you'd thought he was just decompressing or something, and these days you just left him alone to do whatever he wanted, but after an hour and a half of watching him fail to blink or move, you get concerned.

he shifts his eyes to you, the first motion you've seen him do, and begins to exit the car, a dead man walking as he sulks to the door. you make space for him to enter, closing the door after him and pressing your back to it cautiously. "rough shift?"

you two rarely talked about anything other than finances or practicalities these days. you'd stopped asking how he was, always wondering but keeping quiet, and he'd done the same. the overarching, desolate dynamic of the entire household spoke for itself. there was no discussion needed to notice it.

still, mike gives you a curt "mhm", throwing his vest and hoodie on their proper hooks and leaving for the bedroom. the door closes with moderate slam, rattling the picture frames on the wall. one of them falls off, connecting to the ground with a loud shatter. you swear and move over to the mess, blinking away tears. you didn't think you'd ever be used to his apathy towards you, and though it was reciprocated, it was only for your own protection.

you loved mike with your entire being, even now. you wanted the mike you’d known back, but you recognized that he was still inside his being somewhere, pounding at the walls to escape. you were never one to be cold, or standoffish, but your heart wouldn't be able to take that from mike while you tried to give him your all, not again.

you kneel next to all the glass, picking up the damaged frame. inside is a picture of you, mike, and abby at a pumkin patch from last year. mike is kissing your cheek, scrunched up with joy, and abby is holding a pumpkin bigger than her head.

you all look so happy.

you can't stop the tears from pouring, drowning yourself in a pool of longing and regret.

mike doesn't exit the bedroom until later that night. you'd cleaned up the glass and a few other things, using the remainder of your day to spend time with abby. mike had stopped interacting with her altogether, and you could tell how much it hurt her. you always tried to change the subject when she asked you about him, or when her lash line pebbled with tears at the thought of him.

today, she'd broken your heart on the drive back from the children's museum.

"i hate mike." you’d craned your head to her quickly, scowling deeply before settling your eyes back on the road. "i mean it."

"i know he's done some bad things, abs, but he's still your brother. he's one of your guardians, and adult life is--"

"you don't have to defend him, y/n." it was as sharp as if mike had said it, and it shut you up quickly. your defense came from the love and your connection, but you knew that you didn’t have to give him credit. his behavior in the last year hadn't been acceptable, everyone knew. he'd hurt you and abby so badly, so many times over. you two felt like you were on an island alone in the same house as him. "he's a dickhead."

"hey, language," you reprimanded, but she's right. "he is, though. i'll say it for the both of us. mike's a dickhead."

"he's just so miserable. the only reason they're not taking me away is because of you," abby admitted, and you knew it was true. with mike's lack of supervision and care, you'd had to slip into playing the role of caregiver for both yourself and abby. he bought food, other household stuff, anything abby needed, but it was up to you to make sure they were used, that abby was okay head to toe, 24/7, and that every bill was paid. you were doing something every hour of every day; grading or cleaning or cooking or helping with homework or washing clothes; you'd wanted to be a part of a collective unit. a real, supportive family. "housewife" hadn't been on your list of wanted titles. "i wish things were different."

"me too, abs," you muttered, biting indents into your bottom lip, over and over and over. you didn't want to cry in front of her. you’d needed to be strong, and if you'd survived the first fifteen minutes of the ride without breaking down, you could make it through the last fifteen.

you and abby eat dinner in her room, reheated lasagna that neither of you fully enjoy anymore. it had been your favorite meal at one point, but now it left an unsavory taste in your mouth, peppered with sour memories. you two talk about all the things she'd learned at the museum, about how her body functioned as she grew and what it meant to be an ever-evolving human.

the conversation continues as you help her through her night routine. it finishes on, "it's not easy being human" as you tuck her into bed. she nods, flipping on to her side so that her tears fall onto her pillow. "aw, abby."

you wipe away the wetness, giving her a kiss on the forehead and stroking at her damp hair. "don't understand why mike hates us."

you don't know what to say at first because you've felt the same way. it was like something had switched in him one day, rearranging his chemical makeup and transforming him into someone neither of you knew. "hey," you whisper, readjusting yourself so you're reclined against her headboard, sweeping her up into your arms. she rests her head on your chest, sniffling as she tries to stop her hiccupping breaths. "i think he's just lost right now. not to excuse his behavior, but...he doesn't know who he is. he's not mike, okay? and the mike that you feel like hates you isn't your brother. he loves you, deep deep down and i love you, abby. i love you so much."

"i love you more, y/n," she gasps. you curl her into you further, cradling her so she'll settle. you want to shed your own tears once again. you can only imagine how hard all of this is for her. losing her whole family before she'd even started puberty. how were you supposed to figure out your own life, all the ups and downs, twists and turns of being sentient, when you were needed to guide abby into her formative years? how was this any way to start them?

you hold her for hours, staring blanky at the walls above her desk. they're fairly bare now, every picture she'd had with mike in it gone. you'd replaced him, outlined in gold radiance and holding abby's hand. it's bittersweet.

you're still mulling over the drawings when you hear the bedroom door open and close, footsteps retreating to the bathroom. what mike had been doing in there all day, you don’t know, and you try your hardest not to care. this is how your weekends had gone for a while.

you gently ease abby into her bed, smoothing her hair and murmuring sentimentalities into her ear before heading to your room.

there's not much excitement in your own night routine; mike usually sleeps on the couch on weekend nights, so you all you do is change your clothes and brush your teeth in the kitchen, moving around like a phantom. you don't make a sound, forgoing your past habits of humming or singing as you twirled about.

you lay in bed with the lamp light illuminating the pages of your book, leering your eyes over the text. reading was your form of escapism, using the fictional worlds printed on paper to leave the earthly realm you felt trapped in. you didn't have to be y/n when you read; you got to be free.

it's close to 1 am when mike opens the door and your eyes lock onto his. it's instinct. you're still connected, in more ways than just a waning relationship, and sometimes you two will catch each other's stares like nothing negative has ever transpired between you two. your heart always pounds when it happens, and you wonder if you're alone in that.

"sorry for barging in, i just...uh, need some more clothes." you nod at his statement, but you're not sure that it's entirely true. he's dressed for night already, in his loose t-shirt and deep blue plaid pants. "really?"

"just a change of pants...might get hot while i'm out there sleeping in the living room," he bites, and you don't miss a beat with your snappy reply. "nobody's making you sleep out there, mike, and it's fucking november. i'm sure it won't get hot."

he leans against the dresser, deflated. it was a stupid excuse to use, a shitty way for him to try to snark at you, but he's so frustrated with himself, with everything he's caused. he doesn't understand what's wrong with him, and how he could ruin one of the only good things he's ever known.

he'd taken an ambien earlier, fingering one out of the "legit prescription" bottle his dealer had given him, and sobbed into his pillow until he passed the fuck out. what looked to you like his usual appearance of fatigue was actually fatigue and guilt and rage and all these other feelings that had boiled to the surface since he'd been unfaithful. he just wanted to be near you again, to have you in the way he did all that time ago.

how had he been so mindless, brain-dead enough to go through with dropping the responsibilities into your sole hands, virtually ignoring you for a year straight, and now, cheating on you? how had he let it get to this?

"i know. i'm sorry. i just don't deserve you, y/n." you slip your bookmark into the fold of your book, setting it down on the nightstand and sitting up straight against the bedroom wall. mike is still facing away from you, slouched yet frigid. there's so much tension radiating from his direction, and you find yourself subconsciously empathizing with him. you feel the same tension in your limbs every day, wishing life would give you one moment to take a deep, relieving breath. you want the stress to go away, for the both of you to be able to exhale all the sullen air of the past that resides in you, and replace it with the hope for a brighter future.

mike stands to his full height, backing into the bed to plop down on the edge, staring dead ahead at his image in the dresser mirror. you get on all fours, thoughtlessly crawling over to him and wrapping one of your arms around his shoulders, skimming your other hand over his arm. it's what you would've done on any other day, and for some reason, you no longer feel like you're in the present with him. this is happening before everything, when the thought of him filled you with nothing but giddiness. "like how can you even...do this with me?"

"i love you, mike," you whisper swiftly, tilting your head away from him so you can gaze into his eyes. he fucking hates himself, hates the way his jaw trembles as you fall into him again. he doesn't deserve this. he isn't entitled to your grace, and he wants to yell at you to take it back; save it. keep it for yourself, or abby. "i love you, and i miss you, and i just want things to go back to the way they were. i miss being in love."

it's all it takes for him to grab at the back of your neck, smashing his lips onto yours like no time has passed since the last time you'd done it, even if it'd been a year.

how had he gone a year without this, too? the feeling of your mouth on his shuts his brain off, and it isn't long before you're under him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he gives you slow, sweet, soft thrusts; thrusts you haven't felt in so long. you're all faint, yet honeyed whimpers and scratching at his back, and mike pushes away the shame that courses through him. this is what he wanted. his hookup was nothing close, a physical dupe of you that couldn't compare to the feeling of the real thing. he's in love with you, and he's crying into your neck, moaning out, "i love you baby, i'd do anything for you. i'm so sorry for ruining our lives, please forgive me, gonna make it better" between gasps. you nod your head, giving mike the most merciful eyes and it only makes him more emotional, coming into you with a muffled, shattered sob.

you both settle into cuddling after you've used the bathroom, and mike keeps his sanity in check by telling himself that this is what he wants, and that he'll do anything to keep it. he'll never make another mistake again. from this day on, he'll do better. no more ambien. no more ignoring abby. no more putting all the responsibility on you. he has to save himself and he wants to show you that he'll change, that the person you fell in love with is still there. he even agrees to couples therapy when you bring it up. it's without hesitation, a quick, "anything you want baby", and he begins thinking of all the ways he can make extra money to pay for it.

"we're gonna be okay. i'm going to turn this around," he promises, kissing at the top of your head before turning off the bedside lamp. you two sleep tangled in each other's limbs, and it's the best sleep either of you have gotten all year.

you're impressed by the way things actually turn around. mike takes up a second job and makes you quit yours, opting for something close to the house for a small 9 am - 1 pm shift after freddy's. it works out perfectly for everyone; he gets to eat breakfast with the two of you every morning; you take abby to school, and get to work knowing that you don't have to work again after you're dismissed of children; mike picks abby up, on time, and brings her home, making her lunch and letting her decompress while he takes a nap; you come home and decompress yourself, afterwards helping abby with her homework as mike gets his winks in until 7:30 or so. you two trade off making dinner during the week, and by 8:30 at the latest, you're all sitting at the table enjoying a meal together. mike leaves for work, catching up on sleep there too. you help abby settle down for the night, and then you're grading until you're calling it quits. it feels like the earth has healed.

it takes abby a bit of work to come around to mike again, and by the fourth weekend of positive change, he's worked his way back into her good graces. it moves you, the genuine effort he's put in to right his wrongs and show the two of you that he was endlessly remorseful. the two of you had even been having sex again; quickies during the week, but passionate, heated, breathless hour-long sessions during the early mornings or late nights of the weekend, panting into each other's mouths and clinging to skin like saran wrap. it's a year's worth of tension unfolding every time you two are in bed.

you're going out on dates. you're taking abby places. you're making memories again. the lunch texts happen again. you're going to couples therapy, really working on everything. everything is perfect...until it isn't, once again.

all it takes is a month and a half.

you're waltzing around the living room, tidying up a bit around the place before the three of you convene on the couch for a movie night. it's something you'd recommended at the start of all the improvements, and it'd become a highlight of the weekends. every saturday night, rotating choice of movie, max pg-13. abby sits on the couch as you organize the random knickknacks that lay about, clicking through the streaming app's home screen while she waits for mike to give her a movie title.

he calls out a name, something generic and easily marketable, and abby rolls her eyes, searching for it anyway. "sounds like a boring kid movie."

"you are a kid, silly," you say through a laugh, arranging two bowls of snacks on the table and plopping down beside her. she scoots into you, and you throw your arm around her shoulder, resting your temple on the top of her head.

"mikeeeeeeeeee," you trill, looking towards the shadowed hallway. "get your ass in here! why are you even brushing your teeth right now anyway? we're about to devour popcorn and doritos, and abby's gonna get to drink sodaaaaaaaa, but only because tomorrow is sunday. it'll all taste so gross with the mint flavor," you and abby giggle at your words, caught in a laughing fit when mike's glowing phone catches your eye.

it's on the coffee table, thrown there without a care, and you reach forward to check out what notification he got. you two don't go through each other's phones, but there's no rule about using them. you scroll through his social media apps sometimes, and vice versa. you two are open, trusting, secure...right?

the notification is an email from something called Hookup-Haven, the body of the message starting with "you were kind of too drunk to make me come last time...". the subject says new message from: slutzora_xx.

you think it's just a spam email, one of those "hot, horny singles in your area!" type of things, and it's a bit puzzling to you that they're coming to mike's primary inbox instead of his junk folder, but you will yourself to push it away. this was an invasion of his privacy and you didn't do this. you didn't condone this.

the will doesn't work.

you would've believed it to be spam if clicking the one email didn't expose you to a thread of communication from about a month and a half ago. there are only a couple of emails, six of them from back then. mike initiated them.

mikelovesnaturesounds | 8:23

just looking to fuck, nothing else.

slutzora_xx | 8:25

well, you're in the right place, searching on a hookup site lol. were you looking for something tonight?

mikelovesnaturesounds | 8:29

if you could, sure. i can skip work. been really depressed about my life and my relationship and i don't want to think about any of it rn.

slutzora_xx | 8:31

aw mike <33333 i'm really sorry. i'll still fuck you, irdgaf but i have to ask...how would your girlfriend feel about this?

mikelovesnaturesounds | 8:32

what she doesn't know won't kill her. we don't even talk.

slutzora_xx | 8:34

doesn't sound like much of a girlfriend to me </3 but, it's an answer nonetheless (: meet me at the oakmont at 10:00, mkay? room 106. see you then *kissies*

your eyes blear as you read the one he just received.

slutzora_xx | 8:17

you were kind of too drunk to make me come last time but you're still pretty cute. wanna try again sometime, sober? ;D i'm back in town for another week so lmk! same place, room 213.

you can't breathe. it feels like your chest has been vacuum sealed, all of the air within you sucked out with every word you read of this exchange. you swipe up to find his calendar app, comparing the date of the emails to that time period in your life.

month and a half ago, friday. mike had exited without a word as you entered, with his usual dead eyes and apathetic physicality. you'd watched him leave, backing out of the driveway without a single glance at you. it'd stung worse than lots of things you'd felt recently, and in that moment, you didn't know why. it all made sense now.

he'd had sex with you the next night. you'd forgiven him, trusting his sorrowful whimpers and desperate movements, believing that everything would actually be okay again.

you don't realize that you're still wheezing and trembling until abby waves her hand in front of your face, eyes filled with worry. "are you okay, y/n?" you set mike's phone down, screen on and infidelity exposed, as you try to give abby your strongest smile. how could you when even you were terrified by the harsh tremors of your hands?

you stand to your feet, ushering her down the hall to her bedroom door. "just go in your room, okay? put on your headphones and do some karaoke. sing as loud as you want. i just need to talk to mike really quick, i'll come get you when we're done."

abby turns to her door, cracking it open with one more look back towards you. her eyes are melancholic, as if she knows exactly what's going on.

"you and mike aren't going to just talk, are you?"

you nudge her into her room with a simple, "sing as loud as you want, abby", your voice toned with mature finality. "don't come out until i come get you." abby knows not to argue.

you return to the couch, staring at mike's bright phone screen. you'd been cheated on so many times, and though you hadn't wanted heartache to harden you, it still hit you over the head like a sack of bricks. it never got easier, finding out that you couldn't trust someone that you loved deeply, but you just kept your head held high. you knew you would find something eventually, something right. someone good, someone who would keep you and your heart safe, never hurt you.

you thought that person was mike. you'd felt 100% positive that he was right for you.

how had you ended up being wrong?

you hadn't cried yet, sitting with your back straight and interlocked fingers crushed between your knees. your gaze is locked on his phone still, a leg bouncing as you will yourself not to explode with the betrayal.

mike finally comes out of the bathroom, throwing a lovedrunk, sheepish smile your way as he walks into the illuminated living room. the smile falls when he catches your expression and tracks your eyes to his phone. his heart sinks to his ass as he takes in the Hookup-Haven logo, tiny and almost illegible, but there, nonetheless, on his phone. fuck.

"baby--"

"don't!" your voice is sharp, sharper than it's been in recent times. he was used to this tone back then, but for the last month or so, you'd been so sweet, so much like yourself when you'd first started dating. "don't call me baby. i'm going to ask you this once, and i swear to fucking god, mike, if you lie to me, i'm leaving right now." mike swallows hard, standing motionless in front of you.

"did you cheat on me?" your voice crack strikes mike all over; his brain, heart, and stomach all lurch with remorse and his hands fly up in surrender, eyes closed so he can't see your face. "baby, listen---"

"stop...calling...me that!" you scream, shooting to your feet and stepping into his space. he keeps his eyes closed, squeezing them so hard it starts to give him a headache. he can't see you. he'll die if he sees you. "yes or no, mike?"

"yes, y/n! i cheated on you, okay? i was fucked up---"

"not when you coordinated your meetup," he opens his eyes and is met with your tearful ones, red and overflowing with devastation. you're breathing so hard, placing a hand on your chest to try and soothe yourself before you have an anxiety attack. what has he done?

"you left the house twenty minutes after you finalized your plans. you made them sober." your voice breaks again, and mike tries to reach out for you, bring you to him so he can make it all better, but you dodge him, diverting your way to the kitchen. you have your arms crossed over your chest, rubbing your hands over your biceps.

"you fucked me the next day! you knew what you'd done and still had sex with me," you're not facing him, staring into the darkness just outside the kitchen window. it's the only thing keeping you calm. "how fucking could you?"

mike is at a loss for words, stammering to find something to say. he’s so angry at himself, internally pummeling himself into the ground.

what’s there for him to say? there’s no fixing what he’s done. he'd put in so much effort to fix things with you and abby, working his ass off to make sure that he didn't fail you two again. he'd done everything he could, and it'd had all crumbled into dust by one mistake, one mistake he'd known was irredeemable.

"y/n, listen to me, okay?" he doesn't deserve your ears, but you lend them to him anyway, still shunning him from seeing your face.

"nothing is going to fix what i did. nothing is going to change it, but please know that i love you with my entire being. i have since the day i met you, and...i was in such a bad place. i had been... for the entire past year. i felt nothing but pain...nothing but this mix of a void and lead inside my chest. i didn't want to wake up. i didn't want to do anything. i just wanted to feel what we had, or at least something close. i needed to feel something other than that pain, y/n. that's all i felt when i was here, or at freddy's, or anywhere for that matter. the circumstances had me feeling nothing but this...deep sorrow because everything had fallen apart."

"because of you!" you screech as you whirl around to him, blood-curdling and angry and followed by a sharp wheeze of breath inward as you try to keep it together, key word try. "because of you, mike. you were the reason that abby almost got taken away, and why we were almost evicted, and why i was fucking killing myself to keep everything afloat!"

"y/n..."

"you were drugging yourself and i picked up your slack! i've helped abby through two school semesters and a summer, showing up late to my second job that i really needed because you were asleep! you missed picking her up so many times that she thought you hated her. she thought she was a burden, mike; crying into my arms every night because she didn't understand why you'd suddenly just given up on her. she tore down all her drawings of you in her room...i remember walking in on her, ripping them to little pieces in her fort with the most heart-breaking cries coming from her. screaming over and over, 'why doesn't mike love me?'" your voice is so shaky, and you're trying to keep your composure, but the thoughts you're conjuring send you further into a breakdown. "i had to help her through that on top of everything else because you checked out. you checked out intentionally, and it's not fair that you get to go out and fuck other people while i have to be here, cleaning up the mess you made!"

"then fucking leave!" mike counters with a yell, taken back by the way he's berating you when the anger he feels is for no one but himself. he doesn't mean to, but your confessions unsettle him, leaving him unable to think logically. he'd gone from excitedly thinking about watching a movie with you and abs, to arguing about his prior lack of involvement with either one of you, and he knew there was only one person to blame. nevertheless, all his foggy brain knew was to yell, to shout out his frustrations until they finally released their hold on his body. "it's not like you're staying with me after all this, so just go ahead and fucking leave," he wishes he could take it back after he says it. he's not thinking straight, and he begs himself to get it together. why can't he stop causing all of this destruction?

"i want to!" your scream is loud, shaking the entire house. you can't believe he's giving up so easily, letting you slip out of his life like you never really mattered at all. "i've wanted to leave since our anniversary!"

"why didn't you then?" his voice is whiny, genuinely disappointed in the fact that you didn't go. "we ignored each other the entire day, ignored each other every day since. why didn't you just leave me?" you figure he was trying to use self-pity as a way for you to empathize, prodding at your heart's soft spot for him, which was, frankly, the entire thing. you couldn't let him win. you couldn't let him trick you again, effortlessly handing over your forgiveness just because he was mike, and you loved him, and he made you melt.

"i always believed things would change," you mutter, pursing your lips with an absent-minded head nod. "asked the universe if i was doing anything wrong by chance, but it was never me. it was you, and i thought that maybe if i toughened it out long enough, you'd see that and work to fix it. too bad you did that after you had sex with someone else, right? felt so guilty that it forced you to make the change, even though you'd already done the one thing you knew i wouldn't forgive? had me forgive you after you'd destroyed everything?"

"please," he whispers, bringing a hand up to quickly swipe at his undereye. "i'm sorry, y/n. i know i don't deserve you. i never have, and i never will. i fucked up, bad, and i'm just..." he stops with a regretful sigh, reaching out to you once more, but before he can say anything else, you blurt, "we're done, mike."

the sentence causes his eyes to fall shut, air coming from his nose as a despondent laugh. "yeah?"

"rushed into all of these responsibilities, thought i could trust you. made me feel safe, made me let my guard down. i thought you were different, mike. after everything that i told you about. all the things you promised you wouldn't do, but none of it matters. it doesn't matter what you say. you lied from the beginning, convincing me that moving in with you would be so great and that we'd be a real family, but this was no family. you didn't support us. you weren't there. you did stupid, reckless things and hurt the ones you love, the ones that love you."

"we're done though, right? don't know why you'd say that, considering that it doesn't seem like you love me much anymore." you couldn't believe him, staring at him with bewildered eyes.

he couldn't believe himself either. who was he? why did he continue to self-sabotage, completely throwing his mouth out to the sharks before it'd had a chance to communicate with his brain? you shake your head, bitterly laughing at him and his reaction and everything around you. the situation had you in tearful knots, laughing this maniacal laugh with tears streaking down your face.

"i'll be out by the end of the week, mike. should figure out what you're going to do about...everything." you give him a tight lipped smile before strolling past him, forcefully knocking your shoulder into his. he almost trips backward, stumbling into the dining table. he deserves it. he deserves everything, with the exception of anything good, you, and abby.

it doesn't take much time for you to pack all your things. you call out of work for a few days, packing while mike snoozes on the couch. he's never actually asleep, eyes closed but fully alert with thoughts and emotions and gripes to himself, about himself.

you didn't have much stuff. you'd sold a lot of duplicate things you'd had when you moved in with mike, his assurance that you'd always have everything you needed bringing you solace you'd always dreamt of. you'd trusted him with everything, and now it left you needing to start (almost) completely over.

you cry about the situation at first, cooped up in the room with a pile of gross, used tissues on your nightstand. you didn’t want for all of this to be over. you’d wanted to be with mike and abby forever, and your brain unhealthily begins to wrack with ideas of what you could do to change things, but…there was nothing you could do.

the damage had been done, and all that’s required of you is to dry your tears and move on like you deserve.

you stuff your car full with everything, and on wednesday afternoon, you're leaning on it outside with your old house key in hand as you wait for mike to come home with abby.

you'd told her about what happened, and she'd let you know that she'd read the emails over your shoulder that night. you two cried together, cuddling and falling asleep in her bed. you wanted to take her with you, but you knew you couldn't; not back to your parent's house. it wasn't yours, and it was fairly small, barely enough space for the three of you. you promised to visit her somehow, and reminded her that she could always text or email you.

mike pulls up on the opposite side of your car, staring at you as you turn and round the front to let abby out. you don't even make it to the door before she's throwing herself out and onto the asphalt, falling to her knees at your feet and wrapping her arms around your shins with earth-shattering sobs. she clings to you so tightly that you'll trip if you try to move. mike watches the whole thing from inside the car, trying to breathe and center himself. he thought you would've taken the entire week to pack, maybe lingering on everything that you two had been, but he'd felt his mouth fill with bile he pulled in and saw you with your car stuffed to the brim. you had three days to spare.

he tries not to think about what his future without you, just him and abby again, would hold. he didn't feel so good about it.

you pull abby upwards and wipe at her tears, brushing hair out of her eyes and caressing the perimeter of her face, blotchy with red. it breaks your heart that you're leaving right as she comes home from school, but you know you can't dwell any longer. besides her, there was nothing left for you here. you'd done everything you could, keeping your heads above water for an entire year. you wouldn't stay somewhere that didn't serve you, and unfortunately, even abby couldn't change your stance.

you tuck your own curls behind your ears, willing your voice to steady enough so you can talk to her. "keep singing karaoke, okay? record yourself with the webcam i got you and send me the videos. i wanna hear from you, so don't be a stranger. i'm here for you, always. whatever you need, just call, text, carrier pigeon," your last option makes her giggle, nasally and snotty from crying so much. "i love you so much abby, more than you'll ever know."

"i love you so much more, y/n. i want you to stay," she hugs at your legs, and you enclose her in your arms, taking deep breaths as to not cry and dribble all over her. "you were supposed to stay forever. please don't leave me with mike." you can barely hear anything in your ears, the sound of your heart splintering into a million tiny pieces ringing in your eardrums like tinnitus.

a single tear tracks down your cheek as you close your eyes, and you whisper, "i know. i'm so sorry," before giving her a long, low-spirited kiss on the forehead and standing to your full height. "i love you. never forget that."

"i won't," she muses, so small and frail. you hand her your house key and she captures it in her hand, making a tight fist around it. she hands you an index card with her other one, a bright, happy drawing of you and her on the unlined side. "to y/n, from abs" is scribbled on the opposite one. "i made one for myself too, so we could both have one. it'll keep us together, even so far apart."

you kiss at the figure of her on the card, pressing it to your heart. "i'll keep it safe. thank you so much, abby." she smiles, giving you one last hug at the waist before allowing you to move to your car.

once again, what's mike to say, or do, or conjure? nothing will change his mistakes, one after the other that he'd saddled you two with. he didn't know how he could go on after this, feeling the darkness of a deep depression licking at him. he wanted to take twenty ambien. he didn't want to wake up if it wasn't beside you.

you catch his stare for the final time when you start your car, your chest rising and falling with a deep breath. you twist your lips slightly to the side, giving him a head nod that says, "that's a wrap on us."

he returns your movement, lifting his hand in a small wave. you don't wait around, reversing out of the driveway. mike watches you in his rearview mirror, taking another breath before you release it with a smile, settling the card abby gave you on your dashboard. he knows you're smiling because you're free after so long of tying yourself down for him, taking on the weight of the world for three different people, when all you really wanted to focus on was yourself.

he doesn't blame you.

you were going to live your life. you were going to live stress-free. you were going to be young, and do whatever you wanted to do. you'd be careful with your heart but still so full of love, rolling the weight of mike's sins off of your shoulders. none of it was your fault, and you got to leave the house a lot lighter than you'd felt in a while.

your car peels down the road, and mike can't believe that he'll never see you again. he'll never kiss you, or call you baby. he may not do it with anyone else ever again.

abby comes to the car and grabs her things out of the backseat without a word. mike turns to her and her eyes bore into him with the ferocity of a trillion daggers. she's still crying, silently now, slamming the front door of the house shut as she enters. mike knows that she'll probably never forgive him for this, or for anything.

he realizes that everything has led him back to the same position he was in when he'd arrived home from his fling, alone and numbly sedentary in his driver seat.

his body chokes with the first sob, and then the next one, and the next, wholly defeated by your surrender.

well. i suppose this saga has come to an end. this was actually pretty emotional to write, and i may take a tiny break before i get into writing safety net. even though that series is super cute and fluffy, i just need some time to digest wtf i just wrote 😭 this shit HURTS.

i hope you all enjoy this. i know it's not very fluffy, but still. sometimes we can't tell a compelling story and service everyone lmao. i think this was the way their story was supposed to end, so i'm happy i was able to execute it how i wanted 💜 lemme know what you think!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@nim-rose

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fluff #faire is writing stuff #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #mike schmidt angst #josh hutcherson #this hurt so bad #there was moments where i was shaking as i wrote #i was so anxious to write some of this because MAJOR ANGST

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43sol · 1 year

Text

i can finally go back into the tiger and bunny tag ヽ(*。>Д<)o゜

#one difference in this new season is that there was a lot more death like 100% more not just in like headshots #plot threads kinda went little tangled at the end there but overall not too bad #some character resolutions i wanted a bit more from but oh well #Lunatic they kinda wrote in a corner so understandable how they closed that one tho #lol first thing I said was nooo whos the director of justice noww #also the fact he was taking government calls in his little torture dungeon man cave #got barnaby crying multiple times NICE #i would have liked a bit more angst for moi #already thinking up some sillay stuff hehehe #tiger and bunny #tiger and bunny 2

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 6 months

Text

sitting with vox and the truth

(spoilers obvs)

happy the demon hungers everyone :D i did two watchalongs with my friends i hope we all show our appreciation to vox. he’s worked very hard and he’s very considerate of us his fans

this is all just to say that after a long, long, long two weeks i would like to rest so nicely on his chest. naturally i walked into this planning to write that but it turned into another vox breakdown fic which, really, couldn’t be a better description of unit 4402 if you tried

tags: gender neutral reader, angst, themes of self-hate, vox has a breakdown, spoilers for the demon hungers and the truth, ambiguous relationship (romantic intended but can be read as platonic; reader says “i love you”)

⚠️ spoilers for the demon hungers / the truth, vox akuma.

⚠️ contains self-deprecating dialogue

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

wings of melded leather and flesh writhe in the home of vox akuma. a dethroned lord, a wretched infernal. such a a wide reach. the talons of the wing threaten to scrape the ceiling with his greater height, while the membranous tatters hang loosely. if he represented Hell it would be a king’s robe. under wall and lamplight the sheet of skin is his chain.

gravity weighs down his voice all the same. it sinks his shoulders, drips off his hair and down his back. seven feet tall, with a shadow to cast over your body so small in comparison, and yet wind could knock him over as he stands his ground. the familiarity of gold within his eyes is gone but the guilt behind it is all the same, tainted in burning-coal. the smoke around his mouth and the embers along his tongue match the char. there is no fire. he’s put that out long ago. but what was scorched refuses to dwindle down to ash, remaining orange and red and that pink you swore you could see when there was nothing good on his mind.

nothing good, you thought, jokingly and enticingly. lightly. you see now that you were right, but without the fortune of intimacy.

he is scared, if he would be willing to admit it, and he is protective which he does. it’s why his hands are buried close to his chest, the swirling black-red, clasped together as if they were weapons. they are.

“do you understand?” vox asks. “i don’t deserve your pity.”

his frame is full with rage and power held dormant.

“i don’t deserve your attention, or your patience. or your love.”

a bead of ember rises from between his teeth. it fades to room dust as he grits them together.

when they snap apart an arc of flame accompanies it.

“It’s never been deserved. It’s never been okay. I have never been okay!”

the flames curl out of the air, following where the ember once went, room dust and hot air. without his hair in his face he can’t hide from the firing squad.

he can’t hide when you step forward, either.

“Don’t.” that’s what gets him to quit yelling. it’s replaced by inhaled cinder under his breath. “No, no, don’t. Don’t. Don’t.”

and quiet, you say, “you’ve held me before.”

“Don’t. Don’t. You can’t. No. Don’t.”

“and i’m nowhere near death.”

he backs away. “You don’t know that, you don’t know that, you don’t know, you don’t.”

“we don’t choose the bodies we’re born in. or the biology we function by.”

another step back. he doesn’t trip on anything. it’s the pure magma under his blood that sends him to his knees. “Get back.” a hiccup. “Get back!” his hands form tighter to his body. “Get away from me!”

“i trust you.”

“Don’t! Don’t! No! Away!”

“you aren’t hungry anymore. and i’m not in danger. i love you.”

vox’s back thumps against the corner of the wall. his hands tear apart. a prominent vein glides down the oil-slick arm. they tangle themselves into his hair. pale fingertips along bloodied streaks. white knuckles pulling at black locks.

he screams.

he screams again when you place yourself next to him, up against the wall, and bump your leg to him.

“if you could hurt me…” your eyes lower to where your legs are placed upon his. “then this would count. but i’m still alive.”

you look up to the ceiling. his talons didn’t scratch it but his horns certainly did. “and i’m still alive, and my soul is where it should be, with me.”

you cannot recognize the sound the voice demon emits.

“so i’ll stay with you. and we’ll figure things out.” with river under your hands you rub his arm. “do you remember this? it’s what i always do when you want me to help calm you down.

“that’s what i’ll do. just let it out. and i’ll be right here, and i’ll always be here no matter what.”

it’s a guttural, throaty cry across his register. a frog scratch.

“come on.” his blood twists under your touch. veins alight as live wires. “i have all the time in the world.”

“But I have been nothing but a blight.”

“i love you as you are.”

you place your head over his chest.

the first thing that happens is the draft from his wing wrapping around your face. your vision colors red. branches of uneven membrane along the wing’s flesh. so tight around his chest you don’t see a glimpse of the outside.

the next is how vox wracks himself over the lava within his throat.

your free hand takes over attending to him as much as you can, swaddled close to his chest.

through the wing, you can see how he forces his head away when he spits a flamethrower.

when the unpredictable flames raise to you and the wing-shield, it suffocates against the flesh. you don’t feel a shred of heat.

each fire is a bellow of pain gone unacknowledged for years. you don’t think he realizes his instinct to cover you. it would be a welcome validation if he weren’t lost in his own grief.

you spend the night beside the voice demon, listening to the shred of his screams. when he finds the courage to open his eyes, he shrieks for every moment that passes with your hand upon him, and soul within your confines.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #vox akuma angst #the demon hungers #luxiem #luxiem x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #4402 writes #vox akuma headcanons #vox akuma imagines #the demon hungers spoilers #wrote this so sleepily… i hope. snnrk. hope it makes sense… nodded off a few times almost #it’s funny bc i told my friend i would go to bed early so i could take a break after all this hecticness!#…and then i wrote this. i’ll see if i can get a cuter monsterfucker appreciation post out at some point since clearly that was the goal #and failed

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angelizs · 2 years

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[I refuse to drown - Azul Ashengrotto]

Summary: He had hurt you. Azul had hurt you and he wasn't sure how he could ever forgive himself, the guilt gnawing at his core. Despite that, you still smile at him.

Notes: reader and azul knew each other before chapter 3, gn!reader, angst and hurt/comfort, self deprecating thoughts, some mentions of blood, injury and death but none too graphic, not proof read

Azul had lost everything.

Everything he had built painstakingly for years, crawling himself from the bottom of the depths, that he exhausted himself for, that he carefully planned and gained through his hard work. Gone, just like that, floating away in the wind the same way the sand of the beach is carried away by the waves.

But, the worst of all: he lost control.

Control of himself, his actions and his mind. Azul couldn't remember what happened after seeing his contracts disintegrating, only that he felt more despair than ever before. Even when he was isolated and mocked by the other merman, he's never felt such helplessness, such anguish, such misery.

His mind was muddy, he didn't feel like he was in his body. Why would it matter, anyway? It was all gone, gone, gone.

He let himself drown in the feeling.

Drowning was a strange sensation. Azul, being a merman, never thought he could experience it, but Night Raven College was full of surprises. His lungs felt full, an inky substance occupying where once was air. His vision was dark, as if he had fallen into an abyss. He couldn't bring himself to care.

Azul didn't know which was worse, the hopeless feelings or the lack thereof.

He stayed floating into nothingness for a while. He wasn't conscious, but he was. He was there, but he wasn't. He didn't have a body, but he did. If he could manage to string a coherent thought together, it might have been something like this: "Is this what death looks like?" Perhaps if he could muster enough strenght to feel something, he might have felt regret for all the things he still had left to do.

If he looked deep into himself, deeper than he was willing to, he might have found that he regretted making you sign one of his rigged contracts and dragging you into this mess. He should have known better than understimating you, he should have known that something like this would happen. After all, you were amazing enough to catch his attention. What made him think you wouldn't be amazing enough to find a way out of his deal? What made him think Jade and Floyd would be enough to disencourage you? What made him think someone like him, so dirty and insicere, could ever dampen someone like you, so determined and bright?

He didn't think about any of it. He didn't think about anything.

The first thing Azul felt when he came back to his senses was light against his eyelids. He was back at the surface. His body ached all over but his lungs no longer bled that viscous black liquid and he felt alive once more. He was still alive.

He could smell a familiar scent, one that he was used to smelling back at the Coral Sea, so used to he didn't identify it a first. He heard shouting that seemed to be miles away and right by his ear at the same time. His slugish head couldn't distinguish what was being said by whom, but he could swear he heard your name, it's mention alone being enough to jolt eletricity back into his being and keep him awake. There were hurried footsteps getting farther away and he finally recognized what the smell was. It was the metalic smell of blood.

He tried to open his eyes but the bright lights of Mostro Lounge burned them, so he kept them tightly shut. He couldn't get up, his legs hurt more than any other part of his body. What had happened? He couldn't have... could he? The last thing he could remember happening before passing out was... oh.

Oh. He did. Azul had an overblot.

His breath hitched, but he forced himself to keep breathing in the air, to keep the blot out, out of his system and out of his lungs and out of his veins and out out out of him. He bit his tounge, clenched his fists and forced his sore eyes to open.

The contracts, they were gone. His life's work. He had made a fool of himself in front of another housewarden. He had an overblot and put everyone in danger. He had put you in danger.

Jade and Floyd were by his side. They were talking to him, but he couldn't register the words. His head was underwater, the pressure weighting him down, his ears filled with water and dripping, dripping, dripping.

He could still smell the blood. Ah, it felt just like home.

Azul looked at his lower half, almost sure in some hysterical part of his brain that he would find his tentacles there. His legs laid on the floor, clean and useless. He breathed a sigh of relief. Still, he couldn't help but wish the blood was his.

He got the gist of what the twins were saying. Leona destroyed the contracts and you had managed to adquire his childhood photo. They were mocking him for the tantrum he threw, but he could tell they were worried. There wasn't much force behind the half hearted taunts and no matter how much they tried to hide, Azul knew them just like they knew him. They were aggravated at what happened as well, no matter how much they pretended they couldn't care less.

"What would you like us to do about the photo?"

"I'm pretty sure we could just snatch it up with how shrimpy is now, but man, I'm not in the mood for it."

"...I don't care about the photo anymore. Tell me, what happened to the prefect?"

Jade looked at him with pity and Floyd's mood deteriorated. There was a bottomless pit of dread at his stomach, his throat felt dry all of sudden. His eyes burned, but no tears fell from them. When had his breathing become so erratic?

As soon as the twins broke the news to him, Azul tried to stand up and see you, not caring for how much his legs ached and hurt and screamed at him to stay down. Good, he thought with venom, so much loathing and disdain it left a sour feeling in his mouth, they better be hurting after what he'd done. He deserves worse.

Jade helped him balance himself on his legs and Floyd laughed at his clumsy footing, as if it was the first time the three of them set foot on land and were just learning how to walk. Azul felt like he had been stripped from his tentacles and siphon all over again. He had been stripped from his skin and from his mind, had been laid open and bare and vulnerable for all to see, had his chest teared apart and his lungs leaking onto the floor.

Once they arrived at the infirmary, Azul was almost jumped by your friends. The Heartslabyul duo and the young Savanaclaw seemed ready to plummet him to the ground, no care for his condition, if it weren't for Jade and Floyd tanking him by both sides like bodyguards. Azul was glad they didn't care, he was glad they worried so much about you. He would have let them hit him and taken the beating, there wasn't much of his pride left to salvage anyway.

The school nurse had just finished attending you and promptly went to work on his injuries. The Headmaster appeared at the infirmary right after Azul was discharged, no doubt already knowing what happened. He had never seem Crowley look as serious as he did when he asked for the three of them to accompany him to his office.

Azul's body was exhausted, he clearly needed to rest. Still, he agreed without a fuss, the twins following him closely from behind. He could feel Jade's gaze burning the back of his neck, but he couldn't gather enough energy to care for whatever was going on the eelmer's mind. He felt empty, almost hollow. Frighteningly so, like he was still on that void state, disconnected from his body. Was he even awake?

The talk with the Headmaster was a long and tiring one. At the end of it, Azul accepted the new terms for him to keep running Mostro Lounge at the school, gripping tightly to the only thing he had left. He couldn't lose his beloved restaurant alongside everything else, it would be too much, more than he could handle.

It was dark by the time they were excused to go back to their dorm. Azul felt and looked like a mess, not like the businessman he took pride in being. His hair was dishevelled, there were eyebags under his eyes and his mouth was set in a firm line for a while, not managing much more emoting.

There was a restlessness under his skin, on his muscles, deep in his bones, down onto every single cell. No matter how worn out he was, there was no way he would be able to sit back. Not until he saw you with his own eyes, saw exactly how much damage he had caused.

He wasn't able to muster up the courage to look the twins in the face as he told them to go ahead, that he had something to do. Luckly, they decided he had suffered enough and didn't kick up much of a fuss before leaving him alone.

The walk to the infirmary felt like a fever dream, too long and too short at the same time. Azul wondered if your friends were still there at this time, if you were awake, if he was even allowed to enter. He stayed rooted in front of the entrance, trying to gather every last bit of confidence to put up his usual serene façade.

He wouldn't let you see how affected he was by the whole ordeal. This wasn't supposed to be about him, he wanted to take a look at you. You, who had been nothing but friendly to him, who had caught his attention early on, who spent time with him at Mostro Lounge, who he admired so much, who wormed your way into his heart and refused to leave.

Azul was afraid you hated him now, but by the Sevens how much he wished you did. Why wouldn't you, after he tried to scam you out of your house and almost got you killed. All for his selfishness, for his stupid pride and greed. He was ready for you to scream at him, to hit him, say you never wanted to see him again. Even if the mere thought was enough for him to feel like throwing up, he knew it would be better if he stayed away from you and your light. That way, he wouldn't hurt you again, never again.

Steeling himself with the fakiest smile on his face, he pushed the door open, hands shaking.

The infirmary was quiet, no one in sight save for you. You were laying on one of the first beds, a peaceful expression on your face. You looked beautiful. You always did, to him. There were bandages all over where your skin was visible. Azul could feel the guilt choking him. How could he have the audacity to come talk to you after he was the one that did this?

He turned around and was about to leave when he heard you whisper. It was spoken so softly he wouldn't have heard at all if he wasn't hyperaware of you. "Stay."

Azul stayed. He could never deny anything you asked for. Especially not when you sounded so pleading, when you looked at him like that.

There was a chair next to your bed, so umconfortable looking as it must feel. But it was the best way to stay closer to you, so he sat on it, waiting for you to drop the guillotine over his head for his sins.

The silence was suffocating, denser than the pressure at the bottom of the ocean. He wanted you to say something, anything. His gaze was on the floor, lips pulled back, brows furrowed. If he closed his eyes, only the darkness would welcome him, swallow him whole, so he kept them stubbornly open.

"Azul." It felt like a blessing, like a drop of water after walking through the desert, like a warm embrace. Azul relished the way you said his name, the delicious entonation as your tongue rolled over every letter. He wanted to beg you to say it again and again. The only thing he does is lifting his head to look at you.

The proximity between you two was startling. He hadn't noticed how close you were, hadn't noticed you raising your hand, hadn't noticed the shine in your eye. He thought you were about to slap him, but couldn't drag his stare away from your eyes. They looked so gentle, so full of... something. He wouldn't dare try to name the emotion behind them, wouldn't dare hope.

Your hand made contact with his cheek, making him flinch lightly. There was no sting, only your warmth as you held his face. Your fingers left burning imprints where they touched, marked him from the inside out. Wide blue eyes meet your affectionate ones, so open and honest. Why were you being so gentle to him? Acting like nothing happened, like things were the same as before this whole mess occurred.

"I'm glad." You confess softly, a secret meant only for the two of you, thumb brushing against his cheeks as he leans into your touch and lets himself melt into it while he still can. "I'm glad you're alright, Azul."

"How can you say that when you're the one laying on a hospital bed?" His voice falls flat, trying to hide his emotions. But he's a cracked shell, his insides are spilling out into your palms, plain for you to pick apart and analyse as you please.

You smile, your joy is so sincere Azul can feel his eyes burn with unshead tears. How could he ever hurt someone like you? How could you still look at him without an once of hatred or disguist or fear?

"I was worried about you." You state as if it was the simplest thing in the world, because it is, to you. The sky is blue, the ocean is cold and you care about Azul. You say as if you aren't shattering his last bits of composure, as if you aren't breaking his heart into little jagged pieces.

"Don't say that." He manages to choke out, as if the mere words hurt his throat, voice watery and breaking. "Please, don't say that." The 'I don't deserve it' is not said out loud, but both of you can hear it.

"How can I not? It's the truth." His tears flow freely, no longer under his control as he feels the urge to sob, to beg for forgiveness, to hide and never see you again in fear of hurting you. Only you had this effect on him, only you could break his barriers and composure so easily.

You brush his tears away, whispering reassurances. Wasn't him supposed to be the one reassuring you? He had come to see how you were, to apologize, to let you scream at him, anything. He could take it if you hated him, he would understand, but how could your gaze still hold so much fondness in it, so much love? The guilt shatters him, pierces his heart, make his sobs louder. How cruel could your kindness be?

He had hurt you. Azul had hurt you and he wasn't sure how he could ever forgive himself, the guilt gnawing at his core. Despite that, you still smile at him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He repeats, over and over. You say you forgive him, but he keeps going until his voice is hoarse. You don't, no, you can't understand it. You did nothing wrong, you're not like him, hands stained with blood and rot. He lets his guilt out before it festers and consumes him. It isn't enough to make up to you, although it does make him feel a little bit better, to let it all out like this.

You don't lie to him. You don't say it wasn't his fault or that he wasn't in the wrong, but you don't rub it in either. Azul appreciates it, the sincerity. He knows you can hold him accountable when the time is right. For now, you comfort him. You tell him how nobody else could put such effective notes together, how determinated and hardworking he is. How his past doesn't define him and how he has greater strenghts than any magic. He drinks every word up, commiting them to memory.

As his tears seem to dry out alongside his voice, you pull him closer to yourself. He submerges himself into you, your scent, your voice, your touch. He would happily let himself drown on the sensation. You just hold him, rubbing circles on his back and lending him your shoulder.

It's like time has frozen over. Azul wishes it had. He could stay like this with you for hours if you'd let him, although he doesn't feel ready to admit it, be it to you or to himself.

Everything is not right. You're still hurt, his contracts are still gone and Azul still feels wrong, the effects of the overblot lingering underneath his skin. His reputation took a significant blow and he'll have to change the method he's always used to work at his own establishment.

But not all is lost, either. He can start over, the right way this time. You'll be by his side, cheering him on. There's a long road to improvement and Azul has never been one to get scared by such things. He'll put his efforts on getting back on his feet and breaking the surface of the water, as he refuses to drown.

The late hour weights on your tired bodies, causing you to yawn, your hold on him getting laxer. With the way his body aches, he wouldn't be able to go back to Octavinelle. In fact, he doesn't feel able to move from the chair he is in. He doesn't want to leave you from his sight, to lose your touch.

You ask him to keep you company, prompting him to lay his head on your lap, an umconfortable position, as he has to bend his torso to reach it, but he doesn't mind. Just having you nearby will be enough. One of your hands interlock your fingers with his and the other plays with his hair as you hum, not letting the silence engulf the room. He's beyond grateful for that, for how you just seem to know what he needs and is more than willing to give it to him. He's never been handled with such care before, like he's wanted, like he's precious. It makes his body feel warm and he basks on it.

He waits until you stop your ministrations, until your breathing evens out and it's just him alone with his thoughts. He keeps his eyes shut, as he knows that if he dared to glance at your sleeping face his heart would burst with affection, the feelings he's trying to rein in exploding from his chest.

Azul only has made a promise to himself once, when he was a little kid being bullied by his peers, eager to prove them wrong, to prove he could be better than their expectations. Now, he makes a new promise, to protect you and your kindness, to never let someone, least him, hurt you again, to make up for his own shortcomings and become someone you can be proud of.

He loses consciousness for the second time that day, but this time he knows he's alive. He feels it in the way his heart beats in sync with yours, the way his breaths come out from his mouth, the way your fingers are laced with his.

Azul is alive and swimming to the surface, as he refuses to drown.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Azul Ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #wonderland wonder #I was writing abt smth else when this idea came to me so I just. quickly wrote it down #on that note (* giggles and rubs hands in an evil little bastard way *)#there's a long project I'm working on that's coming soon so! stay tuned for that!#also everyone has been so sweet on my other writings so I'm really happy #have some angst as my thanks :)

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gophergal · 10 months

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Our blood is scattered like flower petals on the battlefield- saccharine raindrops nourish the ruined earth. As I lay next to you, dying, I know there's nothing I'd wish for more than to meet you once more. Another time... Another chance...

(full piece under the cut. Warning for mild gore)

I kinda fucking hate the nrs reboot timeline, but I'm obsessed with the retcon of Armageddon's ending. Its just- goddamn. I keep thinking about it as the ending to their storyline and it's not good but it is angsty. Which I love so much.

#gopher art #mortal kombat #subscorp #mk subzero #kuai liang #mk scorpion #hanzo hasashi #the caption is from a ficlet i wrote but never published #and im probably not gonna post it whdgejbf #anyway. take this angst and go. its been so fucking hot that this took me literally three fucking days #ive been miserable. and the air quality had been bad. and my asthma has been triggered. focusing is so hard guys #but at least we get some angsty old gay ninjas

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camels-pen · 4 months

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consider:

post-whole cake, Sanji wants to cuddle Usopp as much as physically possible and finally marry him

post-wano, he is terrified of even touching him

Usopp wouldn't understand, of course, because how could he? (Sanji didn't tell him) Sanji was a disaster waiting to happen and he didn't want to hurt Usopp. God, he never wanted that.

So on their way to Egghead, suddenly Sanji's declarations of love are more strained. He stops finding excuses to be alone with Usopp. Actively turns down Usopp's own invitations.

Usopp himself is absolutely miserable, to the point that everyone had noticed. Sanji could see it too, clear as day, but he couldn't do anything about it. He didn't want his partner to know how messed up his body had become so he had to keep his distance and avoid any situation where he might hurt him.

Zoro takes it upon himself to make good on his promise to kill him, just for a different reason this time. He says as much to Sanji after Sanji ignored his very eloquent advice of "grow a pair and use your words". The reminder of that little promise on Wano has Sanji fighting harder and sloppier than he meant to and- well, Zoro has perfect control of his blades, but he can tell when someone doesn't care about getting hurt.

Zoro refuses to fight him despite Sanji's attempts at goading him. Declares that he won't fall for his stupid shit until Sanji figured out whatever was eating him up. He doesn't exactly offer an ear to listen, but Sanji can't fucking take his stupid attitude so he drags Zoro to the galley and barks at everyone to stay out. Then-

Then he's bawling his eyes out, sniffling and hiccuping, drool and snot running past his chin. He's gross and disgusting and he's getting it all on Zoro's robe on purpose, mind you, because the mosshead sucks and how dare he make Sanji confess his deepest fears like this.

"I don't wanna reach for a hug and suddenly end up breaking his arms!" he blubbers into Zoro's shoulder, hugging Zoro tight and gripping the back of his robe. "I don't want to lose my emotions one day and hurt him because it's funny!"

And Zoro, quiet and loosely holding Sanji, will say, "You're doing fine with me aren't you?"

Sanji just kind of. Freezes. Mechanically looks up at Zoro, his face completely blank. Takes a few moments to realize he hadn't torn through the green fabric and that if he'd put too much pressure, Zoro would've pushed him away by now.

The next moment his face lights up- a disturbing thing for Zoro to be faced with- and he's running out the door calling Usopp's name even more loud and lovey dovey than usual.

#one piece #sanuso #sanji #roronoa zoro #nemotime #Zoro doesn't regret helping him but he DOES think he's an idiot #also hehe sanji angst. wanted to add some Usopp bits but ill probably just add to this another time with it #hint: Usopp thinks it's all his fault (it isnt)#and that he should accept the eventual break up and throw his ring overboard (he shouldnt. he really really shouldnt)#idk if this would be connected to that other fic i wrote or not so either theyre engaged already or Usopp was gonna propose

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littleseasalt · 5 months

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"forever is a bad dad to richa-" SHUT UP!!!!!

#qsmp #qsmp forever #qsmp richarlyson #id also add in the book he wrote for the egg museum where he talked again about forever being the one who took care of him the most #but i dont have the patience to find it in vods to screenshot it #also sorry but. some people on twitter have been stressing me out A LOT over their opinions on their relationship #ive literally been stressing about it since i woke up i needed to release this stress somehow #< also im thinking of doing a long post talk about what their relationship is and isnt #bc whenever theres angst/fight between them people take it as an opportunity to mischaracterize BOTH forever and richas #in a way that makes it clear that the person 1. doesnt keep up with forevers pov #and 2. only knows richas through one pov #like. ok #disagree with forever however you want youre free to do that #i myself think he was in the wrong in multiple situations (like the tallulah fight day)#BUT SURPRISE!! SAYING HES A BAD DAD IS LITERALLY SO WRONG!!#PEOPLE CAN MESS UP!! PEOPLE CAN MAKE MISTAKE!! NO ONE IS A PERFECT PARENT!!#NO ONE ALREADY KNOWS HOW TO BE THE PERFECT DAD AND THERES NO SUCH THING AS BEING A PERFECT DAD!!#PARENTHOOD IS SOMETHING YOU LEARN ALONG THE WAY!!!#AND LEARNING HOW TO BE A DAD IS A CORE TRAIT OF FOREVERS CHARACTER SINCE DAY ONE!!!!!!!#saying hes a bad dad literally goes against canon statements from richas #saying richas is uncomfortable with forever goes against canon #“oh but i mean in the emotional way” ok so you never watched a forever stream before #because when they fight. richas ALWAYS opens up to forever later on how he felt #the fights HAPPEN because richas is comfortable making drama in front of forever #if richas' didnt feel comfortable he would literally just “suck up” his jealously and not show it often but he does shows it often #if richas was uncomfortable after fights he would just apologize and never talk about his feelings #but after the tallulah fight? he told forever about how romero richas affects his body and how he feels #after the armor fight? he told forever about how he felt towards his own life #to which btw BOTH of these times where he opened up #he had never talked about that with anyone before

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jenna-louise-jamie · 1 month

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thinking about yassen gregorovich instead of sleeping (because i love him) and how he is a catalyst. yassen stabbs ash -> ash kills john rider -> ian rider raises alex -> yassen kills ian rider -> mi6 blackmails alex into becoming a teenage spy.

i have so many thoughts that i can't properly articulate. obviously this is a simplified chain of events, but yassen and his choices set off a chain reaction of the world's most unfortunate dominos. especially when you read russian roulette. to be clear im not necessarily trying to blame him for everything because that feels very mean. he was also just a 14 year old kid when everything in his life went wrong, just like alex. only difference being yassen literally had no one.

i think i should write an essay about this because i haven't even gotten into my thoughts about what yassen and alex's dynamic would look like past eagle strike. i would imagine it'd be similar to ellie and joel from the last of us part 2.

where obviously yassen loves alex and alex on some level cares for yassen back but struggles to reconcile that with the fact that yassen is responsible for his uncle's death. a very unforgivable act. it would be so messy and complicated and angsty, because on one hand here is an adult who truly cares about him and has a connection with him through his father. yassen could tell alex about john, and trust that yassen truly wants whats best for him. but he killed ian, and he cannot take that back.

while alex reels from those feelings, yassen is also trying to reconcile his love of alex with the knowledge that he on some level is responsible for the suffering alex endured at the hands of mi6. and possibly even the fact that alex's godfather is the one who killed john and helen.

#btw i think anthony horowitz killed yassen off so he wouldnt have to deal with this lmao #and sidenote ash is responsible for his own shitty choices but i think itd be difficult for yassen to cope with the fact that stabbing ash #led to some very bad consequences for literally everyone #are there any fics that are similar to what im describing?? ?#i read a ton of alex rider fics but i mostly read fluff because im actually too emotionally fragile to handle angst #i cried while reading stormbreaker and that book wasnt even supposed to be sad #if this is doesnt make any sense its because i woke up at 2 am and wrote this #its just word vomit; pure not proofread thoughts directly from my fucked up little brain #idk maybe someone will enjoy reading this #alex rider #yassen gregorovich #alex rider books #ian rider #john rider #chaotic ramblings #and final note i do not ship yalex #i was thinking of this more in terms of yassen having a weird guardian/parental relationship with alex #if it wasnt clear from my ellie and joel reference from the last of us #anyways im gonna go back to making shitposts and memes so i never have to feel anything again thank you goodnight <3

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beansidhebumbling · 5 months

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Angsty Drabble

Reminder if you like something comment or reblog. Writing to the void is a buzz kill x

'What if I kissed you Nesta, what then?'

His voice is not its usual smooth melody but choked and filled with emotion that clogs his throat, drawing lines across his handsome face. A face she wanted turned towards her once.

Now his eyes burn and she wishes he kept his gaze fixed to the floor as he did in the aftermath. He always wore cowardice better than conviction.

'I'm not in the habit of kissing those I hate. '

Nesta does hate him. She has to.

She sees the hurt flash across his face, lightning in a thunderstorm. The rage boils within her. Hurt is not an emotion he has earned, not when he left her, the most beautiful bride Feyre said, Vivienne Westwood silk pooling as she collapsed in the sacristy.

'Do you understand how hard I've fought to stay away? How I've tolerated every glare and cold dismissal knowing I've hurt you, knowing you hate me.'

There are tears rolling now from those eyes across delicate crevices, newly formed five years on, when she saw him last he still held vestiges of a childhood softness in his jaw and eyes, now his face carries the baggage of self-loathing.

She would know, having to confront it in her own mirror.

'Every day I thought of you, you consumed me. And I have lived the last five years on the scraps that Cassian will deign to provide me with.'

He spits the words like acid rain, she wonders if they corroded through his tongue coming out.

She has her own blades too. Nesta Archeron will not be caught unarmed again.

'And whose fault is that?'

As one leg buckles then another, like a stringless marionette he falls to his knees then. He's always been melodramatic, no wonder he chose acting. The puddle beneath his feet seeps into crisp Armani trousers. Despair does that too Nesta muses, spreads into every part of you. Looking at Rhysand she thinks he might be familiar with it also.

And then he says something that stops her heart. Rhysand Velaris had made her heart race and jump and even skip a beat from time to time but in the alley behind her favourite Thai place he stops it in its tracks.

'I was dying Nes.'

In the silence she counts his unsteady breaths as he gazes up like she is St. Peter guarding the gates of heaven.

The quiet persists as a new day dawns.

#rhysta #rhysand #nesta #i wasnt finding the angst iwanted so i wrote some lol #acotar #gemwrites

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purpleqilinwrites · 29 days

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better than.

a/n: i fell in love with danmeshi over the weekend! i have so many thoughts and feelings about chilchuck and his wife and their daughters, so i wanted to write something about them. i wish we knew her name! since there's no canon name for her (yet??? please! i'm manifesting), i gave her one mostly for ease of fic writing but also because i think she should have one haha.

fandom: dungeon meshi

pairing: chilchuck tims / chilchuck's wife

genre: angst, general

info: told from the perspective of the wife; she is named (junnimay); takes place pre-canon

warnings: might not be canon-compliant

synopsis: for the better, she comes to learn that moving with the tides of life is a mercy in itself.

word count: 3.3k

Chilchuck Tims / Chilchuck's Wife

The apple trees were starting to clothe themselves in pale pink blossoms, releasing a sweet fragrance into the air. Kahka Brud took it as a sign of the winter's end, shedding off the furs and double-lined coats of the coldest months, and so did Junnimay. Reaching for one of the thinner woollen cloaks hanging by the front door, she whispered, "I'll be back soon, Fler," to her still-sleeping daughter before setting out for an early morning walk.

A contrary breeze made it difficult for her to shut the door quietly, a rather unceremonious slam of wood against wood following a series of laboured grunts from her lips. Fler had always been able to sleep through even the most turbulent of autumn storms; a little noise a ways from her bed surely wouldn't stir her from her needed rest.

Junnimay wiped her palms down on her cloak even if they weren't sweaty, and she started on the unpaved path that led to one of the larger streets of Kahka Brud.

At the place where the narrow local paths merged into the cobblestone main street, she greeted the elderly gnome couple having breakfast in their front yard. The younger of the two women stopped her with a shout in Gnomish and then waved for her to come closer. She approached the line of potted miniature trees that formed a makeshift fence between the public walkway and the gnome couple's property, and the elderly gnome pressed a still-warm bun into her cupped hands.

With a smile, she thanked the women in Gnomish, biting into the bread and telling them how delicious it was before she continued down the main street. As she chewed on a particularly large cluster of candied orange peel bits in her next bite, she pondered visiting the farmer's market on the way home so that Fler could have some candied orange buns to share at the tailor shop where she worked. It would be good to make a larger batch to share with the neighbours, too.

A splash of deep reddish brown dragged her attention to the present, the burst of colour out of place among the blush-pink apple blossoms and the grey-brown tree barks and the yellow-streaked blue sky. Junnimay almost dropped the last bit of the bun gifted to her, eyes wide as she took in the sight before her.

There were two half-foots under the large apple tree at the end of the street that opened to the southern market district. One of them shook out a grey bedroll that was much too large to have been designed for half-foot use, and the two of them took turns scooching into it and then reclining to watch the clouds.

The taller of the half-foot pair sported an uncannily familiar head of auburn hair, poking out of their shared bedroll that was made for one tall-man but could apparently fit two half-foots comfortably. She chucked what was left of the bun into her mouth before she took slow steps towards the mouth of the market district, keeping her eyes on the half-foot couple the whole time.

They paid her no mind, even if her gaze never left them minutes and minutes after coming from behind them to appear in front of them. They were too in love to notice her.

Chilchuck was lying in bed next to her, but his back had never felt so far.

Even when Junnimay was a child relentlessly chasing after him and his older siblings in a game of tag melded with hide and go seek, the distance of rows upon rows of tomato plants between her parents' house and his was tiny in comparison to the hand's breadth that separated Chilchuck's sleeping form from her. The entirety of the vast tomato field was easily crossed under her quick and stubborn feet, possible to traverse. She didn't feel the same way about stretching her hand out to touch her husband.

When she had yelled something or the other about getting caught in the tomato vines, Chilchuck would've instantly turned around and run to her. He always did, even if it meant that he would lose to his older brother, the person he hated losing to the most. She remembered that being the reason why she liked him; when she called for him, he made haste to come to her.

If she woke him up at this point in their lives, years and years after playing games with ever-changing rules in the tomato field that belonged to everyone in the village, would he be quick to awaken and ask her if there was anything troubling her? If there was anything he could do to help?

Chilchuck shifted as if her thoughts were so loud that they woke him. She squeezed her eyes and mouth shut, pretending to sleep the way their daughters did when they were still red-faced in the way half-foot children usually were in their most tender years. His blanket swished when Chilchuck pulled it tighter around himself, curling in on himself and inching all the more away from her. All was still on his side of the bed after.

She fell into a true sleep as she pretended. While pretending, she was trying to remember the last time her husband broke out into a run coming to her simply because she had called his name.

The neatly placed line of dark bottles filled with various alcohols that Chilchuck accumulated over the years never looked so inviting to Junnimay.

Between her and her husband, he was consistently the more avid drinker. Since she first discovered she was pregnant with Mei and Fler, she found that she hadn't had the same taste for alcohol that she once had as an adolescent. She used to sneak sips from her father's hidden stash of ales from time to time, careful never to take more than a single large mouthful off the top of the bottles that were full.

With Chilchuck out accompanying yet another party of adventurers to one of the dungeons scattered around Kahka Brud and her three daughters asleep, Junnimay thought it was a better opportunity than ever to indulge in a little alcohol. It has been years since the last time she partook, after all.

She tiptoed to grab hold of the bottle she felt was most appealing, the scarlet label on the front boasting that the mead within contained floral honey from a well-known apiary on the Southern Continent. Pouring herself an economical portion into a dark glass cup, she settled into the alcove overlooking the sea and cracked the window open to feel the salty night-time winds on her face.

"Mama," came a sleep-addled voice from past the kitchen and down the hallway. Junnimay made it to the dining table when she found her firstborn daughter rubbing her eyes at the threshold that separated the kitchen from the rooms.

"Mama," Mei said again, sounding a little more awake than she did the first time. "I think Dad's not coming back yet."

The staunchness in her daughter's statement made her inwardly flinch, and she tried her best not to show it on her face. Mei had always been an unusually perceptive child, and it worried her that her daughter might be picking up on the growing unhappiness between her and Chilchuck. She wouldn't be able to bury it from her girls forever, but she wanted to keep any marital issues hidden from their young and still innocent eyes. The world should be sunny and kind when they gazed upon it, more beautiful and right than when she was the one looking.

Junnimay put on a smile, approaching her daughter and putting her arms around her, stroking at her head of wild ginger hair. It soothed her somewhat when Mei immediately buried her face in her chest, her comparably smaller fingers clutching at the cotton of her sleeping tunic.

"Not for a while, little heart," she said, vacantly running the fingers of her right hand through Mei's hair to untangle the knots. "But he'll be back."

It had only been two days since Chilchuck left for his most recent dungeon expedition. He had never been one to complete a job sooner than he said he would, diligently seeing to it that the task he agreed upon beforehand was carried out as promised. It made him an excellent addition to any adventurer's party, but she realised it also made him an absent father and an unavailable husband.

"He'll miss my birthday again," were the condemning words Mei chose for Chilchuck, muffled from the way she was pressing into her mother and clinging. Junnimay's heart twisted at the disappointment in her daughter's voice, as if her father had let her down for the final time.

Mei suppressed a sniffle and tried to mask it with a sound of exasperation, little fingers starting to pinch at her flesh beneath the fistfuls of fabric already within her hold.

It reminded her that Mei, while able to pick up on subtle things that most children weren't, was still a child. It reminded her that Mei still needed her protection.

It reminded her that she was failing quite miserably.

Chilchuck was at the door for the first time in almost three years, and it was akin to seeing a ghost when she swung the door open, not quite knowing if it was definitely him after hearing his voice on the other side. Junnimay blinked twice, squeezing her eyes shut as she quickly completed a simple incantation of protection taught to her by one of the gnome neighbours, and then opened them once again. He was still there, so she moved aside so he could come in.

"The girls are all out today," she said, leaning against the closed front door to resume lacing up her work boots. "Puck's staying with a work friend in the meantime, so you won't be seeing her until she comes back at the end of winter."

He seemed rather displeased at her lukewarm reaction to his return home, but he didn't mention it. Mirroring the burgeoning pile of her grievances about their marriage, she kept silent when he pretended there wasn't anything to complain about. It was a complicated dance that the two of them had perfected over the years, intimately familiar with each step.

"Where you are headed?" Chilchuck asked, sweeping his eyes over her attire as if he were scanning his lock-picking toolkit for signs of wear and tear. She hated it, and it was bitter when she swallowed the feeling with an increasing level of ease, automatic.

"To the bakery," she said, needlessly undoing the fastening tie of her cloak and doing it up again, tighter the second time around. "My shift ends late, so don't wait up for me. There's leftover cured meat and cheese from Mei and Fler's birthday dinner last week in the pantry, if you want to eat."

Chilchuck crossed his arms rather aggressively as she spoke, and she felt validated at his show of displeasure. She was starting to become suspicious that he believed their marriage to be as intact as it was when they were walking away from the ceremony, but it gave her a twisted sense of unity that they were both looking at the same cracks and being afflicted with the same unpleasant feelings.

"The one along Third Street, right?" he asked.

It sounded to her like he was running out of things to say, and it made her all the more eager to get out of the house and fall back into the safety of her daily routine in which he was entirely absent. She had become comfortable as a mother of three daughters whose father's only contribution was a pouch of gold coins every full moon, delivered to the door by an administrative employee of the local Adventurer's Guild.

The money he provided for her and for the girls has been slowly and steadily increasing over the years, and she was glad that he appeared to be making a name for himself as a skilled locksmith. There was a sudden jump in the weight of the pouch put in her hands a few months ago. She wanted to ask about it since Chilchuck was here, but ultimately decided not to, keeping her questions about his work and his time in the dungeons of Kahka Brud close to her heart instead.

There was once that he had snapped at her for being too curious about his work, and that one time was enough for her to become unnecessarily cautious when speaking to her husband about the jobs he undertook.

She nodded, putting a hand on the doorknob and finding solace in the coolness of the metal against her skin. The silence between her and Chilchuck felt awkward with how large it was, taking more space in the house than even the house itself. When it became apparent that he had indeed run out of things to say, she pushed the front door open and stepped out.

"I'm off," she said, expecting him to regroup with a new adventurer's party on yet another dungeon expedition by the time she returned from her own work at the bakery.

In the early hours of the morning when she found herself home again, Mei and Fler were asleep in their beds. They left a note for her on the dinner table, saying that they ate at the tavern close to the main street and that they brought back a portion of wild boar stew for her in case she was hungry.

For once meeting her expectations at the exact line where she drew them, Chilchuck was nowhere to be found.

Mei was taller than her now.

It was obvious that her daughter was bending at the waist to give her a greeting hug, the height difference between them further exaggerated by the thick soles of Mei's work boots. A bittersweet sense of awe nipped at Junnimay as she was reminded once again how much Mei resembled her father.

"Mama," Mei said, linking her arm with her mother's as the two of them wandered the Central Market on an impromptu stop on the way to Fler's home. Junnimay thought it would be nice to take a long walk with her firstborn, since Mei had taken the opportunity to surprise her by picking her up from the bakery on one of her rare free days. "You deserve to be happy, you know?"

Junnimay froze mid-appraisal of the many kinds of honey on display at the store on her left, slack-jawed and wide-eyed as she turned her head to face her daughter. Where was this coming from? Briefly, her thoughts led her to the husband she recently left, and it brought to the forefront of her mind once again her every reason for finally acting upon what was in her heart.

Mei seemed to be taken aback by her mother's inarticulate but apparently tumultuous contemplation, so she cleared her throat, eyes darting to the side as she visibly mulled over her next words. "I saw you talking with a gnome uncle at the bakery. Your smile was so bright," she said, beginning to pick at the unoccupied holes in her belt with her free hand. "And I can't remember the old man ever looking at you the way the gnome does. I think you can be happy with him, now that the old man's out of the picture."

Bodies were skimming the pair of them in the passing as they stood in one of the many footpaths in the Kahka Brud's largest market. There were many sights to behold and smells to contemplate, and there were even more wares on sale. She had to be mindful of pickpockets in a crowd as thick as the one that eternally thronged this market, but she could only focus on the determined jut of her daughter's chin.

"I'm just saying," Mei said, making eye contact with her after allowing her a moment to ponder. "I want you to be happy. Fler and Puck, too. You deserve it more than most people."

Junnimay moved her arm from its curled position around Mei's and used it to pull Mei into a one-armed hug, squeezing. The wet warmth of tears pricked at her eyes, and she gave her daughter the widest smile she could muster in an attempt to keep her face from crumpling the way it did when she cried.

"I am happy, little heart," she said. "But I think I'm not made for a second marriage."

She watched the gears turn in Mei's head from behind the screen of tears in her eyes. Wiping at her face with the back of her other hand, she apologised instinctively to a male voice that yelled a phrase in Elvish for her to move from somewhere in the mass of people behind her.

Mei sported a scowl as she scanned the crowd over her mother's head to see who was intruding on their conversation. Junnimay laughed, making sure to steer herself and her daughter closer to the wall between the honey store and the one beside it.

"Did the old man ruin it for you? Marriage, I mean," Mei said, after her sweep of the crowd proved unsuccessful. The majority of the market-goers were tall-men who unintentionally blocked her view of the offending elf, lost in the commotion.

Junnimay felt the need to put on a smile, but remembered that Mei was too old to fall for it. Mei had been too old to believe her fanfare of a reassuring smile since she was just a child.

"His father told us that since we liked each other, we should marry. So we did," she said. The memories trickled into her mind's eye slowly, obstructed by years and years of trying to fill the space of both mother and father for her girls. Looking back on her childhood in a small village where everyone was a half-foot was akin to looking into an old spyglass, trying with much difficulty to spot something on the far horizon.

Chilchuck's father was far more authoritarian than hers ever was; if he said something was to happen, everyone around him made sure it happened. Her father, while affronted by the other half-foot's demand, was agreeable to the match and gave her his blessing since she had insisted that she liked Chilchuck enough to marry him.

"I wanted my parents to be happy, and I liked the idea of marriage at that time. I didn't stop to think about if marriage was the right thing for me," she said.

Noting Mei's silence and hoping to assuage any anxieties her daughter might have, Junnimay gave her another squeeze, smiling without the express intention of consoling. "But I don't regret marrying your father. Because of him, I have you and Fler and Puck. I gained the world's best daughters."

Mei chuckled at her bold proclamation, sighing affectionately when she leaned up to press kisses to her daughter's cheek. "Mama, you say embarrassing things sometimes," were the words that Mei spoke, but Junnimay knew her well enough to hear the words she actually wanted to say. She smiled into Mei's jaw.

"Are three daughters better than a husband?" Mei asked, a cheeky glint lighting up her eyes.

Junnimay squeezed her yet again, a tense fist of unease inside her chest loosening with the surrender of a long-kept confession that bared her heart. Even the golden afternoon rays of sun became brighter and more beautiful, her secret feelings being received most graciously by her firstborn. She was sure they would be received similarly by Fler and Puck too; the three of them were all warm-hearted women whom she was proud to have birthed and raised.

"By a thousand tall-men leaps and bounds, three daughters are infinitely better than a husband."

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi scenarios #delicious in dungeon scenarios #chilchuck tims #chilchuck's wife #chilchuck tims x his wife #chilchuck tims x chilchuck's wife #fic #angst #general #kaija writes #kaija writes: dungeon meshi #i'm anime + adventurer's bible scans only #so there's still some things about chilchuck and his family that i haven't come across yet #but still!!!#it doesn't stop me from having so many thoughts and feelings!!!#i wrote this from the perspective of his wife #but what i really want to write a little something more from the perspective of meijack #meijack chils i am writing a fic about you next #something about her eldest daughter syndrome makes her a sister to me #i don't know if it comes up in canon #but i know her #it is there and i want to write about it #i also think a lot about the fact that chilchuck and his wife are childhood friends #childhood friends + exes to lovers???#maybe maybe maybe #i am frothing at the mouth thinking about it

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