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lightlycareless · 5 months

Note

Hiii, can i request a scenario on how naoya (when he has reached a point where he loves wife!reader from an arranged marriage) would react to one day not being greeted at all when he comes home? It is completely silent, no response as he calls for her and is getting a bit worried as he starts searching the rooms. But then he sees her laying on the couch, shivering and sweating from a cold that’s so intense she’s barely lucid and can’t even tell he’s there and talking to her

Heya!!

So... I took some liberties when writing this, kind of went a completely different route (the sick part, alongside worried Naoya still remains though), it just occurred to me when reading your ask, but I hope it's still of your liking 🥺!!!

anyways, here are the warnings: mentions of death, miscarriage, a very concerned and overprotective Naoya, a bit of fluff, and everyone wants to spoil you rotten lol.

And without further ado, happy reading!

“Y/N, I’m home!”

Home.

A word he never really cared for, always considering it sappy, alongside the fondness that was usually assigned to it, which Naoya couldn’t think of as nothing but ridiculous, if not hilariously overrated.

For many years, Naoya thought that a home was simply the place that one was raised in and that’s about it. Nothing of the sentimentality others liked to apply to it, brag about it…

Until, of course, he finally came to understand what the word meant; why it was so special, and why it was important to have one.

A home wasn’t made by the people he knew as family, blood related, found in the place he was forced to be in since he was born, and probably die in—no; it’s the one that was made by the people of his choice, people he met through his course of life, connected with, and now, cherished.

Amongst them, you.

He considered himself lucky to have found the love of his life, a concept he considered so… foreign, impossible for someone like him, if not a stupidity of delusional people desiring more from life.

So was Naoya destined to think for the rest of his existence, condemned by his same family to live a life of loneliness, hatred, and die the same way.

But you’d come to show him otherwise, shockingly, and unexpectedly, and in such a way he couldn’t even put up a fight, completely surrendering to you and the wonderful feelings that being in love with you provided.

Now that he’s experienced them, he couldn’t find the reason as to why his family would ever reproach such beautiful thing as harshly as they did—or that he believed them in the first place…

Well, that’s not something that bothers him anymore; the Zen’in clan could continue on in their hard stuck ways for all he cared; he, on the other hand, plans to spend the rest of his days alongside the woman of his dreams, starting by today, finally back in your arms after days of being pulled into pointless missions after pointless missions, which he would not hear of for a few weeks—having earned a well-deserved break for his consistently good performance.

Naoya even prepared accordingly for the occasion, having bought gifts from all the places he’d been to, as well as ideated ways to distract you from the boring estate and his nagging relatives he knows you don’t enjoy being around with, only tolerating them because they were, well, your in-laws, his family—with exceptions of those you do get along, and for them, he’s grateful that they do.

Ah, he couldn’t wait to see you, your face, and the adorable way it brightens up whenever receiving him.

To tell you of his day while resting his head on your lap, with you passing your fingers through his hair, gently soothing his stresses away as you reassure him that he’s the best sorcerer out there, he’s just… unlucky to bump into lesser talented ones.

Get something to eat too, he’d like his favorite for a start, miso soup—and perhaps have you feed it to him? God, it’s been a while since both have done that, and it’s not because he doesn’t like doing it, or you for that matter, but rather, he doesn’t want to risk being seen by others, it has to be in the utmost privacy, after all! He isn’t to be vulnerable in front of his family!!

Oh, he needs wishes to see you—right now. And he’s absolutely sure you’re feeling the same way…

If so… why hadn’t you responded? Why hadn’t you come to receive him in the same manner you’ve always done?

Naoya knows that his schedule can be a bit… unpredictable, making it difficult for you to know exactly when he’ll come back home—but even then, it didn’t take you that long to meet him after announcing his return.

You’d always come to the entrance, no matter if it happened right that moment, or a bit later; you just… did.

But today… it seems that you opted to break the routine by taking far longer than you usually do.

He’d remain attentive to his surroundings, hoping to either hear your approaching footsteps or voice softly calling for him at a distance, yet as time went on, he was received with neither…. And Naoya only begins to grow more worried.

Your husband tries to not jump to the worst conclusion just yet, opting to think that you were perhaps simply caught up tending to the house, maybe even partaking in an unwanted conversation with one of his relatives and having trouble brushing them off—for no matter the times you’d reminded them that your husband was back, and you needed to be there to receive him, still acted as if it wasn’t that important.

Things that implied that even when running late, you were still ok.

Yet…

“Y/N!” Naoya calls once again, hoping for a change…

…

Silence.

It’s by this time that he decides it’s better to search for you than to stand around and wait for you to magically appear.

Naoya begins by going into the main wing, eyes scanning through the gardens, your usual place of leisure when not busy, where you’d calmly enjoy the diligently tended for flowers (the ones he had changed to your favorite as soon as he found out which ones they were) while snacking on something, or in the company of your loyal staff—if that were the case of your absence, he understood why you didn’t answer.

But he wouldn’t find you near any of the gardens, or anywhere in fact! A statement that weighed even heavier upon finding out that the staff was in the same predicament as him, for when he asked a nearby servant of your whereabouts, he was received with the following answer:

“We haven’t seen her” Naoya’s heart sinks.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” he breathes. “Where could my wife—did she—did she leave the estate?”

No. You… didn’t. Because that’s not what you told him you’d be doing a few hours ago, after letting you know he was on his way back home; if anything, you replied with how excited you were to see him again and that you’d be eagerly waiting for him!

So obviously, their words didn’t make sense. But if so… where were you?

Naoya now frantically searched for you through every wing, room, space, chamber, closet, just— anywhere, literally anywhere you could be while repeatedly calling out your name in hopes of getting a response, or even a glimpse of you; he doesn’t care what at that point, he’s happy with either!

Yet, the longer he went on without an answer, the bigger his sorrow became, to the point where his mind was machinating nothing but the worst-case scenarios, slowly losing his inhibitions as he repeatedly wondered Where were you? How come no one has seen you? Did he have to escalate this situation?

Just—Where are you, Y/N?!

Thankfully, there would be no need to pursue bigger solutions for he’d get his answer soon enough after entering the east wing, passing through the living quarters, and arriving to the laundry room, one of the last places he’d thought you’d be—rightfully guessing so, for you were there, apparently washing whatever garments you had pending, which you hadn’t been able to wash due to a variety of unknown reasons…

But far from feeling elated to have found you, Naoya felt as if whatever he had left of his heart was effectively broken, which felt short compared to the way he found you.

“Y/N!”

The sight that received him is one that will remain imprinted in the back of mind: you were laying on the floor, on your side, tightly clutching to your stomach as you breathed heavily, eyes tightly shut while groaning in what Naoya could only interpret as pain.

As if his worries weren’t through the roof at that point, this last conclusion is what urged Naoya to hastily make way to your side, swiftly kneeling to your level as he calls out for you once more.

“Y/N—Y/N” He’d breathe, firmly yet carefully placing his hands over you with intentions of picking you up, but his hold falters when his fingers briefly graze your skin, making him gasp in return. “Y/N you’re—you’re burning!”

This would be the only time you’d respond to him, barely able to move your head onto his direction, slightly opening your eyes to see him, a gaze that shows how much pain you were going through, barely able to understand what was going on, except for gently breathing the word that makes his heart squeeze out in pain.

“Na—Naoya…”

Any hesitation is effectively thrown out the window by that point, picking you up and rushing you towards their shared bedroom, all while barking orders to the nearby staff, demanding them to call for a doctor, as quickly as possible, unless they wanted to be jobless by the end of the day!

The staff reacts accordingly, and a few minutes later, the family doctor arrives to the estate, guided to your room and seeing that you were already being tended to, or at least that’s the idea he gets from the dampened towel on your forehead, undoubtedly in efforts of lowering your fever—which unfortunately, had been for nothing.

Well, he was there now, and he didn’t waste time either to get to work, quickly assessing your condition by the apparent symptoms, starting by your temperature, the color of your skin, and even the way you reacted to him while doing so, completely uncooperative—apparently, whatever put you in this state had evoked great instability from you, thus the doctor found it necessary to put you under sedatives.

But even when he was able to quickly gain control of the situation, the doctor still couldn’t arrive at a proper conclusion, less when the people around you had an even smaller idea of what struck you.

“I—I don’t know.” Naoya would respond, angrily, frustrated—and rightfully so. How come none of the servants had noticed your absence? Or worse, hadn’t seen anything that could hint as to what your sickness was about?! “Can’t you just—help her?!”

“That’s what I’m trying—I can’t help her if I don’t know what I’m dealing with.” The doctor responded as calmly as he could, but even he had to admit that everyone’s seeming ignorance annoyed him as well. “But I can still say that this seems much more than just a simple… sickness.”

“What do you mean?” Naoya frowns, the doctor looks at the nearby servants, tasked to be on stand-by if needed.

“I’d like to discuss this in private.” He tells them.

The servants don’t wait for Naoya to repeat the order before they’re already out the room and away from their earshot; a request that while didn’t raise any concerns from Naoya —if anything, he was glad their pesky, useless presence, was finally away from you— the doctor’s face was quick to convince your husband that something far worse than what met the eye.

And this made Naoya’s nerves reach a new limit.

“I told you; I don’t know what happened—” Your husband is quick to defend, believing the doctor was to interrogate him once more, only to be interrupted.

“You don’t need to tell me for me to know what happened.” He interjects, Naoya’s eyes widen.

“I’m lost.” Naoya scowls. “Stop talking cryptically and get on with it!”

“I’ve seen these symptoms before, Naoya. And as I said, these are not from a simple sickness, an allergy or any of the matter” He takes a deep breath. “I heavily suspect she was intoxicated—and not accidentally, but rather, intentionally.”

“Excuse me?” Naoya frowns. “I told you to stop talking in riddles, say what you—”

“Poisoned, Naoya. I believe your wife was poisoned.”

Naoya’s world comes to a screeching halt.

You…

You were poisoned.

According to the doctor, you—You were attacked, besieged, with malicious intents.

Taken advantage of in the one place you’d never be on edge, your home, the same one he had repeatedly reassured your father that you’d be safe in—the Zen’in estate, home to the prestigious Zen’in clan! There was no safer place in the whole world! There couldn’t!

No one— no one wouldn’t dare do such a thing here—they knew better! Naoya would force them to now better…

Yet, someone dared to commit this transgression against you.

And to make it all worse….

Almost got away with it.

Who would even think of doing such transgression against you?! You?!

You had no quarrels with anyone, and even when you did, you handled things in such an amicable way just so you’d live peacefully, free of nonsensical arguments—you had no space for them in your life!

And yet, this still happened, and right underneath his nose….

There’s no doubt that he’ll put an investigation into order to find the bastard responsible for your suffering, and once he does, he’ll make him regret his existence, to the point he’ll have him begging for mercy—and even then, it wouldn’t be enough for Naoya.

However, that is something that will have to wait until he knows you’re safe, healthier, which the doctor had slowly began to help you with by giving you something that will immediately trap the poison from being further absorbed by your blood—activated charcoal, so he remembers— as well as some other prescriptions for side effects he wishes to prevent.

“Your wife was very lucky to survive, have you waited a second more—”

“I wasn’t waiting.” Your husband immediately responds, offended by his wording. “I wasn’t aware of this until I returned.”

The doctor presses his lips together, taking notice that throughout his whole visit, Naoya has never left your side, nor freed your hands from his.

“And I’m not surprised.” He silently admits.

Naoya hates the notion the doctor was implying, that this was an inside job. But considering the odd behavior of the staff, their seeming ignorance of your location and your status… it all pointed to that same conclusion.

The boiling fury inside him grows bigger.

“How could this be?” Naoya seethes.

How could someone get this far, this close to you, and no one suspecting a thing?

Your husband might’ve reproached the way the doctor expressed himself, but there was an undeniable truth behind them; he truly was lucky to have gotten back home just when he did, for had he taken a second longer, just one, you could’ve die—

Outside of that, the second most important question regarding this whole situation was…where was your staff? Why, of all days, were they absent?

Naoya is confident that if Mariya, your closest confidant, had been around, this would’ve never happened in the first place; the moment she saw anything out of the ordinary, she would’ve pulled all the stops and acted accordingly.

Yet, she was nowhere to be seen, and this makes Naoya both highly suspicious, and furious.

Where was she? Where are the rest? Why would they leave you in your most needed time? Did they plan this? Plot against you?! Where the hell could they possibly—

“They’re going to be away for the weekend to visit their families.”

He suddenly remembers; you told him so earlier that week through a text.

“Will you be ok?” Naoya also remembers asking; he didn’t feel happy knowing you’d be alone without your most trusted staff.

“It’s just a few days, Naoya. Besides, they deserve a break! I don’t want them to get tired of me, you know?” you laugh. “But you better come back quickly, ok? Just because they’re not around doesn’t mean I like being alone…”

“I won’t take long. I promise.”

If only he’d kept his word…

Well, if that was to be the answer to their absence, then it wasn’t fair to hold any level of animosity towards them, a weight being lifted from his burdened shoulders upon realizing your staff could strill be trusted in.

Now all that was left to worry about is finding the culprit… and the status of that too.

“Is she ok?” Naoya would ask.

“She is, I managed to—”

“No, I mean… that.” Naoya’s voice hints to a silent agreement between the two. “Is… that ok?”

The doctor quickly catches what he means, affirming so by a nod. His reassurance lifts an immeasurable weight from his heart, even greater than the alleged betrayal of Mariya and the rest. One less thing to worry about.

“What now, then?”

“Since the damage was limited, to say the least, it won’t be necessary to move her to a hospital, however—”

She’s still in danger. Naoya concludes. More so if the attack came from someone inside… And what makes him think that just because he’s back they’ll stop trying?

If anything, seeing how close they got, they could try once again!

The mere thought is enough to push him into taking what is perhaps the most radical decision he could’ve taken in this situation, something that might come to torment him in the future, but until then, he won’t care, not even a bit; not when he had your safety to worry about:

That is… Naoya fired everyone, effective immediately.

He took no heed if any of them had been serving the family for years, if they were close friends of his father, or if their livelihood would be affected— Naoya just wanted them out of his sight, the estate, and as soon as possible, less they wanted to receive more of his anger, before continuing with the rest of his plan.

Due to the gravity of said situation, Naoya knew he had to contact your family; he also knew that you would’ve refuted the idea as soon as he mentioned it to you, not wanting to worry them if you’ve truly been attacked, but he couldn’t do this to your father; not when he was amongst the few people in the world he knew had your wellbeing as utmost priority— as well as holding a great amount of respect and appreciation for him, specifically for the way he welcomed him into your family.

Eiichi, your father, had to admit that getting a call from the Zen’in estate that didn’t come from you surely surprised him beyond any comprehension, and yet, that would be nothing compared to the shock he’d get upon knowing the motive behind said call; Naoya swore he almost heard your father passing out, or at least, in the process of.

“Poisoned?!” Eiichi gasped, tightly clutching onto the phone—he might’ve as well passed out and dived into a nightmare! “Is she ok?! Where is she right now?”

“At the estate, with me—the doctor didn’t think it necessary for her to be hospitalized since he was able to stop the poison from spreading any further, but she still needs rest.”

“And the baby?” the referenced secret between Naoya and the doctor; your pregnancy.

“Fine.” He breathes, swallowing. “The doctor didn’t tell me of any damage done to the baby… but I’m—I’m still taking her to the doctor, just—just to be sure.”

“How could this happen?” Eiichi laments, heart breaking not only for you, but for Naoya as well. Your father knew all too well what it was to lose the love of his life, a pain that he would never desire on anyone, not even his own enemies…

One that he could slowly begin to hear in Naoya’s voice; oh, he could only imagine the pain he was going through, or what waited for him if he had lost not only you, but his child too.

But, well, the worst is over… at least for now.

“Someone from the staff did it.” Naoya declares, Eiichi’s heart sinks even further. “But I’ve taken care of it, I’ve fired everyone.”

And your father, contrary to Naoya’s relatives, did not question him. If anything, he seconded his decision, because had he been in your husband’s shoes, he would’ve done the same thing.

“Was her staff involved?” Your father asks, feeling a slight… anger with the idea that the ones you greatly cherished could’ve plotted against you.

“No, they were not; in fact, they were out of the estate when all this went down.” Naoya responds. “But I know that if they had been here, this would’ve never happened in the first place.”

“Bring her here, with me.” Eiichi immediately suggested, Naoya blinks, startled by the idea, if not against it.

“Father—"

“We can take care of her while she’s recuperating, take her to the doctor too. I’ll make sure that she has everything she needs. And not to misjudge your staff, or lack of, but the people here would never hurt her—they’ve known her since she was a child! There won’t be another safer place for her to be than here, Naoya. At least… until she’s better.”

Previously, Naoya would’ve questioned the veracity of his words, done all he could to prove you were much better with him, but after this occurrence… he had to agree.

As much as it hurt him to know you’d be away from him, especially when you were pregnant… he knew this was the right decision to make. He couldn’t expose you to another similar situation—not even if he got a completely new staff… or if you didn’t want to leave.

So, Naoya accepts Eiichi’s suggestion, alongside buying him a ticket for the earliest available flight to Kyoto; a few hours later, your father would arrive to the estate, rushing to your side, keeping you company while tending to your every need as Naoya prepared everything for your departure.

When you eventually regained consciousness, you were (although a bit surprised) overwhelmingly elated to see your father visiting you, for it had been so long since you’d seen him, probably around the time you announced your pregnancy!

However, that excitement would soon diminish when Naoya told you why he was there… alongside the cryptic explanation of your “sickness.”

“It was an allergy.” Naoya would say, not wanting to stress you by the fact that you were intentionally poisoned, although that excuse did little to stop you from doing so. “Rare, but it can happen, especially with pregnant women.”

“An allergy…? But I didn’t…” you frown.

“It happened to your mother, once.” Eiichi followed Naoya’s lead. He hated lying to you, but… he concurred that keeping you safe, both mentally and physically, was worth doing so. “It’s nothing but hormonal changes, so don’t worry much about it.”

“I guess…” you frown, pressing your lips. “But that still doesn’t explain why I have to leave.”

“We need to check what caused your allergy” Naoya responds. “It might be something about the food, the flowers, or even the wood; I rather you be safe than to go through that scare again.”

“But is… all this really necessary?” Naoya gives you a tight smile and a nod. “Naoya, I—"

“It’s not all bad, Y/N.” Naoya says.

“Besides, don’t you want to spend time with your papa? It’s been so long since I’ve spent time with my adorable pumpkin!” Eiichi laments.

“Dad!” you gasp, flustered by his words. “Don’t—don’t say that in front of Naoya…”

“What? It’s true! And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since I learned I’m going to be a grandfather!”

“Stop it!” your face becomes redder. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Naoya chuckles; it’s not like he’s seen you in… worse situations. Or better?

“But… I guess a visit is overdue.” You eventually concede, Naoya and your father sigh out of relief. “Though what about Mariya, Haruko, and Hitomi?”

“They’ll go with you, if you want.” Naoya says; he doubts they’ll say no, especially after knowing of the whole fiasco that occurred when away, might even offer themselves before he suggests the idea.

“If I didn’t know any better, sounds like you want me gone.” You jest, Naoya frowns. “It’s a joke, of course…”

“There’s nothing more I would like than you staying here, but until we figure out what caused that reaction from you, I’d rather not risk it.”

“It’s only temporary, Y/N. Besides, look—I brought you gifts!” Eiichi says, taking out the bag he brought from home seemingly out of nowhere, filled with things he knew you’d love, such as sweets, your favorite mochi’s of course, alongside some plushies that would always brighten your day when you were a child. “And there’s much more back home…”

Naoya can’t help but feel relieved you had your father for support, but at the same time, a bit jealous and, well, threatened. Not for bad reasons, of course, it was simply because how the hell did he not think of bringing you gifts first?!

“Dad… you’re embarrassing me in front of Naoya.”

“Ah, that’s a parent’s bane, isn’t it? To always embarrass their children—you’ll see what I mean when you both have your baby.”

Perhaps the main reason why you ended up agreeing to leave was because your pregnancy did not seem affected by your supposed allergy; had it been you would’ve refused to leave your husband’s side!

… Well, you still would’ve refused either way, but perhaps a bit more. You hate the idea of being away from the father of your child for too long, after all.

“I don’t think so—Naoya and I are going to be the cool parents, you’ll see.”

“That’s what your mom and I thought, and look at me now, can’t even say anything without you telling me I’m embarrassing you!” Eiichi says, you chuckle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mom was cool! You were always the funny one!”

Naoya smiles.

Now he knows for sure that there’s no safer place for you to be in than with your family, even if that were to be on the other side of the country…

After Naoya prepared everything for your departure, the three eventually made way to the exit, where you and your father would bid their last goodbyes.

“Won’t you accompany me?” you ask, a slight pout on your face, he smiles in hopes to cheer you up, but really, he felt miserable.

“I want to, but I can’t.” He explains. “I have to deal with this as fast as possible if you’re to come back quickly.”

“… Will you visit me over there, at least?” you frown.

“Yes. As soon as I have a chance, I’ll go see you.” Naoya promises.

It had all been too soon, just a few hours ago he arrived at the estate, and now, you’re leaving. Naoya laments that he couldn’t spend a day with you before your departure… but he guesses this to be a rightful sacrifice for your well-being.

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping away from my wife and baby for too long.”

At those words, Eiichi couldn’t help but frown out of sorrow.

It wasn’t fair that neither of you had been able to enjoy this wonderful occasion as you should.

He still remembers the excitement in your voice, the glint in your eye, and the beaming smile on your lips when announcing your pregnancy—alongside the nerves that came with it, of course, which Eiichi eased by reminding you and Naoya that their enthusiasm was nothing but indicative they were already on their way of becoming the loving and supportive parents their baby needed.

But as excited as both were, Eiichi had to cruelly put a stop to their celebrations, especially after Naobito was made aware of this, who wished to proceed by announcing the news to the whole community.

“I have to disagree, Naobito.” Eiichi would be the first to reject the idea, much to everyone’s surprise—yours, specifically.

“And why is that?” He’d ask back, not understanding why the father of the expecting mother, of all people, would be the one to reject so.

“It’s best if Y/N keeps her pregnancy a secret, at least… until it’s undeniably noticeable.”

“But… why, dad?” you asked. This was a moment of absolute joy, to be treated as such! So why did he intend to keep it a secret? Was he… disappointed?

No. Never. He was nothing but happy to see you happy and become a grandfather himself for the first time in his life!

But as a man of his years, he’s learned to be cautious of how said blessings are to be celebrated, as well as seen his fair share of happiness turn sour… things that Eiichi would rather take upon him than allow them to ever befall you.

“Because there’s people out there that might try to hurt you—or the baby.” He’d explain. “Naobito cannot not deny this, but if anyone hears that you’re pregnant with the Zen’in heir’s baby, those that want to hurt the Zen’in clan, or our family, will see this as the perfect opportunity to do so.”

“I’d never allow such thing, rest assured, there’s no safer place than—” Naoya quickly interjects, wanting to reassure your father, but Eiichi was set on his warnings.

“I wouldn’t have said this if I didn’t see it myself.” Eiichi reminds him, Naoya swallows. “We live in a highly competitive world due to the nature of our families; I’ve lost my wife because of this! And I’d be damned to allow it to happen again to my daughter.”

He hated to remind you of the harsh truth; hated to see how your face would sadden, the excitement for your first child, his first grandchild, quickly disappearing…

“Why would someone do that?” you murmur, frowning.

“They wouldn’t dare—I’ll make sure of it.” Naoya hisses.

Eiichi remained silent, sad for you and your husband. Because even if you’ve experienced first-hand what it is to lose someone through these matters, both have yet to fully understand the extremes those supposedly loyal to them can go to if properly incited. Especially for someone who had so much to lose, just as the elite members of prestigious Zen’in clan.

Even then, your father would not allow such pain to reach you, not the same way it almost did to him and your mother, so, he insisted you keep these news secret from the world—and if you must, only if you must, reveal it to your most faithful ones; the rest could learn when your stomach was too big to deny.

If you do so, keep your baby hidden from the world, safe from those that harbor nothing but pain and sorrow… all will be fine. Eiichi promises so.

…

Or so, that’s what everyone hoped would’ve happened, because if there’s one thing to be learned from this incident, is that no matter how cautious you were, word of your pregnancy still managed to land in the wrong ears, and now, were actively against it.

The question no longer pertained as to how, but rather, who; who was the author of this terrible act?

The notion that someone of Naoya’s relatives, indirectly informed through Naobito’s… drunken rambles, soon crosses the minds of your father and husband. If so, it would make sense as to why they’d use an innocent staff member to do the deed, keep their hands clean of the whole situation, instead of going to bigger extremes.

It’s the most probable of the theories, but they could not annul the following: jealousy from the servants.

Naoya considered that statement to be the most delusional one your father could’ve gathered, but he’d be wise to remember how others perceive him—or more like what he represented. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched that others would desire what he had, or him, in some cases. And naturally, you’re an obstacle to that goal, your baby even more so…

It wasn’t fair, but it was your reality.

Nonetheless, Eiichi and Naoya will still do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

“It’s just for a few days, pumpkin.” Your father would say upon seeing the sadness in your face, which remained even when reassured that Naoya would be with you as soon as possible. “Besides, you’re going to see your brother and sister too—they’ve missed you very much, you know? They’ve been wanting to spoil you and their future niece, or nephew!”

You smile, it’s good that even when in the storm, your family is still able to exude happiness. You could only imagine how enthusiastic they’d be when the baby was finally here.

“I know… I missed them too.” You admit, before looking over to Naoya one last time. “Well… I hope that whatever is keeping you here is quickly dealt with.”

“You won’t even notice I’m gone.” Naoya promises, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything—before you know it, you’ll be back at the estate, with me.”

That’s a promise he unfortunately, doesn’t know if will become true inside the promised timeline, but will do anything in his power so it does.

Either way, it’s safe to say that Naoya did manage to keep one part of his promise—and that would be the one where he reassured you wouldn’t even notice his absence, done through sending you endless amounts of gifts, every day, effectively filling your room to the brim with all things he’d knew you’d like, and some for baby too: from clothes for you, to cute onesies he’d like his baby to wear when she was finally here.

“You still think the baby is going to be a girl?” you’d ask through one of the many videocalls he’d make—one daily, at the very least. “Wait a minute… you better not have spoiled me!”

“I just know” He reiterates with shrug; you roll your eyes. “If not, then I’ll have lots of things to return.”

“Well, if it’s worth anything, I also feel like our baby is going to be a girl.” You smile, warming up Naoya’s heart. “I can’t wait to meet her—I just know she’s going to have your eyes!”

“Or yours, I hope.” He longs, you blush. “Have you been eating well, my love?”

“Yes; and no allergies yet.” You explain, Naoya feels relieved—at least the problem didn’t follow you there. “Maybe I was just unlucky that day, Naoya… Are you sure I can’t return to the estate yet?”

“Not until I’m sure you’re going to be safe here.” Naoya responds, and while his words are meant to be comforting, you can’t shake off the sense that something worse happened; that something far bigger than a simple allergy had struck you, specially with the way your staff and family would act around you, going as far as denying you of any information pertaining to the Zen’in.

But… if your husband had a reason to not say anything now, then the best you could do is trust him. The truth will come out eventually, you suppose. So instead you could focus on other pressing matters.

“Well, at least don’t send me too many gifts.” You continued. “While I appreciate them, between you and my father, I don’t think my house has enough room to store all the things you’ve both given me.”

“Who’s given you more things? Me or your dad?” Naoya nonchalantly asks, you gasp.

“Naoya! That’s not the—take it seriously! Control yourself with the gifts, ok?” you say, he chuckles, but ends up agreeing; at least until the topic has quieted down, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to let your father win the upper hand like that one day ever again. “Or at least save them to when I’m back at the estate… which I hope is soon.”

“Almost there.” Naoya says. “Just a few more things, and we’ll be together once again.”

… even if the answer was to be the same, you still needed to ask.

“Is… everything ok?”

Not precisely, not when he has yet to find out the one responsible for all this…

But he’s gotten a lead, an idea of where to start, of who to hunt—which he knows he’ll find in record time thanks to the fury he harbors, further motivating him to do this as quickly and precisely as possible just so he’d have you back home, with him.

“Nothing you should worry about.” He reiterates. “Just keep focusing on your health, the baby, and not doing anything strenuous.”

“I’m just pregnant, Naoya… nothing extraordinary. I still want to help around., you know?”

“I know, and you’ll be able to do that and more in due time, but for now, keep safe, for me, ok? And our little mochi.”

“When will I see you again?” you ask again, hoping that perhaps this time around, the answer will be different.

“Soon.” He promises. “Soon, my love.”

Once he deals with the bastard that hurt you.

Naoya will give them nothing but a glimpse of the sorrow and pain they’d put you through, his fury—make their life a living hell, make them regret the foolish idea that they could ever get away from it; and still, he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with his revenge.

He’d want more, he’d want everyone to know that his family are not ones to mess around with.

He’d burn the whole world to set the message across if necessary—and that would only be the bare minimum for you, the love of his life, and now, his baby…

His home.

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 3 months

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← Smutlet masterlist

18+ Pining

Bucky wasn’t sure if it was his memory or just his imagination, but he always found you intriguing. He was sure that you would be able to entertain him for hours on end, even though the chances that you would talk to him were pretty bleak. Steve was the only one who had noticed and Bucky was glad that he had kept his comments to himself, even when he had caught Bucky’s blue eyes constantly searching for your presence, lingering over you when he finally found you.

But of late, you had been invading his mind more often than not. You occupied his waking thoughts and penetrated his dreams. The first time you had visited his dreams, it had been relatively innocent, standing in front of him in a yellow summer dress accentuating your perfectly toned figure. He had woken with a gasp and his cock pointing to the ceiling. Why did it have to be you?

Bucky had seen you working out with the other SHIELD agents, training, lifting, sparring with your colleagues. Your movements were akin to water, the fluidity with which you ducked and weaved, he wondered how you would move on top of him. How he longed to know what he would find under that tiny tank top you sported, under the lycra material which clung to your hips and thighs.

Since he had found you in the gym alone, training alone, he had started avoiding those times, instead he chose to use it in the wee hours of the morning or late into the night. Anything to try and shake you from his consciousness and evict you from his lucid dreams. A part of him wanted to hate you, ever since he had met you, a feeling of loneliness snaked into his heart, how it lingered under his skin. Every thought of you, every dream, he knew one day he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, and then there would be no going back.

Bucky growled quietly, but not quietly enough for him to go completely unnoticed. Several agents, including Steve, turned to glance at him. Steve shot him a warning glance but Bucky only scowled back at him. Of all the briefings Steve had forced him to attend, why did it have to be you leading it? The way you stood in the spotlight, you were literally shining. Your voice was as sweet as nectar, your skin glowed under the fluorescent beams of the meeting room and your smile dazzled everyone in the room into an enchanted silence. Why was the strain in his pants becoming so unbearable?

He was lucky his services weren’t required and he was the first to leave the meeting room, a scowl etched across his features and briefing file pressed against his crotch. He was so intent on his departure, that he missed the way Steve rolled his eyes at him and the look of shock and disappointment on your face.

Once locked in the safety of his quarters, Bucky slid his right arm under his shirt, fingertips grazing his lower abdomen. He hesitated for a few moments before pushing his hand into his pants and curling his digits around his sizable length. He was free to let out the groan of frustration. His tongue moistened the corners of his mouth, held gently between his teeth as he concentrated on freeing his cock from its restraints. He was almost shocked by the clear viscous fluid that was coating the swollen head of his cock. Almost. His lips turned up at the edges as he took his thumb and smeared the precum over his growing length.

“Fuck,” he grunted, finding a little relief to the tension that had been building inside him. He palmed himself roughly, closing his eyes, trying to imagine that it's your silky walls sheathing his member, rather than the reality of his calloused hand pumping it over and over. He pushed his pants down over his knees with his vibranium hand, letting him spread his legs. Better access to himself as he swiped through memories of you in his mind. Flicking from that time you had smiled at him, another when your fingers had brushed his when Steve had asked you to hand him a mission brief, that time he had watched your sparring session. That was it, that was the one!

The way you pinned your opponent to the ground. He was twice your size. You held his hands down and Bucky’s cock had twitched when he saw how your thighs gripped his. His insides burning with envy, he wanted to know how you felt and now he used that recollection to fabricate his fantasy. Bucky's restraint was wavering, his bottom lip buried between his teeth as stifled moans emanated from his mouth.

He could practically see your perky rounded breasts floating in front of him. What he wouldn't give to reach out and knead them in his palms, to taste your nipples, to have you pressed against his chest. Bucky groaned, thrusting his hips upwards into his hand, if only it was you he was pushing up into. He imagined the whimpers and moans you would make as he hit all the right places. Oh, to hear his name tumble from your lips!

Bucky's breaths were shallow now, panting furiously as his orgasm approached. He had lost all his inhibitions, becoming more vocal about his desires.

“Oh fuck, Doll, just like that. Look how beautiful you are. I love you like this.”

It was the image of your eyes, the thought of looking into them, it sent him over the edge. His hand pumping, chest heaving and eyes squeezed shut as the all too familiar coil in his center snapped, sending him reeling. His movements slowed, sloppier than they had been as his body relaxed and spurts of milky white elixir erupted from his cock and painted his chiseled abs.

Bucky took a few moments to regain his composure, a feeling of unease settling in his chest. Maybe one day you wouldn't be just a fantasy.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #skittle's smutlets

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blueparadis · 1 year

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❝IF ONLY I COULD❞ + KAVEH

+. CWs —» f-reader, s!her pronouns, m-masturbation, implied accidental voyeurism, subtle undertones of perv!kaveh & bottom-dom!kaveh, wet dreams, mention of al-haitham; word count — 0.8kish.

+. PRECIS —» Kaveh can’t help it, you are just too much for him and hence he decides to keep you off his mind.

+. NOTES —» phew! The way he has me in a chokehold. . . also I'm trying a new style of writing so feel free to send me kaveh thoughts:> you can read my works via NAVIGATION LINKS.

In his memory, Kaveh has always found her engaging as well as entertaining even if he had bleak chances of talking to her. It is true that he is often teased about her, especially by al-haitham, whenever he catches those cherry eyes lurking over her, looking for her.

But lately, she has been frequenting his mind more than before, more than in one way and all because of a lucid dream. The first time when he saw her in his dreams, in a white nightgown laughing before extending her arms towards him , he gasped and woke up from his sleep thinking why it had to be her?

And since then, he has been attracted towards her, romantically perhaps and hence he stopped visiting the library during her work shifts. He wanted to stay away from her, now more than ever since he hated the feeling of loneliness that lingered underneath his skin every time he dreamt of her, thought of her.

Yet here he was, submerged in her thoughts and far away from this world. Kaveh should not, he really should not since he knew that if he did this once there is no coming back.

Moreover, chances are there that she will be more vivid than before in his dreams, in his mind and every time she passes by Kaveh at the workplace. But now, it is too late to think of what might be the consequences of his thoughts. The strain in his pants has already become unbearable.

Kaveh slides his right arm under his vest grazing his lower belly thinking for the last time, but eventually, his arm slipped into his pants, his fingers clamping around his length, and finally, a soft groan escaped from his mouth. The tip of his tongue kisses the corner of his lips as he takes out his cock that was coated with a warm white fluid, pre-cum.

For a moment, he is surprised, and then he is not. There is a crescent along his lips as he taps the tip of his cock, smearing the reddened end with its pre.

“Oh fuck. This feels so much better.”, he huffs looking over his shoulder to check if al-haitham is really asleep or not. Kaveh thinks he is sleeping, he better be otherwise the worst case that could happen is that she would not smile while looking at him but rather avoid him if there were any eye contact to happen henceforth.

He palms his member, a little harder this time trying to imagine how it would feel to be sheathed by her gummy walls. He starts to pump his cock as his pants were clustered at the bottom of the chair while his legs were trying to give space as much as possible by spreading them further.

He revisits his memories, memories where she and her beautiful body were in abundance: the first time you smiled at him, the accidental touch when she was handing him the papers he asked for, that late evening when he caught you bathing, naked and gleaming in the moonlight.

He picks the last one, where he watched you scrub yourself, your plush body, your boobs, and hardened nipples. He remembers how he felt his cock twitch at that moment and now he is pumping his cock rashly, the hem of his vest being buried in between his teeth, muffled moans escaping his mouth as the squelching noises become louder and louder.

His other hand gradually makes its way towards his nipples, pinching and circling around them thinking of her lips on his. “Oh fuck.”, he hisses as his toes curl, his hips buck up with a force as he thinks how euphoric would it be to have her soft calloused hands on his cock, to have her warm lips in his, to have her boobs pressed against his bare chest, pronounced nipples grazing against each other while Kaveh’s cock is hitting her sweet spot with precision and all he could hear is the blend of desperate moans, of his and her.

He squeezes his eyes shut as his hands move up and down his swollen cock, hitting his girth with calculated thrusts. He paces up as he feels his orgasm approaching, huffing and panting, not caring how vocal he has become until the coil at the core of his flat belly snaps making him dizzy, his hand movements sloppy, and his inner thighs closing in slowly.

Kaveh’s chest rises up and down frantically as he finally opens his eyes watching the spurs of milky white fluid all over the floor and his study desk. A heavy sigh leaves his body as his breathing normalizes.

“If only I could tell her . . .”, he mumbles before closing his eyes and thinking of you, again. He takes a few moments to relax before cleaning the mess.

—

@tokyometronetwork

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oxymorayuri · 19 days

Note

Hiii i read the acex reader i dont remember the title but its the one where she was the revolver?

I wanted to request more parts for it please BCS THE WAY U WRITE IT ITS SO CAPTIVATING I CANT

So yes thats all i wanted PLEASE DO CONSIDER 🙏

It will get me through my exams 😔🔫

❞𝐍𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬❝

Part two

If you haven't read the first part yet, you can find it here or the overview. ♡♡♡

✦ Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader ✦ Warnings: cussing/language, suggestive content ✦ Spoiler: none

A/N: Aw that is so cute! You know what? Why not? I really fell in love with the revolver too. I had to think of something to continue it but see for yourself, I hope you like it sweetie. PS: I hope everything goes well with your studies <3

wordcount: 2488

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ !

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: wudus6

Everything before your eyes appears as if you're looking through a curtain. Time passes more slowly, every touch seems both intense and unreal, but you feel the desire.

There is nothing but desire... the thirst for more.

Light as a feather, you feel as if you are not even in control of your body. But that's not a problem. You enjoy every second, no matter how blurred everything seems to you.

Perhaps because you know that it is nothing more than just a desire. Your movements are rhythmic and you try to intensify the feeling with every thrust, but there are limits to how much you can feel.

Your options are small but you are grateful for what is in front of you.

You can dimly see the lust shining in Ace's eyes, while barely feeling his hands on your hips as they guide you into bliss. Your mind is constantly shifting between lucid yet dazed and one moment you are riding him while the next his lips are caressing yours.

Full of pleasure you close your eyes, your voice says 'more' but you don't feel your lips moving and although your eyes are closed, it gets brighter and brighter behind your eyelids…

You groan in annoyance as you pull the covers over your head. Damn that sucks. This isn't the first dream you've had about Ace, but it's never been as intense as this one.

You cannot escape the images of the things that happened between you and you keep dreaming about that night on the beach. A whole week has passed since then and you and Ace are far from what you could have become and whose fault is it?

Yep, yours.

The angry wiggle in bed gets you nowhere, but you are so annoyed by the situation that you have to let it out.

After your fit of rage, you look up at the ceiling of your room in defeat. Slight dark circles adorn your face because it takes half an eternity for your brain to finally shut up. You don't even want to think about Ace and when you are surrounded by complete silence, his face automatically appears before your eyes. You've spent a few nights tossing and turning in your bed because every time you close your eyes you see him. No matter how tired you were, you couldn't get a wink of sleep.

You tousle your hair. Your ego is so big that you would rather die than approach Ace.

You wonder why you reacted the way you did. After your night, you woke up alone in your room and even though you didn't expect him to be lying next to you, you wished for it.

Loneliness engulfed you and as lonely as you felt, the more you didn't want him to get near you. You felt so available and that's a pretty strange feeling for you… Would it have been different if you had woken up next to him?

You'll never know.

As usual you gave him the cold shoulder but this time you had an additional reason... but somehow you feel a bit childish about it now.

Your thoughts are spinning around. What is your reason anyway? The answer seems to secretly pile up inside you and that makes you nervous.

Should you really have reacted like this? You haven't said a single word to each other. Okay, you haven't said a single word to him… At least he tried, you have to give him that, but after 3 days he had given up. He just leaves you alone and doesn't even get on your "nerves" like before. Nothing nada

Somewhat sadly, you pull your knees towards you and put your head down. You can only blame yourself.

You idiot!

If it wasn't for Jozu, you would probably never have come out of your cabin. He actually managed to get you out of the room.

Well, he more or less dragged you out. He just barged into your room, came up to you without saying a word and grabbed you by the neck. You noticed him, but you didn't have the strength in your bones to really react.

Somewhat belatedly you grab him by his bulky arm but every attempt is in vain and when you realized, that he wanted to leave your room with you, all alarm bells rang in your head.

Like a wild animal, you tried to escape from his grip but no matter how much you scratched him or how hard you hissed, he wouldn't budge. You feisty thing. Without paying the slightest attention to you, he brought you onto the deck and although you were brought here rather roughly, he set you down on the ground with care.

"Touch me like that again and…!!!!!" You are caught off guard when your mouth is suddenly covered with tape; you hadn't expected that. You can only grumble in anger and your eyebrows furrow up furiously as you look up at your commander.

"Hah your stare can't do anything to me you stupid ass!" He makes fun of you while he ties your arms and legs and you have no chance to resist.

The big man took a step back as he watched you wobble pathetically back and forth. You try to free yourself because you are beginning to feel that you are in a critical situation.

Your strength returns and the ropes loosen. Jozu doesn't hesitate any longer and immediately ties you up completely from head to toe, which looks ridiculous. Like a mummy, with only your head free, he leaned you against the ship's mast.

From behind you, you hear Ace apparently going through something similar as you and suddenly he is thrown to the ground in front of you by Marco. He wasn't set down as gently as you were, and with a pained look he rubs his cheek, which has just kissed the ground.

"What's wrong with you guys?" Confused, he looks at the men in front of him who just look down at him with stern expressions and folded arms. Jozu's eyes wandered over to you and Ace's eyes followed his. With shock written all over his face, he looked at you with widened eyes.

Without commenting, he looked back at the two commanders and then Marco broke the silence.

"What have you done Ace." Marco's voice seemed a little threatening. Astonishment spread across Ace's face.

"ME?" Startled, he pointed his own finger at his chest. "I have done NOTHING!" He defends himself with a slightly raised voice.

You want to laugh out loud but the tape stops you.

"I don't know what happened between you, but one thing is clear and that is that the two of you have something to sort out!" Jozu lays out the facts.

"You're so wrapped up in your thoughts that you're constantly setting yourself on fire and even if it doesn't hurt you, it's affecting the people around you." His gaze went to you as he noticed your muffled laughter. "And you? We don't even need to talk about you, y/n. But let me refresh your memory. First you shouted at Ace, then you didn't say a word to ANYONE and then you didn't come out of your room for two whole DAYS!!!" The commander breathes in and out, somewhat exhausted.

You weren't even aware that you were behaving outrageously, but now that Jozu has reminded you, you can't deny it. Ace is bothering you and you are bothering him.

Marco touches his forehead, somewhat distraught.

"Listen, if Newgate gets wind of this, he'll talk to you… is that what you want?!" You both shake your heads in panic at the same time.

"I thought so." - "Ace, you were last with y/n that night and she's been so nasty ever since. Did something happen between you?" Jozu interjects.

He exhales a little helplessly and drops his shoulders.

"hahhh, I don't know… I thought we had a good time but the next day everything was different than I thought and that's why I wanted to talk to her to find out what I did wrong!" He turns to you and for the first time you see a look on his face that you never expected to see. He looks angry with a hint of confusion.

"But SHE doesn't want to talk!" he points his finger at you like a child. Offended, you grimace. Luckily, the tape is stuck to your lips because no matter what you would have said, it wouldn't have made any sense anyway. You're so irrational that you don't even recognize yourself.

The two standing men looked at each other and nodded. You and Ace don't quite understand what's happening now, but you'll find out soon enough.

Marco grabbed Ace by the shoulder and led him ahead of him. Ace doesn't really resist and starts to move. When Jozu approached you, you didn't want to leave the stage without a fight. You tried to move like a worm to escape from your commander and even though he admires your efforts, there's no point in trying to escape, because you're just as fast as a worm - not at all. Jozu has an easy time with you and throws you over his shoulder.

The two of them threw you into a prison cell made of sea stone and before they locked the cell, Jozu freed you from your full body bondage. You are glad that your mouth is free again because now you can finally let out all the bad words you have left for Jozu.

"You son of a bitch! Just wait until I'm out of here, then you'll be given a bloody surprise… I'm telling you!"

But you idiot threw yourself against the bars to grab the big man, forgetting that the bars are made of sea stone and that you now have the power of a devil fruit that you still have to get used to.

The energy sapping feeling in your body is sudden, overwhelming and slowly you go down to the ground.

While the men walk away from the cell, Marco shouts something back to you.

"You stay in there until you've sorted this out!" Grinding your teeth, you roll onto your back with the last ounce of your strength and close your eyes.

If I can't see him, then he's not there...

Yeah, exactly, that will work… You don't really believe that, do you?

"Hey… I'll leave you alone if you want, but the others are right. We take it out on the others and that's not okay. We're a crew…" The word crew makes you open your eyes without wanting to.

You sigh in annoyance and roll onto your side so that Ace can stare at your back.

"Yea, maybe. Leave me alone." Your stubbornness is driving Ace crazy, but he doesn't really want you to be like this with each other. Above all, he wants to know why you're like this to him. What did he do wrong?

He's been racking his brains for days about what he could have done or said that upset you so much. He wants to make things better if you would let him.

"If you're not going to talk to me, at least take the bed. Sleeping on the floor won't do you any good." You have no idea what kind of cheap trick that is. Is he trying to get you to sleep in a bed with him? You look back towards the bed but Ace isn't there. He's sitting next to the bed with his back against the wall.

Unexpectedly, disappointment spreads through you. Wait a minute? Is that what you secretly wanted?

A little confused, you stand up and stop in front of Ace, who looks up at you. His unkempt hair falls back slightly as he looks up at you. How you would like to swallow your pride and fall into his arms, but you have no idea where to start. You don't know what to say because you don't even quite understand what is wrong with you. So you say nothing and stare at him with tired eyes as he sits in front of you with one leg bent and his arm resting on his knee.

Ace doesn't quite know how to react, but he's not one to do nothing.

He stands up just a few centimeters away from you and now you are the one looking up at him.

His gaze scans your face for answers that you can't even give yourself.

"What have I done?" he whispers to you. His pained voice tears apart your heart. You didn't know Ace could sound so vulnerable.

"I…, I don't know." you mumble your words, but your gaze remains fixed on Ace.

You have no further answer for Ace and walk towards the bed and lie down with your back to him again.

"Sleeping on the floor won't do you any good…" You repeat Ace's words back to him, feeling less pathetic since he said it first.

You listen closely as you can make out the sound of his feet approaching the bed. His shadow falls on the wall, which you stare at, waiting to see what comes next.

You feel the mattress go down a little and you automatically hold your breath until you can hear your heartbeat.

Ace looks down at your slender figure. His eyes wander over your delicate curves. He would love to stroke your hips until you fall asleep, but he's not sure how far he can go without making a mistake... but he has a feeling that doing nothing would be a mistake too.

He decides to lie down with his chest against your back. Lying on his back doesn't really work, there wouldn't be enough room and back to back would be awkward. He really makes an effort not to touch you unnecessarily. He's already glad that you offered him the bed.

You try to calm down, but Ace's breathing gives you goose bumps on the back of your neck. You pinch your eyes shut and try to concentrate on Ace's warmth, hoping you'll be able to fall asleep soon.

Luckily for you, you quickly find your way to the land of dreams because with Ace behind you, one could say; he's no longer buzzing around in your head...

Stay tuned for the next Part babes <3

➽ Next chapter

#one piece #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #one shot ace #ace one piece #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace smut #portgas d ace one piece #ace x you

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netherfeildren · 1 year

Text

FEAR OF GOD : Chapter I : I dreamt that time had ended

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: What was monstrousness? What was it, but a certainty that there existed within you multitudes of desires, needs, guilts, impulses – humanity? At the end of the world, when the dust has finally settled, Joel grapples with what it is to take hold of your own monstrosity – your own humanity – and live with it. And what it is to bear that truth in the palm of your hand held towards the person you love, offer it to them, and have it be accepted for what it was. Courage, above all else, it is courage that is necessary to go on.

-OR-

Big bad Joel Miller falls in love and doesn't know how to deal with it.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Mentions of suicidal ideations, unprotected sex, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal fingering, breeding kink kinda, Emotionally Constipated Joel Miller ™️

A/N: Hello, this is my first foray into posting my writing publicly. To be honest, it feels fucking weird and scary, but alas, here I am, pretending to be brave. Art is Botanica No. 23 by Gail Potocki.

Word Count: 6.2K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER I: I dreamt that time had ended

I'm most dangerous when I’m hungry. I’m most hungry

when I’m hurting. Seems like I’m always hurting. Nothing

but teeth. Nothing but the same words calling out to me

in my sleep. Grief asking its ghosts not to leave. Please.

It’s not up to me when I get to stop crying. Or hurting.

Or holding memories in my mouth, gentle as bees

I promised not to eat, but oh, the hurt is so sweet.

- Saeed Jones, from “Date Night,” Alive at the End of the World

Loneliness and being alone were two things you’d always thought to be one and the same — a pair sitting side by side on the spectrum of human suffering. Now, at the end of the world, you knew differently. You’d gotten in bed with both. A kind of intimacy that made your bones ache.

After Beth, your sister, you’d been alone – out beyond the protection of the community you now called your own in Jackson – where you’d carved a little place for yourself. Then, you’d been so entrenched in your grief and shock, that you’d not been lucid enough to really feel loneliness at all. You were alone, but were too far gone to feel the specific melancholy of loneliness. It was all a vicious, almost unthinking, clawing for survival. That creature out beyond the walls was you, and sometimes you liked to pretend and tell yourself you left her out there, but in moments of stark honesty, when you let go of the lies you comforted yourself with, you don’t feel very sure.

Looking back, it’s almost a surprise that it never occurred to you, in those delirious days, in the aftermath of watching Beth get ripped to pieces by infected, to ever think to follow her in death. You think you’d just been too numb and shocked at the time to even consider the tidy solution a bullet to the head would’ve provided you. You can’t even tell if you regret the lack of foresight at that time or not. You suppose now, looking around yourself, at the somewhat full life you’ve settled yourself into, you’re grateful.

But in Jackson, in Jackson you’d found loneliness. Despite being surrounded by a community that wanted to help you from the first moment, to care for you. Most especially because, in the light of this new life, you remembered everything about the aftermath of your sister’s death – with vivid clarity. The details were glaringly bright in your mind, and the peace and fullness of this new life you’d been afforded made those memories hurt all the worse.

Your father had been a physician, a surgeon, before the outbreak, and early on he’d decided it was essential to pass on what he could. That he needed a protege. You fit the necessity nicely. You’d had a mind that absorbed knowledge at a rate that wasn’t necessarily useful in a world like the one you’d now found yourselves in, but he’d made good use of it, made a tool of you in the manner of an extension of himself. He’d started early trying to train you as best he could, given the circumstances. You’d had a fairly peaceful childhood up until you were eighteen living in the San Francisco QZ, given his position, and at around twelve years old he’d started a demanding study regimen. He was determined to make you into the closest semblance of a doctor he could through his own personal means of teaching. You’d always been well suited to a life of taking orders, doing what you were told, being who you were told to be. At the end of the world it was easier, you’d found, to do and be what you were told to – it came easily to you, and after all, your father knew best. You liked the security of being able to follow a set of directions without the anxiety of conjecture or uncertainty. A clearly laid out path was a safe path, and you found comfort in that. So you’d learned what he’d told you to learn. He said it was necessary, and so it became a necessity to you. Practiced what he’d told you to practice. And eventually, become what he wanted you to become. After your mother and father were killed in a raid shortly after your eighteenth birthday, it was just you and Beth, and you’d taken on your studies and training yourself. It wasn’t as efficient, especially after the QZ had fallen and you were forced to leave, could have been more thorough, but you felt well versed in the knowledge you’d gained thus far. Secure in the fact that you had the ability to help people as best you could with what you knew. It gave you purpose and allowed you to follow that path that’d been laid out for you. Provided some sort of comforting reminder of your father, your childhood, as well. The two of you had wandered for several years up until the time of her death.

When you found Jackson after Beth, after days and days of wandering, of savage fear and a desperate clawing to just stay alive, just make it a little further, it was like coming upon paradise. An Eden safer and more cherished than anything before in all history. Connie, their resident doctor, who they were so lucky and grateful to have, had taken you under his wing. Connie and his nurturing comfort. Doing everything he could to build on the knowledge your father had instilled in you over the years. All the knowledge and practice he was so desperate to pass on to you. To build on your foundation. Doctors were few and far between, hard to find and even harder to keep, and Connie was old. Now well into his seventies, he was tired. His mind and body, nowhere near as agile as they’d once been. Your arrival in the community had been seen as a benediction, once he’d found out what your father had started in you. It was difficult to build a comprehensive curriculum, to find the right means of practical training in a world like this, but the two of you had managed fairly well. A deal had been struck with the leaders of the community to provide donated cadavers when they became available, if the families so allowed, if they had families. This allowed the two of you to practice hands on general surgical techniques he felt were essential for you to know. He’d tried, so far, to build a curriculum that was generally comprehensive – general surgery, obstetrics and gynecology, and internal medicine. In your spare time you read everything he’d ever found on botany and herbology. Everything else you supplemented with a collection of texts and scientific literature he’d been collecting since the outbreak, and had guarded and cared for fiercely . He saw his collection of medical texts as the key to the preservation and furthering of knowledge, and you agreed with him. After losing your father you couldn’t have asked for a more caring or dedicated mentor.

But not only was his caring practical, for he’d brought you back to life with his patience. He’d lead you out of that hazy numbness you’d lost yourself in after Beth. Something you’d have stayed lost in the rest of your life if not for his guidance, the loss of her so devastating it was something molecular. The feeling left you so tired, almost emaciated in your grief – the only instinct was survival, no thought for perpetuation or preservation. And then, of course there was Ellie and Dina, Tommy and Maria. All who’d done their best to welcome you into the embrace of their friendship. You were grateful for them in ways you couldn’t ever put into words.

And yet, and yet, despite all this good; a caring community, a giving teacher, loyal friendships, things you now knew you’d die to keep and protect, you were lonely. An aching kind of desperate loneliness, it’d blanketed you with a film of numbness that you hadn’t even really noticed, until one night you’d gotten home to the lovely warm house that’d been assigned to you, a place you’d been able to make a home, to realize, you had no one that was only yours. No one waiting for you. No more sister, no parents, no blood. No one to give yourself to. No one you’d always belong to, no matter what.

You’d felt a level of desperation in that moment worse than many of your worst moments in this horrible thing the world you knew had come to be.

But then there was him.

Joel.

Joel who was cold and stern and who had, at first, seemed so wholly disinterested in your existence you’d never thought there was any way he’d ever even think of looking at you as more than the girl he went to for stitches every now and then. As anything more than the person who patched up his never ending litany of scrapes and bruises. But who, at first sight, you’d seemed to take in and then never again look away from. Who you’d felt you’d known, recognized, at first glance. It was everything about him, really. His countenance – the air about him, slightly threatening, but in a way that told you you’d always be protected, safe,cared for if held in the circle of his embrace. And then his physicality – his face, his body, his smell . The feel of his skin beneath yours when you were closing or covering his wounds. The broad, thick planes of him, his long legs and tall frame that towered over your own. The man could overtake you if he chose to. You’d look at him and couldn’t help but think how hard he’d fuck. And you thought about that often. What it’d be like to cradle the heavy weight of him between your thighs, inside of you. What his skin would feel, taste like beneath your tongue. How you’d map the smattering of sun freckles on his chest and shoulders. And his eyes, deep and dark, and you knew they saw everything. That they were ever aware of what was going on around him. Wondered at what they’d feel like roving the hills and swells of your naked body – just for him. That he could probably see the yearning coming off of you like heat waves off the hot pavement.

Joel who seemed to care fiercely about Ellie, who he saw as his daughter from the little you’d been able to garner from her and others about their connection, and not much else. He’d come to you on more than one occasion after Ellie’d been into the clinic for attention demanding an update on her condition, asking if there was something wrong. Ensuring she was alright, that she’d remain alright. And being completely taken aback and offended when you’d refused to disclose patient information. There was a rift between them, so it seemed, not that anyone had been brave enough to talk about it aloud. The unspoken elephant in Jackson was the current ongoing estrangement between the two. Something that, without knowing him beyond being his doctor, you could see hurt him worse than anything you could’ve ever treated him for. And there was Tommy, his brother, and his wife Maria – who it was also obvious he appreciated and cared for.

He was cordial and helpful and always willing to be a good neighbor to those in the community. But he was set apart. A man estranged in a way you could see was self imposed. You could recognize it for what it was, the same shroud of loneliness that blanketed you. And what was it they said about the experience of loneliness? It creates a vicious cycle that only further perpetuates itself the more alone you become. You start to reek of it the longer you enshroud yourself in it. Contagion spreads. But then one day, you’d seemed to distract him from maintaining that self imposed exile long enough to entice him into looking at you, even if for a second, really looking at you.

It was like this: he’d never looked at you. Until he did. And then it was like fire, like a natural disaster or disease, like cordyceps . Uncontrollable, and as hard as you both tried, or didn’t try, it could not be put away once it had been set upon. You’d circled and circled each other – blood in the water – him in reluctant silence, you almost desperately, until you’d come together in a clash of limbs and tongues and teeth, and then he was shoving you onto your desk in the small space of your examining room and then shoving, hard and savage into your cunt, and that was it. You’d given him as much as he was willing to take, and if he’d wanted to take more, you’d have given it willingly and gladly. It was not a question of how much you were willing to do, or how much of yourself you could part with. If in that instant he’d asked you to open your vein to him and let him drink you think you might have invited him to gorge himself. The way he’d moved in your cunt that day, hand wrapped around the column of your throat as he drew a thin helpless sound out of you – like he owned it already, like he’d always owned it, and it’d just taken him a second to come and claim what’d always rightfully been his. The way he’d brought his fist down, hard, on the desk beside you as he emptied himself inside your pulsing walls, growling the start of your name between clenched teeth before it turned into a guttural wordless snarl. You knew there was a part of him angry at you in that instant. Furious at how fucking good it felt to take him inside you, to finally give in, to ravage and take and fuck the way both of you had wanted to for so long.

You’d wanted him with a kind of anguish that frightened you for the fervor of it. Something you’d never experienced. There’d been others before, well, one other, but that now seemed laughably pale and tepid compared to this. A blight of inconsequential nothingness in your past, that had in no way prepared you for what you’d come to experience with Joel. This was something to cause terror if examined too closely. But he’d peered at you one afternoon, opened his arms to you and invited you in, and how were you ever supposed to resist sinking your teeth into his flesh? Ripping out a piece of him all for yourself.

He’d promised that’d be the only time. That it could only ever happen that once. You’d both taken the lie for what it was. You knew this couldn’t be stopped once it had been started.

You’d always been a girl willing, glad, to do as you were told. To abide by the space allocated to you, to take what you’d been given with gratitude and accept your limitations. But loneliness makes monsters of even the best of us sometimes. And in a world now filled with monsters, it was easy to assimilate into one if given the opportunity, to let greed render you into what it may.

Joel watches your wonder at the sight of the little bird through the window, and he considers his own monstrousness. Your naked form is draped over his bed, tangled in his sheets, the loveliest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. The soft afternoon sunlight swirling along the planes of your skin, warm and buttery, and he accepts that he’s been deformed by his own brutality and violence. That he’s done a lot of truly heinous things in this life, but taking a little bird like you for himself, is perhaps the worst. The sparrow flits away and your eyes follow it– up, up, up. There’s a soft gleam in them, and his heart and gut twist at the sight of you moved by the sparrow. It’s been months of this, of the two of you tangled together. He hopes he never sees an end in sight, but at the same time, feels it pull at him. A vicious self sabotaging need to bring his fist down on this tenuous house of cards you’ve built together. Watch it smash into pieces.

There’d been times where he’d look at an infected, right before killing it, and felt an understanding so poignant.

That is what I have become.

He never needed to have been bitten to lose himself. To have been overtaken by something beyond his control. The viciousness of life had done it for him. Infected him all the same.

He was better now. He could acknowledge that. Ellie, and all that came with her, had served as a balm to his ragged edges. Jackson and its people. Having Tommy back, and the family he’d built with Maria. But he wasn’t naive. He’d known his day would be up eventually. His reckoning with Ellie would come, and it had. Nothing stayed buried forever, and eventually she’d discovered what he’d done. To keep her alive, to keep her for himself.

Perhaps his greatest sin was always trying to keep the women he loved. Always a failure.

Sarah, Ellie. You.

And now here he found himself again, on that same field in the middle of the night, surrounded by the end of the world, and clutching his whole life in the circle of his arms. Failing. Losing again and again.

Ellie had always been his reflection. A more hopeful, innocent mirror to all his cynicism and violence. But the same, nonetheless.

But you. You were his opposite in every big way that mattered.

Good and soft and honest. Strong.

And yet, there could be violence within you, when you so desired it. You’d let him have a peek of it on occasion.

Like the sun that burned his eyes from their sockets.

Violent, but necessary for survival.

You’d dedicated yourself to saving lives and healing, for Christ’s sake. All Joel’d ever done was destroy and kill. Even what he and Ellie had was on the precipice of death now.

And despite all of this. Despite everything he’d done to push you away. To hurt Ellie, no matter his intentions, he wanted. Savagely.

He wanted Ellie to understand why he’d done what he’d done. To forgive him. And even if she couldn't agree, then to just accept it. To set it away and let things be between them. To let it go .

What a selfish fucking thought, Joel Miller.

But he couldn’t help it; the goddamn world was over. Couldn't they just accept the bad things they’d done, or not done, and put it all away. And yet, at the same time, he could not hold it against her. Not even fault her. Because he knew her– he’d always known that the road would always inevitably lead them here. And still, he’d made the choices he’d made. In a way, he knew he deserved her ire. And so he bore it. Accepted it. Waited. But then– something new. You had come.

And he wanted you.

With a violence he’d never felt in a life filled with little other than violence. He could sanctify you with the fervor of his wanting. If he wondered at your own desires, he’d ask if there wasn't ever something you’d wanted so bad it pushed you into the depths of selfishness. A selfishness that bordered on cruelty to the outside world, but you just could not help yourself. You just had to reach out and take. He wanted to be that thing for you, that thing that turned you cruel and selfish.

And maybe that’s what this was, him taking you for himself; cruelty– like taking Ellie’s choices from her. But he couldn’t have helped it. He’d tried. God, he’d railed against this vicious want. But after the first time he’d touched you, tasted you, hell, the first time he’d fucking looked at you; all sense of choice had been taken from him.

All that was left after that was what would happen. What was inevitable. The thread that connected them was deep and dark and red. Not to be ignored.

The two circumstances were one in the same. And he couldn’t help but compare the present destruction of him and Ellie to what would become an inevitability between the two of you if he tried to be with you in any real way. Things always ended in one place for him.

And he’d ripped out so much of himself to cure the pain of Sarah’s loss, he now felt he had nothing left to offer, and what little he did, had gone to Ellie. The feeling of inadequacy was suffocating. Of missing some essential part of himself. He didn’t know if he was capable anymore, of that, of giving himself to someone new.

But he was afraid.

“C’mere, Birdie.” You crawl into his lap.

“Birdie?” A sweet, shy laugh. There was something about you, so akin to that sparrow. So small and fragile, but with the enviable ability to fly away if necessary. Within yourself, within your heart. There was a space within you he found unreachable to him. And he hated it and envied it all at the same time. Raged at himself for even wanting it in the first place. Knew that it only existed as a form of self preservation, of protection, against him. And the sound of your voice – lilting like the song of that sparrow – it fucking haunted him, it haunted him, it haunted him. Maybe he was a little like that bird, as well. Hollow.

Sometimes he just wanted you to hate him. To yell and scream and gnash your teeth and fucking demand something from him. Demand he let go of his cowardice and hesitations and fear. But he knew that very well of self preservation also allowed you to intellectualize his actions, parse together his motives and follow the thread to his root. Understand him in a way he shied away from.

He existed in different spectrums of himself. Different shades of a past that all coalesced into this man he was now trying to be and remain. Which was, perhaps, the hardest part of it all. To maintain that semblance of a good man he was fighting his hardest to be. A good father. A good brother. Helpful to his community and neighbors. Open to the world. It was fucking hard. Falling into old habits, letting the past crest up like a wave and drown him, that was the easy route. Staying on the straight path was the true test. And he knew– he knew how much he had to hold on to now, and all the responsibility that came with that. To cultivate and maintain his relationships, his friendships. He was appreciated, respected in this place he’d made a home. He’d lived a long time without respect from anyone, the world – or himself. He wanted to hold on to that.

But he was also aware that there was something missing. Something he still wanted, and before he’d met you, he’d been unsure of what that was. But the feel of a woman beneath him, around him– someone to know him as a man, and not a father or a brother or a friend– yes, that was definitely missed. And then, not just any woman, but you, you, you. Your appearance in his world had changed things for him. A burst of blinding light, an inferno creeping in his veins, without preamble or warning – the intensity of it almost unendurable for its sudden unexpectedness. It was empirically impossible for one to turn away from a change of that magnitude.

He thought of Tess sometimes. Her easy companionship. Her friendship. It was simple being with someone who never expected anything from you except to not get yourself killed. To stick to what was expected of you and not fuck up too badly you couldn’t keep your end of the bargain. But then… that wasn’t necessarily the truth of what they’d had either. Something still difficult for him to confess, even after all these years. And anyways, he was too old for that now. Shied away from getting into something like that again. A small curl of self consciousness making the appeal of it unsavory now. And this, between the two of you, he couldn’t codify it. Didn’t know what to make of it. Knew what he wanted of himself, of you. Knew what he would like to be able to give you and to take from you as well. Saying it out loud, confessing that, following through on it, was harder though.

Birdie, Birdie, Birdie

You reach up to scratch gently through the underside of his chin. The soft, thick bristles catching beneath your nails. Just one more inevitable thing in a world full of inevitabilities.

Sarah. Cordyceps. Ellie. Taking you for himself. His unwillingness to accept a thing, never made it any less true. Stubborn ass that he was, still after all this time, he could not kick the bad habit.

You settle your plush bottom into his lap and weave your arms around his neck, his hands coming up to curve around the bend of your elbows, pull you in tighter, as if he could stitch you to his very skin with the intensity of his wanting.

“You’re like a little bird,” he nuzzles the soft space behind your ear, sucks on the edge of your jaw, breathes you in. “My Birdie.” The soft sound you make goes straight to his hard cock and you spread your legs wider across his lap, grind yourself down onto him.

You bask in his attention, mind hazy and floating. You’re drunk on his touch, his scent, the sound of his voice, and you feel like you need to give him something. Give him some more tangible piece of yourself. Something you wish he could put in his pocket, tuck in his memory, carry with him always like a small, smooth stone, the weight of it knocking gently against his thigh as he moved about the world. You slink down the bed, settle yourself between his strong legs.

His middle is soft and thick, and you press a kiss to the swell beneath his belly button, further down to nuzzle into the soft thatch of hair around his cock. You breathe in the heady musk of him, and he’s restless, verging on aggressive beneath you — his control held on by the grace of a snapping thread. You take him in hand, show him you’re merciful, and give the hard thick length of him a slow tug. His size is obscene, held in your small hand, you can barely get your fingers around his girth; it makes you cunt clench and weep jealously. You gaze up at him, and the look in his eyes is feral, teeth bared in a gleaming snarl at you. You often think that he unmoors you, but in this moment, you have the power to unmake him.

You press small kisses to his thigh, the jut of his hip bone, nuzzle your nose at the soft skin there. And then finally, you offer him your tongue, tap the broad, dark red head of him once, twice, and then soft little kitten licks, across the crown, down his shaft. Not yet ready to give him the reprieve of your hot suctioning mouth. You lift yourself up on your arms to hang your head over his erection then, letting salvia pool on your tongue you let it dribble down in a long obscene thread onto his waiting cock, slide down. “ Fuck – fuck, fuck,” he growls then, savage: “Fucking swallow it or come up here, and give me that cunt. No more teasing, Birdie.”

You bend back down to tongue the slit and he hisses, snaps his teeth together; he’s harder than a fucking rock. You start to jack him slow and tight in long pulls, from the very base, up, up to twist your fist around the weeping head, pressing soft kisses to the tops of his thighs. And then finally, finally you wrap your puckered mouth around him and start to suck, hollowing your cheeks and laving your tongue all around the thick girth. It’s sloppy and so wet, your saliva dribbling down to slide over his balls and into his hair. Messy little girl . He grips the back of your head, fingers fisting in your hair. You look up at him in permission, and he starts to fuck your mouth in earnest. The muscles in your throat tightening around his head with every thrust. “Shit, shit, that’s good.” He lets his head fall back, and you take in the strong column of his throat. You can feel your pussy leaking onto the sheets beneath you at the sight of him and you squirm, rubbing your thighs together to relieve some of the ache. He’s so fucking hot. And you want him so badly, always.

He feels your desperate squirming between his thighs, “Play with that little cunt, baby. I know it hurts.” You moan in response, suck him deeper, swallow around him as you slide your hand under your belly, down between your thighs and play with the wet mess there. You cup yourself and start to rock your hips, you know he’s watching your movements, the rise of your ass, letting the heel of your hand grind against your throbbing clit and then slide down to your entrance, dip your middle finger in to penetrate you there, gentle and shallow. You pick up the pace of your grinding, everything is so slick and wet, and your mouth opens on a shallow gasp, his throbbing length slipping out of your mouth and falling wet and heavy onto his belly. The two of you watch each other as you fuck your hand slowly, and then he’s rolling you over with the strength of his thighs, quick as a viper, as he manhandles you to his liking. He’s sliding on top of you, and then he’s got you on all fours, face pressed down into the pillows and ass up, up in the air, pulling on your hips and spreading you wide for his eyes to feast on. You feel his big hands grip your ass cheeks and pull you apart, your pussy wet and aching, you’re sure he can see your hole clench desperately. He bends to give your flesh a sharp, painful nip and you keen in response, his tongue soothing over it after.

“Please, Joel – please.”

“What do you need, baby? Hmm?” he croons. “You need my cock to fuck this little pussy?”

“Please–” you cry, a mess of tears and spit covering your face.

He runs a gentle knuckle over your soaked, puffy lips. “So red… so needy… Say it, wanna hear it.” He gives you his thumb, catching just over the edge of your opening, your mewl is high and whining.

“ Please, please, please–”

“ Tell me, Birdie.”

Hitching breath, he pulls out his thumb, swipes over your clit, just barely. “Please, fuck my pussy.”

And then his hand is gone and he’s giving you the whole unrelenting length of him in one quick thrust, and he’s fucking huge and harder than stone. Pressing up against your cervix until it hurts and holding there, and you want more, more, more. It feels so fucking good and you’re so wet – dripping down your thighs, you can feel it pooling in the crevices behind your knees, mingling with the collected sweat there. It’s lewd. Your walls clamp down on him, tight as a fist, and he lets out a snarl: “Don’t move.” A shudder wracks through him and you can feel him throbbing inside you, holding him heavy and hard in the deepest part of your cunt. You mewl, high and desperate, “Don’t move, don’t make a sound—” You can’t help the whimpers, he pulls them out of you forcibly.

“ Fuck–” and then he’s ramming into you relentlessly, over and over, kissing your womb on each thrust, and you see stars behind your eyes. His hands hold you open to watch where he impales you. “Prettiest little pussy, fuckin’ perfect and tight, Birdie” he says through gritted teeth. He pulls out suddenly, bends to swipe a long wet lick from your clit to your asshole. Oh, he’s filthy. You can only moan in response, flushing red and hot from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. Your breasts are heavy and aching, the tips furled into tight points. And then he’s fucking back into you. “Gonna fuck it full of my come, baby. You want that? Want me to stuff you full, pretty girl?”

“Yes– please, please. I need it–” His hand slides up the length of your back to curve over your shoulder, pulling you back onto his impaling cock harder. His balls slap sharp and wet against your clit, and then you’re coming around him, something so deep and sensitive inside being rutted against unrelentingly. Your cunt pulls tight, almost painful, a hot little furl around him, milking his own orgasm out of him. He groans deep in his chest, torso folding over your back pressing you deeper into the mattress, and you can feel the heavy throb and jerk of his cock spitting inside of you. The fist in your hair jerks your head to the side and he swallows your pleas, tongue licking deep into your mouth. “Good– good girl,” kisses the tip of your nose, your brow.

“Little bird… s’soft” he whispers later. “ Who’s gunna look after these fragile wings that dream so big and want to fly so high?” The tips of his fingers ghost up and down the length of your spine, over the fine wings of your shoulder blades. His skin is rough, his trigger finger thickly calloused, and each pass makes you shiver.

“Can’t you?”

“Don’t think so,” he mouths at the tender nook behind your ear, along your hairline, “Ain’t got it in me. Not gentle enough, don’t think.” But how could that be true when no one in all your life, in all the world, had ever touched you as softly as he was now?

“My Birdie,” he murmurs, and he’s still semi hard inside of your sore, stretched out cunt. Leaking out of you. Messy. The both of you had stopped being careful a while ago. Stopped caring, really. And you know it’s an unspoken point of resentment in him, the fact that he can’t control himself. That he feels an instinct to fill you and mark you. To make you his in the most primal way he can. The fact that he can’t pull away from you, in this most precarious of moments, despite all the other ways he can, it chafes . The both of you look away from it, like so many other things between you – turn your faces away. Unwilling to stop, and do the right thing. Unwilling to consider the possible consequences.

Sometimes you wonder if the thought of those consequences appeal to him. Appeal as a form of subjugation. If that were to happen then he’d be forced to stop forcing himself to push you away. He’d be able to keep you the way you know he really wants to.

It is a delirious and precarious situation, the business of believing in something that’s constantly denied to you.

You wrap your hand around his thick wrist and bring it to your nose, breathe him in deep, press a kiss to the tender skin over the blue hued spidering of his veins. His heady scent of soap and sweat and musk, all mingled with your own scent on his skin. It makes you clench tight around him and he groans deep and wanton in his chest, grinds his hips further into you from behind.

“You know what I think you’re missing?” he murmurs into the sensitive shell of your ear– your messy hair moved by his breath. “Besides more of my cum–” He laughs – and oh, he thinks he’s so damn funny– another thrust, sharper now. Regaining strength. He grasps the inside of your thigh and pulls you open, hooks your leg back and over his hip. Moaning low, you say, “What’s that?” You wind your hand up and back to clutch his hair while he starts to fuck you slow and deep. You want all your conversations for the rest of time to be just like this, whispered into each other’s ears always.

His other hand slides down your belly, to slot his fingers over the place where he fits inside you, feeling the tight stretch of it. He cups you there and anchors you to roll your hips more deeply on to his hardening erection, the mound of his palm grinding into your oversensitized clit. This sort of stamina’s not normal for an old man, you want to tease. But then he says: “Some selfishness,” a little bit like a question. A little bit like an admonishment too. And you pause, he’s serious and it makes you afraid that it’s also posed like a warning, just for a second. “Be selfish, Birdie. Be selfish for me, just a little bit.” For me, he says, and it appeases you, comforts you. You think you may agree.

“Who says I’m not already?”

Chapter II

Netherfeildren Masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #FOG fic

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paragonrobits · 6 months

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"You know, for a while I didn't even really try to stop the crown." Simon Petrikov put his hands together, absently tapping his fingers against each other like he had an invisible finger trap. "I just... let things happen."

Bubblegum nodded, making a note of it in a small notepad she had brought. "Mm hmm?"

"At first I didn't know what was going on. And when I did, I suppose... I just wanted to know what was happening. I was scared but it was a new, unprecedented experience. And honestly, finding things out was all I had left." He looked into the distance. "Betty was gone. I, uh. I never really had any friends. And for a while, once I started looking different, I could only go outside at night."

"Why exactly?" Bubblegum appeared to rethink the question as soon as she said it, having put a few things together; humans hadn't always been so used to things that looked... too different.

"Well, you probably already guessed but once my skin turned blue, and I couldn't stop my hair from going all over the place, I... oh, it's silly. It must sound like a such a minor thing."

"No no, it's fine! I just forget. The world wasn't always so... hrm, what's the word? Morphologically diverse."

Simon nodded again. "Yeah, I never really thought of it like that but, yeah. It's easier, nowadays, to just be something different." He thought about the old days, before the war but after the crown.

Simon thought about telling her about the newspaper articles. 'A Sighting of the Sideways Ghoul.' Or the times he'd been trying to get groceries without being seen, and spotted too early or just before he was out of side, and then for a moment after the screams stopped, imagining what it had been like to see him lurking in the dark. Blue skin and a body so cold his breath was visibly making little frosted plumes in the air... hair sticking all over the place and not quite hair anymore and not exactly feathers. His hands, long and gnarled with too many joints and sharp at the ends...

He'd saw himself in a mirror, once, back then, when he hadn't expected a mirror there. It helped him understand, he supposed. It just didn't make him feel any better to see what he had become. And how much further he was going to fall.

"But, well, then the Great Mushroom War happened and I had a few more pressing issues at the time. Staying alive, finding food, avoiding people..."

"Wait, all people? Even other survivors?"

Simon looked down the table. "...Yeah. People got... trigger happy. Even if they were looking for community, or other survivors, they weren't looking for something like me." He stopped, and rephrased the sentence, realizing too late the reflex, what it suggested about how he thought of himself. "Some one like me, I mean."

"Anyway," he continued. "I just... stopped caring, I guess. I let the crown do what it wanted. I let it in, you know? I just... stopped holding back. I let it in," he said again. "I think I didn't see a way out then. I was alone, everyone I met ran away or shot at me, and it hurt, thinking that I'd spend the rest of my life alone."

He drummed his fingers on the table. Absently, he glanced aside at the third member of the little get-together, currently making something in the kitchen.

He breathed in and out; it took a long time, like he was gathering up years and years of loneliness and self-loathing and misery and just... letting it fly away.

"So what changed?" Bubblegum asked. She glanced aside too. And he knew that she already knew what he was going to say, or had a suspicion. "Clearly you started fighting against the crown's influence at some point after that. You kept yourself reasonably lucid for years; from what Finn has told me, and what I've learned, no one else has managed to do that for even a matter of hours, and you did it for years."

"...Huh. Weird. It kind of makes me feel a bit better about things. But, well, I guess its always the simple answers that surprise you. So what changed, you ask?"

Simon glanced aside again, and once more he looked right at Marceline. She looked back at them, gave them a cheeky little wave, and went back to what she was doing. Simon turned to Bubblegum, found a little smile, and more calmly than at any point in the conversation he said "Well, I guess I found something to live for."

#adventure time #simon petrikov #ice king #marceline #princess bubblegum #my writing #fics

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accidentalshifter · 2 months

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Writing fanfiction is a gateway to shifting, I swear!

Before working on "Dawn Misplaced," my Originals/TVD fanfiction project, I didn't dream of characters breaking the fourth wall or know it was possible to interact with them within my sleep... And I certainly didn't think it was real that another version of me could exist in a fictional world much less this Universe! OK I did. But, I figured there were huge margins of separation between me & myselves. And I figured that it was "more logical" to assume that what I was really doing was ✨️ using my imagination to combat a deep sense of inner loneliness ✨️ with extra steps involved. The dream worlds I'm used to exploring seemed way easier to explain. They were metaphors for psychological forces or archetypes in my psyche. Not real. Not truly.

That idea has recently changed. It's real. It's all real. At least, it's very real to me. Antis get fucked.

When Netflix (*hiss*) removed The Originals from their selection, I lost interest in writing Dawn Misplaced, tried to move onto another endeavor, and put vampires out of my head. Tried. Apparently, my imagination had other plans. I started having weird, vivid dreams of being a character within The Originals-verse. Despite resisting these dreams, they ramped up, becoming much stronger, until they were leaking over into my waking life as intrusive daydreams. Sometimes, they lasted for just a second. Other times? It felt like hours had gone by even though it'd only been minutes in my CR. These daydreams felt like tugs on my brain from somewhere I couldn't explain.

Who is tugging on the other side is still very much unknown. Maybe it's my DR-self? Idk.

Half a year has passed doing my damnest to deny the pull. After all, I had my own dreams to play in!! And the (theoretical) Mikaelsons have plenty of shifters on their payroll... Why the hell would they want one more shifter???

Especially someone like me:

✅️ 35 years old

✅️ no money

✅️ no prospects

✅️ a burden to my family

✅️ frightened

No accounting for their taste but six months and countless intrusive daydreams later and I am FED UP with taking a passive stance on this. I've decided to treat this like any other dream world I explore and get to the bottom of these tugs! And possibly fist fight the one who's responsible for them. Before I do that though, I want to make a list of all the "mini shifts" or intrusive dreams that I've had since this ordeal started. Thinking back on them, I can see a disconnect between the dreams I'd have when I was asleep vs. daydreams I have when I'm awake. Tw: this list of scenarios are NOT for those uncomfortable with violence, blood, death, or manipulation. My version of the Mikaelsons don't play nice in my dreams.

Asleep dreams: Seem to play out as if I'm in the body of a character within The Originals and important to the plot somehow.

Awake dreams: Seem to play out as if I'm an invisible ghost of my CR self just watching things unfold around me while being unable to communicate or be seen by anyone.

List of TVD/Original-verse Minishifts (Part 1)

⚜️ Walking down the main staircase of the Mikaelson mansion (the one way out in the country) while hearing arguing voices. I see Hayley first. She's eating a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios nonchalantly. Rebekah is on her phone, swipping left on an app. When I get half-way down the staircase, Elijah and Klaus (the ones who are arguing) stop their bickering to drag me into it. Elijah turns to me, asking: "You agree with me, don't you?". Klaus makes a sarcastic face & asks "Surely you won't agree with my *morally tiresome* older brother?" At this point, I become lucid inside the body of this person I'm in. I pause for a second before responding, "Uh, maybe, I don't know??". Elijah looks at me weirdly at that reply. [Asleep]

⚜️ I wake up in a bed I don't recognize. It's a four-poster bed, carved out of polished dark cherry wood. The sheets smell clean & feel good to the touch. Morning light is pouring through a window. It's warm on my skin. I'm groggy as the body I'm in slides out of bed & stumbles over to the window to peer out of it. I can see an apple orchard and a driveway running straight through it. I notice how red the apples are, fixating on that for whatever reason. As soon as I do, I hear a sort of wind noise. Like an errant breeze just ran through the room. Elijah's voice drifts into my ear but I don't catch what he said. My body turns to face him, I feel my mouth moving. I'm saying something. I can't hear what I'm saying, tho. [Asleep]

⚜️ Kieran is kneeling at the foot of the altar inside St. Anne's. The heavy smoke of bitter incense clouds the air, wreathing around the priest as he mutters prayer after prayer. I'm not inside a body this time. I'm nowhere. It's like I'm viewing this scene remotely in a 3rd person perspective. The candles burning at the memorial altar in the alcove flicker, their flame suddenly growing huge. Whispers are heard all around. I hear Father Kieran reply to them, "Yes, I understand." [Asleep]

⚜️ "Now, Elijah, we've tried mercy and peace and leniency, but these witches are officially out of control-" I hear Klaus ranting before I gain my senses. I'm back inside whoever it is I'm possessing (?) standing in the kitchen of the Mikaelson mansion while Elijah & Klaus are arguing. Again. Rebekah makes a snarky comment about Klaus and how his tolerance policy usually involves a dagger, so she's on the side of the witches. Klaus snarls, pulling up the long sleeves of his shirt to display his arm. It's covered in a weird tattoo that seems to be growing, crawling towards his chest, & neck. It almost looks alive. "We have to think about this sensibly, Niklaus," Elijah says. And Klaus, in turn, snaps that's it's a little hard to think about anything but dead witches with this curse on his arm. I begin to speak. But, I wake up in my CR a second later. [Asleep]

⚜️ Again, I'm walking down the staircase. It seems like that's where I become lucid in my dreams the most. The mansion is silent, too silent. Maybe everyone is gone?? The minute that thought crosses *my mind*, I sense the air shift and feel the body I'm possessing get slammed hard into a wall. Even in the dream, it hurts. I look up to see the livid, pissed-off face of Niklaus Mikaelson. The tattoo on his arm has progressed. I can see it peeking out from behind the material of his V-neck shirt, nearest towards his collar bone. He tips my chin up with one finger while his other hand pins me to the wall of a secluded hallway I've never seen before. "You...haven't been honest," Niklaus says to me in a voice that's nearly a seductive purr. Well, it would be if it weren't so bloody fucking terrifying. "You've been keeping a secret from me and Elijah..." The body I'm possessing is going crazy with panic and adrenaline. I can feel my (?) heart pounding. It's distracting me from focusing fully on Klaus & his paranoid rant. He seems to realize this, tightening his grip on me. His voice is a threatening snarl when he speaks now. "You think you can just run off to your little world any time you want, don't you?! I don't think you understand-" And to be real honest, I don't, because I immediately woke up in my CR before I let Klaus finish his rant. [Asleep]

#desired reality #shifters #shifting #shifting blog #tvd shifting #tvd universe #shifting community #shiftblr #shifting realities #shifting stories #reality shifting #tvd dr #shifting to tvd #reality shifter #shifting diary #reality shift #mini shift #shifting to tvd is great until you have to deal with Niklaus

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sadboytournament · 6 months

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ROUND TWO

Propaganda

Read more added due to the length

Anthony Lockwood: (via @its-your-mind)

Simon Petrikov: (via @transgendersimonpetrikov) "...

Simon. Simon is not initially introduced as Simon, rather is introduced as Ice King, an insane and Really out of it "villain". Throughout almost all of the first 3 seasons, you ONLY see him being weird and getting beat up a lot but under all of it is incredibly sad for reasons he can't distinguish aside from crushing loneliness. Until the Christmas special, they pull a COMPLETE 180 on ice kings character and reveal his backstory - and just to shine some light on this, up until this point in the show, Finn is the only CONFIRMED human in the show. All others are assumed to be extinct. Simon's/Ice King's backstory reveals a few things to the main characters and the audience that makes the characters see him in a new, sympathetic light - he was a human antiquarian with a fiancee (named betty) who just so happened to put a cursed crown on his head as a joke to amuse betty. And then boom! He's cursed. Unlike some other, admittedly limited amount of characters, however, after putting on the crown, he does not immediately go insane. It happens over the course of a few years (which in itself implies he has insane amounts of willpower, even still coming through with Ice King given that the crown tells its users to freeze the whole world with themself inside) .

So, he's cursed, and betty supposedly left him, as that's to what he's known. He assumed he scared her and she ran away and doesn't love him anymore, and spends years grieving over that. But in the few years after putting on the crown and before fully losing his mind, he has to take care of a girl after a goddamn war (where the climax is a detonated mutagenic bomb that makes radioactive zombies and shit) that he found crying in the middle of the street. So, if his mental state was already declining BEFORE, it sure as hell is now because he has to wear the cursed crown more and more to protect himself and this girl and the effects of it clearly show every time he puts it on in flashbacks with himself in Clear distress over the effects of it . So after a while he is scared for himself, and, to quote him, "I fear my thoughts are no longer my own". So then he begrudgingly leaves the girl he cared for over the course of several years before he goes fully mad and loses himself. So then aside from some mentioned stuff that happens before his insanity fully sets in (like being hypnotized which surely did not help his already deteriorating mind) and then for a thousand years he's just pretty much Gone.

In season 4 episode 25, "I remember you", he goes to marceline (the girl he cared for, though he doesn't remember that) and asks her to help him write a song to draw in the ladies. I won't go through the whole episode, but the song they end up making is not anything like that - he took over notes and pages from a scrapbook and Marceline found some he wrote before he fully went mad while desperately trying to get him to remember who he was, and they turned the notes into a song. There is a lot of crying from marceline, meanwhile Ice King has zero fucking clue what's going on there and just thinks they're having fun. The entire episode is up on YouTube, and I would recommend watching just to get the idea.

Near the end of season 5, he gets a brief moment of lucidity and return to his former self, and he makes a time portal to say sorry and goodbye to betty, and she jumps through only to discover that without the crown Simon is dying. He says later in the episode that he'd rather Die than go back to being Ice king. She wants to find a way to help him so she gets him turned back into ice king so she can find a way to cure him, with her going insane by gaining magic in the process (by proxy of mms, which is a whole thing itself).

Series finale rolls around, he's finally back, but in a chaos deitys "stomach", which reverted him and betty back to their sane, non magic selves. Their moment is short lived by the "stomach" closing in on them, about to crush them to death. They've seemingly accepted their fates, and embrace before their impending deaths, but they're given a way out, betty staying behind despite his pleas and using the original wish state of the crown to wish Simon safe and thereby fusing with the chaos deity and leaving. The next scene is Simon breaking down and crying where she previously was.

So, 12 years pass between the finale and the spin off, and he's just absolutely tired with everything. Hes a 20th century man frozen in time and thrown into into new world after living 1000 years insane and sad without the love of his life with him and he has to deal with that. He is constantly barraged with people talking about a story he wrote when he was insane, saying that it was great, wishing he'd write more, etc etc. Even saying he was cooler when he was insane. Still grieving betty, he tries to Actually Perform A Ritual That Could Destroy The World just to see her again. It goes wrong and the 2 main characters from the story he wrote while insane pop out of his head. After a bit, he finds out that they're not fiction and instead a universe planted in his head . Their magic was stripped from their world when he was reverted back to himself and since he's wallowing in so much misery he decides to find a way to go Back to being insane and commit the equivalent of suicide and perform ego death once again for people he just met because he felt his life was worth so little that serving any purpose even if detrimental to himself would give himself a meaning to live. Just as he's about to finish this, he finally gets to talk to now-chaos-deity betty, and she gets it in his head that his life is worth living and then sends him off to live his life after an emotional scene of them finally ready to let go of their losses..."

#tumble tournaments #the sadboy tourney #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #simon petrikov #Adventure Time

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penelope-kat · 7 months

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So I'm a little dissatisfied with the ending of F&C (btw totally fine to disagree, this is just my opinion. Also it's just a show ok let's all be mature here).

Let me be clear: I don't hate the ending; I think the rest of the show is amazing, AND while I LOVE the message of Simon and Betty moving on from each other and being able to be ok without each other, it felt really disingenuous for the show to say that Betty was more obsessed with Simon when they're clearly both complete freaks for each other?

Simon's whole thing in the original show whenever he was lucid was about how much he missed Betty, how fixated he was on her, and how he'd do anything to get her back, or at least be able to talk to her one more time. Marceline is always talking about how Simon was constantly obsessed with finding Betty again when she was little, and Ice King's whole character and obsession with kidnapping princesses stemmed from Simon desperately wanting to find Betty again.

All relationships have flaws, but I feel like this wasn't the right flaw to give their relationship. Simon and Betty's relationship was flawed because they were super obsessed with each other, not because Betty was more obsessed with Simon than Simon was with her. I guarantee that Simon would have done all the same shit Betty did if the roles were reversed and Betty had put on the ice crown instead, like I have not a single doubt in my mind.

It also makes Simon look a lot less emotionally intelligent and empathetic, which is like yeah, people don't always see how they hurt their loved ones, but you're really telling me he NEVER ONCE did anything Betty wanted to do? Never?? And Betty is a strong-willed woman, we always see that. She's unhinged. I love her. I feel like Simon would have picked up on her wants, too, especially since they were implied to have been together for a long time given, you know, they've co-written books and explored the world together and all. Simon ADORED Betty, and he's always been shown to be very empathetic and insightful, even at his worst during F&C! I highly doubt after all that time with Betty he would have never even considered doing her stuff. Do you really think Mr Semen Peggtricock over here, the final-boss of pathetic submissive twinks, took the reins on every aspect of anything they did together? I know that man gets his bussy destroyed three nights a week by Betty's 12 inch strap and whimpers under her weight m'kay there's no WAY he never ever once listened to what she wanted to do.

I do appreciate that the show doesn't make Simon or Betty out to be monsters or bad people or anything, and I do think in the context of Simon and Betty's stories, them going different ways makes the most narrative and thematic sense since their obsession with each other did end up severely negatively-impacting both their lives. Also, it was heavily implied that Betty reincarnated after blowing Simon sending Simon back to Ooo, so she won't be fused with Golb for all eternity in infinite loneliness. Uh that also makes me feel way better about the ending too lol.

But the specific point of "Simon didn't appreciate Betty enough".. it just doesn't sit right. That man spent collective decades mourning the loss of Betty, his princess, and all he really wanted was to be with her. He understood how brilliant she was, he loved her for it. Yes, he almost gave up her sacrifice that made him Simon again, but can you really blame him for that? He was super depressed and genuinely believed it would be the best thing to do in order to protect the little gay people in his head. He wasn't doing it to punish Betty, he'd never do that. Tbf I haven't seen many people claim he did it to punish Betty, I can just see that being a reachable conclusion for someone watching who already wasn't too keen on how their relationship had been portrayed thus far.

Betty was right: they did make their choices. And that means her choices too, choices that she literally took ownership of in the same breath, so it's weird for the show to imply only she would have gone to the lengths she did in their relationship.

Honestly the topic of overcoming obsession makes perfect sense to explore for BOTH of them. Betty having had time to think about it for 12 years as a chaos god, and Simon still being hung up because he blames himself for everything that happened. They were both equally obsessed with each other, and that mutual obsession destroyed both their lives. Now they need to be able to move on and, in Simon's case, keep living, even though Betty isn't around anymore, because his life as Simon Petrikov MATTERS.

Also before anyone brings up Temple of Mars that episode SLAPS it's GREAT and yes it is about Betty's obsession with Simon, but I always found it to be more of a "wow things became so screwed up. It's a shame Betty didn't go on her trip but the happiness she had with Simon was clearly worth it to her, it's just crazy how something like her missing a trip to be with him evolved into her time traveling into the future and losing her mind trying to save him". It wasn't really an episode about how bad Simon was for her in the beginning, it was like "holy shit girlie we need to get you on mood stabilizers ASAP cuz this shit is CRAZY".

Yeah I dunno how to wrap this up. Didn't mean to make anyone upset: I'm still shaky about how I feel on all of this and just wanted to get my thoughts out there. Opinions are valid! Even if you don't agree, I hope you can see where I'm coming from :)

Have a good night!

#long post #adventure time #fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #simon petrikov #betty grof #petrigrof #text #critique #stop!!! being mean to him!!!!!#my favorite little guy!!!!#im like that meme “he would not fucking say that” lol #feeling r weird about this one gang. why everything gotta feel so weird?#F&C was great i just think it had some problems here and there

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inbarfink · 8 months

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Okay, the thing is that I’ve seen some people speculate about the Winter King’s backstory and past assuming, like, that he’s always kinda been Like That. Like, that this version of Simon Petrikov has always been an evil heartless bastard or at least just a little less caring and loving than Mainworld Simon and that’s what led him down the path of the Winter King.

But speaking personally… I think this is a less compelling story as it relates to Simon’s character arc. I think it’s a lot more interesting if the Winter King was indeed ‘once just like’ Mainverse Simon.

That he used to be that selfless, dedicated and loving man - and he still managed to stoop this low. I mean, well, Simon seems to have come to the conclusion that this version of him was just ‘messed up’

and that was mostly part of a trend of him in these last two episodes just kinda going

You know, like, I don’t think that the lesson he should’ve learned from his adventures in Winterworld is just “wow, that one specific alternative version of me sure does suck!”. Farmworld, via its version of Finn, was a reminder for Simon of just how much of a traumatic experience the Curse of the Magic Crown is. Winterworld should’ve reminded him of the torment and indignity he was trapped in and how often he was a danger to himself and others

And of the truly fucked-up and terrible things he was capable of doing due to that torment and desperation of the Curse.

The Winter King is like a Whole New Exciting Way for Simon to lose his identity due to the Magic Crown, preserving his mind and memory by destroying the love and dedication and care that the Magic Crown never quite managed to fully burn away - his actual ‘immutable essence’. And this doesn’t work if the Winter King was always just Intrinsically a significantly different and worse person than Mainworld Simon, y’know?

And remember, we know the Winter King was in full on Ice King mode when he ‘conquered the crown’ (AKA cast that terrible spell to condemn Princess Bubblegum to the same terrible fate he’s been suffering).

And Mainverse Ice King was absolutely capable of trying to perform some fucked-up mind-altering spells of his own.

The only thing is that he was never quite that successful.

The main thing I am still unsure of with my favored reading/interpretation of how Winterworld Simon became the Winter King is…. There’s like, two different mutually-exclusive readings of what happened after the Curse was cast on Peebles and Simon regained his lucidity that are both very appealing to me from a thematic perspective. And I’m really not sure which one I like best.

Because the real issue was never ‘would Ice King be willing to cast such a horrible immoral spell?’, especially as one could easily imagine that whatever lucidity would allow Ice King to understand how his Crown is harming him and devise such a complicated spell would not necessarily extend to enough lucidity to fully understand the consequences of his actions. The issue is Winterworld Simon Petrikov, having regained his clarity of mind, choosing to maintain this spell for a hundred years. There's a reason why that's the thing Mainverse Simon fixated on when he figured out what's going on.

My first thought (and that’s something I went into more detail in a previous post) was this: Ice King’s madness was never wholly separated from Simon’s personality. Like, yeah, it was the Crown’s Magic that drove him so Mad and Sad - but it was also the trauma of losing Betty and surviving through the Mushroom War and feeling forced to abandon his beloved Marceline.

And that Madness was based on Simon’s psyche. Ice King’s loneliness and romantic obsession and Princess-nappings are all based on how much he loves and misses Betty

And now, Princess Bubblegum has been forced into a mirrored recreation of them.

The Candy Queen isn’t suffering from just the Magic Crown’s madness in general - but specifically from how it was shaped by Simon’s heart. And since you can’t actually separate this manifestation of Ice King’s Madness from Simon’s love for Betty - the Winter King ridding himself of one also rid himself of the other.

And since so much of Ice King’s Madness was interwoven into Simon’s psyche and especially his love and his kindness - throwing away all of this Madness into someone else also decimated these aspects of his personality. Princess Bubblegum already paid the ultimate price for Winterworld Simon’s sanity - but in a way he also paid a grave cost as well; becoming an unrecognizably different person he would previously find morally disgusting - even morso than Ice King.

Because the lines between Simon Petrikov and Ice King are always going to be a bit blurry and messy, and because Simon can’t probably live a life totally free of his Madness and Sadness but he’s gonna have to accept it for an actual mostly happy and sane life as someone who is recognizably Simon Petrikov.

Buuuut… that still basically means that casting of that Curse just kinda irrevocably transformed him into a Heartless Bastard. And that’s maybe not as compelling as if this change from kind and dorky Simon Petrikov into Evil Brian David Gilbert was done of his own free will

Hundreds of years of the Magic Crown eating away at his sanity and memories couldn’t truly destroy Simon Petrikov’s ‘immutable essence’. He still missed Betty more than anything even as this longing was twisted into something horrible, and still loved Marceline like a daughter even if he didn’t understand it. The one thing that could truly destroy this love that is so core to Simon’s being is him choosing to become selfish and cruel and uncaring.

And since he was in Full Ice King Mode when he cast the spell… I dunno if I can actually call it a fully-conscious act of cruelty. Deeply fucked up? Yes. But it’s hard to say how much Winterworld Ice King actually understood what he was doing. And while I think it’s much more emotionally compelling if the Winter King started from the same place as our beloved Mainworld Simon. The only difference can’t just be the pure luck that Mainworld Ice King was just never lucid or focused enough to successfully cast a spell that would transform him into an equally terrible person.

For this angle to work, this decision to continue doing the bad thing has to come from a lucid Simon who is still kinda recognizably Simon and still chose to continue perpetuating the Curse Ice King cast on Princess Bubblegum.

This might seem unthinkable, especially considering how obviously disgusted Mainworld Simon was at the Winter King’s actions. But you have to consider just how much Winterworld Simon would be desperate to not be Ice King again, Mainworld Simon was once willing to die then live the rest of eternity as IK. The fact that he’s so willing to throw away his sanity again now is so worrying because it shows just how badly he’s being doing - because at first, Simon was fighting so badly to avoid diving back into this pit of madness. And that Spell must've seen like the only chance he was gonna get.

And, yes, Simon Petrikov is a character full of kindness and love and selflessness - but that never meant he was the sort of Cinnamon Roll incapable of ever hurting anymore and especially not when he’s desperate or lashing out. That’s kinda the fallacy Simon himself fell into when he had that total identity crisis in the second episode. He just couldn’t find a way to join his previous identity as the patient and fatherly man who took care of Marceline

With the fact he made a little girl cry.

But yes, both we the audience and Simon himself have to face the fact that despite possessing such strong fatherly instinct and a desire to help children - Simon can also lash out in his trauma in a very cruel manner that goes against all of his own values.

And by the end of the fourth episode, he was tempted to let himself die - even though that will also utterly destroy a whole universe of sapient beings living in his head. It was brief thanks to Fionna knocking some sense into him and obviously the Literal Suicidal Depression involved was also seriously clouding his judgement. But that is still Simon nearly dooming a whole realm of other people because he was feeling absolutely desperate.

Not to mention him kidnapping someone and forcing him into a terrible experiment for the sake of trying to summon GOLBetty.

A desperate attempt to reconnect with his lost love (and in a way, a missing part of his identity as Betty Grof’s other half). Which I mean, yeah, ‘it’s just Choose Goose’, but also last time GOLB was summoned it nearly fucked up all of Ooo and the only thing GOLBetty could do about that is get herself as far away from Simon as she can. And now Simon is gonna try and summon his Eldritch GF again in the middle of a major population center.

And of course, Winterworld Simon and Mainworld Simon are never going to be fully exactly the same person because ‘Simon Petrikov’ is not some immutable unchanging concept and we know that they’ve had different experiences. It was really so sweet to see Mainverse Simon pay forwards the kindness he’s gotten from his loved ones when he was stuck as the Ice King towards the Candy Queen

But it also reminded me that the Winter King himself never got that sort of kindness and grace in the first place. The Curse was cast one hundred years ago. Back then, Marceline was still avoiding him because she couldn’t stand to see what he had become, Finn and Jake were not his friends on account of neither of them being born yet and… they also directly or indirectly helped him get his entire rest circle of friends.

So Mainworld Simon emerged from an Ice King who was not absolutely free from misery and loneliness… but has also experienced happiness and friends both from people who just loved him for who he was at the moment

And grace and kindness from those concerned for his condition and honestly doing their best to make sure he’s doing his best in his current state and trying to bring out whatever of Simon was left in him.

While Winterworld Simon emerged from Ice King at his worst and his most miserable.

And while the Winter King’s callousness about Betty would kinda always be a worrying testament to how much Simonness he has lost - it is extra disturbing for the viewers and Mainworld Simon because they have seen Betty sacrifice her entire being for his sake. That would just reinforce his own love and dedication to her in his mind… not always in the healthiest of ways.

But the Winter King has experienced nothing of that sort. He was not freed in a self-sacrifice fueled by love that literally defied time itself. Wintdrworld Simon only regained his lucidity because of a deeply fucked up and selfish action he has taken as the Ice King. And as far as he knew, that was his only choice except death or the eternal despair of being the Ice King.

And so maybe Winterworld Simon managed to convince himself that he can stay like this for just one day. Just one day of enjoying both lucidity and Magic and then he’s going to undo it because obviously he knows that it’s terrible what the Ice King did! I mean, yeah, Princess Bubblegum and the rest of the Candy Kingdom are suffering but they’re also going to suffer when the Ice King comes back so it’s really a lateral move for them. For just one day!

And then by the next day, Winterworld Simon finds one more excuse why he can wait until tomorrow to bring everything back to normal. And day by day it becomes just a little bit easier to justify perpetuating something so terrible. Day by day he gives up a little bit more of his morals and his selflessness and his love. Until he finally finds out that he just doesn’t care anymore about being a selfish heartless bastard.

The same way the Magic Crown took his sanity and identity gradually - he’s now so desperate to cling to them that he chose to tear away at what was once the core most parts of himself

Until he became just as unrecognizable.

Both of these ideas are really compelling to me but they’re also kinda opposite. Maybe there’s a way to balance them both in a way that preserves what makes them so interesting for Simon’s character in the first place??

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mochiswifey · 4 months

Text

ANGEL

BONTEN KANJI MOCHIZUKI

~MATURE THEMES~ Next

*Arrange Marriage, Sexual Themes (Blowjob), Age gap*

Forced to marry an older man, Louie tries to navigate the hell she’s suddenly pulled into.

Her eyes flicker.

“Finally she’s fucking awake.” Someone with an androgynous voice said.

She tries to wipe her eyes and to her surprise her hands were tied to a chair.

Panic attacks her

She tried to think whether she took too much sedative and she’s lucid dreaming.

“She’s awake.” The voice repeated after she heard a metal door open.

She tried to compose herself to no avail. The surrounding is dark and cold. The floor is dirty. Tainted with dry blood. And-

Her thoughts were interrupted when a shadow fell over the little light from the lamp shade hung above.

“Your Dad. He operates boats.”

Husky voice accompanied by a strong smell of cigar.

“I- I don’t- What?! My dad doesn’t-“

“Your real Dad.”

Then, it dawned on her.

She was taken because of her real father. The father who she last saw 7 years ago.

The father who ran away and left her.

The father who was never really a father to her.

“What is this? Did he pissed some Yakuza? I am nowhere pretty to be sold-“

“Bruh, no one would fucking buy you-“

“Shut up addict.”

“Shut up lung cancer”

Louie sighed before closing her eyes.

“I haven’t seen him for 7 years. I don’t know where he is or how he is. You could kill him for all I care.”

“Your father didn’t pissed us. It’s just. We have a tradition to follow.”

“This isn’t the 20s.”

“Don’t you think that this isn’t the best time to joke around?” The androgynous voice turned out to be coming from a man with a pink hair and diamond scars on either side of his mouth.

He steps in front of Louie and squats down. He has a deranged face. A manic expression.

But Louie recognize the loneliness and emptiness in his eyes.

It’s the same for every rich person she has ever seen in Tokyo.

It didn’t matter how much wealth they’ve accumulated throughout the years.

It’s never enough and will never be.

“My whole life is a joke so shut up.” The scarred man laughed before standing up and going away from her view.

“This tradition, is this some fucking sacrificial bullshit?”

“No. It’s you marrying one of our executive.”

Louie chuckled before going silent.

“This isn’t a Wattpad dark mafia bullshit.” She says with an excellent American accent surprising the two men.

They knew she was a bastard born to a cabaret hostess mother. They assumed she was uneducated and-

“Was that English?”

“In what world wasn’t that English?” She mocks the men.

“You seem comfortable in this kind of situation.”

“I am nowhere comfortable in this situation.”

Louie sighed. She’s captured and she has no way of escaping. It’s cooperating that would get her a pass to live another day.

“Why do I need to marry?”

“The boats your father have. We want them to carry our shipment.”

“Then sign an agreement! Why the hell would I be pawn to your games?”

“Agreements are easily broken. With marriage your family will be bonded to our organization.” Louie shakes her head and almost laughs.

“I’m a bastard. What made you think that my father won’t betray your organization?” The men had the same thing in their mind.

But she is the best they could get.

Louie’s father won’t marry his legitimate daughter to them.

“You still carry your father’s last name. And once you bore a son, when your father betrays us every single workers of your father will never trust him again.”

A son?

There was no way of winning through brute. So, even though she was infuriated she remained calm and listened.

“Who am I gonna marry?”

“Mochi.”

Who in the world is that with a punk ass name?

Kanji removes his tie as he burst inside the hotel room.

Misaki had a smile on her face but it quickly dissipated as she realize Kanji is in a bad mood.

“What happened?” She quickly follows him to the balcony.

The cold wind chilled her body but she knew better than to ignore the man who’s supporting her lavish lifestyle.

Kanji gripped on the railing. His face full of fury. Eyebrows arched and teeth gritted.

“Tell me what happened.” Misaki soothes Kanji’s gigantic arm. She tries to comfort him because that’s her duty.

“I was going to marry you.”

Her smile faded from utter shock. Not once did she ever think of him having the want to do what he just said.

Kanji and Misaki’s relationship- it wasn’t something they hid. All of the executives in Bonten knew that Misaki is Kanji’s woman.

They met in a club and from that day Kanji desired Misaki.

He showered her with everything she didn’t need. Kanji would never admit it to anyone but she’s the closest thing to love he has ever gotten.

On the other hand, Misaki saw him as jackpot. He was addicted to her even though her heart belongs to someone else.

But it’s fine. Because with him she could get a comfortable life.

“Y-you wanted to marry me?” She asked him but Kanji didn’t reply.

He wanted to marry her. He was planning on proposing to her on Christmas Day.

But now it’s all ruined.

“I-l I’ll say yes if you still want to…”

Kanji’s rage disappears for a moment. He wanted to smile and be happy for once but his world would never allow such thing.

“Well I can’t now.”

His rage returns.

It’s one thing to be ordered to kill but it’s another to be ordered to marry.

Misaki knew she didn't love Kanji. And she also knows that she will never fall in love with him. It's just impossible.

But she couldn't help but feel disappointed after his words.

Yes, she will never love him. But she knows him. And she knows he'll never leave her. He'll never disregard her for any other woman.

"W-why?"

"Because I'm ordered to marry a fucking bastard." Kanji spat out with fury.

"I-"

"Don't ask me any more fucking questions!" Kanji snaps startling Misaki. He leaves her in the balcony to get his favorite whiskey.

Kanji's rage sometimes scares Misaki. But every man in the crime world has their own temper.

Misaki closed her eyes and sighed. She then followed Kanji to the bedroom.

Kanji was slouched on a chair with whiskey in his hand. His face was full of rage and Misaki knew what Kanji would like for the night.

"You don't need to marry me. I'll be with you either way. Married or not." She says and Kanji chuckles.

She kneeled down between his legs and started to unbuckle his belt. Kanji placed his liquor down and watched as Misaki took out his cock.

He didn't say anything and simply watched as she licked the side of his shaft. She then slowly nibble on his tip before taking half of his enormous length.

Kanji sighed in pleasure as he felt her wet warm mouth. She twirls her tongue around as she bobs her head up and down making erotic wet noise as she goes.

One of the reasons Kanji likes Misaki is the fact that she's an elegant woman who gives a blowjob like a whore.

Misaki pushed her head down as far as she could before pulling away and spitting on his cock before licking one of his balls.

"Just like that... fuck..." Kanji says head thrown back.

She begins sucking on his balls as she strokes him fast. Misaki took her time licking him before returning on sucking his tip.

She felt his cock getting harder and the salty taste of his precum cued her that he was getting close.

Kanji surprised her when he stood up and slammed his cock far back in her throat. He begin to fuck her mouth fast.

His whore struggle to breathe but he didn't care. He needed to release the frustration he had.

Just when Misaki was beginning to lose breathe he slammed his cock farther than he has ever done and came inside her mouth making her gag.

"Don't spit." He order and with a teary and ruined mascara his whore obeyed and swallowed every last drop of his cum.

"You always looked pretty right after I fucked your mouth."

Satisfied, Kanji went to take a bath.

Mikey ordered him to marry the bastard.

And the king's words must be obeyed no matter what.

So, as much as he hates it. He'll meet his future wife at exactly 7:40 pm at the Hilton Hotel.

Plagiarism Is A Crime

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cookeybg · 20 days

Text

Gotham Possesses

A cryptid Batfamily AU in which Gotham is the main character and follows its journey to consciousness as it follows its Bat and Birds. Chapters are short and a bit gloomy.

Main Characters: Gotham, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd (more characters pop up later, will add them then.)

No romantic relationships

Stuff to know: Cryptid Batfamily, grim, Melancholic mood (let me know if I should add more tags)

Word Count: 557

[Here's my table of contents]

Chapter 5 - Gotham Slept

Her Bat had always kept his secrets close. He had always prided the perceived control he had over himself. He always planned. He always prepared. Eventually his mission drove a wedge between him and her bird. Her bird was fed up, she could feel his frustration, his captivity and so she let her bird fly outside of her loving embrace. Her tendrils had extended farther than the city limits. Learning from the land, observing, absorbing, twinning and reaching until she touched another city. Bludhaven, it was called. Silently it slept, dormant. She led her bird there, close enough to keep the tether taut but lose enough to feel free. Unsure if the city would ever wake. Unsure if she was the only one aware. Relieved that her bird was within her grasp. Time ticked by and her Bat met a boy, small, with cracks but he made her Bat laugh. He brought him to the Manor and she watched curiously. He knew her differently than they, intimately. He had crawled within her muck and clawed and fought his way up just to be able to breathe, to eat. He had only known warmth in brief lucid windows and knew of the pain brought by meaty fists. He had been witness to the horrors brought on by need and even participated in a few. He was a survivor of a different kind. The boy would learn to fly, she knew. Some things are certain and her connection to her Bat, the tether, compelled. Her shadows embraced him. The boy donned the colors of her bird, of Robin, and her Bat’s loneliness was assuage. The new bird was not as graceful nor did he ride the skies as if he belonged, but he made up for it by being quick and clever of her streets. She watched them dance, aware of not being the only one, but too focused to care. She wove around him, caressing his hair, unable to do much else for him but lighten the burden of protection from her Bat. She made it harder for the villains, to see, to hear. Everything else was a learned skill, taught by her Bat. The day she felt her Bat’s pain, it was all consuming. In a wooden casket lay a shattered bird, the cracks finally given way. Cold, stiff and without warmth he was placed within her soil. The Bat blamed himself, claimed that he should have been better, should have done things differently. Her Bat blamed her, claimed that she took and took and took. She cried relentlessly, screamed and lit the skies. He was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. She would give back. She always did. Lightning struck her soil, tearing a spark of shadow from her. It did not work. She had given her shadow to the other bird once before and she would do it again. She struck again and again until a connection was formed. A rope to bind him to her. She called the vermin that slunk in her sewers and they dug. The bird took a breath, nearly drowning himself, but he had clawed his way up before and so he did again. The bird came out wrong. Twisted and confused. The bird was stolen, taken from his nest. She was too weak to hold onto him and in her exhaustion, Gotham slept.

Let me know what you guys think! I wrote this instead of working on my other fic. I just can't seem to get that chapter right.....

#gotham #gotham city #fanfic #fanfiction #cryptid batman #cryptid batfam #robin #nightwing #dick grayson #briefly mentioned #bruce wayne #jason todd #the second robin #grim #angsty #angst #obviously jason dies #the one who takes him is Talia al Ghul

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sayafics · 9 months

Text

Just For A Moment - Part 5

Hello my beautifuls <33

Sorry for the really late update, I have been slammed with family events and have more in a weeks time 💔💔

But I do hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm going to try and update more often before I go MIA for a few days for wedding related stuff (not mine, silly😭)

This is a POV of Aurora's experience after she left and why she came back, enjoyyyy!!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 6

Masterlist

When Aurora had made the choice to leave the Intelligence department, and then Chicago, she didn't have it in her heart to discard the items that connected her to her life there.

So as days went by, her phone continued to ring and vibrate with a bombardment of messages and calls, one after the other. She didn't have the courage to silence them, nor the anger within her to turn off her phone or throw it out.

Instead, she bought a new one as she watched her phone continue to light up as weeks went by.

She tried not to read the messages, forced herself to avoid the voicemails left for her and soon they began to die down.

As weeks went by, the need for answers from friends and colleagues grew weaker as they accepted the fact she didn't want to talk to them, didn't want to explain herself or talk about the pain she had gone through.

Aurora threw herself into her work, hoping one distraction or the other was enough to pull her mind away from the horrors of her last few weeks in Chicago.

Soon her phone would only ring once a day, every day at ten o'clock. It was Jay, it was always Jay.

A part of her, selfish and greedy, found herself looking forward to those calls - entertaining the idea of picking up and hearing his voice, listening to the sounds of his breaths, seeing if he still felt guilty, seeing if he wanted her the way she found herself still wanting him.

That was the worst part.

After all he had done, there was a part of her that craved Jay - that needed his voice in her ear, his hands on her skin, his praises and his confessions, his love and his pain. There was a part of her which longed for him, that continued to yearn for him even though she had all but ran away from him.

Perhaps that was why she picked up.

It was 11:37pm when the phone rang. Jay's call had come at 10pm and been ignored. Still, he left a voicemail that went unheard, Aurora was too fearful of the pain his voice would cause her that her ache for it wasn't enough to make her want to listen.

No, this call was from Matt Casey, the firefighter she had given her phone number to so they could arrange a time for him to help her with some construction work on her property back in Chicago.

Maybe it was loneliness or perhaps pure desperation, or anger and spite which fuelled her actions, but she picked up at the third ring.

There was silence on both sides, the only sound being light inhales and deep exhales as both parties decided on what to say.

"You picked up."

His voice sounded surprised.

"Hey, Matt."

Her voice was soft, but cautious. She was unsure why Matt Casey of all people would call, but she was also not sure why she had picked up so quickly.

"Hey, Aurora," he sounded relieved at the sound of her voice, "how are you?"

She shrugged, despite the fact he couldn't see her, "better." It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.

He didn't need to know she cried herself to sleep every night, that she spent every waking moment thinking about Jay, every lucid breath angry at him, and every calm second grieving what had been lost.

Casey sighed as though he could hear the lies in her words, but chose not to push, "everyone misses you here," he waited a breath, for a response, for a sign of regret she had left or a hint of longing, but nothing.

"Jay misses you."

Aurora inhaled sharply at that, by now she had only been gone just over a month, and the mention of Jay brushed viciously against a raw and gaping wound.

"I'm sorry," his voice was quieter now, speaking his words slower, "Kelly's worried about him. We all are."

"Jay's not my problem," her voice was shaky, but she forced her words out with conviction.

"I know."

There was nothing more to say, "I gotta go, Matt."

"I'll talk to you later."

It wasn't a question, and a part of Aurora was kind of glad for that.

"Bye Matt."

"Bye Aurora."

Their phone calls continued like that for the next few months - Casey would call Aurora every other week, keeping her up to date on things happening, telling her everyone missed her, giving silent encouragements for her to come back to Chicago. And every time, he would try and bring up Jay, to express his worries and the fears of others as Jay wore himself down with guilt and anguish. But every time Aurora would find an excuse to end the call, and pretend Matt had never said anything at all.

Jay's calls still continued, every day like clockwork he would call at ten o'clock, and still Aurora would not answer.

It had all come to a head when her phone rang in the early afternoon. She had finished a gruelling case recently, and had taken to hibernating in her quaint and scarce apartment as she readied herself for weeks under another alias.

The ringtone sang loudly as she stepped towards it, it was too early for it to be Jay, and too soon after the last call for it to be Matt.

Voight.

She thought about not picking up, but Voight wouldn't have called if it wasn't important.

Was it about Jay? Was he okay? Had he been hurt?

She took a calming breath, forcing her hands not to tremble at the troubling thoughts as she answered the call and brought the phone to her ear - "hello?"

"Aurora."

Voight's voice hadn't changed, he still spoke in his baritone rasp, slow and authoritative. A part of her was comforted by it, warming at the sound of a familiar voice she hadn't realised she had been missing.

"Did something happen to him?"

She couldn't help it, couldn't control her fears. It was the first time Voight had called her, and the idea that something bad could have happened to Jay being the reason why gnawed at her.

"He's safe," she let out a sigh of relief, hoping it was quiet enough to be ignored, but a part of Voight perked up at the sound as he continued, hoping his words wouldn't scare her off - "he's struggling though."

"That's not my problem," her voice was a quiet whisper, eyes closing as the words were repeated to her by someone other than Matt.

"I know," he was cautious with his words now, "but that's not why I called."

She was curious now, eyes opening as her brows raised in question, "hm?"

"I got a case."

"And I quit."

Voight sighed at her retort, "as an officer of the CPD. I don't need an officer, I need an undercover agent."

Aurora paused at that, curious as to why Voight would go to all this trouble to ask for her help when there were plenty of experienced undercover operatives within the CPD itself - Jay included.

The truth was, Voight knew someone else could help with the case. But over the years Jay had spent working in Intelligence, he managed to wedge himself into Voight's life with ease. After the death of his son, Voight's reliance on Jay's presence had grown stronger. In some ways, Jay was like a son to him.

So perhaps out of his own form of selfishness or an unprecedented amount of protectiveness, he wanted to help Jay.

Voight could see how Jay was breaking, could see the light fading from his eye as his prayers and pleas went unanswered. He could see the way Jay was losing weight, the way his eyes grew darker with lack of sleep, how he was angrier, and easily tired, how he was in denial and desperate.

He also wasn't in the dark with how Aurora was doing, her father frequently keeping in contact as he spewed his worries about how his daughter was throwing herself into her work, alienating herself from friends and family. Aurora was doing the exact thing she had told her father she wanted to run from. She was losing herself in the lives she lived, working a career that drained her.

Jay and Aurora were both suffering, both exhausted and tired. They both needed each other, but the pain that had been inflicted on them was too much for them to face, and they found it easier to avoid it through their own vices.

Jay's was alcohol, whilst Aurora's was her work.

And the paternal heart of Voight could not bear to hear and see the two torture themselves any longer.

"Why?"

Aurora's question broke him out of his reverie, so he spoke, "why not?"

She groaned in frustration, "Voight, I swear to God. Please. I can't come back."

"You don't want to come back. But I have a case, I need you."

It was true, she didn't want to come back. Fearful of what she would see if she did.

Would Jay have gone to Hailey for comfort? Would they have fallen in love? Was Hailey the one for him? Was Hailey enough for him in a way she wasn't?

They were questions she had forced herself to leave unanswered.

"I'll send you the case file. Have a look, and get back to me," Voight paused, listening to the shallow breaths on the other end of the phone, "the team's not the same without you. Jay isn't either, and I know you aren't. This could be good for you both. Think about it, kid."

Voight ended the call before she could reply, before she could think or before she could say no. She stood there with the phone still pressed to her ear, standing in baited silence even as her laptop pinged with a notification of a new email - the case file.

Still, she stood and thought.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, but soon, she was forced to blink herself back to reality. Her eyes were pulled towards her laptop, already open and waiting for her to investigate.

Aurora probably should have ignored it. She should have gone on about her day and left Voight's request unanswered.

But the agent in her, the officer, and the soldier drilled into her bones forced her to drag her feet towards the device and pull up the files she had been given.

She had a lot of thinking to do, and a very hard decision to make.

***

A few hours had passed since Voight's call, and for the first time in several months Aurora picked up her phone to make a call.

Her finger automatically selected 1, ready to speed dial the one person she was avoiding, simply out of instinct.

She forced her eyes closed as she took laboured breaths, calming herself before she opened her eyes and searched for a specific contact.

Matt.

She liked to think they had become friends during the last few months, and she hoped that he would help her now more than ever. She wasn't sure what she wanted him to say. A part of her wanted to hear encouragements to come to Chicago, and the other wanted him to warn her never to come back.

She wants him to tell her she should find happiness where she was, but she was afraid she never would.

Matt picked up on the last ring, and the pair spoke for a long time. Aurora was surprised - there were no encouragements nor any hints she should stay away.

Matt focused on what she wanted to do, what she felt was right. The truth is she wasn't sure, but looking over the case, she knew she could do some good.

There was a new gang in Chicago, distributing laced drugs to minority areas, causing children as young as ten to be hospitalised and on the brink of death. Voight wanted her to be the one undercover, to get close to who they thought was in charge, to get a confession, or to find some evidence. Anything to get this gang on its knees, to cut off the head of the serpent from where it was rooted.

The call was heavy, Matt reminding her that she would eventually have to see Jay, possibly even work with him. She didn't think she could do that, she thought her throat would clog and her eyes would water, that her mind would panic and she would run again.

Another part of her thought she would turn a blind eye to his actions for a moment of solace in his arms, even if just for a moment longer.

She was conflicted, she was struggling.

And she knew Matt could sense it, even if he couldn't see her.

"It would be great to have you back in town. I know 81 would be happy, I'm sure CPD would be too."

"Maybe. Doesn't mean it won't be hard."

"Nothing is ever easy, especially not in this line of work."

A bitter laugh escaped her, "not in this life, you mean."

Matt sighed through his nose, a silence emanating through the phone, "don't let this break you."

"What?" The words had been unexpected, causing her to sit straighter as she listened closely.

"What Jay did. Don't let it be what breaks you, don't let it stop you from being happy even if you have to come back here to find it."

Aurora let out a shaky breath. She hadn't thought that way before. She hadn't realised that was what she had been allowing to happen, she had been allowing herself to break whilst she lived in misery, staying away from her friends and from a life she truly enjoyed.

Yes, Jay hurt her in a way that was so damaging that she felt the need to flee. But that didn't mean she couldn't go back, or at least, it didn't mean she couldn't try.

She was still wary of the pain and agony she would face when she had to see him, had to hear his voice and face the possibility that he was happy without her.

But she had to try.

At her silence, Matt prompted further, "I'll be there every step of the way. If you come, and if not, I'll still be here."

Her eyes burned at those words, she watched the lines of their friendship begin to blur as she listened to his words of support.

Matt had been there, had been a listening ear, a helpful advisor, and a beloved friend.

She was not sure if she wanted him to be more, but she knew she appreciated his friendship and his support.

She continued to stay quiet, but Matt was undeterred, "I'll see you soon, Aurora. Goodnight."

He spoke as though he knew what her answer already was, spoke as though he knew she was coming, and he was ready to be there in any way she would have him.

Aurora glanced at the clock, wondering how it was gotten late so quickly.

9:58pm.

Oh.

"Goodnight."

Aurora ended the call, and the seconds ticked by quickly as another call replaced the one she had just ended.

She let it ring, until it went to voicemail.

Only this time, she listened to it. She ignored the rest, piled in her voicemail box, waiting for her attentive ears, and played the one Jay had left only seconds ago.

'Rory,' his voice was scratchy, as though he hadn't spoken for quite a while or hadn't drank water in hours. In truth, Jay's preferred form of hydration now was alcohol, 'I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I don't know what to do.'

Jay's voice grew heavier with tears at every word, guilt weighing him down as he spoke, a debilitating weight began to fester in Aurora's sternum as she listened to his anguish - 'I can't find you. But I need you, please come home.'

Aurora thought it would end there, hoped that his other voicemails were similar babbles of mumbling and slurred apologies from drowning himself with alcohol to hide from his shame. But Jay continued with renewed vigour, his voice light as he reminisced about quiet moments he shared with her, 'we're working on a case. We've almost solved it. I just know it. You would've liked this one. It was a homicide - you always liked those. Said it reminded you of Sherlock Holmes. I read the books you bought me about him, after so long. You were right, I couldn't put them down. I fell asleep on the couch so many times whilst reading, would've missed work if it wasn't for my alarm too,' a strained laugh escapes him.

'I can't go into that room anymore,' her heart sinks as she realises which room he's speaking about, 'not unless I have to. I can't. Not when I know the last person in that room wasn't you. Not when I know I won't be able to sleep without thinking of you. Come back to me,' he spoke with a broken whisper, 'if you're ever ready to have me, ever ready to trust me. Come back home, to me. I'll always wait for you.'

Tears were now streaming down her face, eyes clenched shut as she tried to hold them back, but her shoulders shuddered with stubborn sobs. It was his last words that broke her, that tore down the walls she had placed between herself and her home for so long, that wiped away the distance she had drawn.

'You're enough. You've always been enough. I was just too blind to see it, but I know it now, and I see it now. You're enough.'

There it was. The reply she had been waiting for, all those months ago, out in the open when she had left him to stew in his guilt and misery.

She was enough, but was Jay too late?

***

Aurora tried to tell herself it was Matt's words of encouragement that brought her to this moment. That Matt was why she was here, and that every glance towards the windows and door wasn't in search of him.

She had accepted Voight's offer, unaware of his hidden agenda, and returned to Chicago within the same week.

She had gone to new lengths to avoid the temptation of listening to Jay's voicemails, hiding her phone deep into the depths of a suitcase she left abandoned in the house she had run from all those months ago.

That brought her to this moment now - refamiliarising herself with her surroundings and her friends by making a stop at Molly's. Matt was already waiting for her, with open arms and a hearty smile.

He knew she would come, and he was proud of her for doing so.

He stayed with her the whole time, a protective hand at her back and an ever-present guard at her shoulder as she spoke to old colleagues and faded friends.

But even he did not miss the way her face fell as it tracked a familiar car racing away from Molly's. He didn't miss how she became quieter, more reclusive in the moments which followed.

But he stayed by her side, a compassionate friend ready to help her deal with the brutal emotions that she fought with.

Matt Casey was a good man.

***

Aurora had come into the station the next day, greeted by cheers and welcoming hugs from all who recognised her - even Voight had embraced her tightly, a hug so warm she was left thinking about how long it had been since she had hugged her own father as she relished in the feeling of a heartfelt embrace.

Her presence had been received gracefully by all, except one person - Hailey.

Aurora kept her distance from the woman, not even sparing her a smile as she limited herself to Voight's office and Kim's desk whilst she reacquainted herself.

The desk she used to own still laid bare, but it was clean and tidy - free of any dust, as though it was cared for meticulously, ready for her return should she decide so.

She had passed through the police department several times over the next few days, preparing herself for the operation she would work undercover on. And on every single one of those days, a part of her dreaded seeing Jay whilst another longed to look into his green eyes one more time.

But he hadn't come, and she soon found herself thinking she wouldn't see him at all. That he would avoid her until she left, that all his words in that voicemail were truly drunken rambles, and he didn't mean a word.

She felt stupid, felt naive and desperate for wanting to see the man. For wanting to see his reaction, to see if he would cry, if he would yell, to see if he would embrace her gently or grab her roughly against him, holding her tight as though she'd slip through his fingers like dust.

Aurora wasn't sure what she wanted.

Aurora wasn't sure if she wanted Jay.

Aurora wasn't sure if Jay Halstead was a good man.

But she knew a part of her would always crave him, and the broken pieces of her heart would always search for his.

She knew she wanted to see him.

What do we think?

I hope you guys enjoyed it <33

Also, thank you to everyone who had been commenting, liking, and reblogging this series. I appreciate you all, every like, every comment, and every reblog means the world to me.

Jay and Aurora will meet again in the next chapter, and ofc Hailey will find a way to weasel herself in :/ what do we think their reactions are going to be?👀

#jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x oc #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #jay halstead angst #jay halstead x hailey upton #hailey upton #hank voight #chicago med #chicago one #chicago #chicago fire #matt casey #matt casey x reader #matt casey x oc

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