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roostersgirlfriendlovesf1 · 1 month

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loml | charles leclerc

summary: what happens when y/n wins it all and Charles feels like he cannot compete? how can two cope with heartbreak and can they come back together? y/n want to keep him, but can he deal with her having a win he doesn't have. when she realizes her worth can he get her back?

warnings: angst, sad, kinda fluff, heartbreak, breakups

The confetti poured down on y/n as she tried to put on a brave face, knowing her heart was breaking. Her lover's heart was breaking. She had won it all, whilst he lost it. She glanced at him on the third place podium, he gave her a nod as if to urge her to keep a straight face.

Her lip quivered as the cold trophy was placed in her hands. The crowd's sounds were distorted as they mixed with the sound of her country’s anthem. The only thing she wanted to hear was Charles’ voice. She mustered up a smile as she held the trophy up, champagne starting to spray. They made eye contact. His eyes added insult to injury. He wanted to hate her, she's here to destroy me. Anger confused him.

Flashback:

Y/n looked up at Charles with a smile before nuzzling her face back into his chest. At that moment all she wanted to do was melt into him. His comforting smell caused her to nuzzle closer. He ran a calloused hand through her hair as he admired her. Their little romance. It had been theirs and only theirs for eight months. A romance destined for tragedy. They weren’t meant to work out. The two best upcoming drivers with two very different stories. Charles had been through hardships, struggles of an uncooperative team. He deserved to win it all. Y/n had gotten it so easy, so carelessly talented and was greeted into F1 by the best team. Charles stopped brushing a hand over her hair, feeling a tear hit his stomach. “What is wrong?” He sat up.

“We are fighting for the championship.” She sniffled.

Charles just shook his head. “It’s the sport.”

“What happens when one of us wins?”

“One of us will watch.” He held his breath. Something in him had a bad feeling, but he didn’t have the courage to confront the anxiety. He spoke again. “I don’t know what will happen, but I know right now I love you.”

“I love you.” She nodded.

Champagne mixed with the tears flowing down her face as she fought through the spray. She felt a hand grab onto her shoulder. Charles pulled her into an embrace. “Go celebrate.” His accent muffled as his mouth pressed into the back of her ear.

“I can’t without you.” Her voice broke.

“You have to.” He took his hands off of her and shook hands with Lewis. Y/n made her way down the stairs to celebrate her team, who was cheering her on behind the barricades. She made eye contact with her mom, rushing into her arms. She had shared all of her insecurities with her mother. She knew everything.

“Mom, I’m scared.” Her voice shook. He’s going to resent me.

“It isn’t right to be scared.” She kissed her daughter's cheek. “He’s hurting too.”

Y/n put on a brave face as she spoke to the media and took photos with her team. “Y/n, I’m guessing these are tears of happiness.” A reporter stopped her on the way to her driver's room. All she could do was shake her head, no clue if she was signaling yes or no. She didn’t know what to think about her predicament. When she got to her driver's room she crumpled to the floor. Her sobs broke as she heaved. The anxiety had built up. Knock Knock. She opened her mouth to speak but a squeak came out. She stood up, rubbing her eyes with her fireproof she had yet to take off. She opened the door, head down. Charles let himself in, immediately pulling y/n into a hug. His body engulfed hers, but she was yet to return the embrace. She pushed the door closed with her hand before falling slack into his arms. He broke quickly, tears running down his face. “I just wanted to come congratulate you privately.” He whispered.

“You didn’t have to.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I know this has to be brutal for you.”

“Ye-”His voice caught as he brought a hand to cover his mouth. “Yeah…it really is. I can’t bring myself to hate you.” He shook his head.

She looked up at him. “But you also can’t bring yourself to look at me.”

“I won’t be able to leave if I look at you.”

“Why is it over like this?” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have done this to you.” “That’s easy for you to say, you’re not in my place.” Anger.

“You’re right. I won. It was fair. I wanted to talk about this a month ago, but-but you wanted to be oblivious.”

“I can’t have this talk right now.” He clenched his fist.

“So when? Is this it? Eight fucking months. I fucking love you, dude.” Her american etiquette.

“I just need time.”

“Charles, we haven’t been away from each other for more than a day in eight months. This is what you want to do? I want to be there for you.”

“Maybe I don’t want that!” He snapped. “It’s easy for you to take this situation lightly, you won!”

“The only thing I really want is to keep you!” She pleaded.

“Can’t win it all.” He turned his back on her.

It had been two weeks since Charles stopped talking to her and within those two weeks Y/n had only left the house twice. Both times to go get groceries. She laid in bed for most of that time with never ending stomach aches. The celebrations were short-lasted because of Y/n’s never ending guilt. Every wink from a man at the club, every shared glance, she hated, she still felt like she had someone at home waiting for her. She didn’t want to get out of bed, every room brought back memories. She could will herself to look past the memories in her bed, but staring at every other place made her suffer. This is their home, or at least it was. How was there no clues he was going to leave her?

Flashback:

Y/n smiled, looking up at Charles. The look of love in his eyes couldn’t be faked. Those beautiful eyes. “I’m gonna marry you.” the monegasque tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. And she believed it. She fell for his sweet nothings. “And you’re going to be stuck with me.”

“I can’t think of anything better.” She held onto him like he was going to disappear. At the time it was a metaphor, something she’d thought would never happen. The only thing to make this moment better was if he’d say that in a crowd of people.

If she didn’t pull herself up, no one would. She needed to feel the sun, to walk around the city so many memories were made in. She woke up early, turning the shower on and allowing herself time to just relax. She dried her hair and styled it for the first time in what felt like forever. She did her makeup, which felt like relearning a rusty skill. She had kept herself together until the time came where she had to choose an outfit. She grabbed a sweater with a bear on it, heart stopping. It was his. She turned away, tears in her eyes. Then, she pulled on a blue button up and a pair of white linen pants., forcing the memory of the sweater to the back of her mind. She put on a pair of sandals before leaving her house. She and Charles’ relationship had been private to the point of complete public mystery, but the public was confused as to why their recent champion had disappeared. Her car, quite flashy, would cause a scene. It would be the first time she had been in public since the final race. She pulled out of her apartment’s parking lot. The baby blue Mercedes convertible felt safe. She left the top up, shielding herself from the sun and the flashes of the ghost of Charles in the passenger seat. She didn't want to think of him, but she couldn’t let him go. She needed closure. Did he love her? Why did he leave her? They couldn’t live without each other, right? Did she fall harder? Romances were never supposed to affect someone this much. She pulled into the parking lot by the Monaco private beach. She stared out at the sea blankly, letting tears form in her eyes. Images of her and the one, or who she thought was the one, running around like kids. The pressure of being caught dissipated from their minds as Charles had picked her up and thrown her over his shoulder. She was a grown woman, this heartbreak wasn’t supposed to last. Damn it! She was a world champion! She walked down to the beach, which was seemingly empty. She peeled off her shirt and pants, leaving her in a swimsuit and then sat down in the sand. She watched the waves crash on the shore and felt a body sit down next to her. She didn’t dare to turn her head, she had memorized that shoulder on countless sleepless nights. “You’ve finally shown up.” He didn’t glance at her either.

“Finally?”

“I knew you’d come down here when you were ready to talk.”

“What are you talking about?” She shook her head.

“I’ve come here for the past weeks waiting for you to show up. The lonely nights have given me time to reflect and I’m sure they’ve given you time to reflect too.”

“I don’t know what you think I need to reflect on. I knew what I wanted.”

“And what I wanted?”

“If I had known that I wouldn’t be this heartbroken.” She had buried her feet as deep as they could go in the sand.

“Y/n. I wanted it to be racing so bad, but it's you. I want you. The day I got home from that race I just sat waiting for you to chase me down. I should never have left you. I should’ve let you comfort me. I should’ve celebrated with you. Instead, I lost the trophy and I lost you. I shouldn’t have lost both. I didn't realize I didn’t have to lose both.”

“I haven’t even given myself time to realize my insane accomplishment, Charles. I was so scared of you resenting me, that I have grown to resent you.” She was lying.

“What?” His voice caught.

“I just-I’ve spent the last two weeks crying in bed because I’ve considered you over myself. And I’ve realized I’m not a winner or a champion because the only thing on my mind is you.”

“Baby, you are the winner. You won Formula One, but you won me first without having to try. I never want you to think you have to work to keep me with you or I’m something you need to win. I need to work to win you back because you’re greater than me and I was too stubborn to realize that. And I understand if I need to leave now and just-give you up-”

“Why do you think so little of yourself that you feel like you have to give me up?”

“Because you’re the best thing that's ever fucking happened to me.” He looked at her with vulnerability. “You’re the only thing that keeps me grounded. I can get over the loss of the championship, but I won’t get over the loss of you.”

“I’m tired of only being loved in private. I want to feel like someone wants to be seen with me.” She looked at him. “I’ve been wanting to say that for a while. I wanted to kiss you on all of those podiums and those stupid grid dinners. I wanted to run into your garage after your wins, wanted to post all of our pictures, and I even want the suffering of it all. I want the paparazzi, the hate comments, if it means I get you every day.”

“I love you.” He stared at her, that being the only thing he could mutter out. “I love you so much I want to ask you to marry me. I don’t even have a ring, I’m just so in love with you I can’t think of anything more to express that to you. I will literally ask you to marry me up there on that busy sidewalk right now.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fic #formula one #oneshot

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especiallythewomenandthechildren · 6 months

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As If Destiny (part two)🌹

Part One🌹

Summary: You've always been kind hearted yet admirably defiant. Or that is at least one of the ways Coriolanus Snow would describe you. Ever since grade school, you have always been on the same level as him in academics and one of his few competitors for the Plinth Prize. But as tragedy struck your family, Coriolanus thought you would fall away from his life, but instead, you got even more intertwined (not to mention the complicated past knots tying your families together).

Warnings: Terminal illness, parent death, death and brutality (it is the hunger games after all) characters may be ooc. I read the book a while ago but don't really remember much of Snows way of thinking (I mean I know its toxic and insane but yk the other things) so I will mostly be basing off the film and my own thoughts. Also I can't spell for the life of me so be prepared for bad spelling and grammar. Enjoy loves!

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The rest of the day went by quick, with you avoiding Coriolanus as much as possible.

You attempted to be subtle and it probably would have worked on anyone else (besides Sejanus) but Snow was far too intelligent and analytical to not take notice. It was lunch hour and you had made it this far through the day and internally begged that he had long forgotten, but of course, he didn't.

You and Sejanus were in deep conversation about the new renovations occurring in the Capital park and how you were planning on going down there one day and help with the planting and such. Well you were -untill the smack of a lunch tray was heard next to you. You and Sejanus both look up to see a slight smile on Coryo's lips.

"Seat taken?"

Sejanus quickly gestured for him to take his seat with a bright smile while you moved your chair to make more space for you both as he sat next to you while Sejanus was across you both.

"No. Nope. You both are going to be bickering all of lunch and I would like to enjoy my meal in the PEACEFUL company of my friends."

"That was dramatic, even for you, Snow." You playfully chided with a grin.

You baited him and he readily took it, refuting that he has never been or is dramatic. You open your both to refute him when your mutual friend cut you both off

You both shut up at that, you with a slight pout that made Coryo laugh. You were ready to roast the man alive when you got a painful kick to the shin by Sejanus as a warning. With a quick glare, you went back to your meal that consisted of a hearty sandwich and a few fruits on the side along with a cookie for desert. Both boys had a similar portion, Coriolanus with a little more.

It was indeed peaceful as the three of you ate your meal and stared out the vast windows to the beautiful capital. In a quite whisper, Coryo turns to you and asks "How's your wrist?"

You turn to him a bit surprised and embarrassed. You looked into his clear blue eyes and assured him you were completely fine and thanked him for pointing it out. He nodded along but was clearly waiting for you to elaborate. It makes sense why he was waiting. Why did you have so much blood and how did you not feel it?

You were thinking about telling him that it was your mother's. Your peers knew that she was ill and they, along with their parents, sent their well wishes.

But they didn't know how bad it was. No one besides you, father, house staff, and the Plinths, who have become a second family to you.

You always wondered if the wishes were truly sincere. Your mother, Cloria, was an absolute darling of the Capital and everyone loved her so it wouldn't be surprising if they were but then again, they mostly sent them towards the way of your father. He wasn't a cruel or hateful man and a rather good father and person but he was one of the most powerful people in the Capital, thus Panem, and people would be willing to do anything to get on his good side in hopes of sharing that power.

"Are you not hungry, Y/N?" Coriolanus asks you.

You spaced out again. great. You shake your head and offer your lunch to him, seeing as he already finished his and heard his stomach grumble.

"Oh, no that's okay, thank you!"

He flashes you his charming smile that might have caught you off guard but right now, you frankly didn't care. You simply just pushed the tray in his direction until it nearly pushed off his prior tray off the table while you entered the conversation he and Sejanus were having when you were in your head.

The rest of lunch and school day went fine, no more mysterious blotches of blood or the curious stare of those beautiful blue eyes. You made your routine walk home and checked in with your mother, who looked somehow even worse than this morning. She was fast asleep but looked in so much pain and her slight jerks proved your assumption right.

He, like you, never stopped thinking about her and always stayed by her side the second he made it home.

You were questioning whether or not to wake her when the sound of your father's footsteps interrupted. You turned around and gave him a quick hug while he placed a quick kiss on your hairline.

He gave the usual small talk on how school is and how Sejanus is doing. He asked those questions and gave replies to all of your responses but he never once took his eyes off his wife.

You let him know you were going to freshen up and head over to the Plinths and with one last hug, you were on your way.

As soon as your turned, you heard him enter your mother's makeshift hospital room within your penthouse. You sighed thinking about Sejanus's comment on how you were suffering. As you changed and cleaned off, you pondered.

You knew he didnt mean you were suffering like your mother, in physical pain. But were you like your father? You would argue you weren't, you weren't losing the love of your life, the mother of your child. And could you be suffering if you tried to spend as much time away from her as possible?

You weren't suffering, you were a coward. When news of your mother spread, you know some of your peers were slightly pleased, even if with no mal intention, as it was expected that your grades and performance would slip. But it actually turned out to be the exact opposite. You threw yourself in your assignments, the only peace you found besides the warm home of the Plinths. The home, at this point, you have already began the walk to along the paved walkways of the city.

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"That was absolutely delicious, thank you Mrs. Plinth" you try to be as cheery as possible. The meal, some sort of opulent wheat mixture with savory fish, was truly one of the best you've ever had and that's saying something in the Plinth house. But you knew you didn't need to have to amplify your reactions in front of them but it felt rude with any other reaction. She opened her mouth "Why thank you darling but please call me m-" her request was cut off by her son clearing his throat.

The table went silent. You all knew that she was going to request you to call her "Ma", as Mrs. Plinth was far too formal for your relationship with her. She already considered you a daughter but she knew the issue calling her ma might cause you. You were at their dinner table to avoid the constant coughes and screams of your actual mother after all.

You send a reassuring smile and she attempts to bring back the causal mood. "So y/n, Sejanus tells me that you both have an enormous paper for Rhaen." You and Sejanus laugh, knowing how much you both complained about your professor to her. You nod in agreement, informing her that you were probably going to head to the libary after dinner to start on it.

Your confession was received with a groan by Sejanus (which was quickly chided by his ma).

"We just got it today y/n. You can wait a few days, you've been doing so much work lately".

You knew he was trying to make sure you don't get too burnt out, especially before graduation, final exams, and the awarding of the Plinth Prize. But you simply shook your head and reiterated that you are going to start the oh so dreaded assignment.

And that's exactly what you did. That night. The night after. And the night after. It was on your fourth night of extreme working conditions that you were interrupted. You were on your conclusion, tens of pages in, when someone cleared their throat above you. You didn't know what time it was as you always worked untill you were kicked out by the librarian.

"Please, I just have a few more sentences and I'll be completely done. And I mean it this time I swear!"

You didn't even bother to look up, trying to finish up as quickly as possible.

"Wait you already finished Rhaens paper?"

That was indeed not the voice of the ancient looking librarian. You look up, eyes in pain from staring down at your paper for so long, and see once again, those deep blue eyes of Coriolanus Snow.

"What are you doing here?"

You ask, extremely curious why he is here so late at night. wait it was night right? You quickly scan the windows in fear of seeing the breaks of dawn. When you were met with pitch black darkness, you breathed a sigh of relief. Relief so deep that you completely forgot the charming blonde was right in front of you.

"I think I should be asking why you are here. And frankly how long have you been here."

He replies to your current state, which you assumed was quite disheveled. You just shrugged and spread your arms to gesture to your piles of books and papers. He nods in uncertainty while analyzing your face, taking in every detail, seemingly to figure out some sort of mystery you didn't understand.

You just stared back waiting for him to ask the clear questions in his mind. But he just kept on analyzing. Your perception of time was completely warped but even you could understand he was taking too long.

"Hey so since you've been staring for so long, how is my skin care routine looking?"

You said in a slightly irritated tone. He was interrupting your precious moments of focus so he could do whatever he was doing.

Seemingly slightly startled, as if he forgot you were there, he shook his head in apology.

"Is this why you don't sleep at night y/n?"He asks.

Now it was your turn to stare at him. More like a weird mixture of gawking, squinting, and glaring. You were going to open your mouth to question him and why in the world Sejanus told him (as he was the only one who knew), but he put his hands up in defense.

"Sejanus didn't tell me if that's what you were thinking. It's clear on your face. You have bags, you look pale, and you are never focused in class. I never wished to ask as I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or attacked."

He confessed the last part a little quieter, seeming to remember your reaction when he pointed out the blood on your sleeve.

You ducked your head, a habit nowadays, and tried to recollect yourself. Figure out some sort of response. If you told him yes, you were days without proper sleep because of your writing, it wouldn't technically be lying. But it didn't feel right. Coriolanus would understand, you were sure of it. You knew he lost his mother and he would sympathize.

You also wanted to assure him you weren't trying to be cutthroat about the Plinth Prize. In fact, you wished he wins it rather than you, he worked harder than you and most definitely than any of your other classmates.

But any response was cut by the voice of the actual ancient looking librarian.

"You said you were just going to get your book and leave young man. We closed ten minutes ago and yet you both, especially you miss, have overstayed. Go home. It's far too late and your families must be worrying. You are academy students are you not?"

Her stern words echoed into the empty libary that you just noticed. You both nodded to her question and she responded with a heavy sigh, shaking her wrinkly head while muttering something about teenagers nowadays. You were going to ponder that if she is upset with you two being good students and dedicated to your work was bad, how were teens back in her days? And you most likley would have ended up down a rabbit hole of thoughts if you didn't notice Coryo picking up your books and putting then in your bag.

"Oh you don't need to do that, I got it!"

You got up, far too fast and nearly fell over. He quickly grabbed you by your arm and pulled you back, steadying you. You stare up at him surprised and still a bit shook as he flashes you "yeah sure you are" kind of look. He finishes up clearing your table before giving you his arm to lead you out the libary, speed walking past the harsh glare of the old woman, a few giggles coming out of you due to your situation.

You and him walked in silence for a few minutes and you took it all in. It was late at night and you were on the arm Coriolanus Snow as he carried your bag and took you home. Once the thought hit you, you were sure that you were blushing, hoping the lights of the Capital didn't illuminate it too much. But it wasn't a bad thought. No, not in the slightest.

You found it endearing, even a slight desire. you are definitely in a hazy state, your voice of reason mentioned at your attempts to delude the intentions of his actions.

"Would it be okay if I took you upstairs? I want to make sure you make it there safely" He wonders as you reach the base of your complex. Aww, he wants to make sure you made it home safely.

His concern was a quick reminder however of your weak state and inability to move nor act (or think, that little voice chimed in) normally. In reality, he probably didn't want to be arrested for your murder because he was simply the last person seen with you before you fell down the stairs because you can't even count the number on your fingers properly.

You nodded and he led the way, opening up the door for you. You weren't really conscious as he clicked the button for the elevator (something you forgot existed in your imagination of how the night would have gone if the boy was not with you) or when you both got to your front door. But your consciousness came in full force and all of your sleepy haze went away as you heard the absolutely horrific screams of your mother.

how did you forget. how did you forget. Somehow, on your entire walk with Coriolanus and when asked if he could take you up, you completely forgot what would be awaiting you. And the absolute horror it must be for him. You quickly turn to him, as he looked like he was going to kick down the door and come to her rescue. You rushed to pull him back, attempting to assure him.

"It's okay Coryo! She just gets like this sometimes. My father is with her and so are nurses. I promise, it's okay. Thank you truly for taking me home, go get some rest".

You try to assure him with a smile, but he wasn't looking at you. He was staring straight ahead at your door, his chest rising up and down in deep pants and breaths. You try to get his attention but it wasn't working, so you put a few finger on his chin and make him look at you.

Looking deep in his eyes, you evenly say "It's okay. Please, just go home Coryo, I'm sure your family is worried where you are."

He says nothing for a moment, simply gazing deep into your sympathetic eyes. In a whisper, his question comes out more as a statement.

"This why you haven't been sleeping?"

You sigh, knowing there is no need to deflect now. You nod and take a breath, ready to turn around and head into your home, knowing you will be up for hours. Then another round of your mother's shrieks hit your ears and you cringed back tears and shuddered at the sound.

You were still close enough to Coryo that you backed up into him in reaction. He quickly wrapped an arm around you protectively, as if he could shield you from her pain. You didn't know what to do, so you just stood there, wrapped by his arm just listening untill it intensified for a quick second as the door opened.

Rhayes, your long-time family chauffeur but who is more of uncle as he has been serving your family since your mother was your age, came out. He seemed stunned and alarmed, you assumed from the scene inside but the way he stared at Coriolanus arm around your torso made you question.

"Apologies, miss y/n, I thought I heard voices".

His eyes flicked over you both once again as he spoke.

You wondered how to explain your situation and were going to move Coryo's arm off you before he interrupted with "No need, we simply came by to let someone know y/n will be staying with my family, if that is alright."

It seemed both you and Rhayes were shocked into stillness. He however recovered much faster.

"Is that so?" He asked skeptically, looking at you for confirmation.

You were thinking about brushing Coriolanus statement off and letting him peacefully rest for the night, not wishing to be a burden to him or his family. But he seemed concerned, was he not? You couldn't trust yourself at this point, but you could trust the slight squeeze he gave with his hand to let you know it was okay.

You nodded your head in agreement and that seemed to worry Rhayes even more, a look of guilt in his eyes.

"Would you please tell my father that I stayed with a friend and will be back tomorrow. I still have work to get done."

Your loyal driver takes in the situation once more and nods his head in obedience, wishing you a good night and well wishes with your ever growing work.

He opened the door into the now silent home as your mother has seemed to have calmed and looked back at you with those deep brown eyes of his, searching for something, as he closed the door. You didn't realize the quick glare however, he sent deep into the eyes of the Snow heir. Once the door was closed, Coryo moved his arm from snaking around your waist and around your front, to holding your hand and leading you towards the elevator once more.

He dragged you a few feet when you stopped, making him turn around fast and landing quite close to your face. You were looking up into his eyes, which seemed to sparkle under the dim warm lights of your penthouse hallways. He looked back into your eyes, something that seems to be happening quite often lately.

"Are you sure?"

You were nervous to ask, not wishing to offend him (and in all honesty, dreading returning back to your situation). He seemed to somehow deepen your shared stare and leaned in a little bit closer.

He whispered "Let's go home darling".

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A/N: AHHHHHH! Two chapters back to back! Don't expect this pace to keep up however, especially with school returning back (only for a few more weeks but still). I know it was LONG and maybe unnecessarily so. You guys are warriors for reading through all that! I know I said that characters may be ooc but Snow may be the most. I know he seems pretty fluffy rn but I am trying my best not too change him too much as I find him interesting with his flaws. Also, in later chapters, you will see that he is now the only one with a flawed character and outlook (cough reader cough). But hey, maybe this time, he will use one of those chances to reform. or not. Guess you just have to wait and see! Thank you again and much love❤️

@notyourwildestdream 🌹

#coriolanus snow #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #sejanus x reader #sejanus deserved better #snow lands on top #sejanus plinth #ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader #reader insert #x reader

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to-the-stars8 · 7 months

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Twin Flames

Asra x MC Summary: The final argument that results in Asra leaving, and you all alone.

“There is a ship leaving in an hour,” Asra said, eyes panicked and pleading. “Come with me, it is all I'll ever ask of you again. For me.”

At one point, Asra could have asked you for the world, and you would have given it to him. Now, as you looked at him, you decided not. There had been too many lonely nights thinking over the same broken promise, and you would not fall deeper into his pit of distant love.

Yet, you knew that, if you came to it, there would be no worry. Asra would take care of you, and the two of you could lay under a tree in a foreign land in each other's arms. You felt dread at the thought. It was a tragedy that all the hope in the beginning had come down to disappointment and frustration. It exhausted you, wearing your mind thin. As it did his. You could see it, the way the weight of your distance and separate desires carried him down.

Sucking in a breath and averting your eyes, you listened to the silence of the city. It once bloomed with excitement, and it had been so loud that it made you feel alive. Then, the plague had swept through so fast, killing it. It made you want to stay despite your love’s cries to run. Whether you desired to save the constant excitement so you would feel a little less alone, or the good nature you liked to think you had, you did not wish to know.

“Leave if you must,” You said. “But do not ask this of me.”

Asra’s eyes were filled with tears, but he refused to acknowledge them. He shook his head. “Please, you have to—For me. You forget that you promised to always be with me.”

Anger tore through you. He dared to say that when he left you alone so often. Scoffing, you stepped away from him as you were afraid of what your rage would make you do. You began to cry, and a thousand curses passed through your mind. You wanted to hate Asra, to be able to cast him aside, but he had loved you so well and deeply despite the shortcomings.

“You—” You sucked in a breath. “You cannot expect me to uphold a promise you never kept.”

“I have asked for your forgiveness a thousand times, and will do so a thousand more if you wish.” Asra looked ready to beg on his hands and knees. “You must come. People here are dying like flies, and will die before I let you suffer the same!”

“Then I hope we burn on the same pile of bodies so we will never part again,” The words did not feel like yours. They were heavier, darker.

You regarded one another silently before Asra could no longer hold himself up. He collapsed onto the couch, head in hand. You did not move toward him.

“Please,” Asra whispered. “For me.”

“You are selfish,” You said.

Asra looked like a kicked dog, but your sorrow and anger would not allow any pity. No, you almost felt justified to hurt him, as nasty as it felt to admit. Either way, he did not deny your words. “You are not the only person in this city. I can help people here—I have the means to.”

Asra stood again, rushing to you with arms out and palms up, confused. “And what then, hm? If you find the cure do you think Lucio would let you be regarded as the hero?”

“No! How can you not understand?” You faced him now, eye to eye. “These are our friends! People that have been part of our lives for years—”

“Damn them all! None of them matter if they are not you,” He cried, grabbing at you desperately.

“You would say that of Muriel? ” You yelled.

Asra scoffed before turning his back on you. On his shoulders Faust curled tight around him, unused to her master’s anger and yours. “You know I did not mean that. I have offered for Muriel to come with us, but he is safe outside the walls of the city.”

You did not wish to say he was right, so you quieted. Wiping your eyes, you let your anger finally resolve and reach for him. When your hand met his shoulder, Asra jerked away, eyes turning to narrow onto you.

“Asra,” You said. “I am going to stay. Leave, it will give me comfort to know that you are safe. My heart will always be with you. Please know that.”

His face was like stone. Unchanged from the hate that was plastered on his face from the moment he turned to you.

“I wish I had never met you,” Asra gritted out before rushing out the shop door.

Your love for Asra gnawed painfully at your stomach. It yearned to call out for him. Beg for his forgiveness. Forgive me, you wanted to say. Forgive me for the choices I want to make, and do not hate me for it.

You didn’t know how long you stood there staring at the door. Though, by the time your senses had returned the night had turned into day by then, an orange hue coming into the shop through the stained glass window.

Still, you did not move as the sun's rays poured into your corner of the world. Compared to before, it seemed so small. Almost suffocatingly so. And, now the shop was quieter than you thought possible.

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lover-of-mine · 3 months

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Me? Wanting to talk about the locker room scene in comparison to the cemetery scene to make a point no one asked about? Raise your hand if you saw this is coming 🙋‍♀️

Anyway, this is madness written by a gifmaker/video editor who hates coloring the cemetery scene with a burning passion and who spent the better part of the past 2 days trying to make a coloring work for the locker room scene, who also did some asking around with other editors who also seem to be having issues with the scene, and who spends way too much time thinking about Buck and death (someone drown that man, please).

I'm gonna start this off by saying that I don't really believe the cemetery scene will be directly addressed on the show no matter how much I wish it would. But something about the cemetery scene besides the actual content of the scene that keeps me up at night and had me writing multiple fics dealing with it, is the fact that the sky is only blue behind Eddie.

Why is that relevant in any way, shape, or form? The colors when the focus is on Buck or both of them have this almost yellowish tone that the focus on Eddie doesn't have. The sky and colors strongly imply that they added a filter to it in post-production to ensure the colors looked like that, along with the fact that it is a scene that's really weird to color something that happens when they go too hard on the filters *cough* crossover *cough* pilot *cough*. What does that have to do with the locker room? The locker room also has this almost yellowish tone that makes it hell to color. But based on my 2 days of testing different colorings and techniques, it seems to be a hell of a lot worse when the shot has that wall over there where the sun is hitting as a background.

That suggests that they wanted the scenes to have a specific lighting that they achieved later. Considering the way that the tendency of the cemetery is that the colors get muted or weirdly blended together and that the locker room goes YELLOW, I am assuming that they messed with the colors on the cemetery to make the colors look faded, giving it that gloomy feeling, which in turn made the sky almost white, and that they needed that sunlight reflecting on the wall to look that bright, which made the scene look a lot more yellow than it should. Seriously, trying to work this out I legit make it look like Buck is a Simpsons character.

Okay, but Anna, why did you make this particular connection? Well, the word is muted when Buck is talking about starting to date Natalia and then the sun gets brighter when he talks about them breaking up? COME ON. He's calling the relationship boring and the word literally gets brighter as he says it, madness.

Buck talking about dating Natalia -> Buck talking about breaking up with Natalia (please don't judge the gifs I don't want the stress of coloring them combined right now lol)

But that's the same reaction. Dude is smiling going in, he's smiling going out.

And considering Buck's relationship with his own death and the way I strongly believe that what drew him to Natalia was the fact that she didn't think his death was a tragedy and he wasn't ready to deal with the reality of had happened to him yet, to get him to the point where death is boring is progress. Makes me fear for my Buck breakdown wishes, but it is progress for that particular aspect of Buck, considering he has a very intricate relationship with death down to the fact he was born as a hail mary to prevent it. We have multiple near-death experiences, we have him saving the lives of people loves multiple times, the first time we see him he's saving a kid who drowned, his first big conflict is the fact that he's not handling not being able to save someone's life all that well, I can keep going, but you see my point, right?

The arc with Natalia, even though we didn't see the originally planned conclusion since the actress couldn't come back, had this point of Buck looking at what happened to him through the eyes of someone who didn't know him before and was actually excited about that happening, so he could distance himself from what happened and look at it from a "safe" distance. That distance also allowed him to ignore the very important "I need to do this for myself" thing from the coma dream because Buck is terrified of being alone, and that definitely includes the fear of finding out who he is by himself. Buck is bad at being alone, from meaningless sex, to hanging on to Abby too long, to hanging on to Taylor too long, to jumping in with Natalia, the first pretty girl who looked his way, it all makes this part of him very clear (parenthesis because I just had a thought, yes, Buck latches on to Taylor out of fear of being alone triggered by Eddie almost dying, but he thought he could have died himself considering the crane and everything about it and also the way he could very much have been shot at the same time as Eddie, he latched on to Natalia because he did die, he also almost died on his first date with Abby and Abby actually reached out to him when he was feeling all sorts of bad over someone dying, and he is held at gunpoint and watched a death that deeply affected him before he started dating Ali, so we have death as a connection here too, if that makes sense, I might have to come back to this thought later).

But the thing is, when you look at 6a for Buck considering the fact that Buck is passively suicidal, in a very I'm not trying to get killed but I don't think I don't care if I do die way, and how he probably thought he was going to die in a blaze of glory saving someone, and how he actually died in a pretty run-of-the-mill call, by something no one has any control over it, Buck's relationship with what he thought death was and would be for him changed. For one, Buck was not ready for how much it affected everyone around him, he never considered what the grief of losing him would do to the people he loves, but also, Buck's main excuse for his near-death experiences/impulsive behavior that puts him in mortal danger was "but I didn't actually die" like with the blood clots or "I didn't get the worst of it" like with the shooting, I think even the tsunami a little bit with how he felt about losing Chris. But he did actually die, and considering the fact that he went up that ladder when Chimney was ready to go up and Eddie also got hit by the lightning, he also got the worst of it. So he lost his own coping mechanism.

So he arrived at a point where death is boring and he is smiling like an idiot at Eddie welcoming him "back to the world of the living" and that could have fun implications going forward. Because, one, he still hasn't dealt with a big emotion in a healthy way, and two, Bobby is in mortal danger. Considering his reaction to Bobby being dead in his coma world and the fact that he has no coping mechanism left when it comes to death anymore along with his own relationship with water and danger we could have some fun reactions to these types of triggers for him there.

And thinking about the way Oliver keeps talking about Buck learning more about himself and also about Buck leaning on Eddie, someone who had his own journey dealing with multiple layers of his relationship with death, they have a fun space to play with there, with Buck's relationship with death, Eddie's relationship with Buck's death, and everything else that could happen with Eddie fully dealing with Shannon's death, and Buck dealing with anything really, Daniel, his own death, his fear of being alone, all as someone who actually wants to live, who's not just moving because he's alive and has no other alternative.

That's it for today, as always, if you reached this I love you 💜

#im going to bed now #911 meta #911 spoilers #911 speculation #buck

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moonlight-prose · 1 year

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#10 "why are you doing this?" "because I love you" with Joel from the prompt list? The angst potential is limitless but also the fluff ♥️🤌

THE WASTELAND OF A BLEEDING HEART

a/n: i took a small writing break for a few days, but i finally managed to churn out the end of this fic. it's not my best thing i've written. to be entirely honest i don't really like how it turned out, but we live and die by the pen right. i hope you like it babes.

summary: joel's fears began to interfere.

word count: 1.2k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, angsty ass joel, stubborn joel + stubborn reader dynamic, miscommunication (cause...*gestures to joel* yeah), fluff.

You had every right to be mad at him. After what you two had gone through, the way he had been treating you, gave you enough reason. You should be mad at him. But then he looked at you, his lips pulling up into a barely there grin, brown eyes pulling you in, and you knew…the anger would never last.

Until now it seemed.

“Miller!” you called out, jogging to catch up with Tommy, his quick pace a little too fast for even you. “Where’s the fire?”

“No fire,” he smiled, his hands shoved in his pockets to stave off the cold.

“Good.” You should have grabbed your thicker jacket off the back of the chair. Although it never even occurred to you at the time. Not when your mind was going in a million different directions at once. “I’m looking for Joel—”

You stopped at the sight of his expression shifting, quickly being masked by another carefree smile. Yet you could see beneath his facade; caught the glimpse of worry in his eyes that darted away from you. That was the problem with Tommy Miller. He was too easy to fucking read. Which left you in a predicament such as this.

“What happened?” you asked, noticing how he barely even looked at you.

“Joel uh…”

Your brow creased. “Joel what?”

“Listen it wasn’t my idea and if somethin’ is happening between you two—”

“Tommy.”

He sighed, glancing up at the sunlight that seemed to be the only warmth in Jackson. “He told me to take you off the outdoor patrol shift.”

“He—” You felt your chest tighten painfully, that familiar feeling of loneliness settling back in your bones. “Did you…take me off?”

Tommy nodded reluctantly, his eyes never once meeting yours. “Said he didn’t want you to get hurt, and I…well shit I kind of agree with him.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” You felt the burn in your chest begin to spread—an uncomfortable sensation you always hated. “You can’t just take me off patrol when everyone is supposed to—”

Tommy’s eyes finally snapped to you, his lips forming a thin line. “I know you’re pissed, but think about it honey. If Joel loses you…there’s no coming back for him.” He sighed, dipping his head to glance at the icy covered ground. “I’d rather not bring back that version of my brother.”

Pain erupted throughout you, clogging every part of your body until you could feel your heart screaming. Though Tommy wore the face of a sorrowful man, you knew that he had simply taken away your initiative. He made the choice for you just as Joel did without bothering to let you in on any of it. Anger simmered beneath the surface of your pain; the mask you were wearing—clear and free of any emotions.

Somehow that made Tommy’s expression even worse. He would never truly know how hurt you were, because you wouldn’t tell him.

How could you?

“Have a good day Tommy,” you said, your voice void of any emotion.

“Wait—”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything more, too focused on the fact that Joel had once again made a choice for you. Simply because he believed it was the best option. Part of you wondered where it stemmed from; why he was so adamant on keeping you in the town limits, unwilling to let you go. Except then you began to count. Each person Joel lost, each tragedy he had to endure, all added up to something in the end.

Hours later you found yourself still thinking about it as you attempted to engross yourself in a novel. One you read over and over again, too stubborn to let it go. Maybe that’s where you and Joel were the same. Two people who couldn’t find it in themself to allow change in a world that had already taken away so much.

The familiar creak of the front door brought you back for a brief moment, your anger flickering to life in your chest. Joel simply grinned at the sight of you curled up in a chair, one of his shirts adorning your body. A blanket so old he was worried it was unhealthy to be around, was spread out across your legs.

Except that’s not what stopped him in his tracks. The glare he felt burn through his chest, plummeting straight down to his stomach, caused him to freeze. His eyes tried to search your steeled expression for an explanation.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tommy let me know today that you told him to take me off the patrol shift.” The ire in your voice surprised you.

His eyes fell shut, a breathy shit leaving his mouth. “I was gonna tell you—”

“He said you didn’t want me to get hurt.”

“That’s true,” he replied, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair. “Can I explain please honey?”

You stood, letting the book and blanket fall to the floor. “No. You don’t get to make those decisions for me Joel. I’m more than capable of handling myself out there and you more than anyone knows that.”

The step he took forward coupled with the look on his face nearly bent your resolve, but you stood your ground. You were upset with him for a reason.

“I told Tommy to let me tell you first before doing anything rash. Apparently he still doesn’t listen very well.” He sighed, his hands falling to rest at his hips as he saw your guarded demeanor. “I just don’t want anything happenin’ to you.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to make that choice for me,” you said. “I just want to know why. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you.” The words were blurted out before he even comprehended them himself. His eyes widened slightly, mouth snapping shut as he waited for your response.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands falling to your sides limply. “What?” you breathed.

Two months ago you had said those exact words to him in the safety of your bedroom. The fear of setting them free continued to linger in the back of your mind. Yet there he was. Finally telling you the one thing he was most scared of—loving you completely…only to one day lose you. That alone broke off a piece of your heart.

“I can’t lose you like I lost her,” he said softly. “I won’t.”

“Joel,” you whispered, finally moving towards him until you were close enough for his hands to reach for you. “You won’t lose me.”

“You don’t know—”

Grasping his face, you pulled him close, his breath washing across your chin. “You won’t lose me. Okay?” He nodded, his lips brushing against yours. “But you have to let me choose for myself.”

“I will,” he replied, giving into your touch, allowing himself to be loved wholeheartedly for the first time since Sarah. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“You got it cowboy.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips as his laughter washed over you, settling deep in your chest and keeping you warm.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #my writing

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hannigramislife · 5 months

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for my own gratification bc i just ran into nie mingjue hate in the wild, would you mind making a post that defends my poor good boy? he worked so hard and got gaslit to shit before getting murdered terribly ;; literally everyone sat there telling him "youre being too harsh" and he's just responding appropriately. like yeah, if you witness a murder, ya kinda got to do something about that as a clan leader. its kinda your responsibility, even when you care about the person who did the murdering. he was also a really young when he took on the role of clan leader and idk, it just made me rlly sad to see people dunk on him cuz wtf he's literally just trying his best in an impossible situation WHILE being perpetually fucked over by his clan's own traditional cultivation cuz now the stronger he is as a leader, the closer he is to going literally insane and dying bc of it. (mingjue did nothing wrong i will die on this hill) ((sorry for going on a tirade, im just sad and defensive of my good boy rn))

Oh no! I'm so sorry you had to go through Nie Mingjue hate! Truly tragic. I went through that once when in the beginning of me reading the books, when I still had no proper opinions, and never again.

I'm more than willing to make a post about Nie Mingjue! I'm always down to talk about Nie Mingjue tbh, he's my heart and love and if I were to have been given the opportunity to be his right hand person, I would have simply never betrayed his trust and married him. Rip Jin Guangyao but I'm different.

Anyways, I, huhhh, actually think you?? Covered it all??? Pretty much?? Yet I will talk about it. This will be long and non-coherent, because I don't have the books rn to find quotes in them and honestly, I could write essays on Nie Mingjue either way.

Nie Mingjue is a central piece of the narrative, despite the limited amount of appearances he made, and the fact that he wasn't close to the main characters at all. The entire second part of the plot revolves around him- it happened because of him. His murder is a tragedy; literally, by greek standards, man has Cassandra Curse all over him, so I don't get how people can tell me, confidently, that his death was warranted. I've been told the man had asked for it, and this has mostly been by Jin Guangyao apologists.

So let me make something real fucking clear.

Nie Mingjue did not deserve to die. Let's get that out of the way, anyone can fight me on that. Nie Mingjue had more good qualities than half the people in this fucking story, despite his flaws. After his father was brutally murdered when Mingjue was only in his teens, Nie Mingjue stepped up as clan leader. We can only speculate the hardships that await someone leading a clan at such an early age. Yet, political challenges weren't the only thing he had to battle; Nie Mingjue knew about his clan's harmful cultivation, and he knew he was going to die young. So what did he do? His best. Literally his best, always. He was always giving 100% of his abilities, because that's who he was.

Let's talk about who Nie Mingjue was, shall we?

When Jin Guangyao, still Meng Yao then, describes Nie Mingjue, he finds himself perplexed, because Nie Mingjue isn't like other men. He is not frivolous, and he has no vices; Meng Yao describes how Nie Mingjue never showed an interest in arts, or alcohol, or women. All he did was train, and fight the Wens during the war. It shows that he had a one-track mind from the start, and has got a strict discipline; yet this strictly disciplined man, leader of a clan that prizes strength, continuously indulges his lazy and undisciplined half-brother, his one and only heir, despite not understanding his interests. We gather, pretty quickly, that Nie Mingjue is a bleeding heart for his brother, and for the ones he loves in general. We see the same softer side displayed in the presence of Lan Xichen, and of course, for some time, Meng Yao.

People seem to think Nie Mingjue took Meng Yao's betrayal too harshly. As if somehow seeing a man he thought to have been just and honest commit premeditated murder, then cover it up, was something he was just supposed to get over. To this day, I can't believe how Lan Xichen was so understanding of it. But not only did Nie Mingjue catch him in a cowardly act - Meng Yao proceeds to manipulate him, using the fact that Nie Mingjue cared about him, to stab him in the back. Or front, however it happened. I get that Meng Yao was in a difficult position, that he suffered at the Jins, that he felt backed in a corner; but Nie Mingjue was a man that had extended his help to Meng Yao before, and even then, he went to find Meng Yao in righteous fury, ready to help him again. To Nie Mingjue, the idea that Meng Yao "had no other choice" but to kill - to kill in the manner he did - it could have been nothing but a betrayal.

One thing that I personally highly respected Nie Mingjue for was the fact that he did not judge Meng Yao for his background. This is not up for debate; Nie Mingjue stood up for him, quite publicly, quite vocally, when Meng Yao was being insulted over it. And not only that, but he promoted Meng Yao to be his right hand man, just like that. Because he's impulsive, and to prove a point, but it was still huge of him to do. Not even Lan Xichen would have done that - In a society built on power dynamics between social classes, Nie Mingjue was one of the few characters who did not let that define his actions. It wasn't because he was born privileged (though he was) but because he he didn't let anything other than his judgment direct his actions. Nie Mingjue also never shied away from anything; if it had to be done, he did it, no matter the cost.

Nie Mingjue was decisive, and had an iron will. When Meng Yao killed the Nie disciples in Qishan, he wanted to kill Meng Yao. Meng Yao told him, paraphrasing, that "don't you understand that if I hadn't done that, it would have been your corpse up there?" and Wei Wuxian takes it to mean "Translation: I saved you so you can't kill me, because that would mean you're in the wrong." So Nie Mingjue hesitated for a second, then said: "Fine! I'll kill you, and then take my own life!" And the only reason he didn't, was because Lan Xichen was there. Otherwise, Nie Mingjue would have killed his former friend, then followed him to whatever afterlife awaited.

Nie Mingjue is often portrayed like he doesn't understand stuff, like he's stupid, simply because of his black and white sense of morality. That's not correct: Nie Mingjue understands motive, but he doesn't accept the ends justifying the means. Scratch that, he doesn't accept or justify either, if they're unjust. The murder of the Jin commander, the murder of the Nie disciples, not executing Xue Yang - how can Nie Mingjue possibly understand Meng Yao's decisions, when Nie Mingjue would rather die, any day, than live thanks to vile actions?

And then, Nie Mingjue starts falling into qi-deviation. We know that it affected his temper the most, and his judgement. I don't understand how it works, really, so I don't know by the end how much was Nie Mingjue and how much was the mess that the spirit made of him - maybe a combination of the two. But what is certain, is that the rapid qi deviation changed him.

But I could write a hundred more pages on him, meticulously going over every single scene he has ever appeared in, because I find him that interesting. I find him the most interesting, and the most appealing character, because in a story where the navigation of the cultivation world's complex politics and hierarchies with tact and diplomacy is crucial, Nie Mingjue stands uncompromising in his principles, choosing duty and honor over anything else, even when it's hard.

#the untamed #mdzs #cql #mo dao zu shi #nie mingjue #nie mingjue had his flaws #and he had his virtues #i will not allow slander on his name #when he always did what he thought was best and just and good #when he was loving and kind and hot-headed but he was also just in his early 20s with the weight of the world on his shoulders #cold absolutely freezing day in hell when i'm over him

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maxzinn · 2 months

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What bothers me after all this drama is that those users that made the posts calling out the type of fics they were bothered with, didnt actually include like a list of those fics (probably to avoid an entire purge and hatred), and everyone in the comments of those posts just suddenly at a flip of a switch, all could only think about one. single. story...and that was the 2 part fic from the now deactivated account.

So for a fic which diverges from canon by having Aventurine NOT go through the entire rollercoaster of drama and be given a chance at a normal life, everyone and their mother jumped to bully the writer. Please, gimme a break, he could've still become the same charismatic gambler we all know and love, just he would've had an oh idk- a little support system given by the person that got him out of a much crappy life? Seriously, how many fics AREN'T out there which diverge at one point from canon?! Or, even better, ignore the canon completely and they are their own thing! HOW MANY- A LOT OF THEM ARE!

It's like they were bothered that there can be a "what if Aventurine was saved before he went through the rest of that hell?", as if his canon story is the only thing that matters and shouldn't be changed at all - THE MAN IS IN SHAMBLES. HE WANTED TO UNSUBSCRIBE FROM LIFE. And I cant be the only one who doesnt believe that him, as he grow up, didn't wish for someone to come to his aid, to take him out of there, but the more time passed, the more hope he lost and he just "well, guess I'll do this on my own". He. Has. No. One. To. Talk. To. Without. Him. Hidding. Behind. The. Persona. He. Created. No one.

Anon you have said exactly everything that I wanted to hear ‼️

(They all started this mess so I’m not gonna stop till I get my point straight across their faces)

These people CANNOT tell me that Aventurine didn’t want to be saved. They CANNOT tell me he didn’t hope for a helping hand throughout this whole hell.

The IPC had failed him and his race from the very beginning when they failed to protect Sigonia IV and the Avgins from the Katicans, and yet I still see people saying that creating a fic where he was saved is disregarding his effort in surviving like pls- my girl… he wanted to DIE to be with his family again and he’s literally in the clutches of the very same company that FAILED him and his kind. His life is literally in their hands and NO ONE would ever want to be at the mercy of the very same people who failed you.

He’s tired. He thinks so lowly of himself. He thinks he has no worth. He has no self-esteem.

All of that could’ve been avoided if someone had helped him, way before his neck was branded by the slave mark, or even during the time he was enslaved.

Like you said, there are already tons of fics that diverts from the canon story of the character into something that is almost disregarding it, so why is that an issue now?

We all love him the way he is, but don’t you think it’s also insensitive to say that when he himself hated the process or events that transpired to become what he is now?

I give him credit for his hardwork and efforts for staying alive and getting past the hell, but that cost him EVERYTHING. He survived, but he thinks so lowly of himself. He still think he’s only worth 60 tanbas. He didn’t refute Ratio and Sparkle’s insult. He throws his own body on every gamble because he thinks that’s his only worth… and now a simple harmless fic that aimed to provide him a normal life free from that tragedy was frowned upon by everyone just because the reader “bought him as a slave”.

#aventurine x reader #aventurine #hsr aventurine #shame on those people who bullied that author #this is just unreasonable #y’all talk about morals then bullies the heck out of people

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netherfeildren · 11 months

Text

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .7

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Angst, Discussions of child abandonment, Discussions of child neglect; Family dynamics; Mention of abortion; Jealousy; Possessive behavior

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: There are much happier times ahead after this, I promise. I hope you enjoy <3

Word Count: 6.8K

Read on AO3

Grief is different. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.

Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

As the turn of the season marches its way into the city, the leaves bloom the crisp, bright colors of autumn. Austin comes alive with the burning colors of fall: reds and oranges and yellows, so beautiful. It makes you feel nothing. You usually love the change of the weather into the colder months, but this year it all feels – meaningless. Empty – like you.

And yet, life continues, work continues, and at the end of October you and your fellow art teacher plan a field trip to one of the city's parks for the children to paint the colors of the changing leaves. It should be something to look forward to, despite the stress of having to organize a group of twenty first graders and wrangle them in a large, open space, you usually look forward to things like this. You love your job, it’s always made you happy, but somewhere along with the part of you that he’d stolen away, you’d slowly gone by losing other smaller parts of yourself, discarding them in the wake of your grief. Your ability to smile, to enjoy the things that had always previously made you happy, all gone away with him. All you can focus on now is how much you miss him. How much you hate all the decisions you’ve ever made, and how much you resent your history, your parents, for leaving you this broken, wanting thing that could not seem to find happiness – that would not let yourself be happy. No matter how hard you try.

But above the wailing cacophony of your grief, your longing for him ringing in your ears, there is the overwhelming resounding cry of your past screaming at you: you can’t let this go, you can’t let this go, you can’t let us go. Your parents, their history, the tragedy of their demise, the painful solitude of your childhood, the sight of your father wasting away for years and years and you, a child, unable to do anything, unable to help him, to save him, to bring her back so that he could be okay.

But you also can’t let him go. It was, you now knew, an impossibility. As futile as forgetting your own name, how to breathe, how to be alive. Holding on to him now is an intrinsic part of you that you’re sure you’ll live with for the rest of your life.

And so, the real question now is, what are you more willing to hold on to? But no, that isn’t right either, the better question is: what do you have to hold on to? What do you need to survive? What can you not live without? What would leave you only half a person if you were to let it go – the past or him?

You’re sure you know the answer, but are only too afraid to admit that all you’d put the two of you through throughout all this, had been pointless. So pointless and so needlessly painful.

All you want now is to talk to him. No, you don’t even have to talk. If you could just get the chance to see him, even if from a distance, it would make everything better. You just want to see that he’s okay, that he’s not as miserable as you are. That he hasn’t been left as desolate as you seem to have ended up.

The day is gorgeous, despite your mood, and the class has been good so far, calm and cooperative. The kids all sitting across picnic blankets you’d spread out on the grass amongst the fallen leaves. They’re all chattering and painting, engrossed in their task, when you hear your name being shouted from across the park in a high pitched little voice, and like a fucking revelation from above or your worst nightmare, your deepest desire come alive from the bottom of your heart – there they are. Sarah, running at full speed towards you from the far side of the park. Joel stalking a few paces behind her – his face like stone. You start to move towards them in a daze.

You take in the sight of him from afar – massive, so tall, and so beautiful. His hair is longer, his dark curls brushing the back of his collar and curling along his temples. Weeks since you’d last seen him, since he’d last touched you, since that horrible moment in that restaurant bathroom. Your cunt clenches, empty and desperate, around nothing, just at the sight of him. He has on a dark green flannel that brings out the warmth in his eyes, you can see it, even from all the way over here. He looks so big, so strong, and you have a sudden, savage vision of him forcing you to the ground right here, in the middle of the park, and taking you for himself, forcing your legs open and ravishing you. Your head goes slightly woozy, dizzy, at the intensity of it, and you stumble, holding your hand out towards Sarah. You can see his eyes tracking your movements, your unsteadiness. His cheeks are bright red, flushed with the crisp autumn air, or perhaps, with anger.

She squeals your name as she runs towards you, throwing herself into your legs, wrapping her arms around you when she slams into you. Your breath whooshes out of you at the impact, and you’re forced to take a step back as her body rocks into yours. Careful, Sarah. Be gentle, he calls.

“Sarah,” you gasp, “Hi, baby. How are you?”

“I missed you,” she says, and her face is so sincere, so full of genuine happiness at seeing you, despite the fact that she’d only met you a couple times, that it brings tears to your eyes now, but you aren’t sure what kind of tears they are. Perhaps, from the pain of seeing your past self reflected in her fervor. The devastation of being confronted with him again. The most sublime elation because look at this little girl and how special and wonderful she is, and she’s happy to see you. She’s so in need of the attention and comfort of a maternal figure, and she reminds you very, very much of yourself at her age. It breaks your heart to feel her innocent desperation. You cannot even consider looking up at her father, you know that if you do, you’ll break down entirely, sobbing at his feet, begging him to forgive you, to love you back as much as you love him. “We– we should go play in the water again. I liked it so much when we did that. I had so much fun.” There’s such earnest pleading in her voice, but it gets just the tiniest bit smaller and quieter when she says the last part, as if she’s unsure if you’ll feel the same, if you’ll reciprocate her feelings. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out through your mouth as you hug her closer to you.

When you open your eyes again and look down at her upturned face your voice is slightly steadier, “We can go whenever you want, sweet pea. I had so much fun, too,” but you lose the battle at the end, voice cracking slightly. You can feel his hovering presence at your periphery like a blazing inferno, demanding attention, and you finally look up at him. He has a slightly unhinged look in his eyes, taking you in from head to toe, gaze manically roving your form, like a man starved, parched – desperate and ravenous.

“I had to go to the doctor,” Sarah says. “Look,” she shows you a bandaid on her little bicep, “I got a Sailor Moon sticky, but it hurt really bad.” She pouts and you rub her hair, cooing at the small hurt.

You look back up at him then, “Joel,” you croak. He doesn’t say anything, and you can see a slight tremble in the lines of his arms. He turns his face away from you, looking across the park, and you watch the ripple of muscles in his throat as he swallows several times, the flare of his nostrils as he takes his own set of deep, calming breaths. “Please, say something,” you beg.

You hate the look in his eyes, you hate it, you hate that you’re the reason he looks like this right now. He doesn’t deserve this. He deserves your love. He deserves to be loved. He’d told you once that you weren’t some secret to be kept, hidden, that you deserved to be cherished out in the open, you realize, in this instant, that he deserves the same, and that what you’re doing to him is wrong. But how to stop it? How to change the most integral part of your mind, of your belief system, and that which it all hinges on, your past, your history? An impossible feat.

“What are you doing here?” he finally says. His voice is rough and deep, and the mere sound of it makes everything deep in your tummy clench painfully.

You’re still hugging Sarah to yourself, and she tightens her arms around you, looking up between the two of you as if she can tell that something isn’t right. “Field trip.” You hook your thumb back towards where your kids are still being watched over by the other chaperones.

He finally turns back to look at you, and the fire in his eyes is terrible for all the desperation and pain you recognize in it. “It’s been weeks,” he whispers.

“I know.” You rub Sarah’s shoulders gently, feel her nuzzle into your thighs.

“I went to look for you at the school.”

“I know.” Your voice sounds almost like a cry. Despite everything, despite telling you that this was hurting him, he’d still come to look for you again. He hadn’t given up on you, no matter how many times you’d pushed him away.

“I knew you’d seen me,” and he looks so hurt as he says it, that it sends a spear of fire through your chest. You can tell he’s holding on to his control by tenterhooks, trying his best not to let his anger out and scare you or Sarah. An irrational part of you wishes he’d lose control, throw you over his shoulder and force you to go with him.

“Daddy?” Sarah’s little voice.

“Are we just never going to speak again? Is this the way you want it to stay?”

“No,” you croak, “I don’t– I don’t know,” a violent shake of your head, “I mean– yes, of course we are. I just can’t do this right now.” Your kids are waiting for you. You’re supposed to be working right now, not watching the rest of your future crumble brick by brick before your eyes, the only thing you’ve ever truly wanted for yourself angry beyond words at you. He scoffs, runs a shaking palm over his mouth and beard.

You hear the other teacher call your name from behind, and as he comes up next to you, he puts a hand on your shoulder, perhaps sensing the tension or a fight brewing. “Everything alright over here?” he asks you gently, not sparing a glance at Joel.

The entire right side of Joel’s face spasms furiously. “We’re in the middle of a fucking conversation here,” he spits, taking an aggressive step forward, eyes zeroed in on the hand touching you. You shrug it off immediately.

“Joel–” you warn, at the same time that Sarah’s high, anxious voice cries, “Daddy, why are you mad?” Her voice seems to snap him out of it, he looks down to her, his eyes going slightly wider for a second before he squeezes them shut and shakes his head once, quick.

“I’m not, baby. I’m sorry–”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you murmur to your coworker. “Can you give us a minute? I’ll be right there.”

As he retreats, you say again, “I can’t do this now, Joel. But maybe–”

He shakes his head, ignoring you, crouching down to Sarah’s level. “Let’s go home, baby.” He places a gentle palm on her slight back. You can see the tremble of his hand, and it makes a sharp pain start up behind your left eyeball.

“No, I don’t want to go with you!” she says muffled into your thighs.

“Sarah, baby, please. We need to go home,” he begs her.

“Joel–” He continues to ignore you.

“I don’t want to go yet,” she looks up at you, her little face pleading, “I want to stay with you, please.” Her eyes are starting to fill with tears. “Don’t you want me to stay with you? You said you had fun with me.” The tears start to fall, your own pool in your eyes.

“Sarah, it’s okay, baby. We’ll play another time,” there’s a begging lilt in your voice too. What are you doing? This is all your fault, you’re hurting the both of them.

Joel stands to his full height now, finally meeting your eyes again, and his voice is hard and angry, patience come to an end as he says, “Sarah, it’s time to go. Say goodbye. I’m not gonna ask you again.”

“No! I don’t want to go with you! You’re being mean!” She turns her tear streaked face to him now, pulling on your clothes as if trying to scramble up your body. “Please, Daddy, please, I want to stay here.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, “Sarah, please.”

“Why do I never get to play with girls? Where’s mommy? Why hasn’t she come back? I’m tired of just being with you, Daddy!”

He flinches at that. If you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you’d have missed it. If you hadn’t memorized his face so well, you wouldn’t have seen the muscle under his left eye twitch. He freezes as she starts to sob loudly, and you’re at a loss, writhing in agony for the both of them.

He crouches down again at the sound of her very real and anguished sobs, and his voice is gentle and coaxing again, when he says, “Let’s go home, baby girl. It’s alright, come on. I’ll get you an ice cream. How does that sound? With the rainbow sprinkles we like, okay?” He pries her off you gently, not turning to look at your face again, taking extra care to not touch you even a little bit, but you feel the heat of his hand against your thigh as he grabs her, and it has a jagged shock moving through you. You desperately wish he’d take you with him too.

He wraps her in his arms and picks her up, “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you hear her sniffle as she hides her face in his neck, a safe place. You wish you could hide from the world there too.

“I know, baby.” He rubs soothing strokes along her back as she wraps her little arms around him to clutch at his hair.

“When’s mommy coming back?” she mumbles as they walk away. He does not turn back to you.

The encounter in the park makes everything worse. Much, much worse. Like your heart had been ripped clean out of your chest that day and had gone off with Sarah and Joel, leaving you behind to float in the rotten pool of your misery.

“I heard a strange rumor recently.” Your mother’s voice, soft but discerning, comes through the phone – first call in six months. It makes dread coil in your belly. Nothing good ever follows that tone.

“Oh? What’s that?” She doesn’t call often, but when she does, it’s usually to ask for something, you’d already promised to send her a few hundred dollars, or to share news of a new boyfriend or trip or something equally self involved.

“You remember my friend Betty? From when you were growing up – she lived down the street from us. Well, she’s in Austin now too, has been for some time–” Fuck, “And you wouldn’t believe, but her daughter’s a doctor now, there in Austin too, very impressive.” She’d always hated that you’d become an art teacher – not glamorous enough for her. “Maybe you remember her, too? Little blonde thing, very cute… and well, she said she was at a birthday party recently,” No, no, no, no, please, no. “And she said she’s almost sure she saw you looking pretty cozy with some man, who she has on good authority, is married.” There is a sharp and cruel vein of satisfied glee in her voice, “And you know, I really couldn’t believe it when she said so, and I told Betty, ‘My daughter? She’d never get herself involved with a married man.’ I mean, you’ve always cast me as the worst sort of woman for leaving my own unhappy marriage for another man. So, how could it be that my saintly little girl has now fallen into my own footsteps? I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?” You’re shocked speechless. Of course, of course, she’s found some way to hear about this. She’s always had a way of finding out everything about you, as long as you’d go without speaking or seeing each other, she always finds a way of sniffing out the things in your life you want to keep hidden from her, as much as she claims she doesn’t care what you do or what becomes of you. “Nothing to say?” she croons.

“It–” your throat is tight, filled with tears already, confessing this to her will break you in a way you don’t think you’ll be able to recover from. “It’s not like that – it’s not like… you,” I’m not like you, I’m not, I’m not. “It wasn’t something– something done purposely,” you whisper. “It just happened.”

She laughs at that, long and loud, “Yes, well… it usually does happen like that. Unintentional. One doesn’t often set out to ruin a life, do they? Sometimes it just happens, I suppose, no? What do you think?”

“I haven’t – I haven’t ruined a life,” you blink furiously, shaking your head even though she can’t see you.

“Oh, no? You’ve always taken yourself to be so high and mighty – always so holier than thou, and now? What? You’ve ended up just like me. Brought low, down to my level, after you’ve always judged me so harshly. How does it feel? To have ended up just like me? Scum like mommy.”

“I didn’t ask to be this…” you cry, “This– this hideous thing I’ve turned myself into–” like a creature of cracked skin and painful faultlines, “But this is what you made me, this is all you left me with, an inability to escape you, an inability to have a normal relationship.” You know she can hear the tears in your voice, and that she’ll be all the worse for it, crueler for subjecting her to your weakness, but you can’t help it. She hates it when you cry, your tears have always reminded her of her own weaknesses.

“Baby girl, that’s just what you tell yourself to make yourself feel better. And sure, if it helps… if it works, go on. You tell yourself that. But you’ve made your own choices. I can’t be held at fault for what you do with your life.”

“I’ve never seen anything else but the wrong kind of love. A– a painful kind of love–” you think of your past words to Joel – his worry that he and Eva had only ever given Sarah the wrong example of what it is to love, and your reassurance that the love he gave her was all that mattered. You’d never had that, you’d never had that sort of steady, reassuring presence that he was able to provide his daughter, and so how could you have turned out any way other than gnarled and wrong? And yet something in you rebelled at that thought, for you felt, deep inside, that despite the circumstance, the way you felt about Joel was anything but wrong. If anything, it was the only thing in your life that made sense, the only thing that was truly right. “How could I have turned out any other way…?”

She’s quiet for a moment after that, and when she speaks again, the venom in her voice is gone, and the mother you hold so sacredly in your memory, the one she only lets you see on occasion, makes a rare appearance. Her voice gentled now, she says: “I know… I know it wasn’t always right, that I wasn’t always right,” she huffs a breath of laughter and it sounds… almost sad, “But I did love you.” Did love – the past tense spears you through the heart and silent tears drip down your chin, “I’m sorry that I’ve made you believe otherwise, but I did.” And you know, part of you recognizes the truth in her words, despite the pain they bring, you know that she had loved you, she’d just never known how to show you – it was always the wrong way, the wrong kind of love, but it was love. The love of a mother who’d never really wanted to be a mother.

“I know,” you tell her quietly.

You were always fighting with her in your sleep. Unable to let the wound close. But you were so tired, you needed to let it go, you now thought. You needed to move on, couldn’t let it rule your life and your relationships anymore.

You can’t help but think that a broken home is such a funny and strange thing that spits out equally funny and strange people. At once, fractured, disjointed, painful, but at the same time, still a family, still desperate for all those things that make a family, a family. Despite not really knowing what that truly means. Still held together by that obligation of blood, love, need, childhood. Something inescapable, and even yet, in many ways, unbreakable. For you can never truly break a thing like that. It would always live with you, in some manner. You would never be able to forget it, and even if you cast it away, left it behind, forgave, memory was not a thing so easily let go of. It would stay with you regardless of what you did or who you became. Keep its claws in you. But you didn’t think you had to let it rule you anymore, subjugate you. You could forgive your parents for their faults and their let downs, for being human, for being bad parents. If you could not forget, then you could forgive, let go, move on, stop letting their memory dictate you.

She was never a good mother, but she was still your mother, and you’d always known that despite everything, you’d always loved her anyways. You always would.

You wonder what it was about some women who were able to find such comfort, purpose, stability in motherhood, as opposed to others who saw it only as a prison, a grave. Was it paradox, nature, nurture, personality, fate? Nothing meaningful at all, no reason, it just was? You wished there was a set equation that could tell you what you would be, who you would be, what kind of mother you would turn into, were you to become one.

And then, in opposition – the plane of fatherhood and all it entailed. What was it that made a man a good and caring father, as opposed to one who drank themselves to death, and left their already very alone child, even more alone? What was it to have a good mother and a bad father or vice versa? To have both of the same? What were the implications, and what sort of creature would it turn you into once their influence had been wrought upon you?

What were the implications of having had bad parents, and then, when the time came for you to become one yourself, wanting desperately to be a good one? How did you do that when you’d had only poor examples?

How did you escape faithlessness?

You had to wonder, would your father have always become what he had, even if she had never done what she did, if your mother had never left, never been unfaithful? You didn’t think that you could cast all the blame on her anymore. After all, a marriage was a strange and intimate thing, only looked upon in its true form by the two people within it. No one could turn a thing into something it was never meant to be. No one could turn you into someone you didn’t already have within you. This was true for yourself, as well. You supposed, the same could even be said for Joel and Eva. People were what they were. Nature versus nurture, again and again and again.

You had been so staunchly stuck upon the fact that you couldn’t be the thing to break their marriage apart, when he’d told you, time and time again, that there was already nothing to be broken, that there had never been anything to break in the first place. The marriage, too, had always been what it was. Had you, in your fear and fractured history, tried to make it into something that it had never been for fear of it turning you into that very history you were so frightened of? There were different realities to category, different things held different significance and not everything was the same in perpetuity.

Categories, labels, titles – husband, wife, lover, mother, father, daughter – was it all useless fodder people ascribed to a thing to be able to bend a person or a feeling to their will? You didn’t think you could tell anymore. The ideas that had always been so securely held in your mind seemed to have all been shifted askew by a man who, in his own right, was beyond category. A title did not make a thing real. But love – that was its own category, of this you were sure. That was a pillar all on its own, its own realm which opened up possibilities and necessities that you were now coming to realize were uncontainable.

And so, what of you and Joel? Did that count for nothing merely because of a lack of category for what you two had? No. Impossible. Because in many ways, what existed between the two of you was a marrying of your very souls, a melding of them – as if he’d stolen it straight out of your chest. Its own category ascribed to its position in your reality, and thus directing all your actions for the simple fact that you were in love with him, and it could not be swallowed any longer.

What is it to feel before category?

Were the labels useless until there was feeling behind them?

All your life labels, titles, promises, promises, promises had never meant a single thing to anyone around you. Not your parents' promises to each other: husband, wife; not their promises to you: mother, father, daughter, family. None of it had ever meant anything, so how could you ever be expected to have faith in the promise of category?

How did you escape faithlessness? How?

You and Joel loved each other – real. That was its own category, its own faith, in a way. The feeling behind category.

What was it to feel before category? Possibility.

What was it to feel after category? Promise.

There was a real sort of promise in love – no guarantee, surely, for love could be wrong, but intention, for it could also be right. Joel and Sarah and everything he’s done solely for her sake – committing himself to a marriage he’d not wanted, had known would never work. There was a promise in that. A father telling his daughter that he would do anything to give her what a child could need: a family, a home, togetherness, security. He’d sacrifice anything for that.

You’d always known you recognized something in him, but what was that thing? You’d thought that you couldn’t say, or didn’t want to say, didn’t want to admit it, for too long. Part terror, definitely, part desire, unfortunately – most horrifying of all, and that which had been your first realization where he was concerned: yourself, kindredness. You saw yourself in him – a great and unbearable knowing. The two of you were the same. And so, it was only then, love. And oh, there it was. Perhaps you could admit it after all.

For at the end of everything, the simple reality you were now forced to accept was that to know was to love, and you’d known Joel from the first first moment you’d met him, as he’d known you. A thing was what it was, and no matter what category you tried to force it into, it would remain as it had been born as. Recognition was, you thought, what ascribed value, what made the decision in the end.

“You’re cold, Joel. You push people away, hold them at arm's length.” Hours of this interminable back and forth between the two of them. His temples were throbbing. All he wanted to do was fall face first into bed and not resurface until tomorrow morning. But she was getting at something – restless and coiled all day – she was getting ready to make her decision. Eva was leaving.“What woman would ever want to stay for that? You aren’t unlovable… you just won’t let yourself be loved.” He shakes his head at that, not looking at her. Not true, he wants to say. Despite everything, he still thinks there’s a part of you that loves him, you love him, you love him, he knows it. Even if you can’t let yourself be with him, or don’t want to be with him. “And anyways,” she continues, “It was never supposed to be me. I was never supposed to be the one to love you, we both know that. It was never us. We never had a chance. We never loved each other.”

“Did we ever even like each other?” sardonic – and she laughs, high and rueful, at that.

“You know what your real problem is?” Her voice takes on that especially vicious tone she likes to use sometimes, the one that makes his bones itch inside the confines of his skin. “You’re selfish, Joel. You– you just want me here–”

Now that makes him laugh.“I’ve told you many times… you’ve got no obligation to me, Eva.” He sits heavily on the sofa, elbows braced on his spread knees, staring unseeingly ahead. He thinks that his voice sounds so tired, so unlike the sort of man he wishes he was, a creature he hardly even recognizes anymore. “If you wanna go, then go. I won’t stop you. I won’t hold you back. I won’t resent you for it. I won’t turn our daughter against you afterwards. I’ll respect your decision.”

“That’s not true! You forced my obligation to the two of you when you let me come back. You should’ve never taken me back, you knew it wasn’t what I really wanted. I–”

He shakes his head, “You’re talkin’ nonsense. You can’t cast the blame of your guilt on me because I– I– what? Because I let you come back into our daughter’s life after you abandoned her? That makes no fuckin’ sense, and you know it.” He points a finger down the dark hall towards the room where Sarah sleeps, peaceful and unaware. “You will always have an obligation to that little girl – no matter how far you go or what you do or what you think of me. You will always have an obligation to her. Even if you don’t see it through… even if you leave – it’ll always be there, by virtue of the simple fact that you’re her mother, and no matter how badly you’d like to escape that, you never can.”

“You think I wanted to give up my freedom again? Once I’d gotten it back? But I– I, I felt so – like I was supposed to be here – like it’s what the world expected of me. So here I fucking am – miserable and stuck with you.”

“Evie, darlin’, I’ve never wanted you miserable,” he says softly, reverting back to that nickname he sometimes called her, when they were trying especially hard to get along, when things weren’t, in the rare occasion, so terribly fraught between them. “I told you from the very start of all this, that what happened would be up to you. The decisions were yours to make, and I’d support you in whatever you wanted. I never wanted to force you to do anything you didn’t want to.”

“Well, I didn’t want to have a baby with you!”

He clenches his jaw tight. “Then you shouldn’t have.” He is trying very, very hard to keep a controlled grip on his anger.

“So, what, I should’ve gotten an abortion? Is that what you would have preferred? Gotten rid of her?” He feels very close to rage, hearing her talk of Sarah like this, but he forces deep breaths in and out of his lungs. Tries to remain calm and rational.

“If that’s what you wanted – I told you that if that was what you wanted I’d have supported you.”

She laughs, cruel and broken. “Please, you would’ve fucking hated me.”

“And?” That wipes the jagged smirk off her face. “I wouldn’t have – I would’ve understood, of course I would have – we were fucking strangers, but even if I did hate you – what the fuck does it matter? I didn’t even know you. What would it have mattered?”

She’s silent at that, almost stunned, for it’s the truth. They’d been complete strangers then. In many ways, they still were now, even after the birth of a child together, after three years of marriage. They didn’t really know each other, not in the intimate or tender ways that made up a real marriage.

“That wasn’t an option for me.”

“I know. And I accepted that.”

“You should’ve never asked me to marry you.”

His eyes flutter shut, frustration surging again. “I felt it was the right thing to do at the time.”

“But now?”

“What do you want? You want to hear that I regret it? That this was the worst mistake of my life? You want me to tell you that I’ll stay with you forever? What do you want to hear? I don’t– I don’t know how to make this better for us anymore.” He is terrified that his most terrible and painful truth is that he would force himself to remain trapped in this purgatory with her, despite everything else, for Sarah. He is the man that he is, after all. One who is acutely aware that when you try to force yourself into a shape you were never meant to be, it turns you into an angry thing – embittered, cruel, despondent. It’s what they had done to each other.

She goes quiet, almost deflates, “No. I’m miserable. You’re miserable. You’re in love with another woman.”

He can’t say anything at that – the mention of you in this terrible space they’re creating with their words and their anger feels wrong. You don’t belong here. Although, he has the sudden flash of a thought that part of him wishes very much that you were here right now anyways, sitting in that chair in the corner, if only so that he could turn to look at you, find comfort and strength in your warm gaze. All he can do is nod.

Suddenly, all the fight and venom seems to leak out of her, and she says very quietly, very sadly: “I don’t want to be with you for the rest of my life, trapped here in this place I never should have ended up in, in the first place. I don’t want to be here at all.”

He nods, “It’s your decision. I won’t condemn or judge you for it.”

“Wouldn’t you like to make any decisions for yourself?

“I made my decisions. I’m living with them now.”

“You sound like you’re being punished.”

“Maybe in some ways I am.” You don’t want to be with him anyways, what difference does it make?

“Wouldn’t you like to decide to be with her? Because honey, with three of us it’s a sideshow. You think I don’t know how you feel about her? That I haven’t seen the way you look at her? I’ve known since the start, and I’m glad for you.” And he knows that despite all the rest, she is sincere in this.

“Just three?” he laughs, ignores the rest. “Surely there’s more of us than that.”

“Oh, suddenly you’re funny?”

“You really think there’s anything about this I find funny?” he spits, anger surging up inside of him again, hot and bright. “I suppose it’s laughable. We sure have turned ourselves into one big fuckin’ joke. But I don’t think we’re the ones that should be laughing.”

“No… you’re right… we’ve turned each other into such sad and terrible creatures,” she says then.

“Maybe. If so, I’m sorry for that. It’s not what I wanted.”

“No– me either. None of this was.” And he knows she means Sarah. She’d never wanted Sarah, but he can’t focus on that now or perhaps, ever. Sometimes it was just easier to not look at a thing, to swallow it and pretend it’d never existed. He closes his eyes and brings a shaking hand up to drag down his face.

“This is a broken marriage,” she says.

And he knows it is true. “Yes.”

“No true marriage at all.”

“No.”

“It is no great loss.”

“But it still hurts.” Also the truth. It hurts him for his daughter, for the breaking of a family – even theirs, as elusive or damaged as it was.

“Only because you hate to fail at anything.” There is so much resentment in her eyes, and he can’t tell whether it’s for him or for herself or for the entire fractured thing. He so wishes that he could have done things differently, that things had happened differently. But then, if things had happened differently, he, perhaps, would not have Sarah now, and she was worth all of this, she had always been worth all of this.

He shakes his head. “Because we have a daughter together.” He feels so interminably sad for the both of them. For all they cannot and have not had. For all Sarah will not have.

“Was it really ever together? She’s yours. She’s always been more yours than she ever was mine. I don’t feel bad or wrong saying that. Some women aren’t meant to be mothers. Some women have children when they aren’t meant to be mothers. This is not a sin. I am not made evil by my lack of maternal instinct. I love her. I do. Despite whatever you may think, I do, I always have. But I was never supposed to have children. I was never supposed to be a mother. It was never in my nature. And anyways, it’s why she has you. She’s never needed me because she’s always had you.”

He looks down the dark hall towards his little girls room. They’d put up those glowing sticky stars on her bedroom ceiling this afternoon and construction paper butterflies they’d cut out together, hanging from fishing line between the stars. When she woke up tomorrow he didn’t think she’d have her mother here anymore, would not have her by her side, probably, for a very long time, if ever. How was he supposed to tell her that? How was he supposed to help her through that? He didn’t know if he had the strength, the intelligence, to navigate such a difficult thing. But he didn’t have a choice either. He’d have to find everything she needed from him somehow, somewhere – he would.

“Every little girl needs her mom… but she also needs structure in her life, stability – she deserves to have that. You need to make a decision, a real one, for her sake. I won’t have her waiting by the phone, watching out the window for you for years and years.”

“I won’t be coming back this time,” and although he was expecting it, already knew, he still flinches, like a bullet punching through the space in his heart where he holds Sarah. He nods anyway. “I do– please, I do want you to know that I’m sorry. That I wish it was different. Please, tell her that, tell her to forgive me.”

He wonders why it is, that in the equation of crime and absolution, forgiveness is always the faction that is most readily expected – demanded even? Despite the hurt being something so, so terrible. But he promises that he will, anyway.

Eva’s gone the next morning.

Two weeks later, he gets divorce papers in the mail, and he tells Sarah that her mother will not be returning this time – cradles her little body in his arms with equal measures of as much gentleness and strength as he can muster while she cries.

Chapter .8

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#someone's fic #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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nhuquyen · 4 months

Text

This scene suffered from the pace being rushed which makes it hard to understand what Kabru is going on about if you didn't piece together the story through his POV. This is unfortunate cuz this moment is so realistically messy yet is the satisfying moment when the leading and supporting characters finally come into an understanding.

Kabru's antagonism makes perfect sense only if the readers remove themselves from their favoritism to Laios.

I see some confusion over why he thinks Laios is an enemy of humanity. Firstly, Laios thinks the things that killed all of his family and community are cool. This alone to me is at least sympathetic enough to see why he harbors subconscious prejudice against Laios. It doesn't make him right, but it's logical enough.

Secondly, yeah he's in over his head with his own judgment and thinks too highly of his own motive*. Thirdly, he's bit of a dick to Laios I won't even lie here (I do blame stress for the punch) . But like everyone except Falin is a fucking dick to Laios when you think about it.

And to be completely fair, ever since he knew of Laios' interest till even here still Kabru's been flip-flopping between "This man might save us all" and "He would choose monsters over humanity, we are doomed if he got the power which he is very close to getting rn, let kill him". It's not like he went 100% antagonistic.

This is getting long so,,,My breakdown of Kabru's pov, which explains his actions regarding Laios, under the readmore.

Let see thru Kabru's pov in chronological order:

Taking it from the start, Kabru has a bit of a savior complex no doubt stems from his survival guilt. Being the sole survivor of a massacre by monsters it's understandable he feel that it's his duty to find out why it happened and prevent it from happening again. We saw him and his crew talking shit about how good he is at reading people, and he totally gonna topple the greedy governor and save this place. Then they continuously got their asses handed to them by monsters cuz while Kabru read people well, he can't handle monsters. So yeah he admitted deep down he's not making it to the deep.

So now Kabru wants to find someone he can trust to save the island. He got his eyes on Laios bc he can't read him. Laios is a damn good dungeon explorer and isn't motivated by greed while almost everyone is, so what gives?

Here we see Kabru reveals he had failed to get Laios attention while trying to get to know his mysterious party. This is my interpretation only but he was definitely pissed about it too. Kabru is a bit over his head about his own charm so Laios ignoring him probably stunk.

Even after knowing Laios' special interest he was like "huh so that's how he is" until the matter of dungeon master's power come up and it occurred to him "wait would this guy who loves monsters use the power to make the dungeon full of powerful monsters that will destroy people?" He definitely did not decide Laios was humanity emeny right there, it's a possibility. As much as Laios pulling through and save the island from becoming another Utaya tragedy is a possibility.

Here, we see him desperately clinging to the former possibility until the latter took over "It's too late to get through to him i have to kill him." But did it take over? In that panic, his true feeling comes out. He still wants to understand Laios as a person, he still wants to believe in Laios after all.

Wgile it's easy to get pissed at Kabru just as we did the the Shuro/Toshiro vs Laios fight scene. Fellow autistics know how much it fucking hurt to get your social ineptitude get dragged out like that. I do think Kabru's rant here is good for Laios. This is the first time somebody has admitted to want to get to know why he like monsters despite them hating the creatures. It's not the solidarity like what he and his sister has, but it's not total rejection. Again, his own party members who care about him want nothing to do with his interest (minus Senshi)

Tldr: Kabru's alright and his actions make complete sense even if it's flawed

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #kabru

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localapparently · 6 months

Text

/ orv main story ending spoilers , mentions of kdj's suicidal mindset

mindless rambling

my friend who just finished orv asked me why kdj couldn't just split like 2% off of himself into an od avatar and leave that in the train while he joined kimcom, and while my initial reaction was "there's no way he could just do that" I remembered i thought a similar thing when I first read through orv too? and maybe it got explained down the line but I forget things real easy (which is why i'm rereading orv) and so I'm just trying to make sense of it using my existing knowledge

There's this bit in epilogue here:

Sangah's words "protecting the world by dividing himself in half, one becomes the reader, one becomes the character". the first being 51 and the second being 49,

I think there are layers to it. Right after being shaken by the OD ordeal, kdj's mindset that he's to blame for the whole world is reinforced stronger than ever before in his head, because he had just witnessed living proof of it. And that's not something he can overcome just because sp and 999 gang took od away to take care of him. Even then, kdj was confused why they weren't angry.

There's also the persisting mindset kdj has that he's twsa's reader and not a proper part of kimcom, and he probably felt like he should bear the burden of consciously continuing to read the world until the very end. He managed to see himself as part of kimcom over the course of the story but od's appearance sort of undoes all that progress he's ever made, and its sad but its pretty common for self hate mindsets to spiral like that,

He probably felt like he deserved it, yet him wanting that extra 2% difference to prove he knew and loved kimcom more than his avatar. Him regretting splitting in half right after the avatar left and he saw them all walking away. He knows what he wants and in the end he can't bring himself to think that he deserves it

And honestly I don't really know why the way singshong writes kdj's self hate and suicidal tendencies get me so badly, I mean I do, kind of, the feeling is there, but it's incredible how long the set up was and how real it feels when you see it all go downhill.

i think od reveal truly truly fucked up kdj to no repair. like if you read the passages, its fucking heartbreaking.

"My own tragedy couldn't even compare to their pain. The sin of creating an even bigger tragedy because of my own should not be forgiven." "Something was wrong. A blade… I, I needed to find a blade."

and the thing that gets to me is how easily anyone who has had self loathing thoughts can empathise with him. The want to disappear for inconveniencing things that would've been perfectly fine and pretty and happy had you not come into contact with it, the idea that you are a disgusting monster and its easier to shut yourself off than do any more damage. and its Fine if youre in pain because They will be happy and theyll will be happier without you.

It fascinates me how a portion of readers of orv who self blame or self doubt love kdj so much, because the act of loving him is also some form of self reassurance that they can be loved as well, because if someone like kdj can be forgiven, then surely they can, for all their small or big mistakes that are definitely not on the scale of plunging the universe into a space apocalypse. or something.

but i might be assuming so. don't take my word for any of this.

tldr he doesnt split out a small avatar to take the place of od because he thinks he deserves it. which is quite obvious if you take a look at the big picture, and i dont really know why i rambled so long. maybe ill reread orv and theres gona be a small bit that's like "ohh well actually if it was too small of a percentage that became od the universe wont hold up" and i will be like Ah yes i just missed that part. and this ramble will be void. uhh yes. have a nice day

#orv #orv spoilers #kim dokja #3am rambles

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bonefall · 6 months

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I love the concept of MoleJay toxic yaoi so much. More weirdass chaotic romantic entanglement between the Bracken Four and The Three! The childhood crush of the teen who died young broke the rules of reality to save. His sister! A priest and a member of the heavenly body he's supposed to worship, except the priest has the power and the both of them keep pissing each other off. I named myself after the time I beat your ass in a fight, but that still means my name invokes our connection every time it is spoken. I tried to bring some meaning to my tragic death and afterlife by assigning myself this role of keeping you in line, and what I am outside of you? Just another tragedy? Better to be the man that stands in your way, better to be seen by you as a warden and source of irritation than just the guy who died of sickness and didn't get to walk out of heaven with you.

I think it's especially cool and funny when taking into account how you said that Moleflight's role as a character is "reflecting StarClan's general consensus and feelings towards Jay," because toxic yaoi really does reflect StarClan as a whole's weird love-hate feelings towards Jay. Like damn, this bitch is intimidating and frustrating and every time I talk to him he pisses me off. But. He is kinda cute tho.

Another aspect that crosses my mind a lot is that, when cats die young, StarClan quickly becomes more real than the brief life they had on the mortal plane. For most angels, death feels like a constant, lucid dream... but "cherubs" like Moleflight who received their full names in death didn't live enough life to differentiate it.

So if you think about it, Jayfeather IS his tie to the mortal plane.

Most cherubs quickly throw themselves into cosmic tasks that adult spirits feel strange about, very disconnected from mortality. Attending the founders, maintaining StarClan itself, lathering and polishing the stars that they may shine brighter. And yet, here is Moleflight, clinging to the life he could have known through being Jayfeather's obsessive guardian angel.

Like he doesn't want to move on. Like he wants to have something to miss.

Or maybe it is a bit of jealousy. Molepaw was the first to die in that outbreak and Poppypaw would have been the last. He watched from beyond the veil as Jaypaw pleaded for his sister to please, please come home. He didn't come for him. And without Poppy here with him, Moleflight was alone.

Inescapable. There is no separating them. Jayfeather's very name invokes Moleflight; and Moleflight has made it his mission to serve as a liasion between the stars and Jayfeather. Life and death divides them, and yet, they've never been apart. We are soulmates because we tangle our teeth and claws in each other's souls and refuse to let go.

#Molejay #Better bones au #BB!Moleflight

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especiallythewomenandthechildren · 4 months

Text

As If Destiny (part ten) 🌹

Part 9.5🌹

a/n: the fact that i can keep finding gifs of this fine fine man.

love to you and even more love to you.

warnings: it's the hunger games universe. you know what you are getting into.

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3:02 A.M

3:03 A.M

3:04 A.M

Coriolanus Snow was immobile as he watched the time pass on the cracked clock along the wall. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight so he didn't even attempt it. Even as he closed his eyes due to the pounding migraine in his head, all he saw was you.

Your falling form, shaky hands, empty eyes. Silent mouth.

Not a single scream was heard from you when you got hit.

That was probably what haunted Snow the most. Your tragedy was silent. Life was slipping out of your being with no noise.

He sighed as he rubbed his eyes in frustration. He has been in the constant loop of falling into a rabbit hole of you, fighting to get out, then falling straight back in. This torture cycle has been going on for hours and wouldn't cease until he finally got to see you again.

When Coryo made it home, he fell straight into Tigris's arms. There was no need for him to explain what occurred as news spread like wildfire across the Capital. He always hated the speed of gossip across the city but was thankful for this one instance only because Tigris already knew what to do. She comforted her younger cousin and didn't pester him with questions but made sure he wasn't too lost in his head.

That's how they spent their entire evening until it hit midnight. The older Snow cousin could barely keep her eyes awake but swore she would stay by Coryo's side. Although, with enough reassurance that he would be fine and exhaustion overcoming her body, she finally relented to her small room.

While Coriolanus was glad Tigris was getting some well-earned sleep, he most definitely lied.

He was not fine.

3:11 A.M

He looked down at his desk where his own ideas for the Games lay. He had written them, revised, wrote some more, and revised even more. It was the only thing that got his mind off of your massacred form. If he edited anymore, he was sure to ruin the proposals.

The adolescent's blue eyes moved from the pages to stare out the window you loved so much. Those blossoming trees didn't sway as they usually did. Even they seemed disappointed at your disappearance.

While the flowering trees did remind him yet again of you, they also sprung an idea. It definitely wasn't the most intelligent idea and especially not the safest, but any reservations had to settle down as the Capital Zoo gates came into view. Why he was here? Even Coryo couldn't answer that but he figured it would be as good of a distraction as any.

The sweat piling on his palms seemed to be the only sign of reason within his being as he inched closer and closer. Not even twenty-four hours ago, a murder was attempted. On someone just like him. And someone got hurt. You got hurt.

He sighed as he was now only mere feet away from the gates. Coryo wondered if you would be upset at him being here. Would you think he is foolish or would you have faith in Lucy Gray?

There wasn't much lighting around the zoo but it wasn't necessary; Coriolanus could feel the eyes on him. The mentor could only pray that they were the brown eyes of the girl he was looking for.

"Lucy Gray?"

The hushed tone was hard to pick up on except if one was within a few meters of it. Whether the girl in question should be grateful she heard was still to be seen. Gently sliding Jessup's head off her shoulder, Lucy Gray creeped closer to the bars. Coriolanus waited a few moments before he opened his mouth to call out again. Though before any words were said, he was cut-off by a greeting from the singer herself.

"Coriolanus?"

He let out a breath when the girl presented herself, her appearance slightly shining under the dingy lighting. He brushed his hands through his now deflated curls. Lucy Gray waited patiently for him to form the words. Words he was unfamiliar with as he just spewed what was on his mind.

"I'm so sorry, I just- I couldn't sleep and thought you might be awake."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the blonde wished he could take them back. The reality of the situation hit him full force. Here he is interrupting what may be the last peaceful moments of this girl's life because he couldn't control his train of thought. He buried his face in his hands and stayed there until a small giggle was heard. He peered up to meet the soft smile of Lucy Gray.

"I thought mentors were supposed to take of us."

If it wasn't for her kind tone and sweet smile, Coriolanus would have been offended. He didn't know why he came to her, but a part of him trusted her. Or at least trusted she didn't have many people to tell.

His blue orbs watched her face deflate into one of worry as she walked closer.

"Is she okay?"

It was a quiet whisper burdened with concern. His trust was reaffirmed in Lucy Gray as he heard her concern for you. He nodded slowly while he opened his mouth to speak in a grave tone.

"She survived and will be released in a few hours. However, the cuts are aggressive "

Lucy Gray hung off of every word, genuinely concerned for your well-being. You were nothing but kind to her and Jessup. Not to mention you did try to help Brandy. The rest of the evening Lucy Gray kept on thinking about you and your actions.

Your kindness on the station, intimidating aura in the van, and quiet talk with Jessup in the zoo. The talk he didn't go much into detail about, still unsure of what to make of it. Lucy Gray didn't wish harm on anyone who has never personally harmed her and even though the redhead who mocked her own tribute was clearly cruel, she didn't believe she deserved death. When it all happened, the singer was shocked into stillness as she saw the murder attempt and was forced into movement when she saw your neck covered in blood.

After the incident and Brandy's corpse being carried out, the zoo was nearly empty of all visitors. The tributes mostly kept to themselves or their fellow district pair. Lucy Gray often thought of her family, the Covey, especially Maude Ivory. But it wasn't long before she once again thought over why you took the hit instead of the snarling girl.

The mentor didn't seem very happy with you and was insulting not only you, but someone clearly important to you. Lucy Gray has been around enough nasty folks to know that they always choose words carefully. Lucy Gray knew very little about you but even she could tell that whoever Otto was, he shouldn't have been mentioned.

The girl sighed herself as looked at the exhausted boy in front of her. The affection between you two was quite clear and it made her a bit more accepting of the Capital citizenship. If one can love another, they must have some sort of humanity.

"I can see why you love her."

Coriolanus Snow choked on his saliva upon hearing the words. His eyes were bright with fear and shock. The boy never even admitted that to himself and well he knew his feelings were strong, the word "love" was never used. Lucy Gray began internally panicking at seeing the boy's silence.

"You do love her right?"

Coryo's eyes scrunched slightly as he analyzed the soft tone used. Analyzed her question. In all his analysis, no answer provided itself.

"Is this what love feels like?"

He was eerily quiet; words spoken at a volume, it sounded like it would break. The question of her mentor made her relax and give a little laugh.

"Oh, you poor suffering soul!"

She teased lightly. Twelve hours ago, this situation wouldn't even be in either teenagers' wildest imagination. Yet here they stood, one lost in love-struck daze and the other in a satisfied companionship. Lucy Gray was behind bars, counting down the hours she had left in her life, but she wasn't too focused on that fact for the moment. The poster boy of the prestigious Capital stood completely vulnerable in front of her in the dead hours of the night.

These might be her last days of her young life, but Lucy Gray feels an odd sense of gratitude. She hates that she, along with the rest of the innocent tributes, are forced to massacre one another. Her blood boils at the thought that the Games are allowed and even encouraged. But she is grateful for Coriolanus.

Lucy Gray is still unsure why he came to her, but the action made her heart swell. Coriolanus didn't just see her as a tribute, or worse, just a pawn in the game to win the prize. She knew that was part of his motivations in his care for her, but in this quiet moment with no cameras, Coriolanus Snow sees her as a friend. A confidant in the silence of the city of whispers.

Her smile slightly deflated as she thought of her own run with love.

"You know, whatever happens in that arena, thank you. If for nothing more than showing me at least one man knows how to love in this world."

Coryo's stupor evaporated as the Reaping replayed in his head. Oh.

"That boy? He-"

"Didn't know how to love the girl who loved him. Got too greedy."

Lucy Gray's snarl was apparent as she thought over the boy and his affair who sent her here. Her heart was already broken, why did she also have it to be physically stabbed?

Coryo could start feeling his own anger building at the thought of Lucy Gray being hurt. She was incredibly sweet, even surrounded by her future killers. He didn't understand it, but it creates a feeling of protectiveness to surge through the curly head. At the human-to-human level, not mentor and tribute.

He wondered if he would be used to this protectiveness if his sister survived. His mother would love Lucy Gray, if nothing more than her charismatic personality.

"The girl who you sent the snake on?"

"Daughter of the mayor and the reason we are talking."

She sighed at the recollection that of all the people for Billy to break her heart with, it just had to be Mayfair.

The anger that was beginning to build up was now 100% ready to burst.

"What? She can't do that! The Reaping isn't for personal vendettas i-"

The words died on his tongue as the realization hit him aggressively.

Coriolanus was complaining about rules of sending innocent children into a blood bath. The hypocrisy of the Reaping being used for personal pleasure at others' pain is exactly what it was made for. The entirety of the Hunger Games was a sick lesson of victory in others' misery.

Lucy Gray watched the cogs turn in the blonde-haired head of the teenager across from her and was relieved to see the revelation of reality.

Her motivation for survival in the arena was already high so she can make it back to see the Covey again and watch out for Jessup. But another reason was added in those morning hours. Survive so she can take care of Coriolanus as he did for her. To ensure at least one love story ends happy.

The brunette tried to convince Coryo to go back home so many times throughout the hours he spent in front of the bars with her, but he refused. Even though he was mere feet from where he saw you collapse, his mind wasn't plagued by your unconscious eyes.

Instead, his lips kept on repeating the lively moments he shared with you to the curious Lucy Gray. He appreciated he got to brag about every little thing about you to someone who didn't have some other motive. Even with Tigris, she already knew every detail about you from the aforementioned bragging by her cousin, but she would still listen just to give him some comfort and a shoulder to lean on.

But Lucy Gray forced him to step out of his brooding and focus on that you were okay and made him more comfortable in the revelation of his love. Lucy Gray was thankful she didn't have to spend these days in the humiliating zoo as just an attraction or threat. Coriolanus made her still feel human and a friend. She knew how desperately he wanted to win and yet, not a word of strategy was mentioned. They had the meeting later in the day to discuss. Right now, they both just needed a friend.

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After nearly running back to his decaying home upon seeing the sunlight appear, he changed in a flash. He got too lost into his youthful conversation with Lucy Gray that he nearly forgot of his responsibilities. One being not frightening Tigris at being gone for hours in the middle of the night.

Thankfully for him, Coryo made it through his bedroom door just as Tigris opened hers to get ready for the day. He got ready speedily and grabbed his proposals and neatly packed them away into his bag. Ensuring he had everything he needed, Coriolanus gave a quick kiss on the head to Tigris and sped towards the Capital hospital.

His stomach was grumbling heavily, and he could have benefited from grabbing a few leftover pieces from the breakfasts you always brought. Though he had to decide between sustenance and you.

Not a seconds hesitation.

Coriolanus walked through the pristine doors of the newly built hospital. The hospital was a part of the new reconstruction project for the Capital after the war. Life was finally getting back to normal.

With the infamous charming smile of his towards the receptionist, Coriolanus made his way through the sterile hallway. Upon reaching and subsequently opening the creaking door, Coryo was biting back a boyish laugh.

On the bed lay you, with your head was tilted on top of Arachne's as the forementioned girl curled into your side. Your eyes were awake but quite droopy as you attempted to fight off sleep. A fight you won swiftly as soon as you heard the voice you've been yearning to hear.

"Am I being replaced? Of all people Arachne? Didn't know you were into redheads, y/n."

His smirk was evident and more so as he walked over to your bedside. You turned your head to the left as you looked up to the tall boy with a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Can't be replaced if you were never in her place to begin with."

He mocked offense as Coryo retorted to your still sleepy voice.

"Are you upset that I gave you my bed instead of squishing us? I barely fit on my own, imagine the both of us!"

You already have imagined it actually. Multiple times.

Nothing graphic just a bit of snuggling and giving the smug blonde a good kick in the middle of the night while in deep dreams, of course.

"I just don't want you to be sleeping on the floor. It's cold, Coryo, and has to be awful for your back!"

Coryo knew you were right as the floor was extremely uncomfortable, but the feeling that you were mere arms width away gave him a level of comfort no mattress could provide. He only wished that you were in his arms rather than the distance of them.

"Such is the tragedy of being a gentleman."

He gave you a toothy grin as you laughed lightly, widening Coriolanus's smile even more. The young man got settled at the foot of your bed as he nodded questioningly towards the still sleeping Arachne.

You let out an amused laugh as your fingers began streaming through the now down red hair of the girl in question.

"Said she didn't want to leave me. I don't know why, but I'm not complaining. I've missed her and our friendship."

Coriolanus nodded along and gave no hint of what he was feeling inside. A feeling with the name of suspicion. He wasn't blind to her stares at you. They were icy and envious, or at least they pretended to be. One can't hide the longing for another, no matter how deep it's buried.

The blue stare of Coriolanus Snow moved across the room and landed upon the now crinkled parchment. He nodded in amazement with a proud smile.

"Gaul knows young promise, now doesn't she?"

You stretched forward just enough to smack his leg reprimandingly.

"Don't go getting a big head on me now, Coryo."

"Any bigger and we would have to calculate the surface area."

It seemed just a bit of rest was all that was needed for the notorious Arachne Crane snark to return. She quickly sat up, removed your hands gently, and patted herself up to perfection. As soon as she became presentable enough for public, a kind-looking nurse with honey eyes and light freckles entered.

Arachne froze for a second, fearing she was found out, though you had no fears. Due to her bright and rested attitude, the honey-eyed nurse was clearly working the day shift instead of the scoping night shifts. It only took a few moments and tests to reassure your release. You signed multiple papers that you didn't bother reading, and you were given the clear along with your still-stained academy uniform.

You fully intended on completing your mentor duties today and the following days but completely forgot about the state of your uniform. A quick scan to the clock showed that you didn't have time to go back to your apartment and get a clean spare. An apartment that you weren't even sure was yours anymore. It was most definitely not home.

However, your panicked thoughts must have been heard by your saving angel. An angel that came in the form of the familiar warm brown eyes and curly hair.

In his hands were a spare uniform for you (how he got it, you weren't going to waste the energy on questioning it) and a container filled with sweet treats sent from his ma clearly.

"Sejanus have I ever said how much I loved you?!"

He gave you a warm smile as he passed the clothes off and opened up the beautifully designed container. You quickly grabbed a few of your favorite sweet treats while the rest were offered to Coriolanus and a bit reluctantly, Arachne. The latter squinting at the treats in disgust. The food smelled delicious and looked even more delectable, but district hands still made them.

Though your clear enjoyment of the delicacies as well as the boys', who began quietly talking, Ara grabbed a small treat that has a red tint to it. The taste popped in her mouth and continued to as she fully enjoyed some of the best treats she has ever tried.

You laughed at her reaction and the flustered blush that appeared on the girl's cheeks caused a squint of distrust to frame Coriolanus's eyes and Sejanus's mouth to go agape.

"Since when did she sink her claws into y/n?"

Sejanus was concerned how you could so easily be friendly with the girl who was more than willing to let you die. At least in his eyes.

Coriolanus left the question out into the air as he focused on helping you out of bed, legs a bit shaky. He grabbed the rouge uniform and led you to the connected bathroom. A little interrogation was initiated as he tried to ensure your safety.

While you two were bickering back and forth about your ability to change on your own, an awkward silence firmly took place between Arachne and Sejanus. The brown-eyed boy unabashedly stared holes into the redheads face while she focused on your hospital gown-clad figure.

"Spread my thanks to your mother. She is a wonder with pastries."

Arachne's words were meek as she struggled to pull them out. Twenty-four hours ago, she would never have thought of complimenting district scum- no. Not district scum. District. Maybe scu- you wouldn't approve of that language. Arachne just got you back, she isn't going to lose you again.

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A half-hour passes, and by then, you are fully dressed and walking up the stairs of the academy with Sejanus. Arachne had to rush back home to get her supplies and clean up while Coryo went to drop off both of your proposals to Dr. Gaul. Technically, proposals by three academy students, though you doubted Clemensia put a wink of effort. Especially in her state yesterday.

On a good day, she would be more than happy to let Coriolanus do all the work and take the credit. But in tears and wreck, she needed to leech to survive.

As you walked through the pristine institute, you heard the whispers and felt the hot gazes upon you. The patched-up wounds on your neck felt extra visible and painful as you weaved through the gawking crowds. They eventually settled as the guard dog of yours named Sejanus, gave them a stare to scare the teenagers into silence.

The pair of you moved into Heavensbee Hall, where multiple tables and chairs had been organized into a circular formation. On your way to the academy, Sejanus filled you in on today's events. An hour meeting with the tributes, a fifteen-minute tour of the arena following, and in the evening a presentation paired with an interview of each of the district tributes.

As soon as you stepped into the grand hall, you were enveloped by a pair of arms connected to a certain bead of raven hair.

"Clemmie!! I'm okay, don't worry!"

You were met with no verbal response but rather a rather harsh squeeze by the surprisingly strong girl.

"Okay, I'm not okay because you are actually crushing my body!!"

As you could finally breathe through your lungs, you quietly conversed with your worried friend. It was only after a few moments after that the tributes were brought in as if cattle; each in heavy chains that connected to their peers in front of them in the single file line.

The look in Clemensia's eyes was screaming at you to leave and protect yourself, but all it was met with was a tight-lipped smile. You were making your way to the designated desk for you and Jessup when your path was intercepted.

"Miss Vaun."

Dean Highbottom was not someone you wanted to deal with this early in the morning, especially when the only words coming out of his mouth were subtly crafted mocks and the only thing going in was morphling.

"Such a shame to hear of your incident."

Each word he uttered made you nauseous. His calculated tone was dripping with hidden motives. Casca Highbottom was playing games with you though you had no idea what they were nor why. Though a speculation was that it had something to do with a certain curly-haired blonde who was now walking in your direction with a scowl towards your dean.

"Ah, Mr. Snow, I was beginning to fear you had yet another show to present. It seems the mentors are more the spectacle than the tributes."

The smile Coriolanus gave the bitter man was tight, just like his patience. Dean Highbottom, satisfied with the emotion caused, called for all mentors to join their tributes at their tables as he addressed the room.

"In spite of yesterday’s tragic events, our president has decided that the Games must go on to show everyone the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror."

Your cheeks burned as you ducked your head while feeling Jessup's eyes stare at you. Well, everyone's eyes.

"To which end, Dr. Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a special televised presentation and interview of each tribute to our audience to get to know them."

You sighed slightly as it was clear that Dr. Gaul liked at least some of your ideas if she implemented the interview and some sort of presentation.

"You will have an hour to discuss strategy. You may begin."

You lifted your head back up to meet the dark brown eyes of Jessup Diggs. You smiled shyly, unsure of where to start. Though there was no need for worry as Jessup was the one to initiate the conversation.

"Those are some nasty cuts."

You, in stark contrast to the solemn room, laughed softly. The boy's tone wasn't harsh or arrogant at seeing your hurt, but rather blunt. It was better than hearing a voice filled with glee at seeing your scars.

"Well now we match, huh?"

You sat back in your chair, getting comfortable. You had an hour ahead of you and the discussion of strategy wasn't going to take long if Jessup was still insistent on not taking medicine. The dark-skinned boy matched your position while you prepared your thoughts.

"You sticking to no medicine?"

His eyes drew over your neck again, seeing how much it has healed due to the remedies. But you didn't have to be locked into an arena filled with killers. He got the bite due to his character and actions, that's how he wanted to die. Not because of scared teenagers who just wanted to go home to their mama.

His silence was an answer enough for you; an answer that didn't surprise you. Jessup was stubborn, and you would bet there were few topics he would be willing to change his mind on. Though, you could never have bet that his mind was starting to change in regards to the children of the Capitol. That not everyone was horrible.

"I can't get you out of the interviews or presentation, but you can keep silent. There is not much they can do to force you. However, if you have something you want to say, feel free."

You knew that his silence would ensure he would have no sponsors, but that didn't matter in his case. The district boy looked a bit taken aback by your last statement and what he could do with it.

"Anything? Isn't that a little dangerous?"

The brunette knew it wasn't dangerous for him as he was already sentenced to death, but what about you? He wasn't sure why he cared, but he did. You seem to try to save anyone you can, an odd trait for a Capitol resident, but true nonetheless. You didn't deserve to get hurt because of his rash actions.

"I can't control your actions, Jessup. You are your own person. Even while this whole situation doesn't have anything to do with you, there is still control you have."

He mulled over your words, and even though it sounded farfetched, it was true. Even a smile appeared on his face as he agreed: he did have control.

You were happy to see that smile and know that he recognized his freedom in the cage. The two of you were content as you sat back and turned simultaneously towards the other District 12 tribute and mentor pair.

Coriolanus and Lucy Gray were not the normal pair. Lucy Gray wasn't sitting quietly or glaring. Coriolanus wasn't sneering or arrogant. Their conversation, a wonder in itself, was mutual. Your heart pulled at the scene, wishing that it could be in different circumstances.

Your head turned back to look at your own tribute, whose head was still turned towards his friend. His eyes were covered in reminiscence and pleas. Pleas that she will survive. That is when an idea came to fruition.

"What if we made a deal?"

Jessup slowly turned his head towards you in apprehension and confusion. What more could you possibly expect from him?

"You do everything you can to stay in control in that arena. Fight off the disease as much as you can because your sanity will disappear. I've seen it firsthand; any piece of Jessup Diggs will be gone. You will become a danger to Lucy Gray. Don't let her eat or drink after you. You could spread it."

Jessup took in what you were saying and agreed but was still confused about what the deal was. What was in this for you?

"Take care of yourself and her in the arena and I will do my best outside of the arena to make sure Lucy Gray goes home."

His brown eyes squinted at you in wonder and uncertainty. You were sincere in your words, but Lucy Gray winning meant more than just her success, and Jessup knew that.

"Why? So your boyfriend can win and spend all the money he doesn't need on your Capitol luxury?"

Your previously relaxed facial expression melted into one of simmering anger. You thrashed your body forward and toned your voice down into a chilled whisper.

"One, he isn't my boyfriend. Two, looks can be deceiving. He desperately needs the money. I know it's hard to believe, but his family is starving, and his grandmother and cousin need him. That's why he works day and night, so don't you dare say he doesn't need the money. You don't know him."

Your tone was laced with venom, and Jessup quickly took the hint. His eyes raked over the fair-skinned boy, and he could see you were right.

He was tall, yes, but skinny. Even kids in twelve weren't that malnourished. Jessup turned back to you with a little smirk, which brought you a sense of unease.

"Very defensive of your 'not boyfriend'."

You opened and closed your mouth while the seeming permanent blush appeared once more. Your lack of defense brought a small joy to Jessup, a feeling he accepted he would never feel again when his name had been called. You took a deep breath before properly explaining your reasoning for your little deal.

"I'm doing this in part for Coriolanus, yes. I would be lying if I said I wasn't. Another part is for Lucy Gray. I've never met anyone like her, and I think that's a universal experience. If I can't save you, I will save her. I won't let your sacrifice be for nothing. We've taken enough from you."

There was silence for a few moments as Jessup processed. He believed you, maybe too easily, but he did. What he couldn't believe is that you were Capitol.

"Don't say that."

"Say what?"

" 'We'. You are not the same as the people who put us here. You aren't like the rest of the mentors."

Your eyes shined with a few tears of gratitude as you struck your hand out. You had a lopsided smile and a laugh as you uttered a singular word.

"Deal?"

A nod and hidden smile were paired with a reciprocated action as your hands shook.

"Deal."

Hands still interlocked, the sound of Dean Highbottom's voice rang out.

"Snow. Dovecote. Vaun."

One last smile was sent toward Jessup as you stepped out and made your trek towards the infamous Dr. Gaul.

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You were right.

Clemensia didn't even know the proposals were written. Well you did cherish your friend, you had to admit Coryo wad far kinder than you would have been if you were in his shoes.

Clemensia vouleentered for this and yet she couldn't make the effort? You didn't appreciate being her excuse when he own excuse was able to get the work done. This wasn't some school project. This was real life and possibly world changing. You hoped, for her sake, Clemensia knew what she got herself into.

The three of you walked into the expansive lab fillied with odd creatures in all sorts of liquids and devices. You watched Coryo walk over to one and tap on its glass as you examined it from afar. Out of thin air, the peculiar woman appeared, slightly startling you and Clemensia.

"The star burns as it is orbited. Flames lick across it's surface while those circulate it with no fear. Fire pours and the star glows!"

You take in the woman's odd words and look to Coryo to confirm she is talking about and your condition from yesterday. She did call you and Coryo stars so it wouldnt be too far fetched. Unlike the head Gamemaker.

"The sun gets orbited, not stars."

You hear Clemmie whisper into your left ear and you sighed.

"Clemmie, the sun is a star."

Dr. Gaul overhead your whispers as she sent a quizzical and nerve wrecking look towards your companion, causing the latter to slightly shiver.

"Come and see my new babies."

The sickly sweet tone of the Gamemaker certainly didn't settle Clemensia's shivers. Your concerned eyes connected with Coryo, who also seemed apprehensive at the offer.

You followed the graying woman to a circular glass tank containing a vast array of slithering colors. You let your hand slide across the glass, oddly satisfied as the snakes followed your fingers.

"Is there a point to the color?"

"There’s a point to everything, Ms. Dovecote, or to nothing at all. Which brings me neatly to your proposals."

You sucked in a breath as you realized you could easily be thrown into the snake tank. But she wouldn't do that if she hated your proposals right? She might.

"Miss Vaun, next time, ask for a hospital room with better lighting. Your handwriting was incredibly messy."

You turned your head slightly in confusion. Should you be happy that's the only she has issues with? Is this her way to get you distracted to easily throw you in with the reptiles without fight? You didn't expect praise but you didn't know what to make of her given comments. Though you were quick to learn you should be greatful for having notably bad hand writing.

"For you two, which one of you actually wrote it?"

Dr. Gaul turned her unnerving gaze upon your friends. You knew who wrote it, so did they, and it seemed like Dr. Gaul had an inkling.

"Well, there was-"

"I was inspired by Coriolanus yesterday, of course. His little betting idea. But the sponsorships and the gifts in the arena, those were all mine."

You stood there shell shocked as you saw the girl unabashedly take credit for work she didn't even give a word to. The betrayal evident on her supposed partners face as he questioned her.

"Clemmie?"

The confusion between you and Coryo was not shared by Dr. Gaul as she was utterly unfazed.

"So it’s your sweaty handwriting on that page. Very impressive, Ms. Dovecote."

You watched as Clemensia proudly smiled at the woman's praises. Dr. Gaul's approval and audible pride in work was never a good sign. Oh how you wished Clemmie could have seen that.

"Unfortunately, my assistant mistook it for trash this morning and lined the shelf of this very terrarium with it. So, please, Ms. Dovecote, retrieve it for us, won’t you?"

All color of the already pale girls face was drained, a recation copied by both you and Coryo. Your brain ran through all the scenarios to get Clemensia our of there or what could have been if you just hadn't spoken up. None of Clemensia's actions were your fault but you couldn't help but step in.

"I can grab them, if that wouldn't be an issue."

A part of you wished you kept quite as the manically calculated eyes of Volumina Gaul met yours.

"Well they are Miss Dovecotes wonderfully inspired ideas. It is best for her to share it with us, isn't that right?"

You could do nothing but nod along, realizing there wouldn't be a way to get your dark haired friend out of this.

Dr. Gaul turned back to address Clemensia, who was clearly holding back screams of panic. A sight that brought a sick sense of satisfaction to the older woman.

"Don’t worry, my little predators are perfectly docile with those they can trust.

So if they’re used to your scent, if you’ve handled their food, for example, or if they’ve inhaled the sweat of your palm on a page, they’ll leave you alone."

The chilling woman curled closer to the panicking teen as she inhaled her fear.

"A new scent, however…

you’d be on your own, little girl."

That soft tone was quickly replaced with the ragged and stone cold demand.

"Retrieve it."

You felt yourself being held back by some force. You weren't running after her. You weren't jumping into the snake pit. You thought it was the fear holding you back, but you felt the familiar arms of Coriolanus Snow ensuring you weren't going to jump into danger yet again. Whether or not you both wanted to admit it, Clemensia got herself into this situation all on her own.

You held on his arms as you watched the mentor's hand go further and further down the pit of vemenous danger covered in an array of bright colors. The tips of her finger brushed against the page unharmed and a slight breath of relief, Clemensia reached fully for the paper.

The scream scratched against the deepest edges of your ears. Corners of your earlobes that haven't been touched since the death of your mother. Why is it that all those who you love have the scream?

"Clemmie, no! NO!"

When the girl jumped back in pain and shock, Coriolanus was quick to move you the way, accidently creating the clear path as she fell off of the slightly elevated platform. The gasped and clawed at her neck as you both rushed to her side, unsuccessful in finding a way to help your suffering Clemmie.

"You asked about the colors, Ms. Dovecote? I want my enemies to see a rainbow of destruction engulfing the world. I’m not above using spectacle to create a little terror."

You saw the vision but could care less as you desperately tried to comfort your friend.

Is this how you looked less than a day ago? Whipering in the floor while your neck is covered in evidence of an attack?

Some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants rushed over to take Clemensia away, having to push you away to do so. You wanted to run after her but was frozen once more by that sick voice.

"A strategy your classmate here articulated very well in his proposal."

The woman's fascinating eyes moved off of the now horrifyingly still form of Clemensia and back to you and Coriolanus.

"They’re good, your suggestions. The both of you. I’m going to recommend my team implement as many as possible tomorrow."

Coriolanus took the shock for the both of you as you were still focused on the now gone squirming figure of Clemensia Dovecote.

"Will she die?"

You didn't know what to expect exactly but of course, the reality of Dr. Gaul was even more appealing.

"The pleasure in breaking ground in one’s research is one gets to find out."

You shivered at her degradation of the girls struggle into a science experiment. You might have made a mistake mixing in with her, no matter the promise it held.

"You better keep Ms. Dovecote’s fate between us. I don’t think her mother would be happy to learn how she caught this sudden… flu."

You and Coryo shared yet another look as alarms rang in your eyes. Would you two be next if you were unsatisfactory?

Any fear picked up from either of you was ignored by the head Gamemaker as she sighed whisfully.

"Now run along, you have an arena to promote and it’s time for my milk and crackers."

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The arena wasn't far from Dr. Gaul’s laboratory. Only a few streets away, in fact. The entire way was filled with silence between you and Coryo, but it doesn't mean there wasn't communication.

Coryo kept his arm around your waist as you laid your head on his shoulder. He knew what Clemensia's screams reminded you of. He saw the memories flash before your eyes and instinctively scanned Clemmies mouth for any blood. Snow tried to convince you not to go to the arena.

He could look around with both Lucy Gray and Jessup if you wished. But you refused. You wished to tell him of your deal, but you doubted Jessup would inform Lucy Gray, so it would only be fair if you kept quiet for now.

When the pair of you reached the arena, the rest of your classmates and tributes were lined up, waiting for you two. How they knew Clemensia wasn't coming, you weren't sure, but as soon as you and Coriolanus ran all the way to the front where District 12 was held, you began the walk-in.

Coryo was in front of you as you took shallow breaths while walking into the area where you knew only one of the 23 kids would walk out. Your focus was on the blonde curls and square shoulders of your Coryo. Your Coryo. This was a very bad timing for this very sudden thought to appear.

Thankfully, or not, the robotic female voice poured out of the speakers as Coriolanus and Lucy Gray crossed the gates.

"Enjoy the show!"

Of course, it had to say that.

"Enjoy the show!"

The voice continued to repeat itself as the rest of the pairs walked in, along with a few peacekeepers. You watched as Festus directed camera crews to focus on the still sneering Coral. Sneers that were being sent pointedly in your direction. You looked over to Jessup, who seemed to be slightly dazed.

"Jessup?"

The boy turned to you, and it took him a moment for recognition to flash before his eyes. You gulped as you realized that Jessup won't be able to keep his side of the offer for long. But you were determined to keep yours up until the end.

The thought made you turn to the girl you wished to protect. She looked scared and has full reason to. She turned to Coriolanus with pleading eyes. You took a breath and nodded to whatever her request was. She looked back around, still apprehensive. Coryo could have followed her gaze, but instead, he met yours.

In the very same place where half of the inhabitants of the space will be dead starting tomorrow, he looked so calm. He looked worried and was scheming in his brain when he was talking to Lucy Gray, but when he met your eyes? He looked so at peace. You could be imagining it, but that smile was so, so real.

A true and lovesick smile. A smile that grew with every second that you met his gorgeous blue eyes. A smile that you matched in tandem. Young and in love. Lovesick looks across the battlefield.

To be in love during war is the worst casualty of them all.

The sound of heartbreak was the only sound that was more shattering than the explosions that blew around you all.

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a/n: please don't send dr. gaul to my house because i tool FORVER to finally upload this! thank you so much for the wait and support loves, it means the world! pls lmk what you all think💓

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit 🌹 @scarletstarrs 🌹

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bandgie · 1 year

Text

I have never posted a writing on here but I thought I’d give it try

Smut!

So Cruel

Synopsis: You we’re never too fond of Miguel O’Hara. Though he was a sight for sore eyes, his temper was always unchecked and it had only worsened after Miles Morales escaped. You made it your mission to stay away from him unless absolutely necessary, but O'Hara has never cared about your feelings.

3.6k word count

He scared the living shit out of you. The way he walked, talked, how his eyes looked like it could cut through diamond, he was madly intimidating.

After hearing about the original anomaly, Miles Morales, Miguel O’Hara because determined to correct all of the errors and make sure all events happened to their respective times. Morales was a tricky one though, he had managed to slip through every spider’s fingers and go back to his Earth.

You couldn’t help but silently applaud the kid. You had lost so many loved ones for these so called ‘canon event,’ but seeing Miles try to find another way was inspiring. You secretly hoped he did manage to find away to prevent these tragedies from happening to anyone ever again.

You were nothing more than a messenger, not even sure if anyone from the higher positions knew your name aside from ‘Spider-Woman’, so you’ve been slacking on finding specifically which Earth Miles teleported to. It didn’t matter anyway, there’s so many other spiders they can manage to-

“Hey, O’Hara wants you in his office.”

You immediately sit up from your couch, whipping around to see Jessica Drew standing at the door way of your room. Her belly is pronounced, you’re not even sure how she can still walk.

“Now?” You ask.

She nods in response, waddling back to her motorcycle.

“I’m busy looking for the spider from Earth-1610. I don’t think I’ll be able to-“

“Not an option. And you know I can tell when your lying from your teeth right?” She says unamused. You huff in defeat and scratch your head nervously.

Jessica takes notice and pouts, sympathy taking over. “Listen, I’ll be with you okay? Hop on and I’ll take you there. Hopefully he won’t be too harsh if I’m with you.”

You look at her gratefully and trudge to her bike. She might soften the blow, but you know you’re in for a rough time.

The ride to Headquarters was too fast, you wanted to slow down time to prepare. Truthfully, no time in the world could prepare you for the possibility of O’Hara ripping you a new one.

You silently cursed yourself for not at least making small attempts to find the kid. You’ve seen how Miguel ran to Morales, how he showed no mercy, yet you prayed he would let one spider slip. A foolish prayer.

Once parked right outside his den, you and Jessica stepped off the motorcycle and she took on your hands in hers. She could be surprisingly soft when she wanted to be. Her fingers gently squeezed your reassuringly.

“I’ll try to do the talking okay? You haven’t been super deep into his work so I’m sure he’ll let you off easy,” she says softly.

You nod, feeling sweat begin the collect on your forehead. You pull away from her hand as you begin walking to him, keeping your head down.

You never directly looked at O’Hara. You hated how he looked as though he could see what you’re thinking. He never would directly address you either. The person in command would relay messages or you would sometimes see Miguel on a screen, but not much one-on-one talking.

You hoped to keep it that way.

You could hear the machine lower Miguel from the higher platform, and you could hear your heartbeat increase.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, you told yourself in an attempt to control your breathing.

It wasn’t long before Miguel’s was in front of you both, you stared at his feet while he began to talk.

“You can leave Jessica,” he says, voice sharp and cold.

“I think it would be better if I stayed,” she says calmly, “You can be quite scary sometimes ya know?”

Miguel snorts, “It’s not my problem how people look at me. You did your job now leave.”

You flinches at his harshness, yet Jessica only sighed as a response. They went back and forth for some time. Pity and shame began to creep up your spine as Jessica continued to take his belittling. You were hiding behind someone for your own dumb decision, let alone this someone was pregnant.

“Jessica,” you say, interrupting their argument, “thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

She looks at her worriedly and back at Miguel in plea, she gives her shoulder a rub and says an ‘okay’ before leaving on her bike.

It’s not long before it’s just you and O’Hara. You can feel him drilling holes into your head as you continue to look down.

“I don’t think I need to say what you did wrong,” he starts, “We need all hands on deck, every spider man and spider woman. Yet here you are making absolutely no progress. You haven’t been checking other dimensions since the spider from Earth 1610 left…” Miguel’s doesn’t stop listing all the things you did wrong, but his last question catches you off guard.

“Why?”

You briefly look up at him and look back down, “Why what?”

“Why aren’t you doing your job.”

The silence is loud, nearly deafening. You can’t answer, you won’t answer. Your putting not only your job at risk, but maybe your safety. “I’m not sure.”

“Look at me,” he commands. You don’t, instead raising your head slightly but keeping your eyes down. You don’t want to look at him, you can’t afford to look into his eyes.

“I said look at me,” your name leaves his lips.

You’re eyes snap to his, and you wish you had looked at his nose instead. Such a deep red meet your own colored eyes. His jawline sharp and check hollow. The main think you notice are the eye bags, guilt eats at you.

“Look at me while you answer me. Why?”

You take a deep breath and build on the courage to only speak a few words, “Because I believe in him.”

Miguel’s eyes narrow, “Believe in who?”

“Miles Mora-“

“Don’t you dare finish that name,” O’Hara snarls, turning so that his back faces you. He runs a hands through his hair and heaves his chest. You take an involuntarily step back, prepared to dash in needed.

He turns back to face you, slightly better adjusted and gets closer to you. It takes every fiber in your body to not move. You maintain eye contact, but a part of you wants to look at his plush lips.

“I understand where you might think he can save everyone, but he can’t. It’s foolish to go against what is our destiny. I don’t need to tell you that I tried, I don’t need to tell you why I started this whole Spider-Man Society,” he tells you.

Your fearful gaze turns into sadness as you recall his story. You’ve also lost someone close to you. Your fiancé who was captain of the police. You hated when people called you Spider-Woman, you changed it to Widow years ago.

Miguel just see your expression change because his does too. “I don’t want you thinking we’re the bad guys, or were doing this to hurt people. I need you to understand that we have a bigger responsibility at hand. So are you on my side or what?"

You let out a sight, "Why does there have to sides? Why can't we let him see for himself? Imma be honest Mr. O'Hara, the way you handled things was not necessarily in the best way."

You regret speaking you mind as you see Miguel get in your face, obviously offended by critiquing his strategy. He studies your features, eyes seamlessly exploring what you have as he looks back at your eyes.

"I don't need a no-name spider telling me how to do my job. You think I'm cruel? Join the club. All you can manage to do is sit there and look pretty. Maybe that's all you'll really ever be good at." Without warning he grabs your wrist and takes you to his lift, sending you guys up into the top of his office.

You follow without intending to, you were too busy digesting what he had told you. It wasn't until he flipped you around to see your backside that you started questioning him.

"Mr. O'Hara! What are you doing!?" You yelp, attempting to flip back around to face him. His hands were hard on your hips to keep you in place. You could feel the heat of his body and the hardness of his chest.

"I'm gonna show you what you're actually good at since you don't know how to do your current job properly," He answers. He uses his legs to push your feet closer together. Then taking one hand off your hips, he uses it to push the arch of your back down so you're sticking your butt out.

The position sends your heart racing, especially when he pushes his crotch to your ass. He gently slides himself up and down on you, fabric touching. You should stop him, tell him that this is insanely inappropriate and that he's being dramatic. Yet, you find yourself arching your back even more to try and feel him some more.

He chuckles behind you and leans down to have his lips ghost the shell of your ear, "Someones a little too easy. I thought I was the bad guy."

You shake your head, "I never said that. I just think you could've gone easier on the kid."

His rubbing stopped and you immediately missed the sensation. You let a whimper out and wiggled around to try and feel him. He gave you a playful slap on the ass and grab the back of your neck harshly, "Pobrecita perra, I'm not even close to thinking about finishing with you." He kicked your legs open and lifted one of them up to rest on his desk. Without a second thought, he ripped off your sweats leaving you in just your underwear.

Miguel knelt down and inspected your covered pussy. "Mmm, siempre me encantó el color rojo." Then you felt the warm wetness of his tongue touching you underwear.

You were already wet, so the friction of the underwear wasn't painful. It was annoying instead, you wished he had ripped those off along with the sweats. Miguel gave long strokes of his tongue up and down your pussy. He let his fangs gently nip at your clit which made you squeal. You could feel him smiling against you as he continued to work you with his tongue.

You started feeling hot, the remaining clothes too tight on your body. He was giving you exactly what you wanted but nothing at all. It was infuriating how he teased you through your underwear. You could hear how messy it was starting to get, and you couldn't tell if the liquid dripping down you thigh was from him or you.

Your underwear was drenched, and you moaned when he sucked your nub and pulled at it. He used his fingers to rub you and occasionally dip in your underwear to feel your folds. You pushed your body lower to have him rub more, to let him know you wanted him to touch your bare pussy, but Miguel was not letting up.

"Please," you suddenly begged, grinding against his mouth and hand. "O'Hara please take them off."

"I don't know," he teases, "Is this not enough for you? Am I not doing a good job?"

He harshly slaps your pussy, you jump and whine nearly on the verge of tears. "You are, it's so so so good," you praise him, "I just, I want to feel you more. Please Miguel, please please-"

You finally feel him pull your underwear to the side before he dives in. You loudly moan, finally at peace knowing you're getting what you want. You grind down on his face, reaching back to push him deeper into you. Who would've though all Miguel needed was a little bit of positive reinforcement to listen. Maybe that information will come in handy at another time.

"Oh fuucckkkk," you moan. He uses his lips to rub your lower lips, the softness was nearly enough to make you cum. You can't though, you need him inside you. To feel him pulse and cum inside, you clench around nothing at the thought of it.

He goes back to using his tongue to please you, dipping it inside of your pussy back up to your clit. You feel your body tense and the burning sensation build in your stomach. It threatens you to release and your moans start getting louder. You've been so deprived of intimate touches for so long, you don't know how you managed it all this time.

"Don't stop! Don't stop..." you repeat over and over, letting your hips abuse Miguel's face. It starts to build and build in your lower stomach. You throw your head back and bite your lower lip to suppress your loud moan. Then he's gone. The tenseness in your body disappearing and giving you a lonely pussy. You turn around and look down to see him with a malicious grin. O'Hara stands at his full height to look down at you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks innocently. Your eyes find his glistening chin and bruised lips. You go back to his eyes and you feel your own water.

"I was so close. I was almost there. Miguel I.... I need it," you cry, letting a few tears slip down your face. You weren't really sad, but you hoped you would get a few pity points for your tears.

"Is that so? I don't know if you deserve it. You've been lazy and no help recently. I'm thinking we should stop right here and-"

"No!" you shout. You turn to fully face him and touch him chest to Chets. "Please Mr. O'Hara I'll be better. I can do it and I can do more. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry just please! Please." You're ashamed of yourself. Acting like such a slut in front of your boss and swallowing your pride just so he could make you finish. At the same time nothing has been more important to you in so long, you need him.

He smiles, showing his fangs and all before gently pushing you away, "Sit up and spread your legs." You could weep from joy at his words. You obey him and hop up on his desk, careful to not fall off his lifted platform. Your underwear is still sticking to your skin, it's uncomfortable now, but you don't ask to take them off.

He walks towards you and kneels down again and you swear he was smelling you. Miguel moves your underwear to the side and plants kisses over your clit. You hum in delight as his lips travel to your opening, using his tongue to prod it open. You use one of your hands to spread your pussy more open with your fingers. He looks up at you in surprise, but he's more than happy to oblige to your request.

He sucks on the bundle of nerves of your clit, making sure his tongue coats over your entire pussy. You whine and involuntarily close your legs, trapping him between them. You move your hand to tangle it in his hair. You move his head up and down repeatedly, his tongue and lips eagerly listening to your body.

It starts to build again, and this time you're determined to finish on his face. You hook your ankles together and squeeze him close to you, making sure he has enough room to stick him tongue out.

"Shiiiiiiit right there, please don't stop please please," your chanting has him humming in response. You moan at the vibrations, feeling your orgasm coil at the top of your pelvis. Your body prepares for your finishing, throwing your head back and rolling you eyes to the back of your head.

It's ruined though, ruined by him ripping away from you making you nearly lose your balance. You were even closer this time, you could feel your pussy throbbing and burning hot. Now the tears in your eyes were very real.

"No! No, no, no! You said! You promised! I-"

"Shut up and hold your legs like this," he ignores your cries. He positions you so you're holding your legs by the thighs, opening them up and ripping your underwear off in the process. You're still whining to him about how he lied to you, that he really is cruel and ruthless.

He continues to ignore you and enables the suit to disappear, leaving him nude. Your complaints quiet as you stare at his physique. Huge shoulders but a small waist. His biceps could be the size of your head. You knew he was buff, but seeing it in all its naked glory was immaculate.

His dick was leaking, a fiery red at the tip and you swear you could see it pulsating. He had been edging you for so long, but you didn't consider that he was also holding himself back from cumming. You absent mindedly open your legs more, inviting him in.

He darkly chuckles at your body response, "Calling me all these mean names yet you're letting me through the front door."

He closes the space between you and uses his hand to guide himself to your pussy. You moan in anticipation, you're praying to God that he lets you cum this time.

The rubs the tip of his dick up and down your clit a few times to feel how slick you are. He must like it because of how he groans and the chills you see that appear on his arms.

"Please," you whisper.

Finally, you feel the tip enter you easily. You could probably take him all at once considering how wet you are, but Miguel was slow. He was probably soaking up the feeling of your pussy around him. Loving the way you clench around him and your warmth. He went deeper and deeper, and by the end of it you swear you could feel him in your throat.

You moaned loudly as he started to move, gripping you by your hips. Fuck, he just started and you're already going to cum. How could you not? He filled you up so nicely and you were denied two times prior, there's no shame in finishing so fast.

Your head went back, leaving half of your body upside down. You felt your blood rush to your brain as he started pounding in you. Whimpers left you lips every time he slammed into you, you could feel your entire body joint forward from the force of it. He lifted up your shirt and spilled your tits from out of your bra.

Miguel leaned down to put your nipple in his mouth before he started sucking. You gasped and pulled your legs even more back to give him space to do what he pleased. The sound of him slapping against you, your wetness dripping on the platform, his warm tongue. You're going to cum.

"Yes, yes, oh god, Miguel..." you babble. Please let me come.

And you do. finally sweet release leaves your body and you're practically crying from joy. You're clenching around him so tightly he groans your name. Miguel stops his movements just to feel you spread your essence on him down to the floor.

Your upper body is dangling off the loft, practically limp. You can feel your pussy twitching from such an intense release. Miguel pulls away from your tits and starts to pull out. Before you can whine in protest and sensitivity, he thrusts back in and pulls you down closer to him.

"Fuck, you've been hiding this pussy from me all this time. Deberíamos haberlo hecho hace mucho tiempo." It was such a low mumble you think you weren't meant to hear it. Your tits continue to bounce as Miguel keeps thrusting into you. Your moans start to sound like a man dying from thirst, and you don't care. Everything is so overstimulated that a part of what you wants to beg him to stop.

It's not until he lets out several loud groans to let you know he was going to cum. Miguel uses one of his hands to grip your throat as he finds the best angle to bury his cock in. He hooks your legs onto his shoulders and your arms grab his hips to steady yourself. He has you in a slanted mating press, a perfect position to stimulate your clit too.

You know you won't be able to cum a second time, but the thought of O'Hara filling you up makes you think you will. He makes sure you can feel his cock all the way inside when he cums, his dick pulsing. You let out a throaty moan as you look down to see where your bodies connect, seeing your stomach bulge from his size.

Whimpers leave your mouth and you're both breathing heavy. Miguel thrusts in a few more times to hear you whine more. He smiles when you do. He pushes your legs close your chest and pulls out slowly. You moan as you feel him slide out of you, immediately feeling empty save for the cum that pours out of you.

Miguel drops your legs down with little care, backing away from you. You pick your head up and feel the blood rush back down which makes you lightheaded. You watch as he throws you torn clothes away and uses his watch to put his suit back on. You're left nude from the bottom, "Do you have any pants I can borrow?"

He thinks for a moment and brushes the hair out of your face, making sure you maintain eye contact, "Yeah, but I'd rather you walk home like that." You hesitantly laugh likes he's joking, but the devious look in his eyes tell you differently.

"No way you're serious."

He smiles so innocently giving you a small wink, "What can I say? I love being cruel."

#into the spider verse #smut #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #o'hara #spiderman #spiderman 2099 spiderverse

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

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Hiiii! :D <3 I owe you another event request that I announced.. sitting at work, yet another late evening, and dreaming of some Ace goodness. So may I ask for an ice cream sundae, donut hole, oatmeal raisin cookie, affogato and toffee? With female reader? :D If possible with the one serving the ice cream sundae being the reader? I need lotssss of caramel and whipped cream to get me through the week! Thank you so much!!!! <3

i can’t believe it took me so long, i’m so so sorry, but!!! it’s finally here *sobs continuously* so sorry bb that i took forever, but i only like to give you guys quality writing (esp with ace, i love him) so forgive me pls thank u & ily 😭💛🥺️

3.3k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; only a tiny bit of angst (yay), fluff!!!! and smut!!! ace needs to do better, and reader isn't as slick as she thinks she is (but lbr, when is reader ever slick). friends 2 lovers (surprise, surprise i know who am i), feat. v cute things like oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), a lil roughplay but nothing crazy, a lil dry humping, idk other stuff probably idr anymore ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა but i had fun writing even tho the fluff almost killed me but for u i persevered! (if u see spelling/grammar errors no u didn’t <;3)

“look how we bleed from all this wanting” — ama asantewa diaka

unease is something you’re well-acquainted with — a painful, yet comforting, reminder of things that may or may not come. its slender vines wrap meticulously around each bone in your rib cage, lying in wait as your heart beats faster. it’s a pathetic, melancholic melody; a lullaby you can never escape. anxiety pours into you slowly — poisonous and haunting, tainting the lush, untamed garden that’s grown deep inside of you; one you’ve painstakingly tended to for most of your life, where your childhood dreams remain dormant, where your fears slither around in the thick vegetation ready to strike when given the chance. everything becomes fuzzy and unbearable, but you somehow manage to inhale several large gulps of air before continuing.

it’s not easy keeping secrets, but you do it anyway. for him — only for him. today’s no different, as this is one secret you’re more than happy to keep to yourself.

contrary to popular belief, ace is much more particular about certain things than he lets on. for whatever reason, he’s adamant on keeping his birthday hidden from his crew mates — something you don’t quite understand, but respect, nonetheless. he says it’s because he doesn’t want the fuss and awkward fanfare of celebrating, but you know there’s another reason — one possibly drenched in tragedy and grief, so you refrain from asking again.

instead, you decide to celebrate with him in private; you’re best friends, after all. and after a few months of prodding, he finally concedes, giving you free reign to do as you please. a man like ace isn’t simple to shop for; you stress over his birthday gift for weeks, desperately wanting to find something unique — something that no one else would think to give him. it keeps you up for several nights in a row, where torn pieces of paper with scratched out ideas litter the floor in your room. at a certain point you scream into your pillow, desperate to get all your frustrations out before going back to sift through your failed gift ideas.

you pass out in the middle of ranting to yourself about your own incompetence, and the idea comes to you in a dream. when you wake up the next morning, you’re a little nervous but you’re sure this might be the one gift he wasn’t expecting — the one gift that he’ll appreciate and possibly cherish.

the thought of that only serves to rattle the tiny box of nerves that sits in the middle of your stomach — the lid barely attached; the contents ready to spill at the next inconvenience that comes your way.

ace intentionally kept vague about what he wanted as a gift; he hates the idea of people scrambling around trying to surprise him, and instead keeps his expectations low. life, it seems, has helped him learn that lesson time and time again; it’s better, in his opinion, to snuff out any residual hope — the one that lingers behind all the disappointment that tends to follow him around — before it’s too late.

still, he’s curious to see what you’ve been working so tirelessly on. you’ve kept quiet about everything, and no matter how many times he tries to pry the answers out of you, you remain steadfast and keep the secret to yourself.

he's impressed, to say the least, and a flicker of excitement courses through him as he spends the morning of his birthday obnoxiously guessing what your surprise gift is. you wave him off, tell him to stop pestering you, but he doesn’t let up. there were times when you almost told him, but he has to hand it to you — you’re incredibly determined and stubborn.

you convince him to come off of the ship with you and explore the main town of the island your crew is visiting. he knows you’re not that interested in exploring, that you’re doing all of this to distract him; he smiles to himself in secret, away from your curious and trusting eyes, unable to come to terms with the warmth that’s taken hold of his chest, pitifully churning his insides around. if he had more sense, he’d realize it’s his nerves that have gotten the best of him; but that’s ridiculous, what would he have to be nervous about?

especially on his birthday?

while he thinks he’s being stealthy by trying to hide his emotions, you catch him several times; you don’t say much about it, instead wanting ace to fully enjoy himself unrestricted. you admire the shape of his jaw when he excitedly looks around, nearly trip when you notice how sunlight drapes itself along his freckled, light brown skin, and choke on your drink when he glances over at you. the corners of his lips quirk upward, and a small, devastating, dimpled smile crawls onto his face.

you’re rarely rendered speechless, but your inability to function properly causes you to let go of the cup in your hand — not that it matters, really. you don’t even care that the drink splashes near your sandaled feet, nor do you notice the way ace’s brows furrow together at your sudden clumsiness. a frown works its way onto his lips while you stand there stupidly, trying to remember what it is you’re supposed to be doing.

he tilts his head and briefly wonders if maybe the heat has gotten to you — you’re usually much more with it, but today you’re quieter and spaced out. when he opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay, you simply step over the fallen drink and keep walking down the street. something about your insistence on ignoring your recent faux pas makes him laugh out loud; he doesn’t mean to, but it’s just so damn funny to him.

and while you could be mad at him for the way he can’t seem to stop laughing at you, you know that the small bout of annoyance will fizzle out shortly. you can never actually stay mad at him, even if you tried — and yes, you have tried and failed several times over.

ace eventually catches up to you and that familiar teasing grin stretches lazily along his lips as he playfully grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. you steel your features as best as you can and narrow your eyes at him; the residual embarrassment from earlier lingers obnoxiously, making you stumble over your words.

or, that’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

because if he knew that it was because it’s become increasingly difficult to be around him for extended periods of time, then you’d never hear the end of it.

the problem is: ace already knows, and has known for quite some time. he never brought it up, because then you’d find a reason to keep yourself busy and stay away from him intentionally. he’s selfish and will continue to monopolize your time however way he can, especially today. you’ve never had an issue with ace touching you before, but for some reason his skin is warmer than normal — or maybe it’s because you’re still too nervous about the gift. you know that he’ll like and appreciate anything you give him, which is why you let out a soft sigh and rummage through your purse to shove a small piece of paper into his hand.

“i wanted to wait until we got back to the ship,” you say quietly, tongue suddenly much too big for your mouth; you try pulling away from him, but ace’s grip is firm, and you’re not trying that hard anyway. “but, um… happy birthday!”

he watches you curiously before glancing down at the paper in his hand; in a cute, neat script, you’ve written: birthday coupon (1 use only). and before he can ask anything unnecessary, you explain quickly, words tumbling out of your mouth in a rush.

“basically, you have my services for exactly twenty-four hours only.”

and, as ace is constantly in a state of perpetual confusion, he glances back at you to see if this is a joke or not.

“really?”

he wants to believe you, but he also knows that you’d never actually let him have his way for a day — or, would you? now he isn’t so sure.

your usual bravado leaves you faster than you can handle, so you nod a few times and finally manage to free yourself from his hold. after giving yourself a bit of space, you realize that you can think clearly now that he isn’t so close to you.

“yes,” you say lightly, hoping that he’ll buy your false confidence as legitimate. “whatever you want me to do, i’ll do. no questions asked.” you know you’re treading dangerously, but this was the best idea you could come up with. unease finds you again when ace remains quiet — a feat for him, as he’s usually boisterous and vocal about everything — but all of that doubt dissipates when a small, sly smile appears on his face as he pockets the coupon and beckons you closer.

“thanks, let’s go.”

you don’t bother asking where, because ace has already grabbed your hand and tugs you along with him. you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to hold onto your hand like that, but you decide that you deserve a bit of selfishness too. the day passes fairly quickly — you end up eating at several places with him, purchase enough sweets to put you into a sugar-induced coma, and laugh so hard you end up in tears.

he likes seeing this side of you, the part that’s carefree and full of energy; he admires how smooth and soft your skin is and thinks it’s impossibly cute that you can’t stop sneaking glances at him. you’re not as inconspicuous as you think you are, but ace doesn’t tease you about it. already he’s had you do silly things like balance on one leg like a flamingo in the middle of the shopping plaza and cartwheel as long as you can down to the pier — the latter was him testing the waters to see if you’d really do it, but you rise to the challenge and only fall over twice.

embarrassment be damned, as long as ace is happy today that’s all that matters.

when you make it back to the ship, the sun has set, bathing the ocean and sky with a pretty mixture of bright colors. you take a moment to lean against the railing to watch the sky, mesmerized by the artistry, while ace watches you and contemplates how best to proceed with you. he’s normally much better at hiding his desire and attraction, but today he’s at his limit. he doesn’t bother looking away when you feel his gaze on you; it’s always intense, having ace’s undivided attention — and while a small voice tells you that it’s dangerous to let this tension build to a frenzied state, a much bigger voice tells you to just let go and embrace whatever happens.

it's ace who grabs your arm and tugs you with him to his cabin, locking the door behind so that no one would interrupt; and it’s ace who plucks the coupon out of his pocket again, playfully waving it around as your brain scrambles as you try to guess what he’ll request next. it should alarm you that your excitement starts to build all over again when ace plops down lazily in a nearby chair, legs spread; something compels you to move closer and before you can say anything remotely foolish, ace pulls you onto his lap.

you tell yourself that it’s purely for the sake of ensuring he has a memorable birthday, but the truth won’t let you off that easily — not when you shamelessly straddle him as your skirt rides up your thighs; not when you thread your fingers through his hair and tugging on it impatiently; and not when you softly press your lips against his and mumble something along the lines of, “hurry up and ask.”

it’s refreshing seeing you take initiative like that, so ace tosses the coupon onto the floor unceremoniously before gripping your hips firmly. that warmth from earlier comes back in full force, and suddenly you’re wondering why the both of you are still dressed. he doesn’t hesitate when he runs his tongue along your lips, and you, in response, roll your hips forward and grind down hard against his stiff cock. a dangerous game, you know — you know — but you can’t help yourself; not today, anyway.

it's you who kisses him first — clumsy and rash, but after a moment, your lips move against his with more certainty; he guides you with his tongue, heat shooting up your spine, making you pliant and eager. each time he kisses you, you have to remind yourself that it’s not another dream, that it’s actually happening. and even if, after all of this, you both go back to pretending you’re just friends, you’re sure you’ll be fine.

maybe.

you don’t dwell on that thought though, and focus on the way ace keeps rubbing his hands along your thighs — slow and tortuous, the callouses on his hands rough, but welcomed on your skin. you’re panting and whining softly, the heat radiating off his body stifling, but also addicting. he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back, and you somehow get the hint when he bucks his hips against yours, your panties already damp with arousal every time your pussy rubs against his cock.

there’s a slightly dazed look in his eyes when you managed to climb off of him without your legs giving out, and it’s his own selfishness that drives him to watch you as you take off your clothes without prompting. is it adrenaline, lust, or the intoxicating effects of ace’s presence that has you in between his legs and on your knees. when he realizes what you’re about to do, he opens his mouth to tell you that it’s not necessary, but his argument dies in his mouth and fizzles out completely when you unzip his shorts and pull out his cock.

ace inhales sharply as a warm breeze slips in from the open window and tangles itself around both of you; and, although the moon hides sleepily behind a few clouds, some of its light filters through, giving you an ethereal glow as you run your tongue along the length of his cock before wrapping your lips around the tip. it’s not often that ace finds himself powerless in front of someone, but you’ve rendered him weak beyond comprehension. you suck and swirl your tongue around, dragging it along his slit and licking off the precum that leaked out.

it invigorates you — watching him through your lashes as your hands wrap around the rest of his length, twisting and pumping mercilessly, every stifled moan giving you the encouragement to keep going. you inadvertently rub your thighs together, pussy slick with your wetness, but, surprisingly, you don’t feel ashamed about it — not when you take more of ace’s cock into your mouth, relaxing your jaw and letting him have free reign for a bit. ace juts his hips forward, feeling only a tiny bit remorseful when he sees you gag, but the determined look in your eyes tells him that you refuse to back down.

when you feel like you can’t breathe, you lick down his length and massage his balls, earning a string of unintended, slightly incoherent curse words from ace under his breath. it’s a sensitive area — and, try as he might, he can’t help but moan your name out loud, his breathing growing unsteady, making you all the more delirious and obsessed. your teeth accidentally grazes his skin and he tugs on your hair more forcefully than he means to, startling you but not for the reasons it should.

his voice is low and gruff when he speaks again. “y/n… behave.” which is all he really needs to say, because while it was an accident, something forbidden swirls around your lower abdomen, making you bold and somewhat reckless. before he can say anything else, you suck on his balls, melting his resolve and small bout of annoyance.

he wants to ask if you’re trying to kill him, but he partially knows the answer to that already. goosebumps prick his skin as you look at him equal parts mischievous and full of adoration. he’s not sure why, but he likes that he’s only ever seen you look at him like that.it makes all of this that much more intense, and he knows that after tonight he can’t go back to being just friends with you.

it’d be impossible.

you take his cock back into your mouth again, bobbing up and down, his girth still a challenge, but you take it in stride anyway. and its when you suck on his sensitive tip again that ace’s restraint finally gives out; you feel him jerk underneath you, and his cum is thick and hot as it spills into your mouth. he half expects you to spit it out, and even through that post-orgasm haze, he’s amazed when you swallow it all.

with his face flushed — from the force of the orgasm, from how he can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you, especially after you lick some of his cum off of your lips — ace runs a hand through his hair before standing up and pulling you to your feet. he kisses you again, sloppy, yet domineering; your hands work on tugging the rest of his clothes off quickly, and it doesn’t take long before he has you on your back thighs clamped around his head as he devours your pussy.

nothing can compare to the high you feel right now, hips rolling forward, shamelessly tugging on his hair roughly, moaning his name louder than you mean to. anyone passing by can hear you, the walls are thin enough, but you don’t care now. his tongue glides along your slit, your arousal spilling onto his tongue before he flicks it against your clit.

something about the way he’s handling you — as if you’re able to take whatever aggression he tosses your way, especially when he slides his fingers inside of your pussy, finger-fucking and enjoying how you’re falling apart underneath him — makes you that much more reactive to him. and when he sucks on your clit — merciless, just like you were being with him a short while ago — you don’t hold back.

your cries are music to his ears, and he knows he should tell you to keep it down, but he also likes how loud you’re being. almost as if he wants other people to hear that he’s the one making you writhe around on his bed like that. the orgasm is sudden, brutal, and life changing; a blinding light practically incapacitating you, momentarily robbing you of your vision. your chest heaves as you try to gather your thoughts; a lightheaded feeling takes over, making you shiver, your sweet whining only makes him want to keep torturing you with his tongue.

but he refrains, for now.

after pulling back, you both look at each other for a moment before you pull him down for another kiss — this one tender, sweet, and slow. ace lets himself fall further under your spell, not wanting to ask if you complied with his selfish whims because you wanted to or because of his birthday coupon. and if he did ask, you know, deep down, that you’d tell him it’s very obviously the former — that it wasn’t only his selfish whim, that you were equally to blame for letting things escalate like this. not that it matters much right now, since all you can think about, is how you don’t plan on leaving his bed for the rest of the night. and how you know you’ll be plenty sore once he’s done with you later on.

#*sobs into hands*#i have so many more to do but don't worry i'm working on them <3 #fic request #500+ followers event #milestone event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece fluff #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #portgas d. ace #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d. ace smut #ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace smut #ace fluff #one piece imagine #one down... 1493984 left

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