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kingdom-by-the-sea · 2 years

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With My Whole Heart

Summary- Y/N and Spencer have known each other for what feels like forever. Long enough that admitting they have feelings for each other seems like too big of a risk to take- especially since they have been living together and raising Spencer’s daughter, Annabel, for the past seven years.

Warnings- mostly fluff with a bit of angst, Spencer Reid being a dad, a sizable serving of Poe mixed in

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count- 5.5k

A/N- For @imagining-in-the-margins Roommates Challenge (specifically the prompt about one of the roommates being a single parent). I have come to the decision that I am done with this fic. It is the longest completed thing I have ever written and I still feel like it could be better but I generally feel happy with it.

~~~~

“What’s a mommy like?”

The tired honey sweet voice of Annabel Reid drifted through the peaceful silence. A pleasant quiet hung over the room interrupted only by the rhythmic purrs of Y/N’s cat. Y/N drew the small girl closer to her as she began to carefully craft a suitable response.

“That’s a tough one, Annie,” she answered, combing her fingers gently through the little girl’s unruly brown curls that always reminded her so much of Spencer’s, “I guess…. A mommy is the one person in the world who will always love you with her whole heart no matter what- except for your daddy of course,” Y/N corrected, watching as Annabel’s eyes drifted shut with a small smile at the thought of her dad.

“A mommy is always thinking about her kids and does everything in her power to make sure they are happy and safe,” Y/N continued, now staring off at the blank ceiling, “She would do anything and everything for them…”

Annabel’s breathing had slowed and grown shallower till Y/N was sure the little girl had drifted off to the land of dreams. Slowly and gently, putting considerable effort into not waking her, Y/N unwrapped her arms from Annabel’s small body until she was standing in front of the bed.

“I love you, bug,” she whispered softly brushing a stray hair away from Annabel’s face before leaning down to place the lightest kiss on her forehead.

It only took a few steps to leave the room but Y/N lingered watching her best friend’s daughter dream and feeling an overwhelming sense of love for the little girl sleeping before her. It hadn’t taken much for Y/N to fall in love with that little girl. Annabel was the purified version of Y/N’s best friend, Spencer Reid, wrapped up into a seven year old with the biggest heart. She was absolutely precious.

From the moment Y/N had met Annabel, they had both latched on to each other. Even as a baby Annabel had chosen Y/N to be one of her people and Y/N was grateful to be a part of her life everyday. Raising a little girl alone while working for the FBI had been a lot for Spencer to handle. His schedule didn’t easily lend itself to single parenting but everyone knew there wasn’t a single thing Spencer wouldn’t do for Annabel. She was his entire world.

For a while he had considered leaving the BAU to raise her but it seemed fate had stepped in when Y/N told him she wanted to move to DC and everything fell into place. Her work schedule was the complete opposite of his. As a freelance writer, she had about as much flexibility as she could want, allowing her to be there for every school concert, every science project, and every story time.

As much as Spencer hated being away from his daughter, he knew that she was safe with his best friend when he was called away. Spencer continuously showered Y/N with thanks, never understanding how much she valued this time with his daughter. Annabel had taken up residence in her heart and showed no intention of leaving. And if Y/N was completely honest with herself, she knew Annabel wasn’t the only one.

Although Spencer was her best friend, she had always been able to recognize how attractive he was and constantly felt a simmering jealousy towards the girl at the other end of the love story she knew he’d one day have. That feeling had always been there, lingering but it had grown to a new height when she moved in with Spencer and Annabel. There was a fire in her heart that called for him despite all of her attempts to settle it. Y/N loved him with all over her heart. But it didn’t matter. She would never say a word, content to burn to ashes in her desire if it meant she could stay a part of their little world. She was sure he couldn’t possibly feel the same way and yet her heart shattered at the thought of Spencer finding someone else to share his life raising Annabel with.

~~~~

Coming home to them had to be the best feeling in the world. After a long week of investigating dead ends and running in circles, opening their apartment door to see Y/N watching over his daughter was like falling into a warm cushion of love. Spencer felt a smile pull at his lips for the first time in nearly a week as he set his things aside and joined Y/N in his daughter’s doorway.

“Hey,” he breathed out quietly watching Annabel sleep as he wrapped Y/N in a tight hug desperate to have the comfort of home even closer to him.

Spencer gently unwound himself from her body so they stood next to each other in silent observation of the peaceful sight before them.

“Hi,” Y/N responded with a smile, simultaneously loosening and tightening at the feeling of Spencer’s arm still gently draped around her waist, pleasantly echoing the too quick hug. She couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered to her and the cool air that surrounded them.

“Oh shush,” she lightly swatted at him in response, “I’ve told you, you don’t need to thank me for anything. I love that little girl with my whole heart.”

He turned to face her with a smile, sleep softening his features but doing little to hide the blatant appreciation on his face, “You’re amazing- you know that right?”

“Of course,” she teased with a light laugh, pulling him away from the doorway and into the living room where they could be a little louder. Her own tiredness made Y/N strangely confident as she held his hand in both of hers.

But he didn’t mind- not by a long shot. A large smile filled his face as Spencer let himself enjoy the enveloping feeling of safety and comfort without his usual anxieties.

“How are you?” Y/N asked once they were both plopped on to the couch asking not in formality but with genuine interest and concern.

Spencer nodded slightly before answering, “Everyone got home safe….”

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, the light pressure alleviating some of the stress that had been sitting in the pit of his stomach the past several hours, “Just because it’s over doesn’t mean it’s gone.”

“I just…” he shook his head at the floor, “The things they saw, what he did to them that’s going to stay at the forefront of their minds until the day they die. If you or Annie had to even just see the things that happened to them- I can’t even imagine it.”

“Spence…” her heart tightened at his words, “You did everything you could for them. It will always be a part of them but because of you and the team, it won't be their entire stories.”

Spencer smiled sadly and leaned his head against her shoulder, exhaustion taking over, “Tell me about you and Annabel.”

Y/N reigned in her excited pride about the last week before she began, “Well, we only have a chapter left of James and the Giant Peach, she’ll be really happy you’re here to finish it with us.”

A smile danced on Spencer’s lips as his eyes bobbed shut and he leaned more of his weight against Y/N and the couch.

“On our way back from the library, Annabel saw a street performer playing a violin and has been learning anything and everything about them since then,” love and joy seeped through every word and Y/N did nothing to hide it enjoying the way Spencer smiled with his closed tired eyes.

“Did you know that the word violin comes from the Latin term vitula which means female cow?” He said without making any move to open his eyes.

Y/N laughed softly, trying her best not to shake the doctor leaning against her, “Actually I did. Your daughter told me yesterday morning before school.”

Spencer’s smile tightened with pride.

~~~~

The sun rose over their peaceful Saturday morning, sending streams of light through the windows to dance on the hardwood floors. These were the kinds of memories Spencer held tight to while he was gone. He pictured it like a photo folded up in some corner of his mind, tainted by the warm sun and worn at the edges like a well read book.

He could hear Annabel shuffling around her room before he saw her. All of a sudden it was like a flip had switched and the little girl came bounding from the room frantically looking around before she let her hope run wild. It was like night and day when she noticed him standing in the kitchen. She bounded towards him with outstretched arms.

“Dad!” her voice was light and happy and Y/N watched as Spencer pulled the little girl up into an embrace. The pure joy shown through to the best version of Spencer. Bright, happy and with his daughter in his arms.

“I missed you so much, bug,” he brushed a hand over her hair holding her tight against him.

“I missed you too,” Annabel said against the fabric of his shirt.

Gently setting her down, Spencer watched her face light up with stories she wanted to tell him.

“Oh!” Annabel brightened again, taking Spencer’s hand and pulling him towards the kitchen table, “I saw this lady playing the violin when we left the library! She just kept playing and playing and the bow and her hands moved so fast. I wanna learn how to play the violin so I’ve been reading about them and writing stuff down.”

Spencer sat in a chair and pulled his daughter on to his lap, content to listen to her tell him anything and everything she cared about.

Y/N smiled at the two of them loving every moment and interaction more than she could verbalize. Eventually she eased herself from the sofa pulling Spencer’s purple scarf from the shelf and wrapping it around her neck, “I have to go meet with the publisher visiting from New York.”

“Wait-” she spun around quickly to face Reid, “Do you mind printing out the new chapters of my manuscript? I want to start editing soon.”

He nodded in response like she knew he would. Y/N hated leaving during these kinds of moments which were often far and few between but as freeform as her job was, there were some things that were unavoidable. Annabel waved her off not even turning to look as she engrossed herself with sharing everything she had learned over the past several days. And Spencer- he turned to smile at her, Annabel still in his lap. Y/N couldn’t help the tug in her heart that yearned for something more, some sort of goodbye that involved more than just a kind smile. Before her mind could muddle with any more complicated feelings, Y/N returned the smile and crossed the doorway out of the apartment.

“Oh! Oh!” Annabel's face shown bright and she counted facts on her fingers, “Did you know that the violin is 500 years old? The first modern violin was in Italy during the 1500s but it probably originated from the lyre and something called a rebab.”

She rambled in a familiar fashion and Spencer beamed at his daughter. She was everything he could have hoped for and so much more. Annabel truly was a mini Spencer through and through and as much as it scared him to think she would inherit his insecurities and struggles, there were moments like these when his heart soared to find himself in another person and know that Annabel would never have to grow up feeling that she was alone in her tendencies or fascinations.

He hugged Annabel against him, “I just love you so much, bug.”

“With your whole heart?” Annabel questioned absentmindedly tracing patterns with her finger over the notes and drawings she had made of the violins.

“Absolutely,” he answered, studying her notes.

“That’s what Y/N said moms do,” Annabel continued innocently finally turning to face him, “She said that mommies love their kids with their whole heart no matter what.”

She roughly quoted the words she had heard last night, further proving to Spencer that she had at least partially inherited his memory.

“That’s true,” he answered, nodding slightly.

Annabel slumped against him, “Why don’t I have a mommy? Everyone at school has one and my friend- Marina, she even has two mommies.”

Annabel’s tone had changed slightly and he heard a familiar yearning in it that he recognized from his own childhood. The quiet desperation for something every other kid in the world seemed to have other than you. He did his best not to let her words weigh too heavy on his heart. It was natural for a child to want what they didn’t have, especially if it seemed to them that everyone else had it but he still hated it. Spencer wanted her to have everything, to never feel like she was missing out. He wanted to stuff her heart full of love until it poured out.

“Well,” Spencer began precariously, “In order for you to be born, I had to get some help from someone else. She made you in her tummy for me so that I could have you without needing a mommy there to help me.”

“I know,” Annabel whined slightly, frustrated that she couldn’t get her point across, “I know that’s how I was made but why don’t I have a mommy now? If there are families where the mom and dad can decide they want to go get a baby without making one, why can’t there be a mommy who decides she wants me like how you decided?”

A pain twinged near his heart as he searched for some magic word he could say to make it all better.

“I know it’s not always easy, bug, but I love you so much and Y/N and I will always be here for you,” Spencer attempted to answer.

Annabel leaned her head against his chest, “Do you think Y/N would be my mommy? She goes to all the concerts and meetings that the other mommies do.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer answered honestly, brushing his fingers through his little girl’s hair in an effort to soothe her, “Maybe someday but that’s a big job and she already does a lot for us. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

Annabel sighed leaning further into him.

“Do you want to go get ready for your sleepover with Henry and Aunt JJ?” he offered, trying to buoy her spirits. She nodded solemnly and rose from her spot taking her dad’s hand in hers as they headed towards her room.

~~~~

“Long nights of writing a story that flows like water till the sun rises and being able to dream of that book while the sun’s away- careful, you might tempt what remains of the twenty-four year old version of me.”

He hadn’t meant to read her emails. It had started out innocent enough, Spencer opening her computer to print the new chapters of her book for her. It had started out this way but once he saw her open inbox and the message she had left for the publisher from New York, he couldn’t help himself.

More than her name signed at the end of the email, what shook Spencer was the truth in her words. They were Y/N’s words through and through, every phrase painted and signed in her unique way. It wouldn’t have felt out of place in one of the manuscripts she kept precariously stacked on her desk.

Long nights? Dreaming while the sun’s away? Something pulled taut inside of him as he pulled the unwritten reason she couldn’t live out the fantasy she described in the email. There was no writing all night and sleeping all day. Not when she had to be up to make lunches, take Annabel to school, and all the other mundane tasks that conflicted with the romantic dream of her life as a writer.

As much as Spencer wanted to deny the picture Y/N had painted with her words, his mind couldn’t bridge the cavern of truth that lay there. This was the life she had described to him in college when they both sat outside drunk on exhaustion during finals week. This had been what got her through every bullshit assignment and misogynist professor. It had been her dream as long as he could remember.

A dream that she had set aside to come change his daughter’s diapers with him in DC.

Worry pulled his muscles tight. Y/N wouldn’t leave, would she? Not when he had just promised Annabel that she was dependable, that she would always be there. Spencer knew that Y/N had changed her life to move in with him and his several months old infant all those years ago but he had believed her everytime she told him that she was content with the arrangement, that she didn’t mind. It all came crashing in on him how much she had given up just for the sake of helping him with his infant daughter. Y/N had shattered a version of her life to be there with him, a version she could never get back. It would be natural for her to want it back. To want something other than life in a cramped apartment with him and his daughter.

His mind spun with fear and anxiety, stray thoughts running into each other until they turned into a dizzying ball of anxiety. Spencer moved to the living room and sat on the couch glad JJ had already come to pick up Annabel. Whatever this crisis amounted to, Annabel didn’t deserve to bear the weight of it.

~~~~

It had been his apartment, his and Annabel’s, but over the years she had slowly leaned what had been Spencer’s dark academia styled apartment into something brighter and more lively. Y/N wasn’t a maximalist by choice necessarily, but she had a way of accumulating objects. Something cute she had seen waiting in line at the grocery store, some obscure item she had seen on Pinterest. But what she collected more than anything was books.

There were books on nearly every surface, leaving just enough room for the apartment to still be livable for two adults and a seven-year-old girl. Books on coffee tables, books on counters, books stacked in piles on the floor. Together they had long surpassed the carrying capacity of the shelves, leading books to spill out on to every available space and ultimately providing Y/N’s cat an easy way to bound from every piece of furniture in the apartment without having to step on the floor.

There were books on every topic any of them had found fascinating during any point of their lives. Books on gardening from when Y/N had grown fascinated with growing herbs, books on dinosaurs from when Spencer had wanted to impress Jack and Henry with less known facts, books from every stage of Annabel’s life.

The books told a story, albeit a messy one. One where the three of them danced from fascination to fascination sharing their interests and passions with each other. It was a beautiful story and one Spencer hoped would never end.

As much as Y/N enjoyed the detailed accounts of obscure places and creatures that filled the apartment, he knew her true love was fiction. That was what filled her bags wherever she went and often covered her entire bed. These were the books she laughed and cried to. Ultimately that was who she was underneath the biographies and historical novels he and Annabel managed to surround her with.

She was a storyteller.

Her mind spun with stories picking them out of her brain like cotton candy and he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see it and he couldn’t appreciate her the way she deserved to be.

“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night,” the words passed through Spencer’s lips as Y/N crossed through the doorway and began to unwind his purple scarf from her neck.

“Sitting in the dark quoting Eleonora?” Y/N questioned, eyeing him through the shadows of the apartment, usually she was able to keep up with his strange language of phrases and quotes but this was different, “Are you going for a Poe thing today? Just promise me you won’t run off and go marry your thirteen year-old cousin.”

He twitched slightly at her words, beginning to recognize how strange he was being but continued sitting on the couch solemnly watching her in a passive attempt to memorize the way she moved and spoke as if he could ever forget it.

Spencer could barely see the way her eyebrows furrowed slightly before she moved to join him on the couch, taking a similar position to where she had sat the other night, “Are you okay?”

“Are you leaving?” he asked suddenly, regretting the fact that he couldn’t add “me” to the end of the sentence. For all the years they had spent in that apartment together he still couldn’t claim her in that capacity. If she left, she wouldn’t be leaving him, she would simply be leaving.

“What?” Y/N asked in genuine curiosity, perched on her knees on the couch facing him and internally begging him to do the same.

“Are you leaving to go to New York?” he rephrased the question. Something in him burned and wanted out. He was mad and tired. Mad and tired with himself for letting them both play house together for seven years while his heart screamed at him to do absolutely anything other than let things keep moving forward as they were.

“What are you talking about?” her voice rose in a similar fashion, exasperation and confusion painting a new expression on her face.

“Are you leaving for your ‘Long nights of writing a story that flows like water till the sun rises and being able to dream of that book while the sun’s away?’” Spencer threw her words back at her with an unwarranted venom.

She traced her words back to their source and tried to catch up to whatever train of thought Spencer was spiraling on, “Are you talking about my emails with that New York publishing guy who keeps begging me to work for him?”

Spencer’s silence reverberated through the room giving Y/N a fair impression of the truth, “He emails me a couple times a year, I was just being polite. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then why didn’t you tell him no,” he finally turned to her eyes brightly lit with a fire she couldn’t place. A fire that was blazing and passionate, but laced with anger.

“I’m going to!” she stood from the couch and began to pace, as if she could retrace his steps this way, “God, Spence. Why are you so mad?”

“I’m mad because you lied to me,” he scraped the bottom of the barrel finding anything he could blame her for in an attempt to settle the fire that raged inside him, “You told me this was enough. You told me that you didn’t mind spending your days with me and Annabel!”

Y/N shook her head aimlessly gawking at whatever deranged story he was trying to tell himself.

“But-” Spencer paused momentarily to dampen down the flames escaping him, “You told him that you were tempted by his offer. That you wanted ‘long nights writing and sleeping all day.’”

His eidetic memory misquoted the words, striking a match against Y/N’s exasperation, “And since you read my emails, you should know that I also told him that was what I wanted when I was twenty-four. Look around you, Spencer. Neither of us is twenty-four anymore!”

She scoffed slightly before saying the words that finally drove him to his breaking point, “I mean for fuck’s sake, Spencer. You have a seven-year-old daughter now.”

“You’re right,” whatever was boiling inside of him came to a simmer, “I do have a daughter. A daughter who has become so attached to you that she wants you to be her mother and she deserves a mother like you but I know sure as hell I can’t ask that of you.”

“Oh my god!” Y/N called out running a hand through her already tousled hair, “is that what this is all about? You feeling guilty about wanting me to be Annabel’s mom?”

“No, no-” he cut her off suddenly, voice tainted with desperation, “I feel guilty because I want you to be my wife!”

~~~~

Whoever said that first kisses were electric was terribly wrong. If anything it was magnetic. Once they started falling into each other they couldn’t stop, every emotion tearing through their bodies simultaneously. Every passion and reservation that had been so delicately balanced between them came crashing down. Their lips locked again and again barely leaving time for breath as their magnetic force pulled them back together again and again. Y/N had a thousand thoughts racing through her head, a thousand questions she wanted to ask but any slight inclination she had to pull away from Spencer was immediately stifled by the crashing wave of another kiss.

Spencer pulled her closer and closer to him until he was pulling her up towards his own lips wanting every touch, every breath to be shared leaving no room for the space they had both continually put between each other. Her fingers twisted in his hair desperately holding on to the very real feel of him in her hands. The eager push and pull of their bodies wasn’t particularly conducive to balance it seemed, as they tumbled onto the couch in an awkward bundle of intertwined limbs. They were one. They were whole and even without words they both knew they were in love.

No one ever mentioned how exhausting it was. The emotional overload and frenzied limbs making quick work of all remaining energy and stamina. They slowed together melting into a collective mess of rapid heartbeats and heated breaths. Melding together into a ball of love on the couch. Spencer leaned his forehead to hers, taking solace in the moment he knew would be forever seared into both of their minds.

“Do you know-” he heaved a heavy breath out, “how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“Sixteen years,” she gave her own answer to the question, finding it rang true when he smiled and pulled her impossibly closer to him.

His laughter gentle and pleasant, leaving his mouth in warm breaths and dancing on the side of her check, as they both relished in the weight that had left their chests and hearts, “I’ve loved you for so long, so stupidly long.”

“Me too,” her hand brushed through his soft curls as she examined him in this new context.

“I loved you when you decided to read the entire Harry Potter series in a weekend,” his paused to interject his words with soft kisses trailing up her arm, “I loved you when you sat with my mom and talked about Margery Kempe for three hours straight,” another kiss, “I loved you when you sent me letters from Nevada everyday for a year,” he had made it to the top of her shoulder, “I loved you when I saw you hold my daughter in your arms for the first time,” Spencer planted a kiss in the crook of her neck and sent a shiver through her entire body, “I have loved you every single day since I first saw you sitting on campus against a willow tree with a pile of books.”

He pulled back from her to look into her eyes, “I have wanted this for so long. I don’t know what you want now or what you’re ready for in terms of a relationship but whatever you want, whenever you want it just let me know and I will give you the entire world.”

Her hand was soft and smooth when she brought it to the side of his face and finally whispered, “I want to be your wife.”

A familiar light sparkled in his eyes with liveliness and all the spontaneity Spencer Reid could manage.

“Well let’s go then,” in a swift movement she hadn’t been remotely anticipating, Spencer scooped from the couch and pulled them both up with her in his arms. She yelped in surprise at her new position and Spencer’s ability to carry her like this.

“What are you doing?” Y/N cried out with a laugh as he began to carry her towards his room.

“We’re getting married,” he laughed, the playful light in his eyes shimmering with even more brightness.

“In your bedroom?”

“No,” he crossed into the room and set her on his bed before looking over his shoulder at her, “This is just a pit stop.”

“A pit stop?” she echoed voice still light and her smile apparent in her tone.

“There’s something I want to get for you,” Spencer trailed of slightly as he began rummaging through his things. Y/N pushed herself up from the bed to get a better view of what he was doing. Eventually he pulled a small velvet box from a drawer and tossed it to her.

In a miraculous display of coordination, Y/N caught it and held the small box in her hands with a slight tilt to her head, “What is this?”

“Open it,” he leaned against the dresser watching her with a careful gaze.

Sending him one last questioning gaze, Y/N eased the box open to reveal a golden ring with a red gemstone set in the middle of it, “I still don’t understand.”

“It was my grandmother’s,” Spencer began to explain, “My mom gave it to me a little after you moved here, she said she thought I might need it.”

“Seven years ago?” she asked.

“Seven years ago,” he nodded, “She’s always believed there was something between us.”

Y/N studied him doing her best to make sense of the words he was sharing with her, “Well, I guess she wasn’t wrong there.”

Her eyes trailed down to the ring, the red gem sending bits of light bouncing around in the box.

“You don’t have to take it,” Spencer started, “We don’t have to do anything right now or ever for that matter. I just-”

Y/N shook her head slightly and stood bringing the box with her, “I already told you, I want to marry you.”

The corner of his smile leaped up again as he took the box from her and pulled the ring from its place. Slowly, as if he still expected her to change her mind, he took Y/N’s left hand and slid the ring onto her finger.

“I like that,” he whispered to the quiet between them.

She smiled down at the ring on her finger, “Me too.”

~~~~

“When I decided to use a surrogacy program to have my Annabel I did so because I thought I would never meet the love of my life. I was right, in a way. I had already met her.”

The sun was warm on everyone’s skin but the breeze managed to cool everything to a comfortable temperature. It wasn’t exactly a speech but Spencer still managed to speak with a clear and confident quality to the large table of people at the party. It mostly consisted of BAU members, past and present, with a few family members dotted here and there but it was just right.

The party had been Garcia’s idea. There was little point in anything too formal when Spencer and Y/N had eloped the night after they confessed but seeing everyone they cared about gathered in one space with pleasant easy grins on their faces was absolutely worth it.

He smiled to everyone but his eyes locked on hers as he continued, “I did the whole family thing a little bit backwards, having a baby, then watching you become my daughter’s mother and now marrying you. It’s a little strange but I can’t find the energy to care when it got us here.”

Y/N beamed up at him, the sun and his words warming her heart to an easy glow.

“I love you and I’m so glad we finally got here,” he finished with a bright smile on his face. Y/N stood and leaned in to kiss him with as much love and joy as she could manage here in front of their friends and families.

“I love you too,” she said, cupping his face in her hands.

“And-” Y/N looked down at Annabel standing between them, “I love you with my whole heart forever and always.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #dad!spencer #dad!spence #Spencer Reid dad #fluff #domestic fluff #Spencer Reid daughter

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scary-monsters · 2 years

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⎯⎯ 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜: 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 (𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬) / 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐭 ➛

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• do not use my art in any way without credit!! it's always best to check directly with an artist anyway, but this is my default answer. • minors please refrain from interacting with me directly beyond comments about my sfw art! you're welcome to follow this blog but please respect this boundary! if you do not have an age indicated in your bio then i'll be less likely to interact with you. • i rarely follow back; i like to keep a slow and manageable dashboard and often find myself easily overwhelmed. • do not expect an answer from me if you DM me anywhere; 1-on-1 interactions are draining for me and i operate on low energy levels in general. if we aren't friends already, your best shot is sending an ask. if we are friends then just know i'll get to you as soon as i feel able! • i avoid drama and discourse at all costs; i'm an adult with a full-time job who engages in fandom for fun, not to argue with people online. if you so much as breathe fandom discourse in my direction i will either ignore or block you. • this blog runs on a 3-posts-a-day queue; even if i'm reblogging, that rarely means i'm online. sometimes i only have time to check tumblr once a day. • commissions/requests: closed / ko-fi: katdoodles

✦ 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝟎𝟖/𝟎𝟒/𝟐𝟒

#my art #meet the artist #artists on tumblr

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keysmashingfantasies · 3 years

Text

Bloody Comfort

pre borderlands!Niragi x fem!reader / Niragi x fem!reader

A/N: i feel like i only post Marvel on this blog and i missed my show so here it is, finally an AiB fic! :D also, minigame: how many alice in wonderland references can you spot? also also, bloody comfort is an awesome name for a band and if you do name your band that, i want my money. enjoy the fic! also also also i didn’t proofread SHIT so sorry for any grammar mistakes.

trigger warning: bullying, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic, i think but beware nonetheless), death (graphic. i mean, i’m not that good of a writer but still, beware), very slight mentions of nsfw, especially torwards the end, niragi (HE’S A WARNING OK), niragi having disturbing thoughts (what else is new. but fr, ok), sliiiiiight yandere niragi torwards the end. (also I tried not to describe in too much detail the bullying that niragi and the reader suffer in the fic so it wouldn’t be too sad).

@dreamingofanisland here it is bestie!

Niragi couldn’t pinpoint when he stopped being sad and when he started getting angry. From a suffocating hopelessness came a desperation he could only describe as feral. He often fantasized about just jumping over his desk and strangling each one of them to death but his thoughts quickly ended with Niragi envisioning himself being overpowered and beaten. He started to not only get angry at his bullies, but people in general. Things. Life.

How could so many people turn a blind eye? How could life be so unfair to give people like this the upperhand and not him? Not him that clearly deserved it? This world was backwards.

He knew he was fucked when he saw the bat, and although he braced for the impact he couldn’t help but fall to his knees and wince at the sickening sound that the baseball did in contact with his nose.

He just sat there and while all he wanted to do was to rip their throats with his teeth all he did was to endure a few more punches before they left with a promise that there would be more. He sat there trying not to cry with sheer frustration. His papers were scattered around, the left arm of his glasses was broken and his pristine black outfit was now covered in dust from the gravel, his hands scratched. He could taste blood on his tongue and he felt a sick satisfaction, pretending for one moment that it was another person’s blood he was tasting.

“Do you need help?”, a voice woke him from his violent daydreams. Suddenly everything boiled over and he felt an overwhelming anger rise inside of him. In a blink of an eye he was standing up, yelling at a somewhat blurry image of a girl who he towered over, even more as she shrunk under his anger. If he wouldn’t be so busy screaming profanities, he would be madly aroused.

“WHAT, HUH? CAME TO SEE THE SHOW? TO LAUGH AT ME?”, he was furious, and as he approached her, she proceeded to walk back.

“No. I just wanted to help”, she said. It seemed another flash and suddenly he could see a bit clearer. Although startled, she didn’t seem afraid of him, and was extending him a tissue. “Your nose is bleeding”, she said, and Niragi wanted to scoff at her for stating the obvious. But she was being kind. And as angry as he was, kindness wasn’t something that he could say no to. He tried his best to control his shaky hands as he took the tissue from her hands and carefully dabbed his nose, as she ducked to collect his papers, and tuck them back into his bag.

“Saw what they did to you. ‘m sorry”, she mumbled. Niragi wanted to strangle her out of sheer embarrassment.

“And you just took some popcorn and enjoyed the spectacle?”, he spat.

“I wanted to help but I wasn’t sure what to do. Would you rather if I had called someone?”, she asked. He breathed once, twice. She wasn’t mocking him, but was unnervingly calm. Something about her being calm while he was practically foaming at the mouth had him seeing red and suddenly he regret having wiped the blood off of his lips.

“No”, he said, calmly. “No, I wouldn’t. Sorry. I have to go”, he said, ripping his bag from her hands with such force that he tugged her arm with it.

“Wait! I mean what I said! I want to help!”

“You, help me? What are you going to do, huh? Be my bodyguard?”, he mocked her one more time. He couldn’t help himself, his brain got used to this. Fight or flight. His adrenaline was pumping and everytime he was around school grounds he looked over his shoulder.

“Hmmm, sorta? Not exactly but I could show you a place. A safe place”, she said. He just looked at her.

“If we get there and it’s a prank of some sort I’ll let you punch me. Square in the face”, she said.

“Are you insane? You just go around letting people punch you in the face?”, his mouth was quicker than his brains and suddenly he felt his face grow hot at the irony of what he had said. But if she noticed it, she didn’t mention.

“Let me help you”, she said.

And he did.

He followed her through a wooded area near the school grounds after walking through a hole in a fence.

He was getting ready to beat you to the punch and hit you so hard that you’d bleed as hard as he did, until you stopped until you reached a very underwhelming toolshed with a padlock.

“We’re here”, you said, and he realized that she sounded different. All this time she was on edge. ‘Of course, Suguru, you threatened the girl like, 3 times’, said the voice in the back of his head. She pulled a key from her bag and the padlock opened easily and they heavy chains fell to the ground and she pushed open the door, going inside. He hesitantly followed.

The inside is nothing as he thought it would be. For starters, it was surprisingly clean and it didn’t smell bad. And instead of tools and brooms and leafblowers, it had bean bags, blankets, a table with a radio full of knickknacks in the corner and a chair that had clearly seen better days but looked comfortable none the less. The girl walked to a corner of the room and his eyes followed her as she closed the door, which had small sharpie drawings on it. She reached for a white box and settled it on the floor between the two bean bags, and reached inside a very small thermos to pull out an artificially blue isotonic drink and settled it down too. Then from the plastic bag he previously assumed was trash, she pulled a bag of chips.

She then patted the bean bag next to hers. “Welcome to my clinic”, she said, placing the white box on her lap.

After an entire afternoon of bonding over unhealthy food and an impromptu first aid rescue, Niragi learned that her name was Y/N, she was a year below and that this little world she created was her refuge from the girls in her class that picked on her.

“I found this and decided that it would be nice. No one’s using it, it’s far from everything. It’s on the Beheaded Woman’s territory”.

Niragi heard the rumors through his bullies. “One day we’ll drag you to the Beheaded Woman’s woods and fucking kill you”. After further investigation, he learned that allegedly a girl was dragged through the woods and beheaded with a blunt axe.

“I made the rumors up. I had to make sure no one would find my safe haven”, she explained. “And once you write something in the girls’ bathroom stall, there’s no turning back. It’s out there and it’s truth”, she sighed. “I would know”.

He wasn’t the most up to date in all the gossip but she told him her story. The rumors they spread, the things they did to her. She almost seemed amused. He in turn told her his story. By the end of it, he could kill someone. She then offered him the other key to her safe haven.

“You can decorate it too. Don’t tell anyone else and make sure to lock it after you use it. Use it as much as you want, just make sure they don’t follow you, okay?”

He took the keys with shakey hands, a knot on his throat. Another type of adrenaline was pumping through his veins. When a few moments ago there were a fast white heat, coursing through him like an electric current, this was slow and almost overwhelmingly warm, like molten lava.

“Why are you doing this? Being so nice to me?”, he whispered as if it was a secret, as if this moment was another fantasy, a deer that’s easily spooked. He had fantasized about this too. A safe haven, an ally. A friend.

“Because we’re the same, you and I”.

You hated him. You hated him with a burning passion. What was at first an act of pity, born from the empathy you felt by seeing someone go through what you did, quickly became a friendship and like a disease, it spread to beyond your safe haven. You would spend your free time together, walk home together. You became friends. And what did he do? Exactly what he told you he would.

“Sometimes don’t you wish to disappear?”, he whispered to you once.

“Yeah. Like, run away? Yeah, I do”, you replied agreeing with him.

‘You’re the only one that understands me. We really are the same’, he would say. What at the beginning of your budding crush on him gave you butterflies on the stomach now made you want to throw up.

You lost your only friend. You despised the sound of music now, because every single song you heard, you shared with him. For the same reason, you didn’t enjoy your favorite movies anymore. Your bullies banded together to target you. And the worst part of all, is that you couldn’t even care. There was no silver lining anymore.

“Don’t you get furious?! Don’t you want to hurt them, make them pay?”, he said as he watched you apply concealer to a bruised cheek.

“I mean, I get angry but I try my best to not let it get to me. It’s what they want. I despise those people, I can’t get in a funk because of them”, you said nonchalantly.

But you had loved him. And now you felt like even moving around was an herculean task, like you were almost dead trying to get to safety. But there was no safety anymore.

Ironically, you started to understand him more and more after he disappeared. The anger, the hatred. How could anyone just follow their lives? When there’s people like you just suffering through yours?

Suguru Niragi was an illness, a parasite. He carved his way under your skin and into your heart, laid eggs of his hate on your veins and sucked you dry of your life’s essence. Then, after you were a shell of a human, he disappeared out of thin air, leaving you alone. Leaving you with those people. Leaving you to die.

And you were still in love with him.

You thought you were finally insane when it happened.

The streets were empty. Absolutely no one. You wondered for a moment if you felt so alone that your mind convinced itself that that’s exactly what had happened, if any moment now you would be locked in an insane asylum for running around and screaming until you throat got raw.

It took you two games to understand what was going on. You made sure to change clothes. Running shoes, leggings and a warm hoodie that you never let the hood down. You decided to significantly shorten your hair after you saw a man pull a young girl by the ponytail in a spades game. You loaded a backpack with food and bottles of water, anything you could find. And an axe that you took from an emergency box from the building you slept in.

It was on your 5th game that it happened. You saw people die in these games, but none of it was hands on for you. You just watched your back and hoped to win and let whoever was running this show take care of the rest. Honestly, you didn’t even wait to know if anyone even survived. You were done doing that.

When you got there, there were five people already. They banded together and whispered amongst themselves as you passed them by and grabbed a phone. Probably just a group of friends that got stranded at the same time and decided to stay together. You clutched you axe harder.

You didn’t even realize that you had zoned out until you heard hollering and four guys heavily armed walked you by. Where the fuck did they get guns? One of them let out a boisterous laugh that reminded you of someone that you wanted desperately to forget. You couldn’t even get over him during fucking Saw? That sound made your skin crawl.

Registration closed, said the mechanic voice. Difficulty: 8 of clubs. The first 5 players will be the first team and the last 5 players will be the second. One team must eliminate the others without losing any players. Both teams will be identified by the color of your screen, and will have one minute to hide.

You saw the armed guys’ screens light up red. You sighed in relief as yours did too. You made sure to keep your head down and thank whoever that not killing teammates was a part of the rules. They seemed amused and absolutely calm, and the guy with the rifle laughed again. You were shaking by now.

When the minute started, everyone bolted in different directions. You didn’t even look back to see if your teammates had accompanied you but by the sound of your footsteps crushing leaves, you were alone. You decided to go back after a while, looking around. A lamppost. Huh, lamppost it is. You leaned against the cool metal and focused on the silence. The minute had ended but they were still hunting. You didn’t come across anyone, which was good. After a while, all you could hear were distant gunshots.

You looked to the floor, only to see a shadow approaching you quick. You barely had time to dodge before a man hit you behind the head with a rock. You reacting made him lose his balance, falling to the floor and letting go of the rock. You looked at him. It was one of the boys from the other team. He had on a white button up blouse and a black hoodie. His hair had fallen over his brown eyes and he looked so scared and so alone.

This will have to do.

You didn’t stop, suddenly lifting the axe and bringing it down was like an automatic thing.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME? AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU! YOU ABANDONED ME IN A MINUTE, LEFT ME ALONE IN THAT HELL!”

You didn’t stop when he started praying and then screaming. You didn’t stop when he started bleeding profusely or when the strength of your movements made your hood slide down from your head. You didn’t stop when his head got detached from his body and if you weren’t so angry, you would’ve listened tfootsteps. You didn’t stop until you had made mincemeat out of his face. Just for the sheer audacity of reminding you of him.

He looked at you from afar while you looked at the body of the boy whose skull you just had destroyed, a maniac, victorious smile on your face. You were pretending the boy was him. You really thought he had abandoned you? He would be absolutely heartbroken if he wasn’t so aroused. That’s what he always wanted to see, the instincts that you tried to push down. You were right, you were both the same. He wanted to lick that blood off of you, use it as lube to take you right there. When he first arrived at the Borderlands, when he first killed someone and liked it, he thought you would be disgusted by him. But look at you now. You were here, perfect for him, soaked in blood, feral. He’s never been so hard.

“Y/N”, he said.

“Niragi?,” you said. He ran to you, held you even when you fought back, even when you screamed bloody murder that you were going insane, begging to die already, even when you passed out on his arms. He licked a drop of blood from your neck.

“Let me take you to our safe haven”, he whispered against your skin.

#niragi loving hours in this mf house #niragi x reader #niragi fic #niragi suguru #suguru niragi #niragi imagine #alice in boderland x reader #alice in borderland fic #niragi suguru x reader #suguru niragi x reader

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buttherainbowhasabeard · 3 years

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Promising Young Woman (2021)

*contains spoilers*

Revenge is a dish best served stone-cold sober…

Delightful and dimpled British star Carey Mulligan has had a successful career to date, playing alongside leading men such as Leonardo DiCaprio (‘The Great Gatsby’), Ryan Gosling (‘Drive’) and Michael Fassbender (‘Shame’). Despite not always being centre stage, many of Mulligan’s film choices have been eclectic in terms of genre, and it seems this winning combination of offbeat and orthodox have all led to her explosive lead role in the indie assault on the senses that is ‘Promising Young Woman’.

Carey is Cassandra Thomas, a 30-year-old whose promising career as a doctor went into a tailspin when she dropped out of medical school following the rape of her best friend Nina Fisher at the rough hands of their classmates. It’s implied that Nina – overwhelmed by what happened to her and the lack of support or investigative interference – committed suicide, and in the years since, Cassie has dedicated her life to avenging her friend’s death. Rather than continuing to try to take the claims up with police, Cassie turns unconventional vigilante and offers herself up as hot-mess boy bait, spending her nights fake falling-down drunk in bars and clubs to see and document how many men attempt to take advantage of her. Going so far – arguably stupidly so – as to let them take her home, Cassie abruptly reveals her sobriety to shock them into acknowledging and lamenting their predatory behaviour.

These scenes in particular are deliciously satisfying – that moment the self-proclaimed “nice guy” realises his unwilling date is more than aware of her surroundings and is going to confront him about them. The genius of these moments is in the power of Mulligan’s swift and drastic transformations. She doesn’t need to threaten or produce a weapon to take control, her stark sobriety is enough.

Making her feature filmmaking debut, director Emerald Fennell has had her fair share of femme fatale experience as head writer on Season 2 of TV’s addictive ‘Killing Eve’. Her love of strong, clever but chaotic women are all bundled into one with the creation of Cassie. She’s a Villanelle-esque sexy sociopath with a skewed moral compass, complimented by a noughties heavy soundtrack featuring a screechy orchestral remix of Britney Spears’ ‘Toxic’, a rom-com inspired routine to Paris Hilton’s ‘Stars Are Blind’, and DeathbyRomy’s cover of the Weather Girls’ ‘It’s Raining Men’.

‘Promising Young Woman’ could just as easily be called Privileged Young Men. With a narrative that draws on #MeToo, toxic masculinity and on campus rape culture and rituals, this is a film that is unapologetic about its subject matter and in your face about its opinions on it. There are not-so-subtle traces of trends that are played out in real life today, like dismissing women’s allegations to protect men’s reputations. Whilst Nina’s life was destroyed and her credibility doubted, male peers like perpetrator Al Monroe (Chris Lowell) and his sleazy friend Joe (Max Greenfield) were given glowing references, advanced to the top of their fields and became popular pillars of their communities, industries and social circles.

Although predictable for me, the eventual reveal of the one good man from Cassie’s past being complicit in Nina’s rape (her happy-to-take-it-slow boyfriend Ryan played by a charmingly goofy Bo Burnham), is a gasp out loud moment. Her world is once again shattered beyond repair when she realises the relationship that has made her happy for the first time in a long time was built on a lie (or to give him the benefit of the doubt, a very bad mistake). He is the first man she felt she could trust, be herself around, and fall in love with, but she discovers that underneath he was at worst, another one of the guys, and at best, an indefensible bystander.

You’d be forgiven for thinking ‘Promising Young Woman’ is all anti-men. Everything about it - on the surface and in the trailer - screams angry, bra burning feminist. However, it’s more nuanced than that and takes more of an anti-bad men, anti-bad women and anti-bad behaviour stance, as many of the movie’s female characters also have to confront the fact that their refusal or disinterest to speak up and call out abuse has enabled criminal conduct to set in, rot and spread. Cassie - an anti-hero herself - holds a grubby mirror up to the faces of the women from her college days with varying degrees of cunning and callousness, from feigning the abduction and pimping out of the University Dean Elizabeth Walker’s daughter, to tricking an inebriated former classmate (Alison Brie) into thinking she was unfaithful, or worse, sexually assaulted, in a hotel room.

Cassie’s methods are extreme and quite frankly mad, but her motives are steeped in an obsessive desire to do right by her friend and seek justice whatever the cost (the latter playing out in tragic but successful fashion in the finale). She is an intentionally entangled fly, luring spiders of all shapes and sizes to the centre of the web, daring them to do their worst. Most times she is well prepared, and even when it seems like she’s bitten off more than she can chew, another dose of vigorous vengeance is plunged in (even if it has to be done posthumously!)

Physically too, she’s a calculating chameleon. From pigtails, flowery blouses and flats for a girl-next-door look, to blow-job blotted lips, tight dresses and skyscraper stilettos to give off a late-night pick-up vibe, every element of her outfit is deliberate and devious. Dressed up in a wig the colour of a Rainbow Paddle Pop and sexy stripper nurse outfit in the film’s final act, Cassie is the literal sexual objectification of the promising young medical practitioner she could have been. Instead, she’s a practitioner of pain, turning Monroe’s bachelor party into her plastered patients.

Handcuffing Al to the bed upstairs, it looks like she’s reeled in her biggest fish to date. “It's every man's worst nightmare, getting accused of something like that,” Al cries, to which a deadpan Cassie replies “can guess what every woman's worst nightmare is?” But soon the tables turn when he breaks free, overpowers her and smothers her to death with a pillow. It’s a brutal and distressingly drawn-out scene, and it takes a while before it hits you that she really is dead and this is where her sad story ends. Joe and Al burn her body. It’s all over. Or so you think.

We cut to Al’s wedding, and as Juice Newton’s ‘Angel of the Morning’ plays, Ryan begins to receive scheduled texts from Cassie, taunting him from beyond the grave with a juicy contingency plan. Using Al’s ex-attorney Jordan Green (Alfred Molina) and his regret and grief over representing the wrong party to her advantage, Cassie had sent him incriminating evidence about Nina’s assault and her own demise in advance. “You didn't think this was the end, did you? It is now” the first texts read, as police sirens wail and officers emerge from the woods to arrest Al for murder. “Enjoy the wedding! Love, Cassie & Nina” the final messages say, followed by a perfectly placed winky face emoticon as Fletcher’s ‘Last Laugh’ cues the end credits. It’s a gratifying water cooler moment, bona fide badass yet bittersweet, but you’re still left wondering if it was all worth it.

‘Promising Young Woman’ could be cut from the same tortured heroine cloth as ‘The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo’, ‘Kill Bill’ and ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’, with Nina and Cassie’s friendship rivalling ‘Thelma & Louise’. It covers a lot of taboo territories and topics, from slut shaming to consent and coercion, and evokes the harrowing Margaret Atwood quote “Men are afraid women will laugh at them. Women are afraid men will kill them”.

‘Promising Young Woman’ is not for the faint hearted, and anyone who fears the film may be triggering should stay well clear. It’s not always easy viewing and it’s not always fair, however it’s more than just a pitch-black comedy or clear-cut tale of rape-revenge. It’s a brave, bold and original satire with bite and brains.

4/5 stars.

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prettyboybarzal · 4 years

Text

Dancing with Our Hands Tied

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: this is a multi-part fic for PLD!!! we all simped over him for a hot minute and i decided to capitalize on it because i mean......... look at him. so, enjoy a little enemies to lovers trope w/ one of my favorite frenchmen. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!! and thank you to @bandgirlsclub for all the help w/ my lil writers block. love u bb. she elevated my dialogue so much. if you don’t follow her, please go follow her now. and then enjoy chapter one!

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pierre didn’t like you because you didn’t like him and no one disliked Pierre Luc Dubois, especially in the city of Columbus. He was a legend. He was the star player, the future of the Blue Jackets. Everyone loved him, except you, so he hated you.

The feud started during his rookie season. He marched into the city of Columbus with his shoulders squared, his head held high, and his ego the size of Nationwide Arena itself. On his very first night out with your friend group, he’d gotten you kicked from a club after starting a fight and then poured his entire drink down your back as you waited for Ubers on the curb.

Out of frustration, you ended up foregoing the car to walk home, despite the protests that came from the other boys. And Pierre laughed as you walked away, amused by the liquid stain on the back of your favorite going out shirt.

No apology ever came, and that was a wrap on any potential friendship with him.

Three years later, nothing changed. Though these days, as Pierre’s comfort around you rebounded, he didn’t avoid you and instead made it his job to antagonize you whenever you were around. He made comments about your outfits, flirted with your friends that had clearly been told to steer clear of him, and fucked up your drink orders whenever he bought rounds for the group. Mostly, you took it in stride with a few choice curse words slung his way, but over time you started to antagonize him right back.

“Asshole at three o’clock.”

It took a moment, but your eyes followed the metaphorical clock of the bar and fell on the group of Blue Jackets pushing their way through the crowd. Leading the way was Pierre sporting a cocky smirk on his lips. He made his way around the group of girls, hugging each one before reaching you and ultimately opting not to say hello and just head for the bar. As soon as he stepped away you were making retching noises with your mouth.

“Back at it again, I see,” Josh Anderson spoke as he wrapped his arms over your shoulders. “You two would get along really well if only you tried.”

“I don’t want to try,” you responded. This earned the laughter of their other teammates, Seth and Boone, as they sat in the open seats at your bar top and joined the conversation that had been on hold for hugs hello.

When Pierre returned to the table, he was toting a tray of drinks. One by one, he placed each glass down with its rightful owner until the last two remained. And then he placed a Shirley Temple in front of you.

“It’s virgin.”

“Just like you,” you spat. While the table erupted in laughter, you stood to get a drink of your own. Preferably one that was heavy on the liquor.

---

Despite everything else, going out with him wasn’t all bad because after a while he just got distracted. He would slink away from the group and find himself surrounded by a bunch of local university students and you were free to enjoy your night without him chirping in your ear. While Pierre and Seth scouted the bar for hot single girls, you stayed back at the booth with your girlfriends, Josh, and Boone.

Drinks flowed as easily as the conversation, as usual, and up until about 11 p.m. there was nowhere else you’d’ve rather been. Until Charlie texted you.

“Uh oh, Chuck’s at it again.”

Josh was peaking over your shoulder.

“Would you stop being nosey?” you growled, angling your body away from him so he couldn’t read your texts—most of which were ‘u up’ texts. “And stop calling him Chuck. It makes it sound like I’m sleeping with a father of three.”

“You might as well be,” Boone said. He dodged the rolled-up napkin you sent his way with a chuckle.

The boys always liked to chirp you for your taste in guys, but Charlie was by far their favorite to make fun of because of the eight-year age gap you shared.

“Remember when YN would stay out past midnight?” Boone mused.

“Yeah, I do,” Josh sighed dreamily. “But then she got wifed up by a silver fox.”

“A silver fox?” you asked, trying your hardest to suppress the grin on your lips. “He has black hair.”

“That’s because he probably dyes it.”

More giggles fell from their mouths until you glared at them and their mouths snapped shut.

You met Charlie on a dating app and while things hadn’t progressed past that one night of dinner and drinks, you didn’t mind the casual sex that resulted from it. It was exactly what you needed at this point of your life—no strings attached.

I just called you a car. Should be there in 10 minutes.

You took the final swig of your drink and stood. The boys’ eyes followed your movement, knowing smiles on their lips.

“I’ll see you guys later this week, yeah?”

You said your goodbyes, ignoring the last-minute jabs the boys wanted to get in, and began to search the bar for Seth. You spotted him at a table across the bar with a gaggle of petite girls and Pierre by his side. The moment you looked over at them, Pierre caught your eye.

You started walking over as he checked the time on his watch. 11:45 p.m. You never left before midnight.

Seth opened his arms as you approached and you folded into them as you said your goodbyes. Something about the interaction had Pierre turning away to talk to the girls they’d met. It was the same pit in his stomach type of feeling he got whenever you were around, whenever you embraced the other boys with a quick peck on the cheek or laughed at one of their shitty jokes.

He heard you say your final goodbye to Seth and your shoulder brushed against his back unknowingly as you avoided saying goodbye to him. He almost let you go unbothered, but his need to talk to you just once more was overwhelming. At the very last second, he turned and caught your elbow.

“Who’s got you running off before midnight, Cinderella?”

“It’s funny you think you deserve an answer to that question,” you growled, pulling your arm out of his grasp in disgust. He leaned back against the table with a smile. Your eyes flickered to the girls behind him, one with a glare set on you as she sipped her drink.

A lightbulb went off above your head.

You stepped forward, squeezing yourself between Pierre and Seth’s bodies to get a word in with the girls around the table.

“Can I offer you all some free advice?” you asked, even though you were going to give it to them anyway. “This one,” you spoke, nodding to Pierre. You dropped your voice to a whisper and the girls inched forward to catch your words. “He’s been around the block, if you know what I mean. I’d make sure he wraps it before he taps it. Who knows the last time he’s gotten tested?”

You slipped out from between the boys, ignoring the curses that fell from Pierre’s lips as you walked away.

---

You left Charlie’s at 7 the next morning. Although you tried not to make a habit of sleeping at his apartment, there were some nights that you ignored the voice inside your head. You dressed yourself in the outfit from the night before and stepped into his bathroom to check your make-up and fix your hair before allowing the world to see you in all your one night stand glory.

Last night was one of the worst nights you’d spent with him. He was off from the moment you got in the door to the moment he fell asleep after finishing. You ended up completely unsatisfied and if you hadn’t been as tired as you were, you probably would’ve gone home to bring your own self to orgasm since he so clearly couldn’t.

As you shut his front door behind you, another door in the hall shut. You looked up to see which neighbor had entered the hallway and immediately felt your stomach drop.

“This? This is the place you ran off to last night?” Pierre was standing at the next door over. He looked astounded, eyes flickering between you and the door you’d just come out of. “You’re fucking my neighbor? Isn’t he like 40?”

“You live here?” you asked, eyes wide as you took in the sight of Pierre in front of you. His hair was still messy from sleep, but he was dressed in his Blue Jackets workout gear and on his way out the door.

“I moved in at the beginning of the season,” he answered. He stepped forward and you stepped backwards in response. “But you wouldn’t know that because you didn’t come to my housewarming party.”

You didn’t think he was serious when he extended the invite, and you were almost positive your response was along the lines of ‘I’d never step foot inside your house.’

With a scoff, you turned and continued down the hall. He was hot on your heels the entire way to the elevator and slowed to a stop to wait beside you when you pressed the down button. You were surprised when he didn’t immediately start digging deeper about your night. He was more preoccupied with whatever was on his phone than you, thankfully, though you were certain once he had you in the enclosed space of the elevator he’d start prying.

When the doors of the elevator finally opened, Pierre stepped in and held his hand out to keep the doors open for you. You stayed put.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” you said stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. He let out a dry laugh, eyes rolling before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the confined space with him.

The doors shut.

“You’re fucking dramatic.”

The elevator began its descent to the lobby and, all the while, you could feel him watching you.

“Can you stop?” you spat, shooting him a glare from the other corner of the elevator.

He studied you for a moment before asking, “Quiet in bed?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you quiet in bed?” he asked, slower this time, like you were too stupid to understand what he said before. You couldn’t find the words to answer, jaw ajar as your brain tried to catch up to his question. “I’m only asking because I’m pretty sure Charlie and I share a bedroom wall, and his place was completely silent last night.”

“You’re a pig.”

Pierre chuckled, satisfied with the reaction he’d gotten out of you, and continued talking, “Unless he can’t get you off.”

“Familiar with that problem, huh?”

“Not in the slightest,” he answered.

“As far as you know,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. The last place in the world you wanted to be was with Pierre in this elevator and you wanted him to know that.

“Not that you will ever get the chance to experience it yourself, but I know my way around the bedroom,” Pierre countered easily. Too easily.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I’m sure, what, with your body count in the hundreds probably. Statistically, you would have to have gotten at least 50% off.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know how many girls I have in my bed every week,” Pierre grinned, his ego oozing out of his every word.

“Not even a little bit,” you sighed. Your fingers came up to your temple as you tried to rub away the migraine that was beginning to take form. “Where you put your dick is of no concern to me, unless you decide to put it in a blender. Then, and only then, will I give a shit.”

“See, I think you care an awful lot more than you let on, princess,” Pierre said. Your face twisted in disgust at the pet name. “And I think that no matter how much you want to hate me, you really don’t. You’re just jealous that I’m not fucking you.”

That pushed you over the edge, the ounce of patience that you had left in your system had been blown to pieces with that comment.

“Would you pull your head out of your ass for once in your life, Pierre?” you spat. “I wouldn’t let you touch me with a ten foot pole, much less your filthy dick. My sex life is none of your god damn business. Actually, scratch that, my life is none of your business. I only put up with you because we run in the same group of friends, so don’t try and get cute with me. If I had things my way I would never have even met you, much less learned your name.”

Pierre opened his mouth to speak, likely to try and counter everything you had just said with a dig, but you held your hand up to silence him.

“We don’t have to like each other, Pierre, but you don’t have to be such a raging asshole about it. I thought at some point you might get tired of being a complete dick but your endurance is impressive, I’ll give you that. So listen to me carefully when I tell you I want nothing to do with you.”

The elevator stopped at the lobby and you made a beeline to the front door of the lobby to begin your walk home in silence. Beautiful, peaceful, Pierre-less silence.

---

The silence didn’t last long.

You were halfway through your skin care routine when your phone rang, piercing through the otherwise quiet apartment. Across your home screen, your sister’s name flashed over a goofy photo from New Years.

“What do you want?” you asked after swiping to accept. Your sister’s face filled the screen with a fake offended look on it. You giggled. “Listen, Sadie, the only time I’ve heard from you since you moved back to school has been because you needed me to do something for you.”

“Okay, well,” she started. You raised your eyebrows at her in amusement. You knew this was coming. “It’s not really me who needs something.”

“Which one of your friends needs something then?”

“Mom,” she said with a laugh. Confusion flashed over your features, so she continued, “My friends are all going home next weekend and I decided I’d do the same because why would I want to be here without them, right?” You nodded as she rambled on. “But when I told Mom I wanted to come home, she told me that her and Dad are going to be out of town.”

“They’re going away?”

“Yeah, and she doesn’t want me home alone.”

You laughed out loud. It was so typical of your mom to not trust Sadie to be home alone for a few days. She turned 21 months ago and yet she still wasn’t trusted by your parents. You couldn’t say you blamed them. Sadie wasn’t exactly the most responsible.

“Stay at school then.”

“See, I was gonna do that,” she trailed off. “But she already bought me a plane ticket to see you.” Your jaw dropped, but you closed it at the sight of your sister’s apologetic face. “I’m really sorry, but on the brightside, I can finally party with you and all your boy toys! Especially the French one you hate so much,” she said his name in a French accent, “Pierre Luc Dubois, or whatever his sexy ass name is.”

And that was exactly what you were worried about.

#pierre luc dubois fic #pierre luc dubois story #pierre luc dubois imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #dancing with our hands tied fic #mk writes #hockey fic #hockey story #nhl story #nhl fic #columbus blue jackets fic #columbus blue jackets imagine

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

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It blows my mind to see how incredible of a writer you are

Honestly, how can anyone be so talented!!!

That being said, I just read Motherhood a few hours ago and I was legit sobbing in the best way possible

I was wondering if you could make a slight mention of Mary helping Kate through a panic attack and also if she ever realized that she still got the attacks even after she started dating Anthony. And maybe a little piece between Mary and Anthony with Mary telling Anthony how happy she is that he is in Kate’s life.

I am so sorry if this is an unnecessary ask but I just can’t get enough of them and I can’t get enough of your writing 😭😭

Nona Nona Nona Nona

🎶I don’t know what to say🎶 So I’m singing everything because I do that to undercut the awkwardness I feel, Funfact: It never works. I have many fine talents: Anagram solving, wearing a mask and glasses and getting 0 fog, I used to be very good at using a pricing gun when I worked at an athletic shoe store while I was at Dental school, and I can name any Taylor Swift song within the first 3 seconds of hearing it You will notice that writing is not one of them but thank you! 😘

Anyway! Mary Sheffield man, I love and adore her. And I think she desperately wants her daughters to be happy, which is why Kate doesn’t want to tell her that she still struggles sometimes, even with Anthony’s help! (I’m focusing on this part of your request because I have another request for Mary and Anthony having a little heart to heart so it is coming I promise!)

Mary could remember the very first time Kate had had an attack. She had been standing in the kitchen, Mary had been talking, about what she couldn’t even remember anymore, and suddenly Kate had gone rigid, still, frozen, Mary’s eyes had flicked to her curiously and her own heart had stopped, because Kate seemed to be gasping, open mouthed, for breath, with no success. “Katie-?” Mary managed to choke out, her heart pounding, moving towards her, as Kate tried to back away, sliding down the kitchen cabinets, curling in on herself as she gasped and struggled to breath, her eyes wide with panic, shock really.

Mary had crouched beside her, her own arms wrapping tightly around Kate’s shaking form, fighting to keep her own voice steady despite the panic she felt rising in her own chest. “Deep breaths, Katie. In and out, that’s good.” She’d said, holding her daughter tightly, until Kate’s breathing evened, slowing and Mary’s chest had ached as Kate had choked out, “Mary, please don’t tell Dad.” Because when it happened a second time, Edwina and Thomas right beside them, she didn’t have a choice.

And Mary watched as Kate struggled and fought for breath so many times, Thomas’ arms wrapped tightly around her, Miles Davis playing in the background a piece of Mary’s heart disappearing every time her daughter did. And she watched as slowly, slowly, Kate came back to them. Her smile more confident, her life brighter, the frequency between these attacks lessening and lessening until they seemed to disappear altogether, and Mary felt she could breathe more easily as well.

She hadn’t meant to bring it up in front of Anthony, she really hadn’t. But she’d been talking about Kate as a teenager and it just seemed to slip out. Her chest aching at the look on Kate’s face as she’d left the table. “Kate was beautiful as a teenager, though she refuses to admit it.” Mary had said, chuckling when Kate had rolled her eyes tutting. “Yeah, I was amazing, with my glasses, and my braces, and my surly demeanour.” Kate had laughed and Anthony had chuckled, leaving a kiss on her cheek and the words had fallen from Mary’s mouth “No, you were so beautiful, Katie, and I know you hate that-” And Mary had cut herself off at the stricken look on Kate’s face, Anthony’s eyes suddenly soft as she stood from the table pulling her hand from Anthony’s sharply, and leaving the room as quickly as she could. Anthony had stood immediately to follow Kate’s footsteps on the stairs, “No, Anthony, finish your tea, I’ll go.” Mary had said firmly, standing from the table barely waiting for the soft nod from her daughter’s fiancé.

Mary knocked softly on the door of Kate’s bedroom, entering quietly when Kate made no response. “Katie, are you alright? I’m sorry that I almost- I know you probably don’t want Anthony to know, but sweetheart, you don’t have to be ashamed its-” Mary started reaching for her daughter who pulled away, closing her eyes to steel herself as a tear slipped down her face. “Mary, Anthony knows. It’s hard to hide it from him, when It happened right in front of him.” Kate’s voice cracked as Mary’s heart broke. Kate had been quietly suffering, too scared to tell her the truth.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me?” Mary said gently, her arms wrapping around Kate tightly as they sat on the edge of the bed together. She felt Kate shrug. “It started after Dad died, and I just... you had so much to deal with Mary, you didn’t need me making it harder for you. And I thought I had a handle on it, it happened less and less frequently but,” Kate took a deep shuddering breath, “It still happens on the day dad died, and some other times as well, when I feel I don’t know overwhelmed.” Mary’s heart was aching at the pain in her daughter’s voice. She forced herself to speak “I’m sorry, you thought you couldn’t tell me this. But Katie, I will be there for you no matter what, Okay?” Kate nodded against her. “And Anthony, helps you?” Mary continued as Kate pulled back, a small smile on her face.

“He helps the most. He’s so gentle, and calm and patient, and he doesn’t even know how much he helps I don’t think.” Kate said, wiping tears from her eyes as Mary felt a surge of affection for the man downstairs. “Anthony’s a very good man, I’m glad you have him. But you’ll always have me as well, Katie. No matter what.”

And Kate’s answering smile, made Mary’s heart feel lighter than it had all day.

Thank you for your support! ❤️

#bridgerton and sons au #kathony #anthony x kate #sheffield family feels #mary sheffield #mary sharma #kate sheffield #kate sharma #mary sheffield is a damn queen and we stan her in this house #molly's asks and answers

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oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co · 4 years

Text

The Lovelorn Monster

Welcome to my first Modern AU, which I wrote for @lovelyrita1967 It’s a Geraskier Romcom with extra suffering and gore! Also, it’s a Christmas fic as @booichiboo requested. 16k, M.

You can read it on AO3.

Summary: It's been many months since the mountain incident. Jaskier is alone on Christmas day. His lovely, old house has somehow become a monster-infested hellhole. Now it seems there might be a way to kill two birds with one stone. Only deciding what actually needs killing is much more complicated than that.

cw: blood, so much blood, also a lot of angst (although there’s a happy ending), suicide references, some Geraskier disagreements and heartbreak. No sex, but there’s a fair bit of angsty cuddling and some much less angsty kissing.

***********************************************

When I am laid, am laid in earth, May my wrongs create

No trouble, no trouble in thy breast;

Remember me, remember me, but ah! forget my fate.

Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.

Dido’s Lament, Henry Purcell, adapted from The Aeneid

Jaskier stared at his beautiful, tall, richly dressed Christmas tree with pride and a wistful smile. Each ornament was a souvenir or a gift. This tradition gave his decorations deep meaning, but also made him reluctant to come anywhere near the tree this year.

Memories. He had a cardboard box full of them. There was a delicately carved wooden heart covered in rich, red paint he received from Countess de Stael. Then his favourite - a perfect, tiny copy of his lute he had ordered to celebrate his first successful performance for the royals. He even had a little doll that a sibele, a demon who steals children, was using to lure a baby when Geralt cut off her head.

Geralt never approved of Jaskier keeping the toy, let alone using it as an ornament. ‘I don’t need keepsakes to remind me of the last time I killed something,’ his gruff voice would say.

Well, this year it’s going up. Jaskier picked a spot for the doll with a rebellious toss of his hair. It was quite a nasty, clumsily knitted thing. Seeing it on the tree succeeded mostly in creating an uncomfortable lump in his throat as he imagined Geralt sitting on his living room sofa, relaxed, with a snide smile, some acerbic remark already forming in his head.

Perhaps Geralt would ignore the doll. ‘You just love making yourself sentimental,’ he’d say instead, seemingly no connection, just a short, judgmental glance at the tree.

And Jaskier did, actually. No shame in that. It had its benefits. In his mind, Geralt could easily become just the memory of a perfect, lost friend, regardless of how he would feel about the prospect. He was the hero Jaskier once traveled with, no more, no less. They parted ways for perfectly rational reasons.

‘Just give me a couple of years,’ he said to the imaginary Geralt in his mind and smiled with pride. Being the storyteller meant being in control.

Then he noticed a little ornament shaped like a golden dragon lying at the bottom of the box. The sight made him freeze for a moment. He shook off the memory and ignored the draw towards his phone which has been intensifying over the last couple of days.

Everything was going fine. The phone was just playing music, lying perfectly innocently on the windowsill as it should. It was set on shuffle, and Annie Lennox’s “Dido's Lament” was on, a little bit ominous, but also somehow appropriate.

He hummed with the music while hanging up a few golden baubles. As he started to sing, another voice joined in, a distant echo of his hum, a gentle, female timbre following along quietly. It made him smile, eyes suddenly attracted to the window. It was already getting dark, and the Christmas lights he put up outside were reflecting in the glass. A weird glow by the evergreen shrubs made the snow underneath them shine delicately.

The decorations were nearly complete. There was a comforting smell of cinnamon and apples coming from the kitchen. Also, he still had some surprisingly successful homemade ginger biscuits left.

The golden dragon was the last thing he hung on the tree. He flinched a little as he did, but it was where it belonged. Then he moved away to admire his finished work. ‘Better late than never,’ he whispered to himself.

At that exact moment, the next song started to play. Jaskier instantly recognised it and stared at his phone as if it personally insulted him.

‘It's been a blue holiday since you've been gone,’ Aretha Franklin started to sing.

‘Oh, no you don’t,’ Jaskier whispered while walking calmly towards his phone.

‘Oh darling, won't you hurry, hurry home,’ she continued undisturbed.

He actually liked the song and was starting to wonder if he was overreacting.

‘It's been a blue… a blue holiday. And I'm all alone.’

No, he wasn’t.

‘My dear I need your love to keep… to keep me warm.’

Yeah, sure, like that was ever an option, he thought to himself.

‘I cry when I hear the chapel bells ring… And sometimes I cry all through the night.’

Fuck. Jaskier’s fingerprint lock was a little wonky.

‘Won't you please come home and make my… make my holiday bright.’

Finally, he managed to skip a couple of songs, and quickly discovered he actually preferred some silence this time. He took a deep breath and decided it was time to focus on cooking. That should be comforting enough.

As soon as he turned towards the kitchen he heard a weird, buzzing sound, and then a high, disembodied laugh. Lights flickered. There was a loud crash, a cavalcade of many little objects falling all at once, baubles suddenly bouncing off his furniture. A glass ball he bought at a little Christmas market in Vizima rolled in between his feet.

He swore under his breath and turned back. All the ornaments were lying on his wooden floor, and only the Christmas lights remained. A small dark shape with sharp horns moved along the wall and then disappeared behind the sofa, still giggling to itself.

Jaskier stared at the naked tree, feeling a bit hopeless. Then he climbed up the sofa pillows and looked into the tight space between the wall and the backrest.

Two small, red eyes stared back.

‘Proud of yourself?’ he asked with irritation and heard only a quiet hiss in response. ‘You know what? Fuck you. Sincerely, fuck you.’ He pointed at the thing, his eyes narrowing. ‘No more biscuits for you. You’re going down,’ he threatened, a surprising and, by all accounts, disproportionate amount of uncurbed fury in his voice, hand shaking slightly.

For a moment Jaskier seemed overwhelmed. He took a couple of very deep breaths, then coughed a little and his eyes watered. ‘Right,’ he said to himself, his attempts to calm down obviously failing. He stretched his neck, then rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension with a sigh. ‘Right,’ he repeated as his expression switched to resolve.

He squeezed his phone with newly found determination, and then fiddled with it nervously for much longer than he originally planned.

Finally, he clicked on his least favourite icon of all - the phone app.

The signal was ringing loud in his ears. Time slowed down. He was just about to hang up when he heard a deep voice on the other side. ‘Yes?’

‘Vesemir,’ Jaskier announced, jovially. ‘Merry Christmas!’ He listened to Vesemir return the greeting and massaged his temples nervously. ‘Yes, thank you. Erm… I was just wondering… No, no, I am not going to hang up. Whatever gives you that idea?’ He laughed nervously. ‘I do need help. It’s a dreadful emergency. No… Of course, I would have called otherwise. Yes, it’s quiet because I’m at home. No, I have not been drinking. I am most definitely sober. Yes, yes, yes… No, I do realise… I actually do have a monster that needs to be… witchered? No, it’s not just one, actually… It’s- it’s a couple of things, really. I know it’s Christmas. Yes, I see your point. But… isn’t Geralt working anyway?’

He waited as the line went quiet for a while. ‘Yes, I did just ask for Geralt,’ he confirmed.

No response. Vesemir must have moved away from the phone, and there was a sound of distant chatter. When he returned his voice was hesitant. ‘You’re sure about this?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I definitely want Geralt here. As soon as possible would be grand,’ Jaskier confirmed again, surprised at how confident he sounded.

‘Fine,’ Vesemir said finally, before hanging up right away, voice a bit more irritated than the situation justified.

Jaskier put the phone away and tried to force himself to breathe again.

You can read the rest on AO3.

********************************************

Extra thanks to @ohmybgosh @variousnoises

@thelastsock @jaskierswolf @rawrkinjd @katesierra @gilbert-von-kneecap @stinastar @carmillacarmine @ro-the-bard-writer @ikeptupwiththejoneses @purpleonionofsex @marvagon @fontegagrilledcheese @sarah-midnight @geraskierficrecs @renfribrooks @darknessyuu @comfortabletextiles @gosh-diddley-darnit @ohjules @short-potato @anie6142

@valdomarx I know you don’t read Modern AUs but this one has a wyvern, a rusalka and Geralt is still a witcher. Also, I love you. That’s my argument.

#geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fandom #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #Geralt #geralt x dandelion #the witcher #geralt x julian #Geralt x Jaskier #Jaskier #jaskier loves geralt #geralt loves jaskier #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #the witcher and the bard #witcher modern au

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oneprompt · 3 years

Note

Hi! I’m new to this community in general and would like to say I really like your blog :-) this is my first time asking, so sorry if the wording comes off weird. If you’re still doing matchups,

I’m 5’4, female, and I’m a Leo. My hairs dark brown and it’s at a mullet phase right now. My eyes are dark brown. I’m generally a quiet, chilled out person, but around friends I get childish in a dumb humor kind of way. I love going along with or starting stupid banter, Im usually laughing at anything or poking at those around me. I’m introverted but have no problem being blunt with others, even if I don’t know them well I don’t struggle with being direct. If somethings bothering me enough, I’m good at confrontation and holding my ground. I generally hold myself up well and take whatever I do seriously, even if I don’t want to put effort into it, I still do. I can be shy when in a group in unfamiliar with or when in large groups of people. I’m a bit slow with verbal instruction, and when I get overwhelmed I end up becoming clumsy (but try not to show it). I struggle with anxiety but am trying really hard to improve for myself and my friends. My friends say I give good advice. I’m currently living life not knowing where I’ll go, but I know I’ll be fine the more I experience it. I don’t like scary movies and I love sweets!

For gender I have more of a male preference, but whatever you choose is fine :D

If you decide to do this, thank you so much. I appreciate that writers like you take their time out of their day <3

I Match You Up With...

The Mayor of Water Seven, Iceburg!

Iceburg loves how you can be humourous and silly, but also know when and where to act seriously. Iceburg is always up for some occasional fun and jokes but he prefers to have a partner who can act seriously and be mature when it comes to greater matters.

He also likes how you’re more introverted. Iceburg isn’t too huge on social interaction. Of course, he has no problem with his shipwrights / friends but he’s the type that prefers to stay inside. Same goes with dates, if you don’t mind having romantic date nights at home, he’ll be content. But if you’d rather go out, Iceburg is still happy to take you out! He just gets drained easily.

Iceburg isn’t too pushy with you. He’s quite lazy and sees no point in pushing past peoples expertise or boundaries. He’s the type to go at his own pace and is the same with his partner, take your time for as long as you need. Iceburg has no need to make you anxious or anything at all, what benefit would that hold?

As the Mayor, Iceburg has quite the mass amount of money. He’ll buy you whatever you want without a second thought, really. Iceburg makes sure to get Kalifa to have the most delicious sweets imported to his office, all for you! Iceburg himself doesn’t enjoy sweets much but he’ll get you anything.

Iceburg finds you very cute! He likes how your hair is. It’s long enough for him to play with but still short enough to not be too in the way of things like physical touch and so on. Also loves how short you are! With him being 6’7, it’s hard to meet much people, let alone women taller then him. But nonetheless, he finds it so cute.

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece imagine #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece reader inserts #one piece matchup #match up #match ups #anime #anime matchup #soft #cute #fluff #fanfic

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personasintro · 3 years

Note

Hello, I’m not trying to defend rude people coming to you asking you to hurry the story lol but I’m going to tell you something that might help as advice as a writer, maybe? Just please don’t take it the wrong way bc I’m not trying to tell you how to do your thing!

I think what frustrates readers the most is that the story escalated SO QUICKLY from the beginning, like since the “deal” to all the fluff, the “””””fake””””” dating, the sex, the (very obvious) romantic moments that were completely brushed off, not to mention all the confusing things Jungkook says to Y/N and viceversa, etc. AND THEN.. the whole story goes back to (in a sense) zero: Jungkook is back with Kiko, the person that hurted him so deeply on him, Y/N and Jungkook are still friends even after they spended all those weeks being basically like boyfriend and girlfriend and that there’s clearly something there that ALL of us can see (unless you didn’t want us to believe that and we’re all not reading the same story).

And I’m not saying that it’s bad or that you’re doing things the wrong way but IT IS very confusing to us bc its starting to feel like there’s no real character development and everything’s going backwards instead of forward.

Again, I’m not saying this is how you should do this but, as a reader myself, the lack of development, in terms of character and not as a “this is how I want the story to end” type of thing, it’s very frustrating and dryning for some people.

What I’m trying to say is that maybe the people on your ask box aren’t just being obnoxious and trying to tell you how they want the story to end. Maybe they’re mad at the fact that after everything that’s happened between Y/N and Jungkook, they’re still with the same mindset. I mean, even the whole “mutual help” agreement is over and they’re still the same characters when the story began. It makes you wonder if maybe that’s everything there is to their story 🤧

My point it’s that: if the story’s plot it’s based on that “mutual help” they had, isn’t it supposed to bring some noticeable change to the character’s life after instead of just passing by, almost uneventfully?

Anyway, I hope I don’t make you feel mad or sad with my whole ass analysis lol that really isn’t the point of it, I’m just seriously very confused with the way the story is progressing, and maybe clarifying some things, without spoiling anything, may help us readers understand where is this story going. Btw, none of this means that the story or the plot or the characters are bad AT ALL, I would say it’s the complete opposite, we are all SO immersed in it that we’ve got to the point were we’re just desperate for more! But yeah, thank you for your beautiful story! I’ll still check every update even if you decide to complete ignore this question lol ❤️❤️

As much as I appreciate you trying to justify all those asks, it doesn't change the fact how I feel about this whole thing. Frustrated, sad and overwhelmed, that's how I've been feeling for a few weeks now (maybe even months) because some people on this app are too much sometimes. It's one of the reasons why I disabled my asks.

If any of the readers have any problem with how the story is going, I've said too many times they don't have to read it. Them getting all frustrated over how I write my OWN story is ridiculous. People trying to tell me how to write my story is ridiculous. If you guys read my answers to every ask, you probably know by now what makes me frustrated and what bothers me the most. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out and I ask... how the hell people are still being so pushy with their own preferences? I've explained countless things so many times and honestly, I'm exhausted because of it. I feel like nobody listens to me what I'm saying and that puts a little disrespect in my opinion.

+ I get the feeling people don't read MH thoroughly and forget all the things that have been discussed there. I don't get the feeling as if the story went back to zero, I'm sorry that you do but well, I respect your opinion but obviously are opinions about this are very different. I can't believe I've to explain this all over again but well... here we go! y/n and Jungkook being still friends doesn't mean there are things that haven't slightly changed (whether they acknowledge it or not). Them acting like a girlfriend and a boyfriend has been explained by THEM, why they acted like that and even admitted it felt nice. There is an obvious attraction and their deal hasn't helped with that.

+ I know very well what I'm doing with my story [SLOW BURN STORY] and I asked readers many times to just trust me. I'm so freaking frustrated because if people are getting so frustrated over my story too, why the hell are they still reading it? I'm not asking for people to tell me what to do, directly or indirectly because I'm sorry but that's the vibe I'm getting from all those asks. They're not normal and typical asks of "oh I wish they were together" but the length those people are willing to go just to push their own preference is ridiculous.

+ If you think there's no character development (just because y/n x jk aren't together and jk x kiko are) then I'm sorry but MH isn't probably your kind of story. And I'm not going to point out what those characters development are because if you read the story thoroughly and with some sort of understanding, you could easily tell what it is and you wouldn't have to question me about it.

+ Again, if anyone finds this story so frustrating and draining (that's what you probably meant) just don't read it. I really appreciate everyone who does read it, but ONCE AGAIN... I'm not sure what to do with it? I'm not going to change the story and even though I do read those opinions, 90% of time I don't even know how to respond. And people willing to take some of their time to be frustrated in my inbox when you can probably tell that it is as much frustrating for me, is blowing my mind and not in the good sense.

+ Maybe they’re mad at the fact that after everything that’s happened between Y/N and Jungkook, they’re still with the same mindset. This fucking blew my mind all over again. As much as I'm aware a story can evoke a lot of feelings (one of the reasons why writing and reading stories is so amazing), this is different than just people being casually mad about something. And that's exactly it, people are mad and then they come into my inbox and spread negativity and even bigger distaste to writing for me. If anyone is so mad because of how story is going and it's hard for them to process it (now I'm going to be the one giving you an advice) just don't read it. And I don't mean this in any rude way, I genuinely think people shouldn't read it if them being so mad means they'll show their anger and frustration to me. Because newsflash but I'm a person behind this screen, I can get mad and frustrated too. Do you guys think these kinds of asks aren't hurting me to a certain extent?

+ You think this story is confusing? Alright, what am I supposed to do with it? Like, I'm genuinely curious what you guys expect me to do. I told you to trust me, it didn't help. I told you this story is a slow burn one, it didn't help. I told you there are things that are changing and if you read the story properly and with some understanding, you'd be able to notice it (even if it's not something big and eye-catching), that didn't help too.

+ It's not my responsibility to explain and clarify every thing people are confused about but still, I've always tried to explain everything but you know what? I don't feel like doing it again. Because every time people are confused about something, it always has something to do with the future of the story and people indirectly asking me about spoilers – whether you think it's true or not, I've been here long enough to know when people are trying to get answers out of me. Plus, it's very hard almost impossible to explain some things without spoiling anything. That's why I always told you guys to trust me and you'll get your answers at the right time.

I really hate explaining my thoughts like this because it makes me feel like a douchebag but I'm so sick of some people thinking like I owe them something. At the end of the day, I'm here to write a story and me interacting with all of my readers is my choice. I could easily just post a chapter and not care what people think, and I do think some people are using this fact over me thinking they can be impolite, rude, pushy and frustrating. I've been patient enough about this, but the more this keeps happening the more I'm questioning my presence here.

There... here are my thoughts and I know people will take from it whatever they want (or more like won't take anything from it) but honestly, I'm so exhausted if you couldn't tell by now. I'm so done with always justifying myself. These thoughts have been bubbling inside of me for so long and I always told myself to just close the app, breathe it out and come back positive... but I realized that every time I think about this, I feel exactly the same and I know that it's not my fault because that's how some of you make me feel.

All I ask if for mutual understanding because I've always been trying to be respectful and understanding, that's one of the things I've been very careful about.

#ask: anon

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