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januaryembrs · 3 days

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JUST A THEORY | Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: congratulations on 2k!!! you deserve that and so much more your writing is incredible! 🥳🥳🥳 if I could jump in with a request could I ask for a Spencer x reader fic where the reader is a journalist/reporter looking into a case as well and they cross paths? I think the tension and bickering would be so fun

Description: There's something about that agent Jennifer brought along with her that pushes every single one of your buttons

Length: 1.6k

warnings: general cm violence, probably not em's best work

“You know this could be considered obstructing a federal investigation,” Spencer huffed, trying to look over your shoulder where you skimmed the book in your hands with meticulous eyes. You ignored him, continuing to read the information despite feeling his burning glare in the back of your head, his breath on your neck as he shadowed your figure around the building.

“You know the best part about a public library, Doctor Reid? It’s public,” You drawled back, your eyes never ripping from the page except to make a few notes of some key information for your article, “Which means I have every right to be in here just as much as you do,”

You heard him run a hand over his face and tried not to smirk at how easy he was to agitate. You’d heard a lot about the BAU, almost every criminology based paper in Virginia had, and so it wasn’t too surprising to meet the brains behind the reputation when three women had been murdered in the FBI’s home town. Every press association that was worth their money was all over the story, ‘How could this have happened so close to the capital in a city crawling with agents?’, which made your job just that bit more competitive and taxing.

Yet luckily for you, you knew exactly where to go snooping for answers. It just so happened, the BAU’s resident genius did too.

“I guarantee it would be easier for both of us if you just give me the book first. I can read ten times faster than you,” He snipped, still a pup at your heels where you wandered through the aisles of non-fiction, the white lettering hanging above the shelves spelling PSYCHOLOGY. You rolled your eyes at his persistence, ignoring his attitude as you rounded the corner at the end of the row and looped back to where you’d picked up the book, the man still over your shoulder.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you you’re not supposed to talk in libraries?” You hissed back, flicking the page over and hearing his footsteps move in tandem with your own, “I guess you’re just going to have to wait and let the professionals work,”

You hid a grin, hearing him pause at that, remembering the first day you’d been assigned the story.

It started only a week ago. The newest victim had been found in the woods, stabbed seven times the same as the other two, her entire body washed in strong bleach, her hair and nails trimmed and ears even swabbed clean. You’d managed to get five minutes to sit with her parents, your pen and trusted notebook at the ready.

“Why don’t you tell me about what Clara was like as a kid?” You said softly, eyes comforting and calm as you spoke over coffee that was quickly going cold. But you didn’t care.

You didn’t do this part for ‘the story’. At least not the end of the story, the gory bits and pieces that the other news anchors focused on, how the women were brutalised and beaten, changed by a murderer until they looked unrecognisable. You didn’t like to focus on that, because that wasn’t who the victims were.

You wanted to tell their story. Who they were before something awful happened to them.

“She loved to dance,” Clara’s mother, Gwen, sniffled, her cheeks sodden with salted tears. Her voice quivered, croaked like it begged not to be used, but the saddest smile spread on her face when she said it, her husband’s hands clasped tightly in her own, “She used to ask to wear her leotard to bed; we couldn't get that thing off her,”

You smiled, eyes falling to the pictures the parents had spread across the table in their haste to find the best one for the missing posters. Gwen seemed to follow your eyeline and grabbed one in particular, handing it over to you, gently thumbing the edges like that too might disappear. A little girl, black hair as silken as fresh ink stared back at you, her hands poised delicately above her head like the professional ballerina’s you'd seen on TV, her feet laced into pink pumps. The way she should be remembered, not the images you’d seen of her at the crime scene.

You opened your mouth to speak again when two agents entered the room. Jennifer Jareau, who you’d worked with on multiple stories like this one to give the families the empathy they deserved, smiled at you civilly, somewhat guilty knowing she was stepping on your toes. Beside her stood a taller man in a matching FBI jacket, his hazelnut curls falling over his frown.

“Mr and Mrs Townsen,” He addressed the couple solemnly, who looked up at him through red rimmed eyes, their sockets sallow and empty, “We need to ask you a few questions about the last few days you saw Clara before she went missing,”

He flashed his credentials in his right hand, long enough for them to see it was real, and looked to you with a stern stare.

The couple glanced back to you, the picture still grasped tightly in your fingers, as you flicked a tight look between Jennifer and the new agent carefully.

“Just one moment,” You told the grieving parents softly, handing the picture back to Gwen, standing to move to one side with the analysts, immediately turning towards Jennifer with confusion, “I thought you said I had until twelve?”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t interrupt if it wasn’t important,” The liaison said cordially, the two of you somewhat acquaintances after emailing back and forth for so long. She liked that you didn’t see the bodies as dollar signs, and you liked that she wanted the same as you; to tell the victims stories the way they should be told.

Sighing, you wrapped up your notepad, delicately pushing the pen through the wire spine. “Can I get an interview with the second family at least? Daily Press was all over that story, and they made an absolute joke of it,”

“That’s a little hypocritical of you,” The other agent piped up, and your head snapped to him. Eyes roving over his figure, brows furrowing when you realised what he’d said. You looked back to his face in annoyance.

“Excuse me?” You snipped, crossing your arms over your chest, your notepad brushing against your ribs.

“I’m just saying, you all get paid for what you write, so it's just as exploitive to write about the victims than it is to write about the crimes,” He shrugged, eyes narrowing when you shifted your weight onto your other foot and raised a brow at him.

“Unlike you,” Your gaze fell to his badge he still had to hand, “Doctor Reid, I see those women as real people, not just little pictures on a white board. They’re not just dead girls to me, and they’re certainly not just money grabs,”

Spencer went to retaliate again before JJ put a hand on both your elbows, drawing the attention away from your little spat.

“We can talk about this later, right now we have an UnSub on the loose that is quickly devolving,” She chided the two of you like you were school children, and you sighed, biting your cheek to stop yourself from snapping back at the man.

“What does that mean?” You asked quietly, well aware of the grieving parents sitting little more than a few yards from where you stood bickering.

“It means you’re going to have to wait and let the professionals work,” Spencer cleared, pushing past your shoulder as he went to sit with the Townsens, his eyes swirling into something new and kind and reassuring as he looked at them, a Jekyll and Hyde to the hostility he had towards you.

You could only suck your teeth in annoyance, before Jennifer pulled you further into the dining room to discuss rearrangements.

Spencer blanked as he watched you skim reading the textbook, his own words thrown back in his face in an infuriatingly clever move on your part. With little more to say, knowing wit and barking orders would get him nowhere because he couldn’t exactly arrest you for not giving him public property, he resorted to begging.

“Please, give me the book,” He said, the desperation buried in his sigh, and you swivelled on your heels, a devilish grin on your face that had him fighting back an eye roll.

“Oh, would you look at that? I’m finished,” You said, handing him the files you were reading, passing them over to him with a smirk and he found himself almost smiling at your sarcasm.

Taking the book out of your hand, he debated saying thank you, but instead bit his lip because he'd found you were somewhat incorrigible when you were getting deeper in a story.

Turning on his heels to check out the book so he could take it back to headquarters, he stopped when you spoke, just a few decibels louder than the ‘Talk Quietly’ sign demanded.

“Agalmatophilia,” You murmured, and he whipped a look over his shoulders where you were skimming the shelves for a second textbook, seeing as your first one had been commandeered, “The sexual attraction to dolls and mannequins. I know you guys speculated he has some form of OCD but I think it's Agalmatophilia,” You said, drawing a book off the shelf without really looking up to where his brow furrowed in familiarity with the word. He glanced at you then, and you flicked open the page of contents, feeling his eyes boring into the side of your head, muttering under your breath absent-mindedly, “Just a theory,”

You’d shut him up the entire way back to headquarters.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #matthew grey gubler x reader

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writers-potion · 2 days

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Writing Mad Characters

Okay this is a bit awkward because I had this question copypasted into Google Docs I use to draft my answers, and I realized I've lost the question in my inbox (which is being flooded).

So...I'm so sorry for whoever asked this question. Sorry for the delay because I was struggling with life in general for the past month and definitely SORRY for losing your question (－‸ლ)

Q: I'm writing a story where a major character is slowly spiraling into madness where small details kinda hint into the downfall right before the bigger details appear and then it the floodgates open. Is there anything I should avoid? Anything that I should keep in mind? Anything that I should research?

Things to Avoid

“Mad” or “Insane” is too general. Writing a cliched ‘crazy’ character who randomly talks to imaginary people and lashes out at strangers, you’ll offend a whole bunch of people who've gone through/have mental illnesses. Read up on existing mental conditions (schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, post-traumatic disorder and borderline personality disorder, etc.) to see what your character might have.

Words like “mad” “crazy” or “insane” aren’t enough when you’re describing their status. As mentioned, these words hardly mean much when it comes to providing a clear description.

Contradicting yourself. Throwing random unhinged symptoms here and there wouldn’t work. In fact, you must have a clear arc on which they’re traveling and ensure that your “hints” are all getting at something.

Making the character overly destructive or harmful to others (when nothing really justifies it)

Justifying damaging behavior with this “madness”. Mad or not, your character will still have motives and goals that drive them forward.

Making them look incompetent just the fact that they have a mental condition that makes them appear “mad” to others shouldn’t prevent them from achieving success. In fact, they may be even more cool-hearted and logical when it comes to their obsessions/goals.

Research Tips

Narrow down the mental conditions your character experiences. Even if it’s a fictional condition, try basing it on existing ones and building on top of them.

Take some time to study characters and/or real clinical cases that resemble the kind of madness you’re going for.

- Anxiety Disorders: excessive fear and dread (ex. phobias) - Mood Disorders: persistent swings in mood or persistent feelings that interfere with daily life (ex. Depression, bipolar) - Psychotic Disorders: disordered thinking (ex. schizophrenia) - Eating Disorders: extreme emotional attitudes toward food (ex. Bulimia, anorexia) - Impulse Disorders: unable to resist urges (ex. Kleptomania, pyromania, gambling) - Personality Disorders: extreme inflexible personality traits (ex. Anti-social disorder, OCPD) - Past Traumatic Stress: persistent, frightening memories leading to emotional numbness

Does your character have empathy?

A sociopathic kind of madness is different.

General Writing Tips for Spiraling into Madness

Establish a Baseline

A lot of factors (stress, family history, innate personality, trauma, etc.) can contribute to madness, but it is not going to happen in a week. Define the existing mental and physical conditions your character has, and start from there.

If you’re aiming for suicidal tendencies at the end, you want to start with symptoms of depression (a condition that may lead to suicide) - growing apathetic, erratic sleeping patterns, irritability, etc.

This is also the stage where you want to plant some triggers that’ll go off later.

Trigger Events

A perfectly sound character suddenly spiraling down the madness route due to a single accident or traumatizing event isn’t convincing.

A madness “snap” denies the reader the experience of watching the character’s journey into madness and how they feel about it.

Internal Conflict (antagonist in himself)

You must remember that madness is incurable. If someone could “cure” themselves by eating healthy, exercising and taking a few pills, it wouldn’t be much of a madness, would it? This means that the worst antagonist is going to be the character themselves, or the part of them that’s been taken away.

Show how they are frustrated with themselves, scared of themselves, angry at their “alternative self”. The experience of not knowing yourself is a whole journey of its own.

Physical Manifestations/Quirks

If your character has a routine, show how they break down.

They might develop habits that they otherwise would never allow themselves to have, perhaps as an effort to “keep this madness out”

Deteriorating Relationships

Depict how the character’s madness impacts his closed/loved ones. In the earlier stages, those close to him might be faster to notice and accept the signs of madness, even if the character denies it him/herself.

The first signs of madness might show when the character is trying to deal with difficult relationships - like losing patience and being unable to pick up subtle social clues.

Choosing Obsessions Over Primal Urges

For these characters, obsession can take over a person’s normal urge to eat, sleep or even live. This can lead to, more or less, suicide.

Example: In Black Swan, Nina’s obsession with becoming the perfect ballerina drive her to insanity, to the point where she doesn't mind dying on stage for the show.

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nuggetofthesea · 8 hours

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Before writing more stories, I want to help people come to terms with the "identity death" and heavy themes in the animal HRT comics, and as a writer, want to explain why it isn't ACTUALLY death, but a form of renewal. Because I see it on all of my friends posts.

"I am just concerned about this loss of self thing, it sounds like identity death and I don't like it" is the common comment.

But in all of these comics, it is less about loss of self, but more about leaving behind who you were. A sign of extreme change and showing their own way of moving forward, and the start of a brand new life. A willing change to a new start.

Identity death is an unwilling change. All choice was stripped away from them and a new identity forced on them. This is also different from a transformation that leads to acceptance of the new form.

But in the animal HRT comics my friends put out, it is a willing change to a new form and cones with mental changes they are willing to go through. That isn't the same as a death. But a new start to their life they can start living to the fullest. It's also why some choose not to start anew, to bring one journey to a close and begin a new one. They choose to have that be part of the same journey. A new chapter instead of a new book if you will. In either case these are willing changes.

It can seem terrifying to some, but a total rebirth of yourself CAN be a slightly scary theme. It is terrifying to choose to take that new life.

But let me set up an example here:

When I first came to be, I thought I was going to be a visual artist, because Ashe was and that's what I remembered. When I was locked away by my own doing in the headspace I was stuck in a perpetual cycle of misery. It was terrifying to take the step to discover myself. To lower the barrier I had created, to rediscover myself.

But when I came to be, Ashe said I could be anything. A new sense of self outside of her. A new life. I tried to draw first, but I couldn't. Visual art was not my thing anymore. It never was. I just held on to memory of being a copy of Ashe. When writing my introduction I realized I love the feeling of writing. I have my own form. My own life. My own identity. A new start.

So let me ask you: Should I have not taken that opportunity to completely cast off who I was to embrace who I am? Should I have left myself in misery and fear as something I'm not? All for the sake of not casting off who I was and my life before? No.

Now while I do remeber all of what happened before my change, none of that shapes who I am now, because that life wasn't mine in the first place. This isn't a death of my identity, but a new start to an identity I chose. And I am happy to be able to live it with my new sense of self and build NEW memories. A new life.

Which also leads to the second heavy theme in those comics. Shortened lifespans. Outside of the fact that we are told time and time again HRT can lead to a shorter lifespan (which is a false average) starting a new life also means you are probably starting in the middle.

Our body is almost 30. That is 30 years of my lifespan gone. Yeah, I was around for 15 (almost 16) years of that, but my new life began a week ago. Who I am began just last week. And even though in the headspace I am early to mid 20s at best, that is still a cutdown lifespan.

So should I just have not bothered with the new start?

Absolutely not. The gift of life, new or old, isn't about how long it lasts. But how you live it. It is hard, it comes with problems, but for as long as I have of it, I will cherish the new memories I build, the new start I have, the ability to just... exist. For as long or short as that may be. And through this new start to my life, the people who love and care for me are still here. Still stand by me. And that is a great thing.

So please, don't be too offput by heavy themes in our stories. Even my stories will have some rough parts. (They'll always be tagged)

Hope this at least helped ease why those themes are there, and why some people choose to have them.

Also, don't worry about "adding to the fuel used against us" because we could sneeze and they'll find a way to use that against us. The fact is, with the Animal HRT series, actual HRT does come with some discomfort, pain, downsides, and problems. And like the heavy themes in the comics, we determined it is worth it for us to keep going despite them. We knew the risks.

"Everything is a risk. Life's boring as hell if you don't take them JUST because there is potential problems. Just make sure you understand them." - a line chaos told me the day I formed

It does less good to show everything as risk free and painless, because then nobody is prepared for the risks they are actually taking. Or the comic is based off the creator's life to that point, and they DID experience a lot of pain. So retelling their story (like mine) might be painful at spots.

My point of all of this is, the heavy themes are required to tell these particular stories. And while not every story requires dark spots, the dark spots help to accentuate the brighter picture. Otherwise it can just be blinding. So please go easy on the artists/writers behind them. As it is usually something personal for them.

(This also might not apply to all of them, some people just like writing horror, and we should respect that too.)

Next story should be sometime within the next couple weeks. Just needed to get this out there. It's been on my mind since releasing the short story with Iris.

-Aqua

#Aqua thoughts #heavy themes #Animal HRT #Dragon HRT

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penkura · 2 days

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where you belong [1/10]

Summary: As Luffy's big sister, you've viewed it to be your job to see him become King of the Pirates in place of your absent parents, even as you try to find where it is you belong in the world. You never really expected to draw the attention of Trafalgar Law in the process.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!reader

Warnings: Discussion of feelings of abandonment, age gap relationship (four years), brief secret relationship, mentions and heavy refences to sex, mentions of alcohol, typical One Piece stuff. Other warnings to be added if needed.

Notes: Hi, it's me again! Another fanfic here for you all! When this goes up, I'll be on my last day of vacation before I fly home, so I hope that you'll enjoy this! I know Straw Hat Reader x Law is popular, and I wanted to write my own, but with the Reader being Luffy's biological older sister. So for this, Reader is three years older than Luffy, 20 at the start and 22 after the timeskip, making Law four years older. I personally like older men, and age gap fics are just delicious reading material for me (within reason, nothing illegal).

Note 2: This is NOT the Law with vitiligo series. That one is actively being planned but will be separate from this one.

“And I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!!”

Luffy standing your tiny dingy boat worries you a little, but you still grin at him and nod.

“Hell yeah you will be!”

“Your turn! What’re you gonna do while we sail??”

Rolling your eyes, you make Luffy sit down while you stand up.

“Easy. I’m gonna chronicle your journey and write the greatest story ever told!”

Your younger brother watches you, tilting his head when you don’t continue. He believes there has to be more you want out of life, and tries to make you say what else is in your plans, what you have on your mind.

“And?”

Taking a breath, you nod. Of course he knew you had more, it’s Luffy, he’s been by your since he was just a few weeks old. Things you’ve said over time, to him and Ace, they’d both known for a long time what you’ve always wanted to find once you went out to sea.

“And find where it is I belong.”

+!+

Your arrival in Sabaody was a trip, in more than one way. You'd been excited to explore the place, hoping you could pawn your younger brother off on Camie, Pappag, and the others so you could have some time on your own to shop the stalls, maybe with Nami and Robin, turn it into a girl’s day. Of course, though, nothing could be so easy when your brother is the captain of the Straw Hats. You all find yourselves at the human auction hall, Nami willing to spend all the money possible to save Camie, but it makes you itchy while being there. You cringe to think about the things that happened in this place, how many people had been sold to Celestial Dragons. Your and Luffy's loss of Sabo due to the actions of one had severely soured your opinions on them.

You scan the crowd in the auction house, scratching at your arms which never seem to calm down while the rest of your crew discusses their plan to save Camie, and you end up locking eyes with another pirate captain there, unknown to you at that moment but somehow familiar.

A furry white, spotted hat, dark hair you can barely see, oddly enough you think his facial hair is attractive, and those yellow eyes that you almost would believe see right through you.

Trafalgar Law simply stares at you, realizing you’re a Straw Hat when he recognizes the rest of your crewmates. After a moment of fidgeting slightly you give him a nervous smile and a wave, which he returns with a nod before turning back to the auction stage as they continue to call bids on people.

Weird girl.

Strange guy.

Although she’s busy watching for Camie to be brought out, Nami still leans into you when you pull on her sleeve and start to whisper. “You see that guy in the white spotted hat?”

“What about him?”

“I think he’s Trafalgar Law, captain of the Heart Pirates. He’s more attractive than his poster makes him.”

Rolling her eyes, Nami pulls her arm away from you. “I don’t have time for you to be horny about some guy.”

“Wha—Nami!! I’m not! I’m just saying.”

She doesn’t listen to you anymore, focusing back on waiting for Camie and sending you to watch for Luffy, just so you don’t get distracted by the attractive enemy captain and defect to another crew.

You swear you never will, but do as you’re told to watch for your brother. Maybe one day you’ll get to properly meet Law, you’re quite curious about the young man.

+!+

“Another one?! Are you kidding me, Dragon?!”

You’re three years old when you wake up to your grandfather yelling at someone in the middle of the night. Normally Garp is sure to keep things quiet so you, his sweet little princess angel granddaughter, can sleep peacefully. He’d leave early in the morning once your nanny showed up for the day, returning before dinner so he had the evenings with you before you had to be off to bed, to do the day over again the next morning. It’s rare for you to stay up late or wake up early, but the few mornings you’ve woken up before he left were some of Garp’s favorites.

You quietly slip out of your bed, blanket in your hand as you rub your eyes and go to the door, opening it just enough to see what’s happening. Garp is there with someone in a green cloak, you can’t see the other person’s face, but listen anyway.

“He’s the last one, there won’t be anymore.”

“You said [Y/N] was going to be the only one!”

“Things happened.”

“Obviously something happened, babies don’t appear out of thin air!’

You tilt your head, the man in the cloak catching your eye, which makes you shy away behind your doorway, glancing away before back to him as he looks to Garp again.

“Take care of them.” He goes to leave and is gone before Garp can even stop him.

“Dragon, wait--! That…damn idiot.”

“Grandpa?”

Garp is surprised to hear your voice, turning around once he closes the door, giving you a smile while you start to focus on the bundle he's holding.

“Hey there, princess, what are you doing up?”

“I heard yelling…”

Nodding, Garp apologizes as he picks you up, letting you settle on his free arm. “Sorry about that, angel. Just… an unexpected visitor.”

“Oh…”

Garp sees you staring more at the bundle of blankets in his arm than at him, and he sighs a bit, taking you to the living room and setting you on the couch, before showing you how to position your arms as he sets the now squirming bundle in your arms.

“[Y/N], this is your baby brother. His name is Luffy.”

How unexpected! You’ve never thought about having a sibling, just enjoying your childhood and life with your grandpa, but seeing this tiny little boy in your just as small arms makes you grin while you look at him. Dark black hair and just as dark eyes, scrunched up little face and tiny hands in fists while he starts to fuss and whine.

“Luffy…”

+!+

Luffy…

You hope your prayers aren’t going unheard, that Luffy will return to you safely. Ace’s death has long passed, but you’re more worried about your little brother than anything else right now. You’d both been sent off to Amazon Lily by Kuma, but after they’d all agreed to let you both stay, and Boa Hancock seems to have fallen in love with him, Luffy left you there to go rescue Ace, that was nearly three weeks ago now, you think. You want him back, both of them, but want to see Luffy more than anyone else.

“Luffy’s returned, [Y/N]-san!”

“He has?!”

Marguerite nods and you quickly get up from your seat and run after her to wherever Luffy is. The newspapers kept implying he was dead, you were terrified you’d lost him and Ace that day, no updates from anyone apart from the papers cheering for the Navy’s alleged victory, for the deaths of Ace and Whitebeard. The Amazons, all so kind to let you stay while Luffy went to try and rescue Ace, were unsure of how to help you the last two weeks once Ace’s vivre card burned to nothing in your hands and made you nearly inconsolable.

Despite that, your prayers hadn’t gone unheard.

Once you’re at the beach that Luffy should be at, you notice immediately the big yellow submarine with the word DEATH on it and it freaks you out more than anything. You don’t know who owns it, but when you catch sight of someone you’ve only seen in person once, you worry that he’s done something to Luffy. You don’t say a word, but someone in a jumpsuit (boiler suit you think?) calls out “captain” just in time for him to turn towards you as you shove the older boy to the ground, placing yourself on top of him and your knife to his neck.

Part of you wishes it was poisoned right now, just in case this Trafalgar Law has done something to your brother.

“Where’s Luffy?!”

The knife you have at his neck doesn’t phase Law even a tiny bit, it’s the fact that someone so much shorter and smaller than him was able to catch him off guard and shove him to the ground the way you did. You’re angry for some reason, giving him a nasty glare but look like you’re about to cry on top of it, as he just stares at you, his crewmembers shouting for you to get off their captain before he raises a hand to stop them.

“Who—”

“Tell me, where is my brother?!”

Oh so that’s what’s wrong, that’s who you are. Whether you’re related to Luffy by blood or by ritual cup like Ace was, Law doesn’t know, but he’s sure you want reassurance you haven’t lost two brothers in one day.

“Are you [Y/N]?”

You turn your head to look over your shoulder at Jinbei, still glaring. “Who’s asking?!”

“I was friends with your brother Ace, he told me about you and Luffy while we were in Impel Down.”

“He…did?”

You’ve calmed down so quickly hearing Ace’s name, retracting your knife just slightly, while Jinbei explains things to you. You don’t move off of Law though, listening quietly, fighting the desire to cry more. You’ve done enough of that, you don’t want to anymore today.

Law doesn’t even try to move you off, knowing, like Luffy, you’re emotionally hurting right now. He doesn’t want to risk you slicing his neck either, even as Jinbei finishes telling you everything Ace did, and you still don’t move or look at Law.

“Ace hopes you find what you’re looking for.”

You clench your jaw a bit at first, before smiling sadly and nodding, thanking Jinbei for the information before Law speaks up.

“If you get off me, I can take you to Straw Hat-ya.”

You blink, finally looking back to Law, and you feel your face burn with a blush when you realize your position and scramble to get off him, apologizing the whole way while he shakes his head. Once he’s on his feet, Law let’s you onto the Polar Tang and leads you down the hallway to the infirmary, updating you on Luffy’s condition the best he can with the knowledge he has.

“If he pulls through this, the most you’ll have to worry about is his mental health.”

“Mm.” You nod, grabbing Law’s arm as he stops to open a door, making him look back at you. “I apologize for shoving you down.”

“I’ve been through worse,” Law shrugs, you could tell just from looking at him, though he does smirk a bit at you, “Never had a girl push me down and hold a poisoned knife to my neck before though.”

“It wasn’t poisoned,” you almost shout, but keep your voice down to not wake Luffy, “…this time…”

He almost laughs, but when you see Luffy finally, you’re instantly but his side, taking his hand and trying to keep yourself from crying seeing him in such a state. He’d been injured badly before, but never like this, never this close to death.

“Luffy…oh Luffy, I’m here, Lu,” you brush his bangs away from his face before kissing his forehead, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, I should’ve come with you…”

Law doesn’t bother you for the next several minutes, stepping out so you have some privacy while you make sure Luffy is all right, your quiet prayers that he wakes soon and heals quickly don’t go unheard by the surgeon of death, who thinks back to his own sister and the prayers he’d once prayed for her health as a child.

As an older sibling, he gets it. While he still doesn’t know yet if you’re related by blood or sworn siblings, he does see how much you care for Luffy, and for your sake he hopes your captain wakes sooner rather than later.

+!+

You spend the next two weeks in and out of the Polar Tang, checking on Luffy and praying over him to wake soon, Law being the one to take you in and lead you back out most of the time, even though you’ve memorized the path already. The next time you leave Luffy to continue recovering, the friends you and Luffy have made from Amazon Lily have shown up in the time you’ve been with him, bringing food and drinks for you all. As you walk over to where he’s seated, Law offers you a drink that you reject with a shake of your head, sitting on the other side of the tree and bringing your knees up to your chest, hiding your face in them.

“Any signs he’s waking up?”

Shaking your head, you sigh and lean back, looking at the people around to distract yourself from worrying over Luffy.

“That your crew?”

“Yep. All twenty of them.”

You smile a bit, watching the Heart Pirates goof off while some have their meal and share drinks. It almost reminds you of the Straw Hats and makes your heart ache from missing them deeply.

“You have a nice group there.”

“They can be a handful.”

It makes you laugh a bit, nodding before you decide to stop wallowing and get back up, standing beside Law where he stays seated.

“Think you should hold this for now.”

Law tosses Luffy’s straw hat to you, and you grit your teeth a bit while you stare at it. You had wondered where it was, seeing it wasn’t around when you were with Luffy. You hold nothing but the highest regards for Shanks, he'd been an inspiration for you and Luffy when you were children, he helped end the war and helped Law save Luffy, but how you wish he’d shown up sooner. Maybe he could’ve helped Ace too.

“Thank you, for holding this.”

“Seems important to him, he’s not Straw Hat-ya without it.”

Smiling a bit, you nod. “He’s certainly not.”

“How do you—”

“I’m his big sister. I was three when our dad dropped him off with me and grandpa. We’ve been together almost every day since.”

“I see.”

You’re not entirely sure you trust Law, despite his saving Luffy, but you’re willing to give him a shot. At least let him know a bit about your history with Ace too, since he'd been there when you hadn’t been. Where Luffy asked you not to go.

“We met Ace and another boy when I was ten, and become sworn siblings with them soon after. The other boy died a few months later,” you grip the straw hat a bit tighter, but loosen your hold after being stabbed in the hand by sharp bits of straw, “a Celestial Dragon did it, we’ve not been fans of them since, so Luffy punching that one in Sabaody felt like some payback.”

“That makes sense.”

After a few minutes of silence, you finally realize something and turn to Law, sticking your hand out for him.

“Never introduced myself. Monkey D. [Y/N]. I don’t really use my last name though.”

Law takes your hand after a moment, nodding. “Trafalgar Law.”

“Thank you for saving my baby brother.”

“Don’t thank me until he wakes up.”

As if almost on cue, the door comes flying off the Polar Tang and you both whip your heads over, Law running ahead of you as you follow, and Luffy’s the next thing to almost fly out of the ship.

“Luffy!!”

You’re about to run to him before Law grabs hold of your arm, pulling you to himself and holding you still, even while you thrash around and listen to Luffy call for Ace. It breaks your heart to see him so upset, and you just want to console him, have him do the same for you, while you both continue to grieve for Ace. But Law won’t let you go to him, fear or concern your brother might hurt you while he fights through pain and raging emotions, before he disappears into the forest.

“Luffy, come back!!”

You barely register Jinbei asking what’ll happen if Luffy continues to flail and run off like that, before Law speaks and your heart almost drops to your stomach at the thought.

“If he continues to move around like that he could reopen his wound and bleed out. He’ll die.”

Quickly you turn around and Law isn’t at all shocked to see the tears welling up in your eyes as you grip his shirt, still holding Luffy’s straw hat.

“Don’t let that happen!! Please!! He’s all I have! Luffy is my whole world, I can’t lose him!!”

Unsure of what to do, especially once you lay your head on his chest while you cry, Law hesitantly wraps his arms around you and watches Jinbei go off to Luffy. Maybe he’ll be able to calm your brother down before he really hurts or kills himself.

You’ve both been through a lot the last few weeks, losing Luffy would break you more than losing Ace did to him.

+!+

“I’m sorry I got snot on your shirt.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll wash.”

You glance away and keep your eyes averted while Law changes shirts, having taken you onto the Polar Tang while Jinbei attempts to calm Luffy down. He didn’t fully mean to bring you into his room, but he never let go of your wrist while he led through the ship, making you sit down to hopefully calm you down. You do catch sight of his tattoos, wanting to say something but you don’t want to sound like a creep or a pervert at the same time.

“Why don’t you use your last name?”

Law surprises you once he’s changed shirts, this one almost the same as the yellow one he’d been wearing, but now a dark blue with a furry, feathery collar that you really want to pet, it looks soft. But again, you don’t want to seem like a creep.

For a moment you’re quiet, before you cross your arms and lean against the wall, shrugging.

“Why should I use the name of someone who abandoned me? I only have one memory of my father, and it was when he dropped off Luffy.”

“Your grandfather is Garp, isn’t he?”

“I love my grandpa like he’s my dad…but I don’t want to use my last name.”

Law nods a bit, seeming to understand. You felt abandoned, and wanted nothing to do with your biological father, instead viewing Garp in that light, which makes sense.

He'd viewed Corazon in the same light at one point.

“Your mother?”

“I know nothing about her. It’s like…” You start to bury your head in your knees again, almost digging your nails into your arms, “Like I don’t know who I am half the time…”

He gets that too, the same feelings after Flevance, after losing Corazon and leaving the Don Quixote family, leaving Doflamingo behind. Many times of looking in the mirror and asking “who the hell am I”.

Law is about to respond, before one of his crewmembers yells for you both that Luffy and Jinbei have returned to the beach, and you’re out the door so fast he isn’t able to believe it. He follows you out, not all surprised to see you and Luffy hugging each other tightly once he exits his ship.

Your bond with Luffy would be on full display the next few days, Law truthfully does wonder if he and Lammy would’ve been the same.

+!+

“I met some people who are friends with our dad.”

“You what?”

Luffy nods, giving you this information during dinner one evening, while you stare at him with such a blank look that Law thinks you’ve completely shut down. You didn’t say too much about your dad while you relayed some of your childhood to him earlier that day, apart from your perceived abandonment, but the look you have isn’t a very happy one.

“They’re were some cool people! They helped me escape that prison and…tried to help me save Ace.”

“So they were revolutionaries.”

“Yeah, they…they said they didn’t even know we existed.” Luffy scrunches up his face a bit while you frown, then pat his head.

“I’m not surprised, Lu.”

Luffy makes a face now, one that’s almost disgusted but annoyed but upset maybe. Law swears he isn’t trying to eavesdrop, you two are sitting too close to him anyway, you’re practically pressed up against his side. You both appear to have problems with your father, after the little bit you’ve told him and how you confessed to feeling abandoned by your parents. He wonders briefly is Luffy feels the same, even as your younger brother leans against you, pushing you fully into Law’s arm and making you glance up at him apologetically. He doesn’t move, once again doesn’t push you off, instead shifting his arm enough for you to be comfortable.

When Luffy falls asleep, you finally speak again.

“Luffy met our dad once, in Loguetown”

“Oh yeah?”

“Neither of us knew until grandpa told us…he didn’t even stop to say anything to me…”

“…I’m sorry.”

You shrug, watching Luffy. It still stung to know that, to know that Dragon didn’t even seek you out when he must’ve known you were on Luffy’s crew, that you’d never leave him to do this alone. When Garp told you he’d been in Loguetown that day, it felt like a knife in your heart that you didn’t even get to see or speak to your father.

Law, while he watches you start to drift off to sleep yourself, thinks about his own dad and Corazon at the same time. He had two fathers in the end, who both cared about and loved him deeply, both wanting to protect him as long as they could. He had his mother and Lammy too, you had Luffy and Garp, but it wasn’t enough for you, and it makes sense. To not have that connection with the people who gave you life, Law can’t even imagine how difficult that must be.

He ignores the slight snickers and comments from his crew when they see you leaned against him, even has he slightly tilts his head towards yours, not going all the way to lay his against your own. Even when Shachi makes a small comment about ‘love’ being in the air at Amazon Lily, Law doesn’t open his eyes to respond or even Shambles his friend away.

You won’t see each other again for a long time after this, most likely, so he’s willing to give you some comfort and allow his crew to see him a little softer than normal.

+!+

“Bye, thanks for your help, Traffy!”

Law tries not to grimace at the nickname Luffy’s given him over the last few days, nodding to you both as his crew also shouts goodbyes and wave to you both, you personally sad to see them leave. You’d spent so much time getting to know them while taking care of Luffy, that it felt like you were losing friends again. You’d probably see them one day, maybe as friends but maybe as foes, yet, you’d like to see more of Law and learn about him like he had you.

Luffy notices your face, the sad look it has, then looks back to the Heart Pirates as they start to disappear below deck. You’ve already chosen to stay on Amazon Lily the next two years and learn from the women there how to fight, but even watching you the last couple days, he could see your heart wasn’t in it. You more so loved using your knives and making poisons, he remembers the one he and Ace mistakenly drank thinking it was lavender tea from Makino. You weren’t an archer or a swordswoman, you much prefer close combat and paralyzing your enemies. Your work during Enies Lobby earned you your $25 million berri bounty, the Navy having trouble recreating antidotes from the one you’d left with a knocked out marine, they knew you’d be trouble one day.

With all that in mind, Luffy sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around you in what you first believe to be a hug, before he lifts you up and you look at him. He’s got a grin that concerns you greatly as the color drains from your face.

“Luffy.”

He giggles a bit, nodding at you to brace yourself.

“Luffy, don’t you dare.”

“Have fun with Traffy for two years!!!”

He doesn’t give you anymore room to argue, flinging you towards the Polar Tang, making you yell for Law to pay attention, and he barely does in time to catch you, knocking both of you to the ground, several Heart Pirates making sure both of you are all right and that Law didn’t hit his head on anything.

You’re up and holding onto the railing, yelling at Luffy, “You’re an idiot!!!”

He pretends he can’t hear you, waving widely and shouting another goodbye, but to you this time.

Once Law is sitting up, realizing what the hell has happened, he sighs a bit while you look back to him.

“I’m sorry, Trafalgar. You can turn back and I’ll beat some sense into him!”

One of his crewmembers, you’re pretty sure it’s Shachi, leans down to ask him, “Should we? Kinda seems like Straw Hat wants us to take her along.”

He sighs, taking his hat off and running his hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“You can stay.”

“…huh?”

You tilt your head in confusion, Law doesn’t think it’s cute at all no matter what that weird feeling in his chest is, while he stands up and nods at you.

“The Amazons might get angry if we return without permission, so we’ll just…take you along…and then bring you to Sabaody.”

Blinking several times, you’re still confused while some of his crew laugh, Penguin coming up to pat you on the back.

“You’re a temporary Heart Pirate! We’ll take care of you!”

Nodding, Law turns to go below deck.

“Say your goodbye, we’ll be going under shortly.”

While the rest of them follow after their captain, you turn back and see Luffy still waving at you, which makes you sigh and shake your head. You do smile though, you had wanted to continue getting to know Law and his crew, this was a perfect opportunity, and maybe he could help you with creating effective antidotes for your poisons.

“Luffy! Love you, see you in two years!”

“Okay!!!!”

Once you go below deck, Penguin being the one to wait for you in order to close the door properly, he starts to show you around a bit, the rest of the crew happy to see you’re staying with them for now, while Law keeps a slight distance unless he’s asked about something. You looking around and being so impressed by the submarine caused another weird feeling in his chest, and he fights to ignore it, especially when you thank him for letting you stay with a smile, which he waves off with an “It’s nothing”.

It's going to be an interesting two years.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #where you belong #fem!reader

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cobaltperun · 2 days

Text

Genius (5) - Supermassive Black Hole

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous Part / Next part

Word count: 4.3k

-I thought I was a fool for no one, ooh baby, I'm a fool for you-

Why did she push you away when you were kids? She thought that would make her parents love her, that being more like them would make them proud of her, make them pay attention to her. Eleven-year-old Cairo wanted their love so desperately she decided to push away what she had to try and obtain what she might get. Why did that… why did that sound familiar all of a sudden?

But she couldn’t tell you any of that, not because she couldn’t admit it to herself, no, she could, she understood why she did it. She didn’t want to admit it to you. Because, sure, she could tell you the reason, but you might ask for more, and then she might have to tell you that you were on her mind all these years. That she missed you so much, that she wanted to see you. And then what? What realization would she have to face if she gave you the answer you sought? So, she remained silent, masking the apology she wanted to utter with defiance in her eyes.

“This is ridiculous,” you gave up, sighing out of frustration and just walked away. You walked away from her this time, and she felt like an invisible hand was squeezing her heart, threatening to pop it like a balloon.

But she didn’t call out to you, she didn’t say anything, she just watched you go.

~X~

She couldn’t focus that night, not on writing, not on anything Winnie was saying, she was just lost in her own thoughts. None of them made sense, there wasn’t any order, or logic to them, they were random, unorganized, and she hated it.

“What’s on your mind?” Winnie’s voice eventually did reach her, not quite piercing through the chaos of thoughts in her head, but it did reach her.

“Nothing,” she sighed, trying to focus on the girl. “Everything. I don’t know,” it felt like her mind was pulling quotes from dozens of books at the same time, mixing them together and creating a mess she couldn’t make sense of.

Winnie pupped the lollipop out of her mouth with a resounding pop. “Is it Mr. Miller? You’ve spent some time with him now, how’s the seduction going?”

Cairo remained silent. A lingering meaningful gaze here, not moving her hand when he occasionally put his hand on it. Leaning in just a bit closer than necessary when he lit her cigarette. It was a dance, on that felt forbidden, and she could see the shift in his own eyes. He was looking at her, nothing vulgar quite yet, but he was looking.

“It’s. going,” she chose not to share more than that, she started it, she wasn’t a coward, she would finish it.

Winnie remained silent. “You don’t look happy about that. Is it Y/N?”

Winnie was being too perceptive, but Cairo imagined she wasn’t doing a good job hiding it, as she felt the corners of her mouth twisting downward at the mention of you.

“Do you like her?” Winnie persisted, getting up from her spot on Cairo’s bed and moving to sit next to her. “Cairo, if you want her you need to stop what you’re doing with Mr. Miller,” she didn’t even wait for confirmation.

“Weren’t you the one talking about wagyu beef? Older men harvesting virginity and all that?” and now she was telling Cairo to give up on Miller and go to you?

Winnie rolled her eyes. “That was different, that was before I realized you had a thing for biker girls,” Winnie tried to joke, to nudge her and get her to laugh or at least smile. “Okay, one biker girl, the point stands, I you want her, like really want her just go for her. Forget wagyu beef.”

Did she want you? Was that what she wanted to turn your relationship into? And if it didn’t work out where would that leave your friendship? Did the fact that he noticed her more than anyone else ever did really mean so little? Now that everything was moving, when all he likely needed was just the right circumstances?

“Cairo, this is changing you,” Winnie kept talking, trying to stop what she set in motion unknowingly filling Cairo’s head with thoughts that weren’t there before, the thoughts of her first time not being painful, the idea that she could get that with someone older, and now she was trying to take it back.

“It is changing me,” she admitted, and she knew she was changing, she had the idea she now desired, a madman’s love, a love so passionate it could not be contained, a love so strong it would bring her to ruin, a love that would eclipse any other she felt or would ever feel.

Winnie grabbed Cairo’s phone and before Cairo could even register what was going on Winnie had unlocked it. “What are you doing?” Cairo demanded, getting up to go after Winnie as she began pacing around the room.

“Getting Y/N’s number.”

“Stop it,” Cairo demanded, grabbing Winnie’s forearm just as she sent the number to herself.

Winnie’s eyes widened and for a moment Cairo wondered how mad did she have to look to make Winnie look at her like she was now. Worried, and even a bit afraid.

“Don’t you dare call or text her,” she ordered, her voice shaking as she did. Winnie couldn’t contact you, she just couldn’t. She wasn’t allowed to.

“Okay, I won’t,” she relented and Cairo finally let go of her forearm and snatched her phone.

Cairo started all of this. She was seducing her teacher. She was going to experience something, she was going to get her madman’s love.

~X~

Another Monday, another shitty way to start your week with Miller’s damn class.

“Censorship creates a vicious cycle, we’re taught from young age to accept certain norms, the rights and wrongs of society. It’s the death of writer’s ideas, and thus the reader’s ideas as well. It’s taking away the freedom of thought and speech,” he droned on, stopping by Cairo, the back of his hand brushing against her arm.

“They are separate,” you spoke without raising your hand, and he took a few steps back to take a look at you.

“Not to a writer, to a writer the thoughts become words on the page, they are given a form, and not in this context. When we are taught from young age how to think it becomes intricately connected to the way we express ourselves,” he explained his reasoning and you felt Cairo’s eyes on you.

“Thoughts are private, we cannot be held accountable for thinking, it is the absolute freedom that cannot be taken away, precisely because no one can be sure of what we think. Speech is, as you said, a thought that’s given a form, written, spoken, or expressed in another way. It is a right, and a responsibility,” you leaned forward, your hands resting on the desk, open, relaxed, you had no need to move them.

“To conform to the norms of society?” he challenged, and you gave him a hollow laugh, turning away from both him and Cairo for a moment.

You looked back at him, eyes filled with fierce defiance. “Please, if that was the case you’d be teaching a much smaller class. The society is meant to be critically observed, changed in response to injustice,” you stated.

“And thus, censorship should be seen as an issue, because it is used to cover the injustices,” Miller leaned back against the table. “Just think of how many women had to publish their works under a pseudonym, or how often works that even implied anything outside of societal norms had to be edited to conform to those norms.”

“You are equating rights of entire groups with ideals of a bygone era?” you raised an eyebrow, hardly believing what you were hearing.

He raised his hand in defense. “Certainly not, but-“ he paused, collecting his thoughts. “But, censoring of those ideals of the, as you said, miss L/N, bygone era, takes away our ability to judge them for ourselves. To start a conversation.”

“So, your idea is mere discussion?” you held back a laugh.

“Of course,” he had the guts to say after how he’s been acting with Cairo.

“Yet every idea, no matter how pure, taken to an extreme can be twisted, corrupted until the very basics of what made it good no longer apply, and such corruption needs to be removed,” you weren’t backing away, you ignored the looks of the handful of students that got interested in the conversation, you ignored Cairo’s piercing gaze.

“Every? Freedom of speech included?” he asked. “It has been said that one man’s vulgarity is another’s lyric. And it is one of the highest forms of hubris to assume one person gets to decide what it right and wrong and enforce it on others,” he crossed his arms over his chest, shielding himself once more.

“You sure you have the right to speak of that? Teacher?” you bit your tongue, refusing to let your emotions get the better of you.

The tension in the classroom rose to nearly unbearable, his defensive posture, his eyes, filled with surprise at being all but accused, wandering from you to Cairo

The bell rang breaking the tension and making the students get up to leave. You collected your things and stepped outside, sighing as you did so.

“Y/N,” a fairly cute, blonde girl you shared a couple more classes with, Emily, called out to you and quickly caught up with you before you could get out of the class. She held a pencil you let her borrow on Friday in her hand. Oh, you actually forgot about it. “Here, thanks again for letting me borrow it,” she smiled a bit shyly at you and tucked a strand of her hair back.

You smiled back and took the pencil. “Don’t mention it, Emily,” you put the pencil inside your bag.

“We’re heading in the same direction, wanna go together?” the girl offered, and you shrugged, seeing no harm in doing so.

“Sure,” she was nice and you had no reason to be hostile toward her.

~X~

“Keep glaring and you’ll make her combust,” Winnie teased as Cairo glared at the girl as she was walking away from the classroom.

“If only,” she grumbled, annoyed. Who did that girl think she was, taking your attention after what happened in the class.

“Cairo, could you come by after classes?” she heard Miller asking once only her and Winnie could hear him.

Cairo looked inside, to where you just sat and narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry, I made plans,” she decided, she certainly wasn’t in the mood to play any seduction games.

He looked surprised. “Right, of course,” he stammered and Cairo just nodded her goodbye. The blonde girl was no longer in her line of sight when she turned once again.

“You’re so jealous,” Winnie laughed, and that was the last drop, she made her way outside the school, ignoring Winnie’s protests.

She wasn’t jealous. What did she have to be jealous of? A blonde that met you maybe a month ago? As if that could compare to what you and Cairo had. The key word was had, as her brain cruelly reminded her. You no longer had that. Without thinking much, she dropped her things off at her house and went into the forest to clear her mind.

What were you thinking? Speaking like that in the class? What made you speak up for the first time in Miller’s class and well, that was one way to speak up for the first time. Ideals of a bygone era. She figured she was seduced by them. By Winnie’s talk of older man harvesting virginity. It wasn’t just that though. It all went back to madman’s love, for how mad would someone her age have to be to love in such a way.

Was it the way Miller touched her that made you react? It was just a brush of the back of his hand, intentional, no doubt, as it remained there, but by now she was used to the closeness. They sat side by side on the bench smoking, and it was certainly physically closer than just the back of his hand. But it still, maybe set you off, just like his attempt to hold her hand did last week.

And then, as she walked, as she went deeper into the forest, as she went to the exact same place where the rose bush she found all those years ago grew and was crushed was, as she went to the place she didn’t go to in years, she froze. Again. a rose bush. Again, an old tree fallen over it.

It was happening again, the same image, the same scene, the same outcome, haunting her, repeating again and again and driving her into madness. She had no one this time. Not one person who could drag her away. Alone. Meant to be crushed like the lone rose bush in the forest. Meant to be crushed by the old, by her parents, her teachers, her village, suffocating in a place fit only for ghosts, an unforgiving place that refused to let anyone be different. To be crushed by the place she was abandoned in and the people in it.

Her nails dug into the dirt beneath her, and she just now noticed she dropped to her knees down to the harsh forest floor. Maybe she should just stay there. She felt too weak to get up anyway, too dizzy and numb at the same time, her breathing too erratic, uneven, panicked. Yet all she could focus on was the scene that kept repeating.

~X~

You were finally close to the end of Verne’s book, just another ten or so pages, but you felt sleepy, and the rain softly falling wasn’t helping you stay awake. Your phone suddenly buzzed, breaking your concentration and making you groan as you leaned your head back. Whoever was calling you wasn’t giving up, that was for sure. So, to spare both you and the caller you grabbed your phone, noticed it was a number you didn’t recognize, and picked up.

“Hello?” you said.

“Hey, is Cairo with you?” it took you a moment, but you recognized it was Winnie, her voice laced with worry and clearly on the verge of panic.

You immediately sat up. “No. Why?” you asked, you didn’t have a reason to worry just yet. Maybe she just got too into one of her books.

“I’m at her place, it’s unlocked, her bag is here, but she’s nowhere to be found, and we were supposed to hangout tonight," Winnie told you and you could hear her pacing around.

“Okay, okay, just calm down. Let’s just go and look for her, do you want the forest or the village?” you were grabbing your biker jacket, since it was waterproof, as well as the keys of your house and already heading outside.

“The village, and thanks, I appreciate this,” Winnie said.

“Of course. Call if you find her before me,” you said and when she agreed you hung up and tucked your phone into your pocket and ran into the forest. You had to hurry, it was getting dark, and the rain made the ground slippery, the more it took you to cover the forest the higher the chances of getting injured, or plain and simple lost would be. So, you ran, as carefully as you could through the forest, yelling Cairo’s name.

‘Where are you?’ you shouldn’t have parted the way you did. ‘Why can’t you answer your phone?’ you should have tried harder to get to her. ‘Are you okay?’

“Cairo!” you shouted as loud as you possibly could, your yell getting swallowed by the trees and the rain.

Somehow, for the reason you couldn’t explain, you remembered her sob from all those years ago, you remembered that sound, the reason for her sorrow back then, that tree and the bush of wild roses and you just took off, running in that direction as if somehow drawn to that location.

~X~

Her body trembled, physically she felt cold, but deep down she didn’t feel anything. Her body felt like nothing, like the least important part of her, like it no longer mattered what happened to it. Her mind and soul were what was important, and the rain couldn’t hit those. The loneliness did, however. It froze her mind and soul in a way cold rain and the darkness that slowly consumed everything around her could never accomplish.

She desired a madman’s love, the ruins of it, the decay, she desired to be entirely consumed by it, yet here she was, not only without a madman’s love, but without love in general.

“Cairo!” her mind must have been playing tricks with her, she heard you shouting her name, and that just couldn’t be true. Why would you be there?

“Cairo!” this time it was closer, and her eyes widened as she caught glimpse of you in the distance, just narrowly missing her. Another old tree, just waiting to fall between you two.

“Y/N!” she cried out, calling after you and trying to get up, but her legs had gotten too numb to get up so abruptly and she stumbled, digging her palms into the muddy ground beneath her. There was no way you heard her, you were too far, you just narrowly missed her, she was once again too late to reach out to you.

Same mistakes. Same haunting images. Everything was happening again.

“Cairo,” she heard footsteps, running toward her and raised her hand, seeing you, your hair and face wet from the rain, water dripping from your jacket and relief washing over your expression. “Are you okay?” you ran up to her and without a moment of hesitation grabbed her shoulders, pushing her up slightly and looking her over. “Cairo, hey, hey, answer me!” your gloved fingers moved her hair from her face and she couldn’t take it anymore, she just fell into your arms, hugging you and clinging to you. She took several deep breaths, finally feeling like she could properly breathe.

“How did you know?” she asked, judging by how wet your hair was you were out for a while.

“Winnie called me,” you whispered as you softly rubbed circles on her back. “Give me a second,” you pushed her away for a moment and she felt what little warmth she regained fading away. You took your jacket off and put it over her shoulders.

“Y/N, wait,” she tried to argue, she didn’t want to let you get a cold, but you just pressed a finger over her lips.

“Don’t argue. Can you walk?” you asked as you helped her get back on her feet.

Cairo nodded, this was already enough, you were already doing more than she could have asked for, but even as she began walking back home you kept her close, supporting her and holding up some of her weight as she leaned onto you for support.

And then, just as the two of you got twenty feet away from where Cairo was kneeling, a lightning struck the old tree and both of you flinched as it cracked and fell, right to where you and Cairo just were. You just saved her life, because there was no way she would have moved if you didn’t arrive.

She felt you freezing and she wondered what was going through your mind. Did you realize what would have happened to her if you were even a minute late, and in the way you pulled her closer she felt that you did think of that scenario just now. Of finding her underneath a fallen tree.

~X~

You called Winnie to tell her you found Cairo and that you brought her back home as she was taking a warm shower. You considered leaving, but maybe it wasn’t the best idea to leave Cairo on her own right now, so, you stayed, a towel you borrowed from Cairo hanging from your neck. You needed to change, but you weren’t sure you could go back home and come back here before Cairo was done.

You were waiting in her room and you noticed how much darker it got, less light seeped through the windows than when she was a child. Well, people changed, and you guessed seven years was a long time. As you sat on the chair you brought up from the kitchen and waited you caught sight of a familiar book. ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ sat on the table next to a book written by Henry Miller, ‘Under the Roofs of Paris’ the duality of those choices didn’t escape you, but you didn’t move, you weren’t about to stoop to Miller’s level and look through Cairo’s stuff.

A few minutes later, she came out, dressed in her pajamas and with a towel around her head. “You should change,” she noticed now that the shower cleared her thoughts a bit. “And take a shower, the rain was dirty,” she said it as if she expected you to do it at her house.

“I will, I just wanted to check if you were okay and I’ll leave,” you told her, already getting up. She looked fine now, but you still looked her over, you didn’t notice anything wrong, any injury or anything that she needed help with.

“Do it here? Please, you were out looking for me, and the rain is falling even harder now,” at least the part about the rain was true, the weather was getting worse. “I’ll find some clothes that fit you,” she promised, and you nodded with a sigh.

“Okay,” you saw her smile and you couldn’t argue anymore.

When you stepped into the shower you just let the water wash over you, to erase the image of the tree falling right where Cairo was, to wash away the worry and fear as you ran through the forest, desperately looking for her. Everything turned out fine, in the end and you found yourself no longer caring about the answer to your question.

It no longer mattered why Cairo pushed you away, what was happening now mattered much more, and you weren’t going to waste it just because she didn’t want to give you your answer.

When you stepped outside in the shirt and trousers she gave you that were a bit too big for her, you saw her already in her bed, and she turned to look at you, her still slightly damp hair sticking to her skin. “Hey, how are you doing?” you approached her and knelt next to her, only now realizing how stupidly tall her bed was.

Cairo looked at your hand, resting on the edge of her bed and then at your eyes. “Better now. Thank you for looking for me.”

You shook your head. “Don’t thank me for that, you asshole. I’ll scold you properly later,” you promised, luring out another smile from her.

“Do you want to read together?” she asked, moving to the side as if offering her bed to you.

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest decision, but you nodded, getting in the bed next to her and getting comfortable as she opened the book that somehow became the most tangible reminder of your past. You settled down and took a deep breath, and you realized your mistake, as Cairo’s scent invaded your senses.

“Can I start?” she asked and you nodded, focusing only on her voice as she began reading the book.

~X~

Cairo woke up around noon, alone in her room, and more importantly, she missed school. Almost two whole days, that was strange for her, yet she doubted anyone would notice. She wondered when you left, well, she woke up when you got up this morning. The two of you fell asleep about two-thirds into the book. Nothing happened during the night, neither of you subconsciously moved like books so often depicted, she didn’t wake up tangled up with you, or holding your hand, or anything. You just happened to sleep three feet apart because her bed was so ridiculously big.

She stretched a bit and got up and as she opened her window she heard a sound she wasn’t used to coming from her backyard. She looked out through the window and saw you moving some pots she didn’t recognize. “Y/N?” she called out and her heart skipped a beat when she saw you looking up.

“Come down here! I want to show you something!” you yelled, a wide grin on your face.

“Give me ten minutes!” she told you and rushed to the bathroom to get ready. She couldn’t remember the last time she rushed this much to get changed and ready for the day, it certainly didn’t happen since she was a child and had all day free to play with you.

She barely even remembered the last time she purposely went to her backyard, yet here she was, walking over to you as you finished whatever you were doing. When she stopped next to you she saw the pots, five of them, filled with earth, and stems from the wild rose bush stuck in them.

“If I did everything correctly at least one should sprout roots,” you said as Cairo, speechless for once, looked between you and the roses. “I noticed the crushed bush, so I went back after getting everything I needed,” you said softly.

Cairo felt a tear sliding down her cheek as she jumped into your arms, ignoring any dirt that may have gotten on you. All the unwanted tension between the two of you seemed to fade away as you got over your surprise and hugged her back.

Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund @tekanparadiae

@alexkolax @ioveyouyouloveme @aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh @autorasexy

#cairo sweet x female reader #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #miller's girl #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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royalarchivist · 2 days

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Notes from Fit's stream

Fit: I want you all to know deep down from the bottom of my heart, I’m ALMOST sorry that you all feel this way. [...] I’m sorry I emotionally manipulated you through a block game.

Fit says he’s sorry to Artea (Ramon's admin) and nobody else.

13m - Fit received news about the QSMP closing 8 days ago, and he said it was the worst time to find out because he was working on a 2b2t video that had a sponsor / contractual obligation, so he's had no life for the past week.

Fit says there’s more that he wanted to do, but he couldn’t do it because of the time crunch.

Fit says he won’t say how much changed about the ending, but his character getting sent back to the Wasteland was a plot point that was always going to come up, however, he wrote it as ambiguous, and maybe he could’ve overcome that limitation

He says it was planned to be a much longer story, and he wanted to do a scenario where he got kidnapped by the Federation, and Pac would come rescue him. There was more planned, but they ran out of time.

16m - Fit says during the Brazil trip, Quackity showed them some concept art for the QSMP Olympics event

Quackity was planning content a year in advance, but Fit says it is what it is.

Fit says he’s sure years from now or months from now, people will ask why it had to end so soon, and Fit says it’s one of those things where you can’t pin it on one specific thing, it was many factors that snowballed in a short amount of time, and everyone did what they could to salvage the situation.

18m - Fit left Ramon’s fate ambiguous because Artea and the other Ramon admins are coming together to write a finale for him

Fit says he doesn’t know what’s going to happen in the event today, but whatever the Ramon admins cook up will be canon

SCREW THE REST OF THIS POST, FIT IS ""POSSESSED"" BY MADAGIO FOR THIS EVENT??? HELLO??? (Help he just said people on Ao3 are gonna go crazy)

#mod talk #girl you bet your ass I'm gonna go crazy

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starsofang · 10 hours

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simon riley x autistic!reader requested by anon! <3 tw: NSFW, smut, vaginal fingering, p in v, but all of it's really fluffy

a/n: was originally gonna make this request more of a headshot typa deal but ended up writing 2.7k of fluffy sex with Simon and autistic/virgin reader, so i hope you enjoy anon, and i'm so sorry for the long wait <3

Simon knew you like the back of his hand. He knew every little quirk, even the ones you weren’t even aware about.

He kept you afloat amongst an unpredictable sea that threatened to consume you and pull you down under. Your head could be its own raging storm, cracking with jolts of thunder that shook your state of mind, yet Simon was the gleam of sunshine poking through the clouds.

That’s how it had been up until this point. Your relationship was a sweet one, filled with fields of flowers and the buzz of bees. It was soft and supple, but lately, there’d been a brewing cloud looming over your colorful paradise,hiding away the rays of light your flowers needed in order to blossom.

Sex. It was the most complex form of intimacy in your mind, and it was why you’d avoided ever doing it like the plague. The turmoil that the mere thought of sex brought you was nerve wracking, nearly throwing you into overdrive.

Simon never asked for it. He seemed perfectly content with the way things were – staying up late to hear your enthusiastic passion that poured from your lips like his favorite bourbon, encouraging your interests with subtle gifts he’d give you when he’d happen to see it passing by, holding you when your mind wasn’t a whirlpool of spitfire that threatened to lash out at you.

He never asked, nor did he seem keen on asking. And that was the issue.

You were curious.

Simon had allowed you to positively be you in all forms. He didn’t define you by your autism, it was simply a chapter in the book about you, while the rest of your story was much more special in his eyes. It wasn’t a setback, nor was it a concern – it was there, and meant to stay.

No matter how supportive he was towards your individuality and your comfort, it didn’t settle the unease of wanting to take the next step, but not knowing how to ask for it.

It festered your mind like a flu until it began to worsen into a burning fever. You kept it bottled up, the feeling of keeping it locked away making your body feel as if it were going to combust.

It didn’t take Simon long to notice. Of course it didn’t. Like said previously, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, sweetheart?” he asked you when he finally had the chance to sit you down in his room.

The curtains were shut to keep the light out, knowing they irritated you and too much brightness made your eyes squint to the point of an ache. It was quiet apart from the subtle background noise of his TV, plastered with a show you enjoyed watching on nights alone with him. Bits of you were neatly placed around the room, like your journal placed on his desk with your favorite pen carefully set on top of it, or your clothes folded in a tidy pile on one of his shelves he had reserved for you.

“Nothing,” you responded, though Simon knew you enough to detect the lie, even from just one small word.

“You know you can’t hold it in, so talk to me,” he urged, taking a seat next to you from where you sat on the edge of his bed with your hands in your lap. You were picking at the skin around your nails, and like he’d always done, he picked them up into his own hands, soothing his thumbs along the back.

You blinked at him, mouth remaining shut. But the fever was becoming unbearable in your head, scorching you from the insides. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid asking him any longer.

“Why don’t we have sex?” you asked, blunt and to the point. His eyebrows raised from beneath his mask, one that he had yet to take off during your relationship. You never pushed since he never pushed you. Both of you had your own oddities, and for him, the mask was it.

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” he confessed, tone remaining calm and soft as he continued to encourage you to speak your mind. “I didn’t want to ask you, sweetheart.”

“Oh.”

You don’t know why you found yourself frowning, but you did, feeling a bit stumped from his answer. He had a point. You’d made no indications on wanting to be more intimate, and Simon’s only ever considered you in your best interest.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he rushed to say. “I meant – do you want to?”

You did. The longer you found yourself thinking about it, the more you grew a need to try it. You trusted Simon entirely.

“I’ve never done it.” You felt embarrassed, though unsure why. This was Simon, after all.

“That’s okay,” he assured, giving your hands a squeeze. “Then we don’t have to, yeah?”

“But I want to,” you protested, frowning at him. He huffed out a quiet laugh, fiddling with one of your fingers affectionately.

“That’s okay, too.”

“Is it?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, because I won’t be good, and I’m scared it’ll be too much, then I’ll ruin it by getting overwhelmed, and–”

“Hey,” Simon called out, lifting one of his hands off of yours to cradle your face. You sucked in a breath, exhausted from the rushed flow of panicked words that spilled out, allowing yourself to breathe. “We’ll take it slow, yeah? We’ll do everything at your pace, and the moment you say stop, we stop, no questions asked. I won’t be upset with you, sweetheart, and you certainly wouldn’t ruin it.”

You stared at him while he stared back at you, eyes filled with fondness and love that was only ever reserved for you. They were understanding, assuring, like deep pools of serenity you could float in forever.

“Promise?” you asked, and he laughed again.

“Promise.”

Simon continued to stare at you for a long moment, taking you in, before his hand lifted the bottom of his mask and tugged it over his head, showcasing the entirety of the very man who’d given his all to you. Since it would be your first time making a new step in your relationship, he figured he’d do the same by completely stripping himself of the very thing he wore to hide away.

Rugged and scarred, but beautiful, and you admired it until you surged forward to initiate the first move, like he’d always waited for you to do. He melted into you, cradling your face with tender emotion, pulling you in and calming the nasty sea that flooded your being.

Simon knew exactly how to make you feel safe, while also enjoying yourself. This wasn’t about him, it was about you, and he was absolutely determined to ensure that your first time was comfortable.

He covered the bed in your favorite blanket he kept just for you, soft and fuzzy, much more comfortable than the cotton sheet that always felt a bit too scratchy, even on his own skin. He laid it out for you, encouraging you to take your place.

His fingers were careful as they undressed you, and with every fabric he pulled off of your body, he took off of his own so the state of nudity was matched and you didn’t feel too exposed in comparison to him. He spoke to you with coated sweetness, telling you how proud he was that you told him of your needs, how honored he was that you trusted him to be the one to take you.

Simon took his time. He made no rush or fervent motion, and he allowed you the time to gather yourself if his hands became too much when they mapped out every inch of your skin. Soft and soothing, thumbs brushing along your hips as he waited patiently for you to assure him to continue.

When you were fully exposed to him, he smiled at you fondly, eyes lighting with nothing short of love. He was seeing you for everything you were now, and though for brief moments it was overwhelming to you, he was quick to wash the burden of it away with gentle guides of his hands.

The first finger was uncomfortable, even if he remained careful and slow when prodding you. Your face had mushed up into one of discomfort, and his eyes never left sight of you so he could watch for any indication that it was too much.

You, on the other hand, were both on a cloud of praise from the way he handled you so cautiously, while also free falling from the sky in anxious turmoil. The TV was echoing in your mind, the sounds of chatter causing you to lose focus. Combined with the intimate touches he filled your body with, it was already starting to become too much. You just didn’t know how to express it.

“Hey,” Simon called out to you, easing his finger out of you and instead placing his hand on your hip. “Tell me. What is it? Do you want to stop?”

“No.” You shook your head, letting out an exhale you were holding. “No, just– can you turn off the TV? I can’t– I can’t focus.”

Simon smiled warmly at you, moving without hesitation to shut the television off. The room was quiet now, and you breathed a sigh of relief, your mind finally calming.

“Better?” he asked, and you nodded. “Do you want me to continue, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.”

Simon gave your hip a comforting squeeze before resuming his previous notions, sliding the pad of his finger along your slit before easing back inside once again. It was only when Simon was sure you could take it that he pressed in a second one, keeping his pace slow and controlled.

Discomfort was turning into pleasure, the feeling so new to you, so foreign. It wasn’t as overstimulating as you thought it would be thus far, but you had Simon there to assure it wouldn’t be.

The feeling of his fingers moving at a steady rhythm, back and forth with the occasional curl of the pads pressing up against your gummy walls, quickly spiraled into something good, something you didn’t hate.

Simon watched you the entire time, and when you gathered the courage to open your eyes and look at him, his smile nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

“You’re doin’ good, sweetheart,” he praised, and a whimper left your mouth, causing you to squirm shamefully. “No, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be quiet around me, you know that, don’t you? Love hearin’ you, always love hearin’ your voice.”

His words caused your breath to quicken at the same time his fingers did, a spark of piping desire and need erupting inside of you, like lava spilling out of a volcano. It filled you to the brim, threatening to explode.

“That’s it, sweet girl. There you go,” he cooed, further urging you to let out any noises you had been holding back.

Before you could revel in the newfound fulfillment, his fingers slipped out of you, leaving you to whine at the loss. He smiled softly at your pout, lifting his clean hand to smoothen the furrow in your brow.

“I want to be inside you when you cum for the first time,” he explained, and you scrunched your nose up at his choice of words. They were unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, and clearly he found it amusing, judging from the snort that exhaled through his nose. “You tell me if it gets too much. Promise.”

You released a shaky breath, peering up at him from where he hovered over you, his hand tracing the lines on your face.

“I promise.”

That was all he needed to line himself up with you, gently easing the tip of him inside. It was an uncomfortable stretch, one that had you whimpering in disturbance. Simon shushed you, cradling his hand over your cheek and placing a warm kiss on your nose.

“I know, sweetheart. Tell me to stop. I will.”

You shook your head in protest despite the clear fluster of your emotions. He could see the inner workings of your mind driving themselves into exhaustion, so he grabbed one of your hands that were fisting the tufts of your blanket in a death grip, gently guiding it to the span of his bare shoulder.

“Dig your nails in if you have to, pretty girl. I don’t mind, hm?”

He knew when you were stimulated, you needed something to grasp and claim as yours. It was the reason you picked at your fingers the way you did, or gnawed on your lip until it was bloodied and raw. Now, he was encouraging you to release that tension, but at his own expense instead. He wanted you to express yourself comfortably.

You did as he said the more he pressed into you. Your nails created sharp indents into his scarred skin, threatening to break and pierce into him. His face showed no discomfort of his own from the sting, instead focused on your own, eyes gazing into yours the entirety of him sheathing himself fully.

Every time your face twitched, he leaned down to kiss it, showering you with his encouragement and pride for you.

When his hips were flush with yours, he stayed still, giving you all the time you needed to adjust.

Your entire body was more full than ever before, and you began to take in that feeling. It was like the world came to a stop and was waiting for your return, remaining patient and kind while you gave in to the fresh feeling of intimacy to its fullest.

“Still good, sweetheart?” he asked, and his voice brushed all the worries away.

“Mhm.”

“Doin’ amazing, sweet girl. M’gonna move now, okay?”

Another nod and he began to guide his hips back, dragging along the inside of your walls before promptly pressing back forward. It left your mind in a frenzy, and the only thing you could do was blink up at him and gasp every time he pushed and pulled in a game of tug of war.

Simon smothered you in affection while he continued to thrust into you, pressing along the spongy spot in your core that had your mind blanking. The blanket beneath you was soft against your skin, and you squirmed against it cozily whenever his thrusts had your body slightly shifting every time his hips slapped into yours, thankful he knew you well enough that he recognized what you needed to feel content.

Pleasure wracked your body, becoming overwhelming hot under the flesh of your skin. It flushed you a sheen a pink, layering you were evidence of your enjoyment, and he pressed daft kisses against the warmth.

The chord was unraveling, and the more it threatened to snap, the more Simon whispered you praises.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Doin’ so well, it feels good, yeah? You can let go, you can do it.”

With a loud cry, you did, the thin chord breaking in half and snapping, leaving you to burn with unfamiliar euphoria that took over every part of your bloodstream. It warmed you from the inside and out, and when you came down from it, Simon had pulled out, finishing himself off into his hand. When you gave him a confused and rather ruffled look, he smiled.

“Don’t think you’ll like the feelin', sweetheart,” he noted.

You laid there with an overwhelming flood of satisfaction when he went to clean himself up. When he returned, he had a warm washcloth that he used to carefully clean you up as well, knowing that if the wet, sticky feeling lingered, you’d grow agitated and uncomfortable.

Simon wrapped you up in his arms when all was said and done, making sure to brush away the stray hairs that tickled your forehead and instead tucking them behind your ears. Your mind was on mute, the consistent buzz that always lingered settling into nothingness. Simon tucked you into him, swaddling you with the fuzzy blanket and tugging it up over your ears just the way you liked, before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead and softly playing with your hair until you were consumed by your own sleepiness.

#cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw3 #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #autistic!reader #cod smut #ghost smut #cod requests

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cupcakeslushie · 2 days

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Just saw ur latest post and I’m literally just-

👁️👄

Like wha? Stunned by what that individual even had said.

Tbh, when I first stumbled upon ur Au I was rather interested. I always have an open mind to all Au’s, especially urs since I already liked some of ur work. But once it got to a certain topic of (TW ⚠️) Abuse and SA, it pulled me more into it.

Idk why, but reading the things that Donnie went through and getting a taste of the healing process and the family’s reactions…idk but to me, it gave me some kind of feeling, like it gave me a small sensation of healing in a way.

I’m an SA and abusive relationship survivor, and seeing this, it makes me feel less alone, and being seen. Especially when the fam wants to help him rather than judge him for the way he is in his healing process.

It’s been years since my..issues, but I still struggle with the memories, the sensation of it all, like it happened yesterday.

Seeing stuff like this, with fluff, its almost therapeutic in a way. Like its happening for me too.

So instead, I want to say thank you for making this DonnieAu, thank you for creating this piece. If it wasn’t for this, it wouldn’t give me that small feeling.

That feeling of being seen, less alone.

Thank you. <3 And keep up with the work! Make sure to take care of yourself btw! 💜

Just wanna say anon, you are certainly not alone 💚

My issues were also a very long time ago, but creating this story, and writing how Donnie heals and breaks free of the manipulation he was forced to endure, has also been a healing process for me, and I’m so glad it’s touching the right people. Ones who might gain some sense of peace from it, even if the plot still has a ways to go.

I hope it continues it’s job—because it’s certainly not pointless. I don’t care much, if that anon thinks that, you and I, and many others, who find catharsis in stories of this type of healing, know it when we see it.

Please take care of yourself as well!

#rottmnt #ask slushie #rise of the tmnt #kendratello au #tw sa mention #tw sex assault #tw sa #tw sa vent

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cheesagirl · 1 day

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Can you please make something like y/n losing her virginity to Gojo and when she wakes up she misunderstood that Gojo just wanted to have one night stand and as he never make contact with any of his one night stand, so y/n left writing some notes for him. But Gojo genuinely loved her and then he searched for her finding y/n passed out somewhere or finding her getting attacked by some cursed spirit.

I want to read this so much.😅 Please make it happen. 🥹

Satoru x Fem;Reader

Scenario: Listed in request

Warnings: Smut, cussing

Word count: 903 words

Side notes: I am so sorry for how late I was to do this request, I got logged out of my account for like a month :( I hope this somewhat fits what you had in mind and if not IM SORRY. Enjoy my loves, if you have any request or ideas please submit them because I love doing them❤️

You would have laughed if someone told you that you would lose your virginity to THE Satoru Gojo, the king of 'no feelings'- but here you were straddling Satoru's naked figure as he eased his hardened cock inside you. "Doing so good sweets" you hear him mutter under his breath, his hand moving up to grip the back of your neck.

You couldn't help but moan at the feeling of him. The second he had completely filled you to the brim, your back arched and a small whine escaped your parted lips. "Look at you taking me so well baby" he mumbles, forcing you to look down at the sight of him disappearing into your pussy.

"Feels so good" you babble, your head lulling onto his shoulder, earning you a quiet chuckle from Satoru.

"Yeah?" he teases, peppering small kisses onto your head. You nod, moving your hips in small circles, causing Satoru to let out a hoarse groan.

This was a horrible idea. You shouldn't be in this situation with Satoru, but you certainly weren't putting an end to it now. Tomorrow seemed so far away as you heard the lewd sound of skin hitting skin caused by Satoru bouncing you on him, hitting your cervix each time.

"Aww look at your little belly bulge" He cooed, moving his hand from your hip and pressing it against your belly, causing you to whine out in pleasure, to cock drunk to form proper words.

Tomorrow is an eternity away.

You woke up to the sound of running water and your sleepy eyes immediately widened in panic. Fuck, tomorrow was here, and the anxiety hit you like a train.

Gojo was never one to keep his hookups around long. You had heard stories of him sending the girls off in taxis, never bothering to text them afterward and the realization hit you. You were about to be one of those girls, you had given your virginity to a man who was going to send you off in a fucking taxi.

You quickly sit up in the bed, sliding out of it and scavenging for your clothes, and putting them on. You then grab a sticky note and pen from his desk located in the corner of the room and right a quick 'Last night was great, thank you' quickly signing off with a little heart. You were going to rip the band-aid off and leave without being asked, a weak attempt to save your dignity. You snatch your purse from the nightstand and hurry out the front door.

You were exhausted to say the least, you and Satoru had been up all night and the lack of sleep was starting to hit you as you sat on a bench in a park, eyes drooping closed. It was a busy park, children played as their parents conversed, you didn't see any problem in one quick little nap.

Satoru was surprised and even a little butt hurt when he opened the bathroom door to find an empty bed. He knew what people said about him and some of the rumors did have some truth behind them, but you weren't a one-night stand. Satoru adored you, fuck Satoru loved you. He loved your voice, your face, everything. He wasted no time throwing on a coat and rushing out the door, throwing the note he had left him onto the coffee table on the way out.

"Y/n, answer the phone please", He pleads, sending yet another voicemail to your phone. Suddenly the thought hit him, you had mentioned how you loved the park so much ever since you were a little girl. He didn't know for sure if he'd be there, but he was growing desperate, so he eagerly made his way towards the playground.

When he arrived, Satoru instantly furrowed his eyebrows at the sigh of the familiar cost you always wear, hood up, sitting on a bench. 'What the hell' he muttered to himself, quickening his pace towards him. He frowned even more when he saw how red his nose and cheeks were.

"y/n" he says softly, shaking you slightly. "Time to wake up baby," he adds, patting your cold cheek gently.

Your eyes flutter open, squinting in confusion at the sight of the blue-eyed man in front of you.

"Satoru?" you mumble, sitting up quickly. "I don't know what on earth you are thinking about sleeping on a bench y/n" He scolds, helping you stand properly. You were just about to explain yourself when he cuts you off again.

"You're going to catch a cold y/n" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, clearly stressed by the situation.

"I didn't think you'd want me there when you woke up" you mumble, looking down at your feet while anxiously fidgeting with your fingers.

To your surprise, you felt his warm hands cup your cheeks and your face was lifted to where his eyes met yours.

"Oh sweets, I'd never want you to go away," he whispered, his brows knitted together in concern. "I'd have you with me all the time if I could."

You searched his eyes for something--anything to hint at some sort of regret, but what you found was complete and utter adoration for the girl standing in front of him, with her little red cheeks.

"Let me take you out on a proper date y/n-- please

-ˋˏ✄--------------------------------

Thanks for reading babes ❤️

The song lowkey doesn't go with the first part BAHAHA

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #spotify #satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader

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reggies-eyeliner · 2 days

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OKAY AN EXTREMELY SELF-INDULGENT SENSELESS RAMBLE ABOUT JWCT REGARDING GRIEF AND EMOTIONS AND FOUND FAMILY AND COMPLEX CHARACTERS COMING UP AHEAD WOOP WOOP !!!

i cannot stress to you enough. how much i love the way they write processing trauma. like yeah trauma is all silly and angst and whatever but it's a real thing like genuinely and it's exhausting to see shows just dismiss it over and over again but THIS SHOW I SWEAR IT'S JUST. EVERYTHING IS DONE SO SO WELL AND I AM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL LIKE

and not to mention that the animation SERIOUSLY DOES IT JUSTICE like the expressions are SO GOOD OH MY GOSH LIKE IT'S I'M THEY'RE YEAH THE EXPRESSIONS. ARE INCREDIBLE. that looks darius got in his eyes when he KNEW the password to brooklyn's phone and kenji didn't??? so good SO GOOD and just the way their eyes all shine before they start crying is actually done so well that if you listen carefully you can feel my heart breaking

also i love how like emotional processing is also written so much. all of them aren't afraid to cry and i feel like that's just. yeah it's beautiful. they cry soft they cry loud whatever it is they're comfortable enough to do so and if they're not they at least know they won't be judged for it ARE YOU KIDDING ME I'M GOING TO BITE A TABLE?????

the characters have flaws. i love that so much. the characters are not perfect but they're still likable and it's executed so well. darius' grief is PALPABLE and kenji's anger, albeit sometimes annoying, is so understandable that you can't actually be angry or annoyed with him because the story writing makes you understand. that's incredible. yasmina struggles with anxiety and ptsd and she gets frustrated and that is !! okay !! sammy ignores her emotions and struggles with toxic positivity but we understand *why* she talks to yasmina that way (because she's worried and scared and concerned for her girlfriend, but she's also just as worried of truly addressing what she's been through) so it's so hard to get mad at her. ben is THANJ GOODNESS not mischaracterized as a cinnamon roll and is actually a complex character with complex emotions and i can't get enough of it. he's like a pain he's so annoying sometimes but it's endearing because he reminds you of that one classmate from elementary that makes you go ohhh yeah no it's him that's fine

okay paragraph was getting long but I do have more to say about kenji. the relationships in this show are executed SO WELL and I'm beyond relieved that Kenji and Daniel's relationship was written INCREDIBLY WELL

like. okay first off the asian rep YEAHGHH IT EAS GOOD !!! WOOP WOOP YRAHAHDH HONK HONK the part about kenji saying he should get his violin after daniel was like telling his sob story was SO FUNNY OH MH GOSH

and just. kenji and daniel kon. im. like his dad was never perfect. far from it and yet kenji just he loves him so much and wants to make him proud and it makes me sick because the writing helps you UNDERSTAND why

daniel keeps giving kenji ultimatums and kenji standing up to him for once just. yeah. that was done incredibly well. and then not even ten minutes after daniel started to change and gave his son something without expecting anything in return other than his presence daniel gets eaten alive in front of him.

okay now this show holy moly i was NOT expecting daniel to just. get ripped apart but um YEAH THAT HAPPENED and the grief was written so well I cannot stress this enough. I loathe in movies and shows when they skim past traumatic deaths and just act like the grief is just non existent and this show does an incredible job at showing that it is VERY MUCH STILL THERE and it makes people out there who are struggling feel a little less crazy and that's so beautiful

i've been a benrius enthusiast since day one and honestly at this point i just hope everything goes well for them moving on. brooklyn's death and Darius coping with her grief was done SO SO WELL and honestly okay as much as i love sibling-type dinostar i think rewatching scenes with the lens that he was in love with her just makes it hurt so much and it's just. yeah. it's written well.

I will say that I think the story could have gone on without Darius confessing his love to Brooklyn, and the scene where Kenji asked Darius about the voicemails could have been used solely as a chance to highlight grief. another way the scene could have gone was if kenji sifted through the voicemails and just heard Darius's voice shatter in a way he's never quite heard it or listened to darius blame himself and that could have been a moment for kenji to realize that grief isn't something people should deal with alone, that *he* shouldn't deal with grief alone

regardless i really do think the idea that Darius was in love with Brooklyn was done really well. I don't know a better way for kenji to have figured out the truth, and for that I am grateful :D!! I hope the hardcore shippers don't get too mad though 😭

also I absolutely loved the lady with the whistle. she's cool. her character design is terrifying and the way she treats the dinosaurs reminds me a of a queen that is very fond of her workers like 😭 she's cool but also i would never want her within a 100 mile radius of me

the found family in this show is actually. yeah. it makes me cry because it's just done so well because it doesn't idealize perfect relationships. there are awkward moments, there are sad moments, characters still feel broken and alone despite having people who've actively said that they'd go to the moon and back for them. it's realistic and it's written beautifully

I think Darius might actually be the character with The Writing ever. his grief and his nostalgia, his awkwardness and fascination with learning and his kindness are all things that exist together and I am so so grateful for that. he's allowed to laugh and make jokes while feeling constant, looming guilt. he is fascinated with learning while also struggling to feel like he deserves to be happy, he enjoys learning about dinosaurs while also being terrified of them on the worst days. he feels guilty and feels like a bad person. but he's loved and he's cared for. can you tell he's my favorite now because

enamored with yasmina and sammy as always. they are just the girlfriends ever and i love so much how openly they communicate with each other. sammy apologizes when she makes mistakes, yasmina doesn't hold it against her. they're always at each other's sides and their love isn't conditional. i love them SO MUCH

okay sorry im making this about darius again but this guy actually is The character ever. I don't think I've ever felt so seen in a character and i just yeah the writers are incredible because all of the characters are written to feel relatable, and if not that, to feel real. it was just a huge comfort to me to know that okay im not crazy for feeling this way because of a character, who was written and animated by dozens and dozens of creators was allowed to be written this way, i'm not messed up in the head, im just processing emotions and it's okay that I need help for that

THIS SOUNDS SO CRINGE I AM SO SORRY

but yeah i. i love this show.

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writingwithfolklore · 2 days

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How Conflict Causes Character Change

You’ve heard me say over and over again that your character arc is your plot and it’s driven by conflict. But that’s easy to say and a lot harder to do. How does conflict actually inspire change? Let’s talk about it:

1. Choose your conflicts

Not every conflict is equal, and it may be harder to justify change for some conflicts over others. The type of conflict that’s going to inspire change will force your MC to come face to face with their flaw.

Okay for example maybe your character’s flaw is that they self sabotage whenever things are going well for them. A conflict they could run into is that they’re working on something with someone they care about, and their sabotage not only impacts them, but the person they’re working with as well.

While they may be used to and fine screwing over themselves—facing the consequences of hurting someone they care about may inspire them to try to work through their flaw or make a real change in their life.

2. All conflict comes with consequences—or it’s not really a conflict

Leading from the last point, note that it’s the consequence of something happening that truly makes it a conflict, and allows it to inspire change. One thing my screenwriting prof always used to ask us was, “why hasn’t your character reached their goal yet, and why haven’t they already overcome their flaw?” You have to justify why they are in the place they are in at the start of the story.

If their flaw is self sabotage, just facing the consequences of their self sabotage wouldn’t be enough to inspire a change—because if it was, why haven’t they changed yet? So consider what consequences to their flaw they’d have to face to really force them to change. Hurting people they care about, taking away things they want, allowing their enemy to gain the upper hand, etc. are all good consequences outside of their usual that may inspire change.

3. One conflict spurs another

To help with driving the story with conflict, consider how each conflict you create can spur the next. Following our example, maybe our MC screws something up for someone they care about, then that person decides not to stay friends with them, or tells someone else what happened.

Conflict can also come from seemingly good or harmless acts, like holding the door open for someone about to rob a bank, or writing an article for a relatively unknown newspaper that turns out takes an extreme political stance in your world, etc. Each action should have its consequences that leads to more action that leads to more consequences. With enough of that cycle, the gradual change of your MC will be believable and propel their story.

#writing #creative writing #writing community #writers #screenwriting #writing inspiration #books #filmmaking #film #writing advice #conflict #character arcs #writing character arcs #How Conflict Causes Character Change #writing conflict #writing stakes #writing consequences

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buckactuallys · 2 days

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18 or 25 for the relationship prompts? 💗💗💗

hi and thank you for the prompt! sorry this took me so very long to write, but i hope you like it anyway 💕

18. brushing through the other's hair while talking/25. feeding each other their food

[read on ao3]

It’s a slow shift. Not from the beginning, they get called out plenty in the morning, but the afternoon is slow already and now it’s 9pm and they haven’t had a call since before dinner.

All the chores are done, everything is clean and fully stocked and put away.

Bobby is in his office with some paperwork, but he insisted that he doesn’t need any help before heading downstairs.

No one was in the mood to play a game or anything, so they’re just sort of lounging around the loft, an action movie playing on TV that no one’s really paying attention to. Hen and Chim are on the armchairs, but they’re turned mostly away from the TV, their focus on each other and Buck, and the conversation the three of them are having.

Beside Buck, Eddie keeps sinking lower in his seat until his head eventually comes to rest on Buck’s shoulder. Buck shoots him a fond look and lifts the hand that’s currently on the backrest of the couch to scratch at Eddie’s scalp gently.

Eddie makes a soft noise and rubs his cheek against Buck’s shoulder like a cat, which Buck takes as encouragement to keep going.

It’s fine – they agreed to keep this on the low for a bit (not really a secret, but they’re not telling anyone yet either. Well, except for Chris, because that would’ve felt like lying, and Bobby, because they didn’t want to risk anything by keeping secrets from the brass), but so far no one’s even looked at them twice. Buck has had his arm slung over the back of the couch and essentially around Eddie for ages now, and no one’s said a word.

They’ve always been close after all, and for the last three weeks, they’ve slowly been adding more little touches to the list of things they do, like a head on the other’s shoulder, or, like today, Buck’s hand in Eddie’s hair.

It’s been kind of fun finding out what they can get away with before anyone figures them out.

He keeps combing his fingers through Eddie’s hair absently while talking to Hen and Chimney, and it’s easy like this.

With his last relationship, with Tommy, they made it public so quickly kind of accidentally, but it was fine, because there wasn’t that much at stake. Sure, it doubled as his coming out to a lot of people, but Buck’s glad that happened so organically and without him having time to overthink or worry.

With Eddie, the situation is completely different. There’s so much at stake for them, everything, that they felt safer keeping it between themselves for a few weeks, to see how they adjust to this change. The two of them – and Christopher.

But it’s been three weeks now, and things have been great, so it’s okay if they want to be a bit more open with it. And Buck wants.

Ever since he realized how he feels about Eddie, about seven minutes before he kissed him for the first time, he’s been wanting to shout his love for him from the rooftops. It hasn’t been easy keeping that in, and his hands to himself.

So it’s easy, letting himself be a little bit more affectionate with Eddie like this, up here in the loft of their fire station, with their friends.

The low hum Eddie lets out and the relaxed lines of his body pressing against Buck’s tell him that he feels the same way. And if anyone asks – that’s fine, they’re ready to share whenever it happens.

But Hen just keeps telling her story about the latest shenanigans Denny and Mara have gotten up to, pretending to be annoyed by them even though it’s obvious she loves that they’re getting along this well. Chimney chimes in with stories from his and Kevin’s childhood, and Buck occasionally shares something he did as a kid just to shock Hen.

“You’re not hanging out with my kids unsupervised,” she says after he finishes telling them about a prank he and some other boys played on a teacher, and gets up from her chair. “I’m making popcorn. You guys want some, too?”

“Yes, please,” Eddie says sleepily from Buck’s shoulder, raising his hand.

Buck smiles at him, endeared, and squeezes the back of his neck gently. Without looking up, he tells Hen, “I–I’ll take some too, thanks, Hen.”

“You know if it’s there, I’ll eat it,” Chimney says. His chair creaks when he stands up too. “I’ll help you.”

The two of them head to the kitchen, bickering quietly, and Buck takes the opportunity to turn his head, brushing his nose along Eddie’s forehead and pressing a kiss to his brow.

“Tired, sweetheart?”

“A little,” Eddie mumbles, turning further into Buck, his knee pressed to the side of Buck’s thigh. “And you’re comfortable.”

“I’m not complaining,” Buck says, and starts combing his fingers through Eddie’s hair at the back of his head again. “Just say the word and we can go to the bunkroom.”

“No, I want the popcorn now,” Eddie says, blinking his eyes open. “I’m awake.”

Buck laughs and kisses his temple. “If you say so.”

Hen and Chim return with the popcorn not much later, and their conversation has moved on to a movie Buck hasn’t seen, so he’s happy to just sit back, one hand always on Eddie, listen to their familiar voices, and snack on his popcorn.

“Gimme some of that,” Eddie says quietly, jerking his chin towards the popcorn in Buck’s hand.

“The bowl is right there,” Buck says, but he’s already extending his hand.

Eddie gives him a smile that makes butterflies erupt in his stomach and brushes his fingers along Buck’s hand while he grabs some of the popcorn. “Thanks.”

Buck rolls his eyes, but they both know it’s just for show.

The next time he reaches for the bowl, he pops some in his mouth and offers the rest to Eddie, holding it between two fingers.

Instead of taking it from him, Eddie leans forward and eats it straight from Buck’s fingers, lips wrapped around them for just a second that’s enough to make his entire body go hot, especially his face.

Hen and Chimney stop talking.

Eddie looks at Buck like everything is completely normal, then turns to Chimney and Hen to ask, “What?”

“What is up with you two tonight?” Chimney asks, exasperated. “You got something to tell us?”

Eddie shrugs, jostling Buck a little. His eyes practically sparkle, shining with mischief when he turns to Buck, and Buck loves him so much. “I don’t know, Buck, do we? Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“You’ve basically been,” Hen makes an impatient gesture that encompasses both of them on the couch, “fucking cuddling for an hour. And now you’re feeding each other popcorn? You’re always all over each other, but this is…different.”

“Well, I didn’t expect Eddie to eat it like that, either,” Buck says, and blushes even more when Eddie just winks at him.

“Chim, I never want us to be the kind of best friends they are,” Hen says, and Buck makes the mistake of meeting Eddie’s eye, both of them bursting into laughter.

“I sure hope you won’t, since you’re both married,” Eddie wheezes, and Buck descends into laughter again.

“What does that have to–” Chim pauses. “Hold on.”

“Oh, they’re getting there,” Buck says in a stage whisper, reaching out to wipe a tear from the corner of Eddie’s eye.

Eddie catches his hand on the way back and presses a kiss to his palm before tangling their fingers.

Both Hen and Chimney are gaping at them, and Hen calls out weakly, “Cap, are you seeing this?”

“Yep,” Bobby’s amused voice wafts over from the kitchen. Buck didn’t even hear him come back. “But they told me three weeks ago already.”

“What!” Hen yelps, and Chimney shakes his head like a wet dog, looking beyond confused.

“So are you saying– you’re really—” His eyes flick down to their hands, then back up to their faces, moving rapidly from Buck to Eddie and back.

“Together?” Eddie asks. “Yeah.”

“Since when!” Hen demands, and she somehow looks both appalled and delighted. “How did this happen? How did I miss this?”

“I guess you just didn’t know what to look for,” Buck says, turning his head to smile at Eddie. “I can relate to that.”

#buddie #911fic #buddie fic #911 fic #911 abc #pia writes #ask #kitteneddiediaz

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jolieblack · 3 days

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Something finally came to me! (I usually can’t write to prompts to save my life.)

May Prompts 2024 by @calaisreno

May 24th: Imperfect

We've always done things the wrong way round.

We moved in together at a time when we knew no more than four or five facts about each other. Significant facts, granted, such as John being a war veteran and me having no patience with idiots, but neither of us could have claimed to have had anything even close to the full picture at the time. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if either of us had. Only on my really bad days, though.

I don’t have all that many of those any more, luckily. And when I do, I have plenty of good memories to help me pull myself up again. Take the ones of how we confessed our love to each other to a beautifully decorated room full of people in festive dress and in even more festive spirit, to much applause and cheering and well-wishing. Yes, you heard that plural right. Those are two separate memories, years apart and in two different places. I got to go first, and it wasn’t even me who was getting married at the time. That’s another thing that most couples would do differently. Coordinate it a bit better, at least.

The second time around, as a lot of you will remember well, it was John's turn to talk, and I‘d been told in no uncertain terms to keep my mouth shut and say nothing, not even to correct his grammar, till he was done. I can now attest that it is true that the groom never gets to have a say in anything at his own wedding. Someone got his late revenge there. And believe me, that doesn’t depend on whether it’s one groom or two. Yes, and I know there are still people out there even in this day and age who feel that it’s not normal to have two grooms at all. They can all go away and never show their ugly faces again where I can see them, or smell the foul breath of the bigoted filth they’re spouting. That’s not the wrong way around, that couldn’t be more right for both of us.

But we did other things the wrong way around, too. In most romantic stories, killing someone to save the person you love is usually the culmination of long mutual trust and dedication. It‘s supposed to be the crowning glory, the final sealing of a bond that has long been in the making. It’s not supposed to be the starting point. And John is usually the more patient of the two of us, but when it came to this, he could barely contain himself for 36 hours after our very first meeting before he did it. Ever heard of timing and pacing, Doctor, I hear you people wonder? And he’s supposed to be the one with the talent for good storytelling. The timing was good, though. The timing was excellent. There’s another 'what if' for you that is no fun to contemplate at all.

There is killing out of love, and - I have to say it, I can’t not, I‘d be lying by omission if I didn't - there's also dying out of love. I doubt, however, that there’s anyone out there who has ever put a more elaborate effort into pretending to die out of love than I have. As far as I‘m aware, that’s not really a romantic convention, either, and I sincerely hope I haven’t started a trend. I honestly can’t recommend it. Effort is well and good, and I dare say the execution in my case was flawless, but I can’t deny there was a certain lack of forethought as to the emotional impact on both parties concerned. Don‘t try this at home, folks.

People also usually date first, then start cohabiting, then get married, then raise children together. Please don’t ask me to define at what time in our lives exactly John and I were dating and when we weren’t yet. To this day we have never been able to agree on a definition for this mysterious activity that emphatically, according to John, for whatever reason, does not encompass two people who like each other going out together and having fun. But it is an undisputed fact that we had been raising a child together for a good while before we got married. And we have been going out together and having fun for years uncounted now. Crime scenes never fail to work that particular magic on us. Oh wait, no, that was another example I had on my list for what most other couples do differently. Hang on, do I see a certain Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard raise his hand in objection? Raising both hands, actually, showing us… what, seven fingers? Is that the number of couples working for the Metropolitan Police that you know personally who have met at crime scenes? Or are you reminding us of the number of times John and I were actually kicked off a crime scene because we were enjoying ourselves entirely too much, and were told not to come back till we could behave like adults? I could have sworn those were more than seven occasions, but I‘ll take your word for it.

Talking of raising a child together, I‘m sure Rosie will say a word or three about that herself later, but I have never understood why most of you had doubts about the practicability of that particular endeavour. Let me just tell you that a baby carrier is entirely compatible with a cashmere scarf, or didn’t you know cashmere can absorb up to a third of its own dry weight in liquid? And it got only easier from there when Rosie grew older and stopped affectionately drooling on whoever enjoyed the happy privilege of holding her and carrying her around. She hasn’t demanded being carried around in a good while now, and I don’t know what our poor old backs would say to that these days. But we were talking about happy memories, weren’t we, so there’s another. And at least in the metaphorical sense, I hope you know, Rosie, that you’ll be held and carried for as long as you want and need, as long as we both live. You were my daughter even before I was your father’s husband, and that has been one of the greatest honours bestowed on me in my life.

Because this is who we are, isn’t it, our crazy little family, where nothing is as you’d expect it to be. But we still wouldn’t have it any other way, topsy-turvy, weird, flawed and utterly imperfect, but also utterly us, unique, one of a kind. I don’t know if it was fate that threw us together, or if it really was just a whim on the part of the comfortable, corpulent, bespectacled gentleman sitting at this table over here, smirking with his trademark benevolence. But there’s a debt of gratitude to be paid there, and today is a good day to do it. In this at least, we’re doing the conventional thing, but who’s to say we’re not allowed to do that at least once in a quarter-century.

So, ladies and gentlemen, dear friends and family from far and wide, I give you: John Watson, the man of my life, the man at my side for over thirty years, and for exactly twenty-five years in the legal sense on this very day. Please raise your glasses with us to the next twenty-five. And for God’s sake stop snivelling like that, Mycroft. You’re embarrassing the whole room.

#bbc sherlock #may prompts 2024 #mayprompts2024 #jolie writes #imperfect #bbc sherlock fanfiction #johnlock #old married couple #johnlock fanfiction

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thisismeracing · 9 hours

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Not quite love | CL16

read the full piece here

― Pairing: charles leclerc x friend!reader (she/her) ― Warning: mentions of alcohol and food; friends to lovers; angst; unrequited love; not been proofread yet; 2k words. ― Summary: When you get romantically involved with your best friend you were not expecting a marriage proposal, but simply a commitment. You were sure that what you had wasn’t quite love, though it could be and maybe that’s what hurt the most. The fact that you had everything to be each other’s end game, but turned out to be strangers.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

preview

You and Charles had everything to be the perfect couple.

To have the perfect story.

A book-worthy one.

You were long-time friends.

Though your family wasn’t very fond of him, his family loved you, and that was enough. Over half of your friends in common hinted about you guys getting together. The dynamic was this good from the outside, and so was the tension whenever you were together.

You would share desserts, dance with each other, sleep in the same bed after friends get together –nothing sexual ever happened, and maybe that’s the reason why it was so intimate and ground to tension flourish. It was beyond the physical. At least for you.

It all took a turn when you finally moved to Monaco to study and work.

*****

“Don’t cry, chérrie,” he cooed, lips finding a few droplets of tears and cutting short their path on your cheeks. You turned your head in his direction, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of his warm skin against yours, seeking the solace of it.

The Monegasque read the way your body leaned in, the way your face felt hotter against his lips, and he lined his breathing with yours giving you enough time to pull back, but you didn’t. In fact, you broke the barrier of space between you two, pressing your lips in a feverish kiss. Charles answered in a second, gripping your waist and bringing you impossibly closer. His tongue was demanding, and his body against yours felt different than the other times. More intimate.

“Fucking finally,” you could almost hear your friends with their hands up to the heavens, so you chuckled, ultimately breaking the kiss. Charles grinned.

“If I knew this is all it would take for you to smile I would have greeted you with a kiss,” his teasing earned a giggle from you.

*****

[...] At the end of the day Charles would sleep at your place –or you at his– at least once a week. You would still share movie nights like when you were just friends. He would still send you funny TikTok he watched, and you were still telling him about all the books you read.

Those were things boyfriends and girlfriends did, you knew that, nevertheless, you wanted to believe that he was planning something. Or that maybe he already saw you that way. Maybe he was afraid of the constant travel and the pressure of his career and media. Maybe he was trying to protect you from the fans.

Charles never voiced any of this. Never sat down to talk about it, and you didn’t ask. Not until you graduated and got a job proposal in America. It wasn’t France, Germany, or Sweden, places you knew would be easier to gravitate to Monaco when the schedule let you. It was oceans apart, but it also felt like an opportunity to compromise, to keep your –hopefully official- relationship going.

The thing is, life is unpredictable. You can’t guess what someone is feeling or how they will react. Your mom would always tell you that the heart is unknown ground – a place nobody will ever explore in its plenitude. You only get in the rooms the other allows, and even then inside there are tons of places that not even the owners visited.

To know yourself is hard, and to know the other is even harder.

You didn’t know Charles.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this lil sneak peek! I'm sorry I'm a day late with this piece, but I am happy to be publishing it the day our Monegasque won his home race (though it's a sad piece, it's still with him so :D hehe). Make sure to like and reblog to help your fellow writer *mwah*

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘 ▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

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