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danny-chase · 3 years

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Do you think that Tim saved Dick in a way? Because we see Dick getting better as he gets closer to Tim and healing and getting back into the family, and ig it’s Tim who initiated that.

I literally don't have a yes or no answer for this... like most things in the Batfam - it's complicated. (Following answer is informed by 90s-00s comics, i can't really speak for new52 because it just... has so many issues one of which being erasing the relationship between Dick and Tim for *checks note* no discernable reason other than possibly *checks note* Didio hates legacy characters and wants only bad things for them so he could have excuses to kill them off or cancel their comics... idk just a guess)

Warnings: for Bruce stans - just look away i'm about to bring up bits of canon you most likely don't like, for Dick stans - Devin Grayson's run is mentioned, for the lovely anon - i wrote an essay, hope you are prepared

Tim coming into the family gave Dick a reason to occasionally hang around Bruce and i'm not sure if this is an exaggeration or not but he did sort of save that relationship - but whether that was a good or bad thing at the time, i can't really say. For sure - it starts off good, Bruce is actually trying to be a good dad (he comes down to Blud to check on Dick, adopts him, trusts him with his own city, calls him for backup, etc.). But we also see throughout Bruce Wayne: Fugitive/Murderer how unhealthy the relationship between the two can be. Dick built his core values around Bruce - if Bruce had actually killed here it would have been devastating for Dick (he was pretty much on the verge of a mental breakdown simply because they couldn't find proof Bruce wasn't guilty). The two literally got in a fist fight during the arc because Bruce was being uncommunicative and Dick couldn't take it anymore, snapped, and punched him when Bruce said "Bruce Wayne is dead only Batman now" - this tied into Dick finally having the relief and validation of being adopted and he couldn't handle Bruce stripping himself (and by extension, his fatherhood of Dick) away. In this era of comics Bruce had gotten physical with Dick before (here's me venting like an annoyed loser), and here's a clip from Bruce Wayne Fugitive that i just, *sigh*, canon Bruce, my detested.

Now on the other hand - getting Dick involved in the batfam more doesn't just mean he was hanging out with Bruce. His relationship with Tim is pretty great and I can definitely see where it was healing for a while - but also - to give credit where credit is due, the healing he goes through during this era of comics can also be attributed to Barbara and the Titans (the fab five specifically). Wally literally joins the Titans to give Dick a "social life" (me - it's because he's gay and wants to spend more time with Dick, actually, screw you DC you know i'm right). Donna plays a major part in keeping Dick's emotional well being in check. So like everything was going fine - Dick was healing, spending more time with friends, spending a lot of time with people he loved, like Tim, except he was neglecting his health and not sleeping - but overall he was in fact, managing, and moving past the deaths of Jason and some of the other Titans. With the current Titans - he was a hardass (which like ~trauma~ so I understand), but like things were going relatively okay.

And then Donna and Lilith died. And hooof Donna dying was like really really bad for his mental health.

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files (2003) #1

[Image ID: Dick sits in a room staring at a photo, the phone rings in the background, and he doesn't even acknowledge it, the voice mail plays: "I'm not here. Leave a message after the beep." The photo is shown closer in the next frame, it's of the five original Teen Titans - Roy kisses Donna on the cheek, tipping his hat his other hand making the okay sign, Donna has an arm around Roy, the other hand on Dick's shoulder, Garth proudly stands beaming with his hands on his hips, and Dick has both his arms around Wally's neck. Everyone is smiling in the photo. A voice plays over the answering machine: "Dick, it's Roy - pick up the phone... c'mon... please... I know you're there... just pick up. Dick, we need to talk... you can't just... please..." End ID]

For context - the previous page noted that this is Dick SIX WEEKS after Donna died. Usually Dick's the one who moves on quickly, but Donna dying broke him in a way nothing else had before - and that could be partly because he was still recovering from everyone else's death.

Up to this point, Dick had been healing and Tim was definitely a part of that, but then DC decided to throw the absolute book, bookshelf, and library at him. Reading Outsiders (2003) it's very clear he's very traumatized, and around the same time, Devin is literally whumping him like it's the whump Olympics, breaking him and Babs up, burning down his childhood home, blowing up his apartment complex (killing all but like two of his neighbors), he's literally sleeping on fire escapes using newspapers as covering because he has nothing, and the bad thing i don't like to think about (i'll let you know if you ask but that one needs lots of tw, but if you know where i'm going you know what it is already), Blockbuster is killed and he blames himself - and loses it over breaking Bruce's one rule, Bludhaven is nuked, and he pretty much tries to kill himself.

So basically, he was on the path to healing (with Tim as part of that) before he got absolutely destroyed (and almost killed off by Didio in one of the crisis). Tim in his own right, was also going through a lot in the meantime, his dad died, Steph died, Kon and Bart died, i don't remember what else happened and i haven't read that era of Robin yet. Things were good until they weren't anymore, and sometimes i think Dick would regret ever exposing Tim to the life they live, and questions whether he should have just sent Tim packing x2. They do get to spend a year together on a mental health cruise, but then Damian comes into the picture, Battle for the Cowl happens, and they have their falling out. But whatever happened on that cruise must have been really healing for Dick because he actually kind of rocks it in this era - he keeps things light with Damian, Alfred notes at one point how he makes things easy because he has lightness in him, and he patches things up with Tim - catching him in that panel of Red Robin - from there they kind of go back to normal, there's a lightness to the way they banter with each other (also here) and Tim returns the favor (from the Red Robin incident) by pulling Dick out of the water.

They've saved each other multiple times over (physically), and in both in the Black Mirror and Gates of Gotham, Tim helps out in a period where Dick is starting to fall apart from the pressure of holding things together for so long (something Tim might feel guilty for, because he did run away from Gotham on a wild goose chase for Bruce). In that period, it's really clear that Dick saves Tim (he reminds him in RR, that someone does actually care for him) and then Tim saves Dick from being torn apart by Gotham.

I should point out - Damian, while starting off as kind of a hinderance, does eventually start helping Dick as well. By the end of their relationship (before the New52 destroys everything i love), Dick has helped Damian grow emotionally, and through that process Dick probably finds meaning and value in their time together, probably a lot like he used to feel with Tim. And of course, physically, they've both saved each other multiple times by the end of the run.

So yeah. I think Dick finds meaning in growth in mentoring his younger brothers, and it's likely a healing process, that healing just has some twists and turns along the way, and sometimes, on bad days, he probably feels like maybe he shouldn't have intervened at all, but i think on most days, he's proud of what Tim's become.

...I hope this is coherent lmao

#the old: blame everything i hate about comics on Didio #thank god he got fired #tw suicide #i am so long winded oop #i'm in too deep #does this count as character meta?#maybe #Dick Grayson meta #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #i'm kinda sad that Dick and Tim's relationship is misunderstood in a lot of fanon - because it's something that can be so personal #it's not as black and white as people seem to think #as in like... they're usually really good for each other and have a healthy dynamic #even in RR (I haven't read all of it) people take things out of context and just... ignore that Dick reached out to Tim afterwards #and like asked him to go to therapy (not arkham why are y'all obsessed with Dick throwing his brothers in arkham get help)#Tim also straight up throws Dick over his shoulder and starts a physical fight in that series #so... it can be a toxic relationship too but idk i like to highlight the good parts #i see a lot of - Dick begs for Tim's forgiveness for taking Robin away fics out there #but like there relationship isn't that simple #if they ever talked it out in canon - they'd have to address Tim lashing out physically at Dick (Dick would probably not be having it)#and the writers might then be like - hmm maybe we should address all the times we had Bruce hit him too #so like yeah i get why we never saw their reconciliation on panel (they just kinda were like okay we're fine now :D)#but still it's something i'd like to see explored from a more balanced perspective - instead of a - i project on Tim so he's always right #i probably also wouldn't be the best person to write it because i project on Dick too much #not that i would make Tim beg for Dick's forgiveness - Dick would forgive him in like .000001 seconds and def doesn't hold it against him #that's just how Dick is (he'd probably prefer if it wasn't brought up and they just pretend it never happened)#but also knowing Dick he probably feels guilty as fuck for the way RR went - which like *sigh* martyr #batfam #batfamily #batfam meta

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Nice to Meet You

For @boxboysandotherwhump - Theo chose soft!Jameson, so here he is! @wildfaewhump gave me the three-word prompt “Space, shell, fair” for Jameson.

CW: Recovering pet whumpees, referenced past torture, scars, referenced dubcon/noncon, briefly referenced past dehumanization, consensual angst, fluff

When he opens the closet door, intending to press himself into his safe spot with his back to the corner, blocked by the boxes, he discovers Allyn is already there.

For a moment, his mind goes blank.

They look up at him and wince as the light cuts into the warm, velvet dark they were hiding in. Their long wavy hair hangs over their eyes, impossibly long legs bent until their knees are under their chin in the oversized sweatpants, gray eyes looking up at him, startled.

They’re more afraid of you than you are of them, whispers Nanda’s voice in his mind, soft and sweet as custard, the first owner, the one who took him on hunting trips where he had him sleep with the dogs and cut a line into the back of his thigh for every animal he slaughtered. All his memories of Nanda are grays tinged in blood - the gray of the sky, of Nanda’s eyes, the red of the bloodhounds, the drips that followed him across the floor.

Nanda also taught him about bears, while they moved through the woods. They’re more afraid of you than you are of them, boy. Vanilla custard, but held on the edge of a sharp knife, metallic under pillowy cloying sweetness. Nanda’s words always felt like blood in his mouth, spoonfed.

Allyn isn’t a bear - but they are definitely afraid.

“Why-” His voice cracks, shock of earthquake through ice on his tongue, and he considers simply closing the door and walking away. Allyn is his roommate, not his friend. He doesn’t have friends, none of them have real friends. Just other people also suffering nearby. Finally, though, he opens the door just a little wider. “Why are you in here?”

Allyn shakes their head, and it’s only then Jameson realizes their hair is uncombed, hanging lank and limp and lifeless, which Allyn’s hair never does. Their lips tremble, no perfect fucking party smile in place like usual, as they cringe back from him. No pretty blouse, no pretty anything. Just pale and shadowed, freckles standing out like someone stuck them on. “I-I’m sorry, I just… just needed-... a, a minute t-to breathe, I’m sorry-”

“This is my fucking space, Allyn. Yours is under the bed, so… go be under the bed.” His voice isn’t as rough and mean as he wants it to be, but it’s maybe mean enough - they sniff, and he sees their eyes glitter with tears.

His anger melts under something he tells himself isn’t guilt, and he exhales, slowly, before he moves to a crouch. He doesn’t like being loomed over, so they probably hate it, too, right? He’s had too many motherfuckers stare down at him in his cages. He stays that way in silence, right at their eye level, cocking his head as they breathe, wondering what color their eyes really are.

“I’m sorry,” They whisper, and he can see the shift of their oversized sweatshirt, three days past needing a wash. This isn’t like Allyn at all. Have they been like this for days, and he didn’t notice?

Well, why he fuck should he notice, they’re not friends, and Allyn is in his space, the only space in his entire life that’s all his and isn’t ringed in bars to put him on display-

No.

It’s not their fault, they’re upset, and the darkness of the closet is safer than anywhere else. You can hide in closets, he understands why they’re here. He forces down his irritation, and takes in the miserable worry in their eyes.

“Shit. Allyn, it’s... I don’t mean to be an ass, I just-... uh, what made you… need a minute? Exactly?” He should call for the big guy who runs this place, it’s his whole job to handle moments like this, but he can’t quite make it happen. Instead, he finds the voice he wants to be sharp is softer, his words feel like the heat of a kiss he actually wants, taste sweeter than any kiss he’s ever actually had.

They’re more scared of you than you are of them.

“Um, I-I was-... I was thinking… about… him.” The poison in the love in their voice is all in Jameson’s head, but he feels it seep into all his scars anyway. Acid, that him. Too much pineapple burning his tongue. They’re lucky to have had an owner they could love. Luckier still, to have one who loved them back.

Luckiest of all, to have an owner who wanted them to be happy.

Unluckiest, though, to get chucked out with the fucking garbage when the asshole died and they weren’t in his will. It’s not fair, but it’s fucking life, isn’t it? And in the end, which one of them is luckier? Him, for knowing it was suffering the whole time - or them, for having the chance to believe it was anything else?

“You miss him.” Flat, crash of knives on the ground, the clink and rattle and smack of their handles. Allyn only hears the words. He is starting to realize words feel inside him differently than they do to others.

Allyn nods, and the glitter of tears spills finally out.

He wants to touch their face - he doesn’t.

“I-I do,” They whisper. “I know I sh-sh-shouldn’t, but I… I do. I’m sorry, I know that you don’t-... that you weren’t-”

“Yeah, well.” He waves a hand, dismissive. The scars on his back and legs feel stretched, when he crouches like this, balances on the balls of his feet. He can feel the skin pull at itself, numbed but still here. Couldn’t kill me, motherfuckers, how about that? I’m still here, and three of you are gone. You’re just fucking corpses and your little blow-up doll with a heartbeat is still here. “You’re hurting worse than I am now, so I guess we’re sort of even.”

“I just… I can’t-...” Allyn’s voice buckles under the weight of their emotions, it shatters. Jameson tastes blood from the glass and watches Allyn lift their hands to hide behind them. Long fingers, delicate and graceful, even in this. Nails filed to perfect roundness. His own fingers are nothing special, two of them on his right hand broken until they don’t bend quite right anymore. He didn’t have to have perfect hands. He barely escaped Robert getting to keep his hands at all, and that was only because he was pretty fucking good at using them.

“I can’t live without him,” Allyn whimpers, muffled and thick. “I feel like… like I was made empty for him to fill up, and h-he’s gone, I can’t-... live without him, I can’t-”

He swallows the glass of their grief, buries it inside him. Wonders if he’ll ever know how it feels to give a shit what happened to the assholes who hurt him. What would it be like, to actually feel bad about the deaths?

“You can,” He says, low-voiced, and shifts forward into the closet, settling himself down and closing the door until only the thinnest crack of light can break up their safer darkness. Barely the width of a wire, the light illuminates nothing, only reminds them it’s there. He listens to the soft inhale, slower exhale, of the person beside him. Their presence is a weight, in his safest places, and his nerves are alight with how fragile it is, to have anywhere at all, how easily ruined by someone intruding. He clears his throat, uncertain, unused to being one to give comfort. More used to ignoring its existence. “You, um. You can live without them, I fucking swear it, Allyn. I lived without all of mine, for a while, ‘fore the next one caught me, or bought me.”

He hears rustling, and tilts his head just slightly to see them looking at him. They’re pale, but he is, too, a duller washed-out color from lack of sunlight for so long. Their freckles look like constellations, the stars he would stare at through Robert’s window in the dark. He notes, absently, that they damn near have a Little Dipper along their left cheekbone. “But-... but you didn’t love them… did you?”

He decides he sort of likes their voice. It slips into his mind, subtle sweetness, maple syrup but thinner. Weaker, but maybe it could be strong.

With time.

He swallows, speaking gruffly to cover up the strange twist of emotion. “No, I-... no. I didn’t love ‘em, but… but you keep going, you know? You’ll do it, too. I’m not… fuck, I’m not good for this. I wasn’t ever supposed to talk, so I’m not… super good at it now. Being, um. Like, helping… with words.” His voice is thick tar on his tongue, colored by his embarrassment.

But he tries.

There’s a silence, and he leans over, until his shoulder just touches theirs. Allyn tenses and then relaxes, and they sit like that for a while, listening to each other breathe.

Allyn’s head comes to rest on his shoulder, and he finds he doesn’t mind the weight.

“I’m so tired of being sad,” They whisper.

“Yeah, I’m-... sorta tired of being pissed off, myself.” He huffs a laugh. Then he feels Allyn’s hand - cold, slender, long-fingered - find his own, warmer and scarred. “Feels like we’re just empty seashells that get filled up with whatever the water brings, huh?”

“That… that sounds really pretty,” Allyn says softly. “Do you think pretty things a lot?”

“No. Most of my thoughts are really fucking ugly.” He manages another humorless laugh. “I guess I can surprise you, huh.”

“In more ways than one.”

“What?”

“I saw what you wrote on the wall,” Allyn murmurs, and they shift their head, breath warm on the side of his neck, where his collar is. Or isn’t. For a second, he can’t remember if he’s wearing it or not. He takes his off, sometimes. When he can. More and more often, as the days turns into weeks here.

“You did?” He closes his eyes, not that it makes much difference. They don’t let go of his hand. There is movement, out in the hall, in the rest of the house, but for the second, he and Allyn are alone.

“Mmhmm. You can read and write? Did your owner let you?”

It’s a secret he’s kept inside him for so long. It’s so hard to give it away, now. “I… no, none of them knew I could. When they took it from me, it… didn’t work. I never lost it.”

“Oh.” They’re silent for a moment. Their breath is warm, and despite himself, he feels a nervous flip of his stomach, his hair standing on end. It’s something trapped between fear and want, and it’s unlike any fear or want he’s ever felt before. “What did you write, on the wall?”

He could tell them anything. He could lie.

He tells the truth. “I wrote out our names. All of us. Um. The, Jake, and… his people. Eli, Nova, Sarita, um, Allyn…”

“Did you write yours?”

He lets his head gently fall back to rest against the wall. His heart might break out of him, bleed all over the floor. A different kind of bleeding, a kind that he sort of wants, even though he doesn’t. “Um. Yeah, I… yeah.”

“What is it?” They don’t move their head, they don’t let go of his hand. “What’s your name?”

He shouldn’t tell them.

It’s been his secret for so, so long. But… fuck, he’s so tired of secrets.

“Jameson,” He says, and it’s the taste of air just before rain, a chill breeze on a blistering day. His name, the one he gave himself. “I’m-... my name is Jameson.”

They’re quiet for a second, and then say, softly, “Nice to meet you, Jameson.”

It sounds better, in Allyn’s voice.

Everything does.

---

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @astrobly @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump

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hotchley · 3 years

Text

where he's been

I did it!

I wrote the happy ending/second part, in which he makes the deliberate choice to show her and there is healing and there is joy and there is love <3

Everyone say thank you to the anon on tumblr that asked me about this when I did the WIP game, because without them we wouldn't have gotten here...

But we did! I finished a multi-chapter thing!

Trigger Warnings: scars, intrusive thoughts, trauma, references to the events of the Foyet and Doyle arcs, mild sexual content, surgery, medical things (Route 66 references mostly)

read on ao3!

previously: part one

Part Two: He Shows

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

He shows her deliberately. Because he wants to. Because he loves her, and he loves himself. Because he trusts her. He wants to be vulnerable with her in a way he could only ever be with Haley. He wants to do this, for her, and for himself. He knows they are not beautiful, that she may flinch at the sight of his humanity as everyone seems to do, but he needs her to see them. Properly. In a way that is right.

His body feels more like his with every day that passes now. He will never forget the pain his fathers emotions brought, or how he felt completely paralysed and pinned in place by George Foyet and his knife. His mind may never recover. But he's been making progress, and despite the emergency surgery, his body is recovering and he's proud of it. He's proud of himself.

And he's proud of Emily too. When she was in Paris, and he was too consumed by grief to do much more than look through the files they had on Doyle, he would feel a sense of pride in her, and all she had overcome. In all she had accomplished. In all she had survived, and continued to survive. But most of all, he was proud that she never let Doyle win.

Even when he tried to scar her body forever as a punishment for everything she had done, even though she had been right, she had always been right, she didn't let him win. She wore that scar with the same pride everyone on the team did. Because those scars made them human. They reminded him they weren't untouchable, but they were stronger than anyone gave them credit for.

It took a while for her to get there. There were still days where she would scrub the area till the skin went red, as though enough force would remove it. There were days where she would think of how far plastic surgery had come, and wonder- if she was given the chance- whether she would keep the marks. But there are other days, where she doesn't even hesitate before wearing shorts. Before wearing something with a lower neckline.

It's different for Aaron. Not for any real reason, he's just a different person. The scars that cover his torso, the scars that match the killer of his first love, of the first woman to teach him that when the poets said love hurt, they did not mean like the pain that came with smashed glass or belt marks, they meant a pleasant hurt, were almost impossible for him to accept.

The ones on his back became easier with time. Because they healed, and they faded to silver lines. He can still feel it, and can still tell when someone has touched him there. He no longer flinches, as the touches placed there are warm and gentle. Neutral. And he was a child, who deserved to be safe. A child, who shouldn't have known how to fight.

The ones left by Foyet were harder to come to terms with. He cannot feel there properly. The few times Emily has touched him- over his shirt, only ever over his shirt- he has either winced at a phantom twinge of pain or stared at her blankly because the area was numb.

He used to feel like he should've fought back. Properly. His gun was on the table, he could've grabbed it. He knows he could've because he dreams of that night more times than he doesn't. Being exhausted wasn't an excuse. Elle told him it was, but he remembers how she was- so unforgiving of herself. He wouldn't extend himself the courtesy she hadn't.

Foyet’s scars were just different. He hated having the same marks as a killer. He hated how, every time he walked into his apartment, he would remember. Vividly. The moments from his childhood still haunted him, but some of them were starting to blur together. But the feeling of the knife plunging in- he would always remember each and every single one.

The stitches tore during his thirty-four days off. He had sent everyone away, not wanting them to see just how much he needed them, because he needed to convince himself they still believed in his invincibility. The irony of his situation, especially as Derek held his hand from the bed to the wheelchair, was not lost on him. But then he regained his independence.

Then the damage done almost became irreversible. Collapsing in the conference room had been terrifying for everyone, but waking up had been the hardest thing he'd ever made himself do. During one of his brief moments of consciousness, he realised it was the damage Foyet had done when he scarred him that had led him to the abyss he'd visited once, and only once before.

When he finally gained the courage to look in the mirror, he broke. The scars were never going to heal properly, he'd realised that right before the pain became overwhelming. Foyet's hadn't. No matter how careful he may have been the second time round, the scars were never going to fade. They were still red, just less angry.

Seeing them after the surgery, in the same apartment, with the same mirror, sent him back in time. They were too red. They were too deep, too much and he couldn't look at himself, couldn't go through the pain of realising just how strong one man's hold on him was. Not for a second time.

Emily found him like that. She didn't walk in, knowing he would never recover if she did. But when he emerged thirty minutes later, wearing Haley's college hoodie that had always fit him perfectly, she took his hand. She kissed his forehead, and played with his hair as they watched one of Jack's cartoons. A part of her felt guilty for not saying something, but he felt more grateful for that than she would ever know.

They had sat on the couch until they fell asleep then. They were sitting on the couch when she touched the biggest scar, causing him to wince and run out, leading to her seeing them for the first time.

Because sometimes, the world is cyclical, they're sitting on the couch when he shows her.

This time, Jack is at a sleepover. There had been a gala, and he had looked so happy as he accepted his reward. Shocked beyond belief when Strauss announced her retirement. But so incredibly happy when she named him her successor, especially when he realised there was no reason he had to become a paper-pusher. There was no reason for him to change.

He looks so perfect, cheeks glowing and genuine smile overpowering everything else about him that she can't help but kiss him the moment they get in the car. If they seemed like love-struck teenagers to everyone that drove past then so be it. He looked handsome in his suit, but happiness suited him even more and she wouldn't let anyone dampen it.

So they're sitting on the couch, and his hands are running up and down her arms like he still can't quite believe she wants him. Her dress matches his tie- of course it does, because Aaron pouted and stared at her till she told him the colour- and she looks so beautiful that all he wants to do is watch her. She doesn't even have to do anything, so long as he can admire her.

Just like before, she touches his torso. Before he looks down, she pulls her hand away like he burnt it. A silent apology starts to pass her lips, but he kisses it away before it gets the chance to escape. Tonight, there will be no apologies. There will be no sadness.

Only them and the love they fought so hard for.

"Aaron," she says. "What's going on?"

He cannot tell her, his heart suddenly racing. He knows that he's ready to do this. He knows he wants to. He knows that there will be no shame or judgement if he suddenly stops halfway through. He knows all of that, but the traitorous, self-sabotaging part of his brain wants nothing more than to throw her out.

Before she sees his humanity. Before she gets too close and gets hurt. Before she decides that he is too damaged, and too messy, and too ruined for her to love.

But there is a piece of his brain that is stronger than that. A piece that knows she has seen his humanity every moment since she met him, all those years ago. That knows she has already gotten too close, but with her eyes wide open to all the danger that could come. She loves him. She loves him knowingly and deliberately.

He isn't ruined. He never has been. And yes, he is messy, but everyone is. She knows him. Perhaps better than he does. So she won't leave. Not this time.

He's not said anything for a while, and she's starting to worry. Then he takes her hand, as he has done a thousand times before, and the weight of it grounds her. She trusts him. Whatever he is going to do, he will do because they both want it.

"Close your eyes. Please? I'm not going to touch you, but I can't- if I say it, I'll back out," he whispers.

She realises suddenly, randomly, that the lights are still on. "Okay," she whispers, and complies. Talking feels too loud.

"You can open them now," he says, a few minutes later.

She does. And for a moment, she has no idea what's happening.

And then she sees. Properly. He's taken his shirt off, and his scars are completely visible to her. All of them. She's never loved him more. For trusting her enough to show her who he is. For loving her enough to be so vulnerable without fear. For being so brave that she no longer feels afraid of anything.

"My darling," she says, because Aaron feels too casual. But she has no words.

He takes her hand again, and presses it against his chest. She can feel his heart racing underneath it.

"This belongs to you. Whatever is left of it, however long it may beat for, it all belongs to you. Because I love you. And I trust you. So break it if you must, but carry the pieces with you because they are yours, now and forever."

Emily can't help the tears that start pooling in her eyes. She understands where this is coming from. He thought that this would be the thing that made her hesitate. One day, he will realise that this is the thing that convinced her that it was right. She had known for a while that she was going to spend whatever portion of her life that he wanted her for with him, but now she was so sure that the thought didn't fill her with dread.

There are no words in a language she speaks to tell him how much this means to her. So she settles for the ones that will do. "It won't be the pieces that I carry. It will be the whole thing. For as long as you will allow me to. I love you, Aaron Hotchner. I love you, I love you, I love you." She smiles as she says the words, not once moving away from him.

He smiles, as he always does, before he kisses her. He smiles through the kiss.

It is perfect. It is beautiful. Standing there, with him so vulnerable and her so irreversibly in love, it is hard to believe that the place they are creating their happy ending, is the same space where he was once stabbed in. The place where she set off that chain of events not so long ago.

They go to sleep, in the same bed, wrapped in each others' warmth. It feels perfect. The photo of Haley they keep on the dresser seems to glow even brighter, like she too is so proud of who they have become.

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

And Aaron does too. Because now he's shown her. Properly. And he saw her face, full of love and admiration and pride in how far he has come. She's seen them. But it was his decision. And that, more than anything, heals the final piece of his soul that Foyet destroyed.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #tw intrusive thoughts #tw scars #tw trauma #tw surgery #cw medical

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lavender-lotion · 3 years

Text

Fanfic Writer Asks

I was tagged by @asarcasticwitch - thank you so much!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

737, which is an ugly number :(

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,890,054 words, which ... AH I might actually get to 2mil by the end of the year!

3) How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

thank you, ao3 dashboard for this handy list:

Teen Wolf (TV) (377)

X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies) (187)

Marvel Cinematic Universe (93)

Glee (29)

Young Justice (Cartoon) (11)

Kingsman (Movies) (9)

Original Work (9)

The Avengers (Marvel Movies) (8)

Criminal Minds (US TV) (7)

Thor (Movies) (6)

Deadpool (Movieverse) (5)

Weird City (TV) (5)

X-Men (Original Timeline Movies) (4)

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga) (4)

Ragnarok (TV 2020) (4)

Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) (3)

Teen Wolf (TV) RPF (3)

Iron Man (Movies) (3)

The House in the Cerulean Sea - T. J. Klune (2)

Venom (Marvel Movies) (1)

Stranger Things (TV 2016) (1)

Captain America (Movies) (1)

Fate: The Winx Saga (TV) (1)

Power Rangers Ninja Storm (1)

X-Men - All Media Types (1)

Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan (1)

Riverdale (TV 2017) (1)

X-Men Evolution (1)

Push (2009) (1)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

With You, I Belong

Mates and Marriage Proposals

The Perceptions of You and I

(baby) maybe that matters more

Breathing You In

5) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

ughh so, fair warning, I have a lot of works. I definitely do not remember all of them, however I do have four works tagged as Unhappy Ending and then another nine works tagged Ambiguous/Open Ending, which is way more than I’d thought I had!

however, there is one fic that stands out in mind when I think about which of my works has the angstiest ending! Heed the tags :)

And Now?

Stiles Stilinski finds out who his soul mates are by setting one on fire.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

ughhhhhhhh I truly do not know???

7) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t write many crossovers at all! I have some mcu/teen wolf cross overs, I have a teen wolf/glee cross over plotted (that i’ll probably never write), but my strangest is probably this teen wolf/x-men cross over!

what-ifs (don’t fuckin’ matter to no one)

Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | M/M | X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)Teen Wolf (TV) | Logan (X-Men)/Sheriff Stilinski | Logan (X-Men), Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski | Memory Loss, Telepathy, Mentions of War, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Neglect, Grief/Mourning, Telepath Stiles Stilinski, Telekinetic Stiles Stilinski, Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling

There’s somethin’ there. Somethin’ that has him sleeping curled up on his side with a pillow tucked to his chest, somethin’ that has him splittin’ up his food ‘fore he eats ‘cause he don’t need as much as a baseline. Has him turnin’ to tell someone shit that ain’t there. There’s just...there’s just somethin’ there that’s missin’ and it shouldn’t be missin’.

8) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

sometimes! I don’t write a lot of smut because I actively dislike writing it, but the smut I do write is super super soft and sappy and full of emotions lol

9) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to almost all of my comments! comments i won’t respond to: negative comments, unsolicited criticism, comments that aren’t relevant to the fic itself, comments simply asking for more

I love love love responding to comments! I love every single comment that I get and I want to show how much I appreciate getting them, and personally I think responding to comments is the only way to do that! everyone has different comment philosophies, but for me, if someone is taking the time to comment on my fic like I so badly want them to, I think it’s important to respond to show my appreciation!

10) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

aha YEAH I DO. this past weekend I actually got a number of shitty comments and had to file two ao3 abuse reports for harrasment (: I love it

I am no stranger to hate comments. I write copious amounts of age difference fic. I write copious amounts of incest. I am not going to apologize nor am I going to feel bad for enjoying either.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

ughhh I sure as heck hope not!

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I have a number of them :) I always always do my best to make sure it’s linked to the original fic, AND that I add a tag noting that there’s a translation!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have made a few attempts! the only successful attempt is there's nothing i wouldn't do to make you feel my love which is a collaboration with @flightinflame, not quite a co-write!

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I am unable to answer this lol I don’t have an all-time favourite. mutli-shipping forever.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

god okay this is such a good question! imma ramble about a few so bear with me here! (i may have 700 posted works but I also have a few hundreds wips & ideas floating around in my gdrive, too)

gone & past - this is a starrish wip i’d started in 2017. I ended up deleting it from ao3 to rewrite it and never got there, but I have about 20k of content! I built my home, inside of you - thorki human au with college jock thor and high school dancer loki. i’ve got a start and nothing else Sheriff Stilinski Gets Some Sweet Sweet Lovin’ - massive wip where... well, the sheriff fucks his way through the entire pack. I want to write it but. trans allison au - this is an au where allison is trans and that changes the entire season 1 canon. it features stallison, petopher, and a looooooong ass outline that will never exist beyond my wips You Fill My Heart (With Such a Gentle Love) - this is a stetopher a/b/o au with pregnant omega stiles and alpha pair petopher falling in love. it started as a labour of love to someone I no longer have in my life. I have about 30k, a full outline, but idk. makes me sad to think about it they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered - this is my big x-men first class rewrite that I honestly don’t think i’ll ever finish. I have a few thousand words, a full outline, but no love lost for cherik so. doubtful Physiotherapy (I'll Be Your Baby) - this was a fic I was SO excited about, and then it kinda flopped and stayed a wip because I didn’t have a plan or the motivation to finish it. it’s a winterspider human au with amputee bucky and science twink peter that I adore the premise of but who knows breathing you in chapter 2 - I have a massive second chapter planned for this fic but the first did so good so fast I am way too intimidated to write more in case everyone hates it lmao

there are more arjgoirjeg there are so many more but these are the bigger ones I can think of right now!

16) What are your writing strengths?

ughhhhh I hate answering this because I have, like, seriously bad imposter syndrome around my writing BUT I do think i’m able to weave poignant backstory into narration & i write strong, distinctive narrative voices!

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

literally I can’t write settings at all. I don’t know how people vividly describe settings but I absolutely cannot do that and it’s one of the reasons I haven’t delved into original fiction. I need to write the town my characters live in?? fuck that imma just use a location we’ve seen on screen & let readers fill in the blanks lmao

I am also shit at long fic. I don’t have the mind for long and interesting plots, and I don’t have the focus to write long fic (which is why every long fic i’ve ever posted has taken me literal years to complete smh).

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I like it! both as a reader and as a writer. as a writer, I generally only use a few words, or small sentences that can be understood by context, and I generally don’t

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

the last thing I wrote and posted was this one:

Languish

It was a really, really hot Saturday, and most of the school was outback, enjoying the sun, not caring about the heat, and having the time of their life.

Everyone but Bobby, of course, who was melting away.

“I just want to remind everyone that I make ice. I am the Ice Man. I am not built for the heat and soon enough I’m going to melt away into nothing.”

20) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

this is another impossible question! I have a few I really enjoy, but I really don’t think I have a favourite that stands out above the rest!

i’m tagging: @4magicandmayhem @insertmeaningfulusername @midrashic @wynnefic @ikeracity @stronglyobsessed @elledelajoie @wolfnprey & anyone else who sees it and wants to do it! seriously! go ahead :)

blank questions below the read more!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

3) How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

7) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

8) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

9) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

10) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

16) What are your writing strengths?

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

20) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

#lavenderlotion #my writing #writing tag #writing meme

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lilydalexf · 3 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with tatooedlaura (Laura Sprys)

Laura has 28 fics at Gossamer, but the big treasure trove of her stories is at AO3, where she has 193 fics. Thank goodness for the richness of the X-Files and for talented, creative people like Laura who can find so many interesting ways to tell tales in the show’s universe. Big thanks to Laura for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Maybe reading mine but reading older fic in general is something I still do and something I still find entertaining. I do wish i could get into my old fics and post a warning that some of those were written before the author: ever had a drink, ever had sex, ever had a boyfriend, ever lived on her own, ever had a real job, or ever experienced much of anything in the real world.

Then again, fanfic is a perfect time capsule for the age and it’s always fun to see where the originals started and how they’ve grown.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Back in the day and up and through today, it has always been a fun experience. From it, I’ve learned to love writing. I’ve learned that fans are crazy, weird, wonderful, generous, talented, committed, passionate, and imaginative. In a fandom, you can think whatever you wish and write about anything you like and because I’ve been around so long, I’ve gotten to watch the storylines shift and the relationships change ...

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Originally, I never had much interaction with people other than ones who sent emails commenting on my fanfic … the internet at my parents house was dial-up and I had to access through the AOL free disks that arrived in the mail so, for the most part, I didn’t have the bandwidth or the connection speed to do more than upload stories and download episode guides.

Good lord, I remember submitting a story and having to wait upwards of two days to two weeks before the new batch of stories was posted ... then ephemeral came around and you could actually have your story up in under a day ... all ya'll who started on tumblr and ao3, you have it great, let me tell you :)

One thing that stands out in my mind still (and I’m still friends with her on Facebook) was a woman from western Canada who I stumbled across somewhere while looking for the blooper reels. She offered to send me her copies on VHS for my collection. I don’t think she asked for payment and one day, a package arrived from a lovely woman near Lethbridge, bloopers playable, tapes labeled in clear printing. I still appreciate that 20 some odd years later :)

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Fandoms are crazy places. Tread lightly at first but enjoy what you want, ignore what you don’t, rewrite what you hate, and write what you love. Don’t be an asshole when you don’t agree with someone … when you do, tell them …

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I was on board from the first episode. It was a show about two people who you felt were destined to be together but weren’t, and wouldn’t be for years. It was a cop show about aliens and a monster show with cops. I was in the right place at the right time in the right frame of mind and there was just something that clicked and I never looked back. Friends were not allowed to call me on Friday night and once it switched to Sunday, I made sure that my parents got us on early evening bowling league so we’d be home in time to watch. Even my boyfriend (eventual husband) knew to shut the hell up from 9-10pm, even if he was sitting next to me on the couch (with my parents in their chairs watching as well)

Also, my 56-year-old dad had a crush on Scully from the start so that was entertaining as hell as well

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I have been writing stories in my head for literally as long as I can remember. Watching some episode, I honestly don’t remember which one, I suddenly had an idea for a story about Mulder and Scully. I had never written a story with pre-existing characters before and it was totally foreign to me. How do you write a character with a current storyline. It was weird, it was difficult, it was some of the most fun I’d had writing up to that point.

Suddenly, I didn’t have to explain or describe the characters, think of jobs and mundane things … they already had those … and it was great.

Honest-to-God, my first fic was written, in pencil, on a yellow legal pad by flashlight while lying with my head at the foot of my bed so I could see my parents coming down the hall if they happened to wake up at midnight to go to the bathroom. Later fics were written by the light of an 10” TV/VCR combo with me still lying with my head at the foot of the bed. I still have those old legal pads somewhere and I remember having to type them in secret, having to wait until the house was empty for 20 minutes to an hour at a time. Uploading them was always unnerving because of the slow dial-up and the fact that I didn’t have my own email address, but had to use my dad’s. I’d have to make sure to check it whenever I could, intercept the feedback I’d get off gossamer.

I was such a damn rebel.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Well, I now know how to interact with people given tumblr and AO3 but it hasn’t changed much. I contribute a little more now that I understand posting on social media but mostly, I still just write like a fiend and post, read voraciously and give kudos and likes often, comment some and reblog.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

And nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever caught me like the X-Files did in regards to the fandom experience.

I have shows I watch and re-watch and re-watch but no two characters have ever had me writing and thinking and planning like Mulder and Scully. No other combo has ever made me write upwards of 300,000 or more total and still have plenty of stories to tell.

I’m okay with this.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Aside from Mulder and Scully and the gentlemen three of Frohike, Langley, and Byers … I love all Scully’s nieces and nephews in my ‘Life’ series … I also love Corduroy (picture books), Harold (purple crayon fame), Neville Longbottom, the characters from my own novels, Katniss (book not movie), Anne Shirley, Elnora (from the Limberlost), Will Stanton/Merriman/Barney/Jane from ‘Dark is Rising’ and 10,459 others …

I’m a children’s librarian so most of my favorite books are those written for the younger and YA crowd. I like my job :)

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I watch this show all the damn time. I will think about Mulder and Scully when I have nothing else to think about, normally writing and editing whatever story I may have in the hopper at the time about them.

My husband laughs when I have the show on. He knows all the episodes with me and it’s one of my comfort shows that I don’t have to pay attention to when it’s on. During it, I have edited books, decorated cookies, been sick, been recovering, simply wasted a perfectly good day because I could.

My 17-year-old daughter keeps it on while she does homework and works out.

It’s a staple at our house and no one is allowed to make fun of it, even though we all know that parts are completely ‘make fun-able’

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I read fic all the time … I have worked my way through AO3 starting from the beginning and if it was more easily readable on a phone, I’d work my way, once again, through gossamer.

Restated from above: I dabbled and have a favorite ‘Fringe’ fic … I tried to read a Harry Potter fic once … I type ‘West Wing’ occasionally in ao3 and tumblr ...

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I have all kinds of favorites on tumblr but right now, I honestly don’t remember most of the names … I pretty much read everything that comes through my dashboard and every few days, i read through the newest posts on AO3 … I love you all!!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Of X-Files fics, I love my newer stuff … I read “Life” and its sequels every few months … ‘Your Place or Mine’ is another one I will read … actually, I’ll just say it .... I read all my own fic over and over again …

With fic, you get to write the characters as you want to see them and write situations that you want to see … I write for myself most of all and I love to read what I wrote :)

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I write them all the damn time. I have tons of snippets and half-finished that I occasionally glean things from but while sometimes, old stuff morphs into new, sometimes, it just needs to gather that dust and live a quiet little forgotten life in some backhand folder on my dropbox account ...

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

First question is answered above.

As for other creative work, I have published two YA novels, have the third in that series in editing … I have five other novels in the hopper in various stages of ‘good lord this needs an edit or twelve’ …

I am writing things constantly in my head or on my laptop … most is crap … stome sticks … some turns into fic and some turns into books …

But the point is, I am writing, in some form, at all time :)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Some two sentence conversation will spark an idea … the line of a song will inspire an idea … a word will start a sentence which will turn into a paragraph which will tumble straight into a story … and sometimes, stuff just pops in my head for no damn reason at all ...

What's the story behind your pen name?

On gossamer, I am L. Sprys because that was my name at the time :)

On tumblr and AO3, I’m tatooedlaura because my name is Laura and I have, now, six tattoos (yes, I spelled it wrong in my handle but that’s life) … when I decided on the name, I think I only had two

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

They do now … it took me years to crack and tell them … my husband has never read them, nor have any of the people I have told (as far as I know)

Now, I don’t really care who knows … I’ll tell them I write smutty X-Files fanfiction and family-friendly X-Files fanfiction …

I am too old at this point to be embarrassed by what I like to do. If they laugh at me, I tell them they only get to laugh when they’ve published a book and I pull up my books on Amazon … I’ve only had to do that once and it shut them right the hell up …

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Gossamer: L. Sprys

Tumblr and AO3: tatooedlaura

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I love you! I see you! I appreciate you! I hope you enjoy! Don’t judge me for my grammar issues! I will never be able to spell the word ‘excersize’!

(Posted by Lilydale on April 27, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #tatooedlaura #laura sprys

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moshymosh · 3 years

Text

Remember Me- Something’s happening

When the love of your life suffers from a disease that affects their memory of their life with you, what do you do? Will you spend your last days with them, trying to get them to remember you? The life you had, or would you give up and let them forget you?

Summary- Dr. Spencer Reid felt his whole life change when Agent Y/n L/n joined the BAU. She came in like a cool summer breeze changing everything Spencer knew about love and his capacity to care for someone so much. Y/n came to the BAU with a tragic past, her only goal was to save lives and make the world a safer place for everyone. She meets a skinny shaggy haired doctor, which causes her whole life to change, much like Spencer, will she fall in love or will her tragic past or even her job prevent her?

Pairings- Dr. Spencer Reid x f!reader

A/N- This is a notebook inspired story, this story will be told and wrote like a chapter book. So some of the endings will not always make sense. Also I don't claim go own Criminal Minds or the Notebook, this is solely for entertainment purposes and for enjoyment. Some of the lines are from the notebook movie, again I don't claim to own either fandom/tv show/ movie. I try to make Y/n as vague as possible so shes more inclusive so if there is any descriptive things that don’t apply to you feel free to ignore them. Also just putting this out there as the story progresses Maeve is still alive and well, she is a good friend of Spencer and Y/n’s. There will be graphic content and sexual scenes in later chapters, warnings will be added as they go. Also if you want to be tagged send me an as or comment here, also send requests I'm down for making little fics.

PS- Please don't post my fics anywhere without my documented consent, thanks -Karma (MoshyMosh)

Warnings!- This chapter with have some sexual content, talk of sexual assault, and descriptions of kidnapping. If these bother you please don't read this chapter!

A/N 2.0- I am like half asleep, I will double check the spelling and any issues when I was up

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Y/N laughed from her couch as she tossed some popcorn at Spencer, who sat on the other end of her couch.

"Y/N!" Spencer scolded as he looked over at her, with a smile, when he saw that she was pretending to be interested in the movie they were watching.

Y/N tried to hide her smirk, before she erupted in giggles as she looked back at him, tossing some more popcorn at him. Spencer groaned as he tried to swat away the onslaught of popcorn before he started laughing along with her. Soon Y/N had wiggled her way over to Spencer as she continued to rain popcorn at him before she straddled his hips. Y/N smiled down at him as she lifted the bowl of remaining popcorn above his head then tipped it, dumping the rest of the popcorn.

"Y/N!" Spencer laughed, as he reached up to grab the bowl from her hands. She chuckled and dropped the bowl behind the couch, her arms dropped so that they were draped over his shoulders. Spencer's hands dropped to rest on her hips, and let out a sigh of contentment when her fingers brushed against some of the hair at the base of his neck as she looked down at his face.

Spencer licked his lips as he nervously fiddled with her oversized sweater, his eyes looking between her eyes and her lips. "Screw it." He said quietly before he crashed his lips to hers. Y/N let out a soft gasp against his lips before she eagerly kissed him back, threading her fingers into his hair.

Spencer's hands slid under her sweater, his fingertips brushing against the band of her shorts she wore. Y/N pulled away from the kiss to pull off her sweater, leaving her top half bare. Spencer let out a breath and looked up from her chest, his hands coming up to card through her hair. He pulled her head down to crush his lips against hers again, his hips grinding up against hers slightly. The movie they had turned on, now forgotten behind her.

As they continued to kiss, Y/N let out a groan and pulled away from him as she heard her phone ringing on the coffee table. She slid off Spencer's lap and stood, reaching for her phone. Spencer bit his lip, as his eyes raked over her topless figure, as she bent to pick up the ringing device.

"Penny, you need to have a really good reason for calling on our week off." Y/N said when she answered the phone. "We have a case don't we?" She looked at Spencer as she reached for her sweater when he handed it to her. Spencer watched her slide it on and chuckled softly when he heard her next words. "No need to call him, he's right in front of me." She smiled at him, with a wink.

Spencer smiled back and stood from the couch to gather his things after he pressed a kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Was that a kiss I heard?!" He heard from Penelope's end of the call, causing him to chuckle again.

"Goodbye, Penelope." Y/N said before she hung up. "I'll get dressed then we can go to the office."

Spencer and Y/N rode to Quantico in a tension-filled silence after what happened before they were interrupted. Spencer looked over at Y/N as he replayed the kiss over and over again. He was pulled away from his thoughts as she pulled into her assigned parking spot in the lot. The pair got out and started walking to the elevator in the parking garage.

Y/N fiddled with one of the buttons on her blazer as they rode the elevator in silence. Spencer leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple with a smile, pulling away when the doors started opening on their floor. Y/N smiled softly and stepped out with Spencer, once they were inside the bullpen, she went over to her desk to drop off her bag.

"Miss Y/N..." Penelope sing-songed as she walked over to her, dragging Derek along with her. "You have some 'splanin' to do." She said in the 'I love Lucy' voice.

"I do not." Y/N said feigning innocence. "Also we have a case so now's not the time." She said as she began to walk upstairs to the meeting room, taking her seat next to Spencer.

Soon, everyone arrived and sat down around the table pulling their files to him, opening them up to look at their contents. "Ok guys. We're not traveling very far for this case. It's in our own backyard." Hotch said as he began clicking through some of the photos on the TV screen. Y/N listened to him in the background as she started looking through the pictures for the victimology.

"Every one of the women are Y/H/C and Y/E/C eyed, the only thing different is height and weights. Some of them were found to have Y/E/C contacts and a crude dye job if they did not have the correct look to the unsub. These things were noted in the autopsies." Y/N said as she looked up at the screen as pictures of the victims came up.

"There was some DNA recovered from the sexual assaults and under the fingernails of the first victim, there were no matches in CODAS." Derek said, reading the information from his file.

"DC capitol police think the first victim is Leah Ainsworth, 24, a tourist in DC on vacation." Hotch said. "The period of which the victims were reported missing and then to when they were found is 3-5 days."

Y/N nodded her head. " The extreme amount of wounds seems like overkill. 10 of the wounds on Leah were done postmortem. A lot of rage behind these attacks." She said as she closed her file and looked around at the rest of the team to gauge their reactions.

"There's something else..." Derek said. "Every victim was found with a note that said 'For F/I M/I L/I'."

"Could it be an activist group?" Spencer asked, sitting up in his seat.

"Could be initials." Hotch said rubbing his chin in thought. "Garcia see if those are a match for anything like that."

"Got it." Penelope said, writing down a note for herself.

"Reid, Morgan, go to the latest crime scene. Y/L/N and Prentiss go to where this latest victim was abducted and see if you can get anything from there. JJ your with me, setting up the evidence boards." Hotch directed.

"Let's do this." Emily said, getting up from her seat.

The team spent the day finding out new evidence and new possibilities. As they were about to go home for the night they sat in the meeting room going over the things they found out.

"Emily and I found out our latest victim was supposed to meet someone, like a date." Y/N said as she fiddled with her pen. "But the person never showed."

Emily nodded her head. "Customer parking is down an alley behind the building, the unsub could've blitz attacked and drugged the girls."

"Garcia, anything on the search?" Hotch asked, turning towards the woman in question.

"All I got were two activist groups and millions of names." She said, rubbing at her forehead.

"Alright. Guys go home, we'll come back tomorrow and look at this with fresh eyes." Hotch said before everyone got up and went to their desks to gather their things. Y/N smiled at Spencer as she held up her keys.

"Give you a ride home." She said before she mimicked Derek's voice. "Pretty boy."

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yes, I'll take your offer, but don't ever do that again." He joked as he walked over to her.

Y/N drove Spencer home, dropping him off at his apartment building with a kiss. Soon she arrived home, parked in her normal spot, and gather things before she let herself into the courtyard with her keycard. She looked through her keyring for her house key as she walked up to her door.

She stopped what she was doing with a smile, as she spotted a glass vase full of yellow red-tipped roses sitting in front of her door. She chuckled as she fished out her phone out and dialed Spencer's number as she reached to pull the notecard out with the hand holding her keyring, as she began reading it. She let out a squeal as she felt something press against her nose and mouth. She dropped everything she was holding to fight off her attacker.

"Y/N? Y/N?!" Spencer called over the phone hearing the struggle.

"I finally found you." Y/N heard in her ear as she felt her body go limp in her attacker's arms, succumbing to the drug. Her attacker lifted her body into his arms.

"Jason..." Y/N slurred out in the direction of her phone as her attacker pulled her badge and gun off her person. "Jason Dean... Spencie..." Y/N slurred again before she passed out.

"No one is going to save you, babe. I've got you now." her attacker said as he stepped on her phone in his walk to his vehicle.

Spencer took a shaky breath and called Hotch after the line when dead. "Hotch, Something has happened to Y/N.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagine smut #Moshymosh's masterlist #Moshymoshwrites #moshymosh writes #karmawrites #Karma's imagines #Remember Me

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catintheruemorgue · 3 years

Text

dazai x reader word count: 1.9k

authors note: i was super drunk when i wrote this, i may not write another dazai fic unless i get strong inspiration haha

TW: major character death, dissociation, people dying, panic attacks

Dust and rubble were everywhere as you ran along the streets. A new threat was attacking the ADA but this time they went all out. They were bombing the whole city and killing so many people. Once again the Port Mafia and the ADA had to fight together to protect the city you all loved. Nobody even knew who these people were, you only knew where they were from and that was Italy. Perhaps this was the Italian Mafia? Who knew but if so why were they attacking the whole city and not just the Port Mafia? Who knows all you knew was your lungs were burning from how fast you ran. Suddenly you heard a loud BOOM and ducked behind a wall as debris flew everywhere. A decent sized piece hit you right in the face and you fell to the ground. Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the warm blood run down your face.

Dazai had to be somewhere, you were sent on this mission together. As you heard a woman scream you jumped up, not caring how bad your head hurt and ran towards her. Right as you were about to grab onto her arm to lead her somewhere safe a man jumped out from the smoke and slit her throat. Without a second thought you grabbed your gun and shot him in the head. You turned and gagged. You never had to kill while being in the ADA, it was very rare, so rare you could count it on your hands. This was number two for you. These people were animals. After taking some deep breaths and putting your gun away you turned to run but instead slammed into someone. You thought fast and grabbed your knife ready to gut someone if you had to, except someone grabbed your wrist and squeezed. This isn't someone trying to hurt you this was-

“Dazai-san?” Your voice was hoarse and your throat hurt from all the smoke.

“Don't go running off on me because you're scared YN-chan.” For everything that was going on his tone was all too cheery.

“Dazai I just killed someone.” To Dazai you knew you sounded so pathetic.

Christ the man had a kill count higher than you could imagine this could be like childsplay to him. Not that not was even the time to be thinking about it but the two of yours relationship was complicated. Sometimes you were formal and sometimes you werent. Somedays you acted like friends and some days you acted like lovers who couldn't be ripped apart. Perhaps it was due to his fear of commitment he never put a label on it but you two had had sex and one time even made love. That's way more than friends, especially when it came to Dazai.

“Best not to worry about that right now, come on.” His tone was not as cheerful.

He began to pull you away, all while he dogged the debris that was coming. The sounds of explosions went off all around you. That was the mission, get to the center of Yokohama and activate your ability. Your ability was called “Reality Check” it could turn anything within a two hundred foot radius of you fake or not. With the help of Ranpo, you had somehow realized that if you made it to the center of the city and activated your ability, like a metal, It would conduct and spread everywhere and affect everything. This could hurt you or drain you almost to death. Yosano was supposed to come with you to heal you but had to stay back when everyone realized just how insane these people were. The death toll was going to be the biggest they've ever seen. So Dazai was sent with you to use his ability istead.

One hand held onto the bandaged man while the other held onto a dagger. The smoke was so thick all around you almost couldn't even see him three feet in front of you. All of the sudden a man jumped out and grabbed onto your arm and ripped you from your friends grasp. You let you a short but loud yell as he threw you down to the ground. He must've dragged you a couple feet from Dazai because you could hear him but you couldn't see him. Your cheek stung from the scrap that now marked it as you fought your hardest. Your scream for Dazai was cut short by this man's hands wrapping around your neck. Was this it? You could barely breathe due to the smoke, the minute his hands squeezed you felt lightheaded. As you felt around you grabbed a rock. It wasn't big enough to hit him over the head, so you did what that suicidal lunatic taught you and aimed for the funny bone. At least he would loosen his grip. You knew you hit it when he grunted another hit might bet him to stop but relief washed over you all of the sudden.

You gasped for air, you filled your lungs to their capacity. Almost drunk off the feeling of being able to breathe again you hadn't noticed that Dazai had stabbed your knife into the enemy's throat. Even as he spit up his blood onto you, you smiled at the sky.

“I'm glad you remembered what I taught you YN-chan. I haven't had to get this bloody since my Port Mafia days.” His cheerful attitude was back although he had a far away look in his eyes. Maybe this is who he really was, beneath the plethora of masks. It's almost like he missed this, but, maybe he did. He lent his hand to you and you took it.

“We are almost there, Dazai.”

He’d never seen you like this before. So much dirt and grime on your face and ripped clothes. You were so skittish but ready to attack. This would change you and perhaps he'd be an asshole and ask you to be his after all of this. For all he knows, maybe while you have that lost look in your eye while getting healed he'd profess his love so you have no other choice but to say yes. You could not see him but he smiled at this.

The building came into view and you both ran through the doors and down to the basement. When you got down there you both got to work. You found the right spot and sat down. Your legs screamed in relief.

“Atsushi and Akutagawa are ready to take out the bombers as soon as this works.” You said it to Dazai but more to yourself.

He gave you a nod and sat on a filing cabinet. You activated your ability and tried to focus. All you could think about was how you killed someone, all the blood on you, how many people died. The bombs seemed to have died down a bit but some were still falling. Your whole body hurt and you were about to fall over until Dazai grabbed you.

“No!” You were about to push him away and he grabbed you tighter.

“It wont work YN, you'll die. They will figure it out you have helped enough. We need to get you back to Yosano.” He grabbed you and carried you to the doorway.

Right as you were about to exit another bomb went off and debris covered your way out. Dust and concrete were falling from the ceiling above you. It was very unstable. Dazai put you down and started to try and remove the debris from the pathway. The ceiling was so unsteady, one more bomb and it would come crashing down. Now you started to panic. Your breaths were coming out short and fast. You were gonna die, you were gonna die, you were gonna die.

“Dazai!” Your voice cracked as you yelled his name.

You held onto your stomach as you doubled over, hyperventilating. Dazai knew there was no way out. Too much debris, even if you two went at it like animals you wouldn't get it free in time and you were way too weak to use your ability. Huh. All the ways he’s been targeted, all the ways he's tried to kill himself, he's going to be crushed to death? At least it's with a pretty lady. He turned around and watched you, your eyes squeezed shut, panting so much drool was starting to come out. He was surprised you hadn't passed out yet. Death, you were so scared but maybe it was for the best. Would someone as delicate and beautiful as you be able to recover after this?

“Osamu, I don't want to die. I want to live! Please save me! I don't want to die please oh. Oh please I don't want to die!” Your hands went to your hair and you gagged.

Dazai went up to you and grabbed your arms, in an instant your hands grabbed onto the fabric of his clothes. You weren’t ready to die, not like he was. The sobs that came from your mouth were loud and ugly. Never in your life did you think he’d ever see you this way, but at this point nothing even felt real. Your face hit his chest and your tears soaked into the cloth as he held you.

The man knew you must be dissociated by now, so petrified of your inexorable death that your brain would rather confuse reality with what was real. He rocked you back and forth as he listened to the chaos outside the building. When you're suicidal, death isn’t scary until someone you love and care for meets their demise. He was scared but only for you so hey, what was he gonna do? Dazai was half tempted to knock you out so you wouldn’t actually have to hear the last bomb and the ceiling above you crumble but he also had this super selfish need to not be alone right now.

“Osamu, tell me you love me.” Your voice sounded far away and it shook as you held onto him.

He could feel your cheek squished up against his chest. His eyes widened a bit. So you knew huh? He always knew there was something special about you. Dazai knew it was coming.

“I love you, YN.”

“I love you too Osamu.”

Like you always could, you made his heart flutter.

“Now listen to my heartbeat and count with me my beautiful belladonna!”

“5”

He knew it would hit any second you as you both continued to rock back and forth.

“4”

You felt like you really were waltzing through a field with flowers and willow trees and a beautiful sunset. Dazai’s heartbeat made you feel safe.

“3”

Dazai could feel tears welling up in his eyes. This is always what he wanted. To die with a beautiful woman. Why does this seem so hard?

“2”

Nothing was real. Only you and him swaying. Where were you? A ballroom? Your living room again?

“1”

Dazai looked up as he heard the biggest crash and explosion of the day, it must’ve happened right outside the building. Everything started to shake, dust started to fall and the entire foundation started to crumble. You smiled.

“Goodnight Osamu, I’ll see you when we wake up.”

The first tear in years fell down his face as everything went dark.

#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #writing

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 280: I Am Red Riot

Previously on BnHA: The pro heroes over at Gunga Mountain struggled against Gigantomachia and the League until finally Midnight was all, “fuck it, let’s just put the kids in charge.” Momo immediately got to work organizing a sophisticated counteroffensive involving an exploding swamp, a bunch of sedative cans, and a massive coordinated team attack. I gotta tell you guys, it’s really something to watch a large-scale group attack in which all of the team members are actually competent. I don’t know what Japan put in the water when all these sixteen-year-olds were growing up, but that shit has paid off big time, and basically the only reason Machia hasn’t gone down yet is because he cheated and was all “sneeze” and the kids all got blown away because they are little and because he is really, really big. Anyway so then Dabi set the forest on fire because he loves doing that, and the chapter ended with Mina using her Acid Man attack to make herself FUCKIN’ FIREPROOF so she could charge through the woods ready to save the day and stuff!

Today on BnHA: Mina launches herself straight at Machia like the beautiful corrosive wild child she is, but then everything goes to shit when she recognizes him from that one time she almost got murdered while giving a strange man directions. Just when it’s looking like she might get killed for real this time, KIRISHIMA SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY AND SHOVES HER TO SAFETY AND IS ALL “BOTTOMS UP” AND HEAVES A LITERAL CAN OF WHOOPASS RIGHT IN MACHIA’S MOUTH. At this point the grown-ups are all “oh wow look at that, time for us to take over for you kids now, don’t worry we’ve got it all under control” because Oh Those Wacky Pros and all that, but at least Majestic finally deigns to show his face so that’s a plus! The chapter ends with us cutting back to the Jakku battle, where Tomura is curled up in a little ball all “curse you heroes, how dare you [checks notes] save people all the time”, which is a real take and a half. Anyway so things are looking up, which can only mean everyone is about to die. That’s how it works, right. Shit.

HOLY SHIT LOL

THIS IS MINA. SHE’S REALLY COOL AND SHE CAN MELT PEOPLE. um, the hell kind of tagline is that?? holy fucking shit?? “melt and succumb”?? IS THE SUCCUMB PART REALLY NECESSARY. IS THAT NOT ALREADY IMPLIED. it’s like saying “die and then perish”, which actually sounds really badass and I’m about to make it my new go-to threat actually so you know what never mind. where the fuck were we anyway

“IS EVERYONE SAFE” some absurdly bad-at-gauging-situations kid from class B is yelling while the forest is on fire and all the kids are recovering from having been catapulted fifty miles by King Dodongo’s windy yeet breath. of course they are safe, sweet child. of course everyone is absolutely fine, why the fuck would they possibly not be safe after something like that

KAMINARI NOOO MY POOR SWEET BABY

AT LEAST HE’S STILL CONSCIOUS ENOUGH TO MAKE STUPID JOKES. holy shit this baby got concussed to hell and back and then Machia turned him and the others into precipitation and he wasn’t in any kind of state to even try to land safely, I hope to god someone caught him

Sero is all “is there anyone still in range!” and damn, I like that he’s taking charge and trying to regain their momentum. he is so criminally underrated. I feel like he’s in the top six or seven of class 1-A kids who I would most trust to take charge. which is very high praise because that class has a lot of charge-taking kids

SPEAKING OF

it “probably” can’t get through her acid, she says. my god. sometimes the spirit of Plus Ultra just takes ahold of these kids and it’s like, I want to ruffle their hair proudly and then grab them by the shoulders and shake them vigorously because WHERE EVEN IS YOUR SELF-PRESERVATION WHY DO NONE OF YOU HAVE IT GODDAMMIT AIZAWA REALLY SHOULD HAVE EXPELLED YOU GUYS AFTER ALL

man. and yet I really do love this “be the one who can do it” stuff. what a heroic fucking attitude dfjfklks. I’ll just go put on my humongous sandwich board that reads GIANT FUCKING HYPOCRITE and go stand in the corner

damn it this week’s scan is annoyingly dark, it’s really hard to tell what’s going on but it looks like the pros are attacking Machia and the League at long last. way to go guys it only took you seven years but you finally hopped to it

MINA WHY IS THE ACID COMING OFF OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. PUT IT BACK!!!

I KNOW SHE’S NOT GONNA DIE DAMMIT BUT AHHHHH AHHHHHH AHHHHHHHH

okay what the hell is up with these weird zen proverbs though

“your fear stricken heart”, “the shortest path”, what the fuck even is this. whose thoughts are these. normally these translations are honestly decent enough but I gotta say this time around I’m totally being thrown for a loop lmao

(ETA: FYI I’m only just now realizing that he was saying the shortest path to Master, as in Tomura, not “master” as in to master something fjkldjskf lol some delayed reading comprehension there. so basically he’s just bitching about how annoying these little “flies” are proving to be.)

JESUS CHRIST

okay is it just me, or is Gigantomachia suddenly showing intelligence in his eyes instead of mindless animal instinct the single most pants-shitting thing you’ve ever seen?!! holy shit. the way he just LOOKS at her out of nowhere all of a sudden?? holy fucking shit DO NOT HURT MT. LADY OH MY GOD I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. AND DON’T YOU DARE HURT MINA EITHER!! JUST FUCKING DIE AND PERISH

but also though, is that recognition in Mina’s eyes?? because even though this dude is 80 feet tall now, her encounter with him a couple years back had to have been one of the more memorable experiences of her young life. damn I was wondering when this would finally come into play

OKAY YES THE NEXT PAGE IS A FLASHBACK OH SHIT

this has nothing to do with anything but Mina just has the prettiest hair, btw, and this “just woke up covered in acid” look is a particularly good one on her. it looks so soft and fluffy, like damn. this is like Shouto-hair-billowing-in-the-wind levels of pretty here

NOOOOO

oh my god holy shit?! putting her back in the school uniform to show the slip in her mentality is a PUNK MOVE, HORIKOSHI, and I respect the shit out of you for it you manipulative bastard. goddammit. bracing myself for the incoming wave of Mina feels... here they come... they’re a lot... let’s see if I can latch on to anything I can actually figure out how to describe in words

okay well here’s one, my respect for Mina’s bravery just went up like a thousand percent in this instant, because now we know this was actually such a traumatizing event for her that hearing Machia’s voice again years later immediately sent her into a full-blown flashback. she was that scared and yet she still stood up to him and didn’t hesitate. and now I’m remembering how her knees just buckled right afterwards, and just...

and this visual, though!! what a brutally effective way to show that in her mind she went right back to being that scared middle schooler again for a moment. god fucking damn. holy shit you guys is Kirishima fireproof because if he comes waltzing out of the woods next I don’t even know what I’m gonna do. lolo kids getting traumatized left and right this arc is fucking merciless

um eXCUSE ME!?!?!

YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT LET GO OF HER RIGHT NOW OR I AM GONNA LOSE IT!!

THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!

holy shit he could have fucking snapped her neck like that??! I don’t like this at ALL WHAT THE FUCK

OKAY SERIOUSLY

I’M GONNA NEED ANOTHER KID TO STEP IN HERE WITH A LAST MINUTE SAVE LIKE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, OR I AM GOING TO THROW MY COMPUTER OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND MOVE TO THE DESERT AND BECOME A HERMIT AND NEVER READ MANGA ON THE INTERNET AGAIN

OH THANK GOD

TODAY WE SPELL “REDEMPTION” K-I-R-I... ETC. THERE’S A LOT OF LETTERS BUT YOU GET THE DRIFT!!!

holy fucking shit y’all. I mean, it’s not like it came out of nowhere, like the setup could not have been more obvious, but let me assure you that none of the predictability lessened the actual impact of this moment in the SLIGHTEST. Horikoshi really wrote a flashback scene one hundred and thirty five chapters ago and planted it, watered it once a day, and patiently waited for THREE LONG YEARS until he could finally harvest the badass fruits of his labor in the midst of his most epic arc to date. I’m so fucking hyped I’ll even forgive him for sacrificing Mina’s big moment and having her get rescued, because it’s such a good reversal. he didn’t freeze up this time. he promised himself he’d never freeze again and he didn’t and he saved her and god fucking damn. anyways so now Machia is going to treat him like a fucking action figure though but he’s a solid little dude he can take it hopefully

NO WHAT IS THIS!!! STOP KILLING MY MOOD!!!

she better not be dead!! SHE BETTER NOT FUCKING BE DEAD I WILL RUN MY PC THROUGH A PAPER SHREDDER AND GO AND LIVE ALONE WITH MY FEELS ON A MOUNTAIN IN TIBET

CHINTETSU!!

well we know he’s fireproof. another callback at the least expected of times lmao

so Tetsu’s all “yeah Kirishima’s not really all that fireproof but he totally ran over here anyway to save you. oh wait that probably wasn’t very comforting of me to say.” maybe that’s why it seems like he might not have actually said it out loud, now that I’m reading this over again. good call Tetsu

ARE YOU STANDING UP AND CASUALLY STRETCHING OUT YOUR BACK

I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE HOW MUCH I HATE THIS GUY RIGHT NOW. WE’RE REACHING LEVELS OF HATRED RESERVED FOR NAZIS AND PEOPLE WHO WALK TOO SLOWLY IN FRONT OF ME IN A GROUP SHOULDER TO SHOULDER INSTEAD OF SINGLE FILE SO I CAN PASS IN FRONT OF THEM. YOU’RE A FUCKING TOURIST IN NYC YOU PIECE OF SHIT

lmao he’s just dropping this random hero person and letting him fall to his doom wheeeeee

remind me to leave all of the League of Villains’ texts on read for the foreseeable future. goddamn. I still love you guys but also, fuck you so damn hard

OHO A LIL RED SCALY BOI ISN’T DONE YET!!

real talk, just between you and me, I’ll lower my voice so that Kirishima can’t hear. so uh. we all agree that even if Kiri is fireproof and squishproof, that little can of tranquilizer juice technically shouldn’t have been, right? but we’re all going to hush and pretend like it was anyway for the sake of not spoiling his big moment. even though I am crossing my arms and tapping my chin with my finger while doubtfully glancing to the side

anyway here he goes!

YEAH KIRI GO GETTIM [stage whisper] there it is, in his pocket. should’ve burned. we won’t discuss it

OH FOR FUCK’S

TOGA YOU LITTLE WIENER BUT WHAT’S THIS ABOUT “MY HALF” NOW????

DID HE GRAB MINA’S MID-AIR?? IS HE REALLY REACHING INTO HIS BACK POCKET AND FUCKING UNZIPPING IT RIGHT NOW WHILE HOLDING ON TO NOTHING AND PRESUMABLY FALLING THROUGH THE AIR. DID A LITTLE BIT OF OCHAKO’S QUIRK RUB OFF ON YOU OR WHAT

OH SNAP SON HE REALLY DID THE THING HOLY SHIT???

AND TOKAGE FLEW OVER AND SAVED HIM AND NOW TANKS ARE SHOOTING AT MACHIA, LMAO WHAT IS THIS. MOMO HOW MANY GUNS DID YOU MAKE

Shouji standing there trying to be useful any way he can. are eyeballs really that much more effective if you make them the size of tennis balls and hold them up above your head. legit question, I don’t really know how eyes work

okay after 45 seconds of googling this my impression is that no, they are not. well good on you for giving it the old college try anyway though Shouji

oH MY GODLKDLK?!?!

DID SHE SAY WHAT I THOUGHT SHE SAID, DID SHE SAY MAJESTIC, ARE WE GONNA SEE MASJKESLTKCI DSFLKJL

oh my god he really is the Magic Man dude??? TIME TO DUST OFF MY INVENTORY OF ADVENTURE TIME QUOTES

(ETA: AHH FATGUM AND GANG ORCA ARE THERE TOO YESSSS!)

“that’s enough depending on some interns” oh, okay. now that they’ve done all your work for you. I see, I see

so now Gigantomachia is LITERALLY UNHINGING HIS JAW I can’t fucking believe this dude you guys. everything he does is just like, ARE YOU SERIOUS

please go to sleep already. thanks to you I have my keyboard set to capslock as the default for the duration of this chapter

ARE YOU SERIOUS YOU FUCKING WAITED UNTIL MAGIC FUCKING MAN SHOWED UP TO TEACH US MAGICAL LIFE LESSONS AND NOW YOU’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE TOMURA FIGHT?? WHY DO WE KEEP LETTING THIS MAN GET AWAY WITH THIS

oh my god you guys they really fucking did it

I guess that Howitzer slash fire punch combo really was that potent huh

anyway so now Endeavor is standing there making a big speech instead of reaching into Tomura’s pocket and taking the bullets that he doesn’t know about and shooting him with one asap. dammit Endeavor

aaaaand Tomura is firing back with the wisdom of Shimura Fucking Kotaro of all people

well you sure convinced me. damn I don’t know what I was thinking. heroes suck you guys. how dare they help other people all the time

so now he’s all “PERIOD, EXCLAMATION POINT!!”

take that Endeavor. you heard the man. it’s not destruction without conviction, as god as his witness he will have you know it is destruction WITH conviction. something something the great sage Shimura “I hurt my family for absolutely no reason at all, fuck this ‘helping others’ bullshit” Kotaro. I hope you packed your textbooks because you just got SCHOOLED. I hope the person who ordered you signed up for delivery notifications because you just got SENT. I HOPE YOU LIKE CAPITALISM BECAUSE YOU JUST GOT OWNED. I HOPE YOU CHOSE PAPER AND NOT SCISSORS BECAUSE YOU JUST GOT ROCKED

what an absolutely, unreservedly bizarre place to end the chapter lol. we’re really just done with this week, just like that. Majestic showed up and Gigantomachia opened his chin like a garage door and Tomura is all “you may have won the battle but you suck” while he buys time for Aizawa to suddenly sneeze or something so he can make his terrible comeback and continue Horikoshi’s Traumatize Every Kid in Class 1-A 2020 campaign. what an arc this is my friends. what an arc

#bnha 280 #ashido mina #kirishima eijirou #gigantomachia #shigaraki tomura #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I didn't even notice the extra page on readheroaca until I was getting ready to click 'post' lol #something about ochako mistaking a real orca for their friendly teacher #resulting in a hilarious case of mistaken identity #I have no idea what this page is about or what it is doing there #but at this point 'because 2020' seems like a reasonable explanation for just about anything tbh

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ka-za-ri · 4 years

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Personal Assistant Pt. 7 (Finale)

Part 1: here Part 2: here Part 3: here Part 4: here Part 5: here Part 6: here Crossposted to Ao3: here

Wow, I’m surprised y’all are here. Really, I’m humbled and honored for all the followers and all the support you’ve given me in this whirlwind of a writing marathon. Please enjoy the last course of this smut fest and lemme know how y’all are feelin’ Taglist at the end.

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader Wordcount: 8,500 ish Genre: Delicious smut Tags: Multiple Orgasms, cunnilingus, aphrodisiacs, demon sex Summary: You get to experience some intimate times with Lucifer as a year with him winds to a close.

Bonus

After your business trip, you were mandated to work from home for at least a week. Lucifer knew the extent of what you went through and bed rest was absolutely necessary to ensure you would be able to come back to work in top form. Even after a weekend of basically being bedridden right after the session, the soreness between your legs persisted as a constant reminder of just how thoroughly you had been used. So, when you received the text from him late Sunday night to work from home, you couldn’t be any more relieved. Your legs had gotten some strength back into them; but you still couldn’t freely move around without experiencing discomfort and limping.

With the holidays looming so closely, Lucifer was rather ashamed that he couldn’t give you proper vacation time off to recover. At the very least, he knew you were safe from prying eyes while you stayed at home and remoted in on your computer. It was strange though, not seeing you sitting at your desk, your back turned to him while you were entering data. He oddly missed turning around and seeing you filing away the monthly reports or retrieving files for a meeting. The office felt empty for the first time in a long time.

Caring for humans was something foreign and unfamiliar to him. But, with you, it felt like the proper thing to do.

He reasoned that he was simply doing his due diligence to visit your abode with physical paperwork that needed to be reviewed. It also seemed to be a natural thing for him to buy you some food; surely you were tired of cooking for yourself and your food supplies were dwindling from being unable to get to the grocery store. It didn’t cross his mind that food delivery was an option until he was mere meters away from your front door, one hand holding a heavy bag full of takeout and a thick pile of reports in his arm. Regardless of his oversight, it was too late to turn back now.

You had expected Lucifer to come over, drop off some papers to go over and leave you to your own devices. You had already shown to him that you could still complete the most of your usual workload in a timely manner, even if you weren't at the office with him. So, when he invited himself into your abode, stepping past you as soon as you opened the door to set down the food and papers he brought, you were taken aback to say the least. After all, Lucifer was a busy man and he had much better things to do than to get comfortable in the recliner that sat in your living room once his shoes and coat were off of him.

“It’s gotten a bit nippy out this week. Are you sure you’re running the heat here? It’s absolutely frigid.” He commented, loosening his tie and settling into the seat he had claimed as his own. You stared dumbly at your boss who had just so casually stepped into your home as if he lived there with you and was meant to unwind right in your living room. It had to be a dream, you had to be hallucinating. Yet, no matter how many times you blinked or rubbed your eyes, Lucifer was right there, in your living room, his tie and the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone.

He looked over at your stunned face, smiling a bit. “What? Am I not allowed to make a visit to my assistant who’s been ‘out sick’ all week?” He wasn’t sure what lines he had crossed, but it felt as if his presence made you uncomfortable. Perhaps he should have given you a little more of an advanced notice before coming over. The silence between the two of you grew palpable. When at the office, he was the epitome of control and composed. Humans were easy to predict in a controlled environment where there was a clear hierarchy. In such a casual setting though, he found himself rather out of place and lost. He had only vaguely ever gotten the idea of how to behave; with how you were reacting though, he was unsure how to proceed.

“Did you eat?” He asked, changing the subject and gesturing over to the food he brought on the counter. If he had been too forward with getting comfortable in your space, he could at least assuage the tension by changing the subject and moving the focus over to food and not to him. It would be the perfect time to reassess his plan of action while you were distracted by eating. “You should have something before it gets cold.”

“I was just about to order some delivery.” You admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. Having Lucifer in such an intimate setting was strange. You could tell he didn’t feel quite as at home as he was fronting and wondered just how you could get him out so he could go back to being his usual self without you around him.

“I hope you don’t mind Greek.” Lucifer visibly relaxed, walking over to the bag of food and started to take out the boxes. “A new place just opened up and the marketing head suggested I try it out.” He opened the containers, revealing some of the typical dishes you expected to see, naming each one and describing them. Some dishes you were familiar with; others you had never seen before and with each description he gave, your mouth watered a little more and your stomach grumbled in hunger.

At the loud gurgle your stomach gave once he opened the last box, Lucifer chuckled, pulling a chair out for you at the small table, now crowded with more takeout than two people could ever eat. “Eat. I know you’re hungry.”

You nodded, at least having the decorum to grab some dishes and silverware before digging into the feast in front of you. The explosion of flavors and textures was a welcome change from the pizza and Chinese takeout you had been living off of for the past week. It was hard to keep your manners in mind when the table was so crammed full of boxes and you were forced to eat with the plate in your lap, hunched over the food like the gremlin that you felt like you were.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lucifer pick at his own food, ever composed and nonplussed that he wasn’t actually eating in the most ideal circumstances. The quiet that fell between you this time felt much better, the food serving as the perfect buffer between you and him and you could at least feel a little more yourself with proper sustenance in you.

“The year end reports are starting to roll in.” he said once you had adequate time to try everything. Now, you were just going in for seconds of what you liked best, picking at your favorites until your hunger was properly sated. “And marketing has been sending in the proposals of the ads we’ll be running this season. I’d like to go over those with you once you’re done with dinner.”

With the conversation focused on work, it was much easier to forget how awkward it had all been in the beginning when he walked through your door. You nodded, already grabbing the first folder on the stack to start skimming through reports. Ad proposals were much more fun to go over than pages upon pages of analysis. The sooner you could finish the boring stuff, you could look at the more interesting things.

“My work computer is in the room. I can move it out here once we’re done.” you said, flipping a page and sighing when there were even more numbers you needed to double check.

“No need, we’ll just move there.” He said, not realizing the connotations his words had. “You’re on sick leave and you must rest when you can. We’ll just carry on as you have for the past week.”

You felt your body heat up at his words, trying to see if he had any intentions outside of making sure you were as well rested as possible before you returned to work in a few days. You could never read him, unable to tell what his motives were, and all you could do was follow his instructions. Once all the food had been cleaned up and leftovers were stowed in the fridge, you showed him down the short hallway to your room where you had your home office set up in bed.

As you shuffled to your computer, he could tell there was still a bit of a limp in your gait and there was a mixture of pride and shame. On the one hand, he was glad that your body still remembered the amazing experience you shared with him, Diavolo and Barbatos. On the other, he was ashamed that you were pushed to that limit at all. And then, he remembered the reason he broke you at all in the first place.

So he could put you back together just how he wanted.

He let you climb into bed and settle the lap desk in place before handing you the first of the reports you needed to go over. Lucifer himself took a seat in the chair he had dragged over from your vanity to sit next to your bed and look over the projections for the next few months. Normally, he would have kept strict office hours; but with holidays, even he had to put in a few longer nights to keep up with how hectic things got.

The two of you worked in silence. Even if the location was different, the professional atmosphere was the same as it always had been at the office. The only differences were that you sat in a much more comfortable position and you were much closer to Lucifer than you normal. From where you sat, you got a much closer look at your boss while he worked. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration as he parsed out the plans for the upcoming month. His mouth was set in a straight, tight line whenever he crossed anything out and wrote corrections in the margins. He was beautifully efficient in his work, blitzing through several files in the time it took you to go through one.

You heard stray cats mewling from the cold outside at some point, breaking your concentration and you looked at the clock on your dresser. It was much later than you thought it would be, and you still had ad proposals to look through. Sighing and setting the reports to the side to look over during the weekend, you picked up the folders filled with ad storyboards. “Are you going home soon?” You asked, looking up at Lucifer who just finished the last of his work.

“Oh, I was waiting for you to finish so we can go over the ad proposals together. I’d like to hear your opinions on them in real time.” He said. Lucifer shifted from his place in the chair next to your bed to sitting beside you on your bed. You blushed, moving aside so he had ample room and got comfortable.

In this new position, you could feel the warmth of his body right next to yours. It was a distraction on its own, right alongside the familiar smell of his cologne. He handed you the first of the proposals, giving you a few minutes to look through it before asking for your thoughts on it.

What focus you had earlier was completely lost from being so close to Lucifer. It felt like an eternity since the last time you were in the office and having him right beside you, talking business had your mind and body in conflicting positions. While you struggled to pay attention to his words and stared at the papers in front of you, Lucifer smirked, knowing just what kind of effect he was having on you.

“So, do you think we should run it?” He asked nonchalantly leaning closer so that he could have a clear view of the storyboard.

You swallowed, trying to ignore how his voice sounded and how you could feel his breath ghosting across your neck. It was time for work, not time for your body to crave his touch, his kisses, his… everything. Stop. You blinked, turning the pages back and forth before voicing your thoughts. “I think the message of this ad is alright, but the target audience is off. If I saw this, I wouldn’t know what it’s trying to sell until it’s too late and I’m bored with it.”

He nodded, agreeing mostly with your opinion and closed the file after writing down your comments. “Alright, what about this one.” He said, pulling up the next one and letting you go through it.

Your eyes scanned the script and you immediately grimaced at how cheesy the writing was. You instinctively wanted to reject it and move onto the next one. However, your morbid sense of curiosity had you reading further and analyzing everything else in the file. In the end, your gut feeling was correct and you wholeheartedly turned it down from being produced. “Unless you want to lose half of your clients, I’d say bin that one.”

He chuckled, not bothering to write any notes on it, knowing that it wouldn’t go any further. “And what about this one?” he asked, putting another file on top of your lap desk.

You flipped through, engrossed in the storytelling and the script, rather shocked at the proposed budget to shoot an ad like this. You nodded, thinking through the allocated funds for the rest of the year and calculated if it would be feasible to go forward with the project. You crunched a few numbers, actually invested in the proposal and didn’t notice just how close Lucifer had gotten until his hand snuck its way under the sheets covering your legs and stopped at your thigh.

“What do you think?” He asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your thigh and your brain ceased to function for a moment. It felt like an eternity had passed since the last time he did anything like this to you. You looked over to him and smiled, trying to go back to the subject at hand, though your brain refused to process what he was asking you.

“It’s nice…” You finally managed to say.

“Is that all?” He asked, moving his hand further up and brushing his fingers against the apex of your thighs. “You seemed to be so interested in it, but it’s just ‘fine’?”

You cleared your throat, hoping it would reset your thoughts; but your brain was stuck in a constant feedback loop that refused to get over what Lucifer was doing to you. “It… it’s got good parts.”

Lucifer smirked, nodding at your answer and continuing his questions as if his hands weren’t teasing you. “Tell me more.” He encouraged, slipping his hand past the waistband of your shorts to rub your labia. “I’m interested in your thoughts.”

“I uh.. W-well.” You stuttered, swallowing hard and looking at him pleadingly. You were still sore but the way he was so soft with his touches did things to your libido and your heart. “Well, it fits the mood for the season…” You started, touching on the most basic things to get your mind in the right state.

“Yes, I did tell you these were proposals for the holiday season. It’s obvious it would fit the mood.” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear and his teeth nipped at your earlobe. “Come on now, your analysis for all the others was so thorough, what happened?” he drawled, smiling wickedly, knowing exactly what was making your brain stutter. His fingers parted your lips in turn making you unconsciously spread your legs for him to get easier access.

You bit your lip, using the pain to ground your focus to the task at hand. “Well, the year has been rather rough financially for a lot of people.” You said through gritted teeth. “Showing how they’re able to… ah--” Whatever you were about to say flew right out of your mind when his finger brushed against your clit. You gasped, your whole nether region was still so sore from the last time, but your body was quickly craving more; and the only way to get that was to work. “We’re able to show people that they can… they can afford to celebrate on a budget… Ah… Lucifer…” you whined, rolling your hips up and gasping at how stiff all your muscles were. The sudden jolt of pain keeping you from reacting the way you wanted to.

He hushed you, kissing your jaw and teased your nether lips further with his fingers, running them up and down your slit which was quickly becoming wet from his ministrations. You whimpered, hating how you were being forced to sit still due to your own body’s limits.

“Yes, I’m listening still.” He replied nonchalantly, trailing his kisses down your neck and nipping the skin there with his teeth. “I’m concerned about the budget they’ve set for this ad… your thoughts on that?”

You gulped, amazed that he was still asking questions about the damn ad as if his fingers weren’t coated with your essence at that very moment. You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself but not doing a very good job at it. “We-well… initial calculations say that it’s not something that can be done right no--- ahh…” You gasped in pleasure when you felt firm pressure on your clit, his finger rubbed circles around it and made you see stars. “Right now… b-but if we reallocate funds from the IT department that submitted their final budget for the year and th...they have a surplus, we can manage….”

“Oh? That’s very good news then…” Lucifer smiled, loving the way you struggled to keep yourself composed while he unraveled you bit by bit with his fingers. Tentatively, he probed your entrance, wondering how well you had healed over the week. When you yelped in pain, instinctively closing your legs against that touch, he stopped immediately. “This was my favorite out of all the ones submitted, I’m glad that you approve of it as well.”

Lucifer went back to teasing your folds, making you forget about the pain and put your body back into the relaxed, aroused state it had been in before. Now that he knew your limits, he was free to skirt them right at the edge, teasing you until you squirmed with pleasure. “I’ll let Marketing know the good news over the weekend so they can start the project as soon as possible.”

“I’m sure they’ll be very happy about that.”

“Indeed they will be. Final thing, I just need you to sign off on these reports and I’ll be on my way home.” He said before dropping a sizable stack of papers in front of you. “I need them right away so I can submit them over the weekend and get underwriting to process them first thing next week.” He explained. His touches slowed to a halt and you felt the fog of pleasure lift a little. Now though, you ached for his continued caresses and you whined loudly when he pulled his hand out from under the sheets.

“Do as you’re told and you’ll be rewarded accordingly.” He stated firmly, all the while making the most lewd show of licking his fingers coated in your slick.

Never in your life had you started reading boring documents so quickly. You were skimming words, processing them, but just barely, all to get to what you were promised. Even if your body ached and screamed in protest, what Lucifer had teased you with was too tantalizing to pass up.

He smiled, planting a soft kiss at your temple before leaving your side. You startled, looking up at him with pleading eyes, wondering if he was leaving for the night. “I’ll be right back…” He reassured you with a self satisfied smirk.

You wondered what he meant by those words for a brief moment before his actions did all the explaining as he ducked his head under the sheets and nestled himself between your legs. You swallowed, parting your legs for him after he slid your shorts and panties off. You could feel his warm breath on your inner thighs, traveling higher and higher until the tip of his nose brushed against your pussy and you whined softly at the contact.

There was still an important task to be done and you had to see it through. All the while Lucifer happily lapped at your core. His hands firmly at your thighs to keep your legs parted for him. His tongue traced your slit slowly and you caught your breath with each pass he took. The words on the pages in front of you had no meaning, but you kept reading them anyway.

The lewd sounds of him licking and sucking your folds were muffled under the sheets, yet they were still loud enough to be the only sounds your ears picked up on. Your breathing came out in stuttered breaths as you turned the last page in a report and mindlessly signed your name. Closing the file and moving on to the next one, you felt Lucifer press the flat of his tongue all along your pussy, spreading your labia and just brushing past your abused hole. At that, you moaned loudly, your hips jerking at the contact and sending pain shooting across your sore muscles. However, when you felt the tip of his tongue circle your clit, the pain dissipated and all that was left was a delicious soreness which mingled with the pleasure.

It was so hard to focus on your work, his tongue worked you into a frenzy, leaving you shuddering and moaning his name. You came as soon as you finished signing off on the second report. There were three more to go in the stack and you wondered if you could cum once for every one that was left. It would be perfect motivation to keep working.

No matter how many times your body was being pushed to the point of overstimulation, you could never get used to it. The way every nerve in your body seemed to vibrate with every touch and made you twitch in pleasure always felt new; and you couldn’t get enough of that euphoria. You had never been made to work through that state, but it was a test of your willpower now, going through reports while Lucifer’s tongue worked you into orgasm over and over again.

You felt like it took hours to complete reading everything. However, when you glanced up at the clock, barely an hour had passed and you were a quivering mess in your own bed, your boss between your legs, lazily licking your essence off your thighs as you came one last time, signing the last report off. “I… All the reports are done…”

You hated how cold you felt when he unburrowed himself from under your sheets. You could see your essence glistening on his lips and his chin, his eyes glowing that deep red color that made your heart skip a beat. “Very good job.” He praised, picking everything up and gathering it into his arms. He kissed the top of your head, making you feel dizzy from his praise and the number of times you came from just having his mouth attached to your pussy for an hour. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He said, preparing to leave.

A small part of you was heartbroken he didn’t want to stay. “Yeah… I’ll see you Monday…” You said weakly, smiling wistfully at his retreating form.

A year to a human was no insignificant amount of time. As an immortal, this was the hardest concept for Lucifer to grasp. Yet, after having you around for a year, it felt natural for him to celebrate the time he had spent with you.

You expected work to be piled up when you got back to the office. However, with your absence and also the general hectic nature of the holidays approaching, you were swamped with work. Staying late to catch up and working yourself into an exhausted heap, there were nights where you simply fell asleep on one of the couches in the lounge area so you didn’t have to worry about losing time with your commute.

Even if Lucifer wanted you to slow down, the corporate world and human greed made it impossible. You weren’t the only one who worked to the bone. Even he had to pick up a fair amount of extra work to ensure the year ended smoothly. The last three months that year were a blur, you barely remembered who you talked to or what you did. All that mattered was making sure the company ran as smooth as possible.

So when the worst of it was all over and the department parties began, it felt as if the whole building got to sigh in relief now that the storm had passed. You were invited to a fair number of new year celebrations, both you and Lucifer’s schedules were filled with more parties than meetings. Seeing all the employees under his wing celebrate another successful year with him warmed your heart. It was a rare opportunity to see him interact with others and seeing him in such a joyous setting made your heart swell with pride.

With the last of the company parties out of the way, you were finally able to release the sigh of relief you had been holding for months. As soon as you returned to the office, it was as if a weight had been lifted and you were free to at least pretend the workload would lessen as the year rolled over. You were about to start packing your things up when you noticed a parcel on your desk. Curious, you opened it and it revealed a beautiful sparking black and red gown. You looked back at Lucifer who was leaning against his desk, watching you for your reaction. “You didn’t think I’d plan a celebration for the two of us now, did you?” He sauntered over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We count as our own department, right?”

“Of course… How could I forget.” You laughed, running your hand across the delicate fabric, marveling at how it shifted in the light.

“Go on, get dressed, I’ll get the rest of the preparations ready.”

You couldn’t have run into the bathroom any faster. Your legs quivered a little in excitement and you nearly tripped out of your work clothes before shimmying into the black and red number you had been gifted. You were surprised at how well it fit you. Like a glove, it hugged your every curve in the right way to accentuate it. The fabric shimmered with every movement, making it look like you were walking through smoke. It felt odd to be in such a lavish dress and have nothing else to match it.

You ran your fingers through your hair, rearranging it in a way you thought framed your face a little better to accentuate the dress. You wanted to touch up your makeup, but had neglected to bring any with you in your rush to get changed. You would have to make do with what you had. Turning this way and that, you took one last look in the mirror and accepted the fact that it was as good as it was going to get with what you had.

Stepping back out into the office space, you gasped at how quickly Lucifer had managed to transform it. There was a clear hint of magic in the air, there was no other way to explain the softly glowing orbs that illuminated the room in a warm light. They floated through the air, suspended by nothing and fueled by whatever magic Lucifer had put into them. A table for two had been set up in the time it took you to get dressed and what looked like a delightful meal awaited you. Even Lucifer had changed his usual black and grey work suit to something with a little more red in it to match you.

Once again, he was waiting for you while leaning on his desk. As soon as he saw you, he picked up a pair of champagne flutes which sat next to him on his desk. He walked over and offered you the drink, a soft smile on his face. “Courtesy of Barbatos.” He explained, gesturing at the plates of food on the table. “He felt bad about his first impressions with you and wanted to make up for it. So, lucky me, I get catering from the best chef I know for this party.”

You giggled slightly, taking a sip of the champagne. “I hope that doesn’t mean that you expect me to cook for you in the future as your assistant. I’ll have you know the extent of my cookery knowledge will be phoning Barbatos up and asking him to deliver something for you.” You joked.

Lucifer let out a genuine laugh, leading you over to the table and helping you get seated. “Oh no, I don’t expect that from you at all. But, I’ll take note of that in case I change my mind later.”

Truth be told, though the food presented was some of the best you had ever eaten, being in close company with Lucifer was even better. For once, conversation didn’t revolve around work, instead, he regaled you with tales of where he came from and all the troubles he had to get Diavolo out of. The chatter and the good food filled your heart and your soul; you didn’t think you would ever get to see this side of Lucifer, but you were eternally grateful for the chance to witness it.

“Ah, the last thing. You can’t end a good meal without dessert.” Lucifer got up and reached for a box on his desk. Coming back, he presented you with an array of chocolate coated strawberries. “Please, help yourself.” he encouraged, turning the box to you. “I have a bit of an allergy to them, so they’re all yours.”

You tentatively took one, feeling rather guilty that Lucifer wouldn’t be able to join you; however, with a little bit of coaxing, your worries were laid to rest and you happily bit into the fruit. Lucifer watched your expression of joy as you indulged in one of your favorite treats. The way you made such happy sounds when enjoying something had him entirely amused. All the while, a small, knowing smile played at his lips. “They’re not going anywhere. You can take your time.” He said when he noticed just how quickly you were devouring them.

In an attempt to pace you, he pulled the box away from your grasp, plucking one of the strawberries from it and offered it to you. He looked at you expectantly, an eyebrow cocked up as he enticed you to lean in and take a bite.

You blushed, flustered that he would be feeding you dessert in this way. There was a distinct intimacy in how he delicately held the fruit out to you with one hand. His other hand cupped below it to catch anything that might fall. You obeyed after a moment of hesitation, leaning forward and taking it into your mouth. Somehow, just from having Lucifer present you dessert in such a way had dessert tasting so much sweeter to you.

You were halfway through the strawberries when you realized something felt off.The room felt warmer, the floating lights pulsed in a way that cast a halo around Lucifer, somehow making him look angelic to you. You thought it was because you were too tired after a whole week of festivities. It must have been past your normal bedtime and your body wanted to rest. At least, that’s what you thought was the case. But when he spoke again and his voice seemed to penetrate your whole body, sending shivers down your spine and pooling right to your core; you knew it had to be something else.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, getting up after he had finished feeding you what was left of the box of sweets. He held his hand out expectantly; with a little bit of magic, soft music filtered through the room and set the mood. While you struggled to comprehend what was happening to your body, you mindlessly followed his directions. All your nerves tingled, from the tips of your fingers to your scalp, everything seemed to vibrate with a heat and a need that built itself out of seemingly nowhere

The moment he placed his hand in your own and wrapped his arm around your waist, things started to click and your whole body heated up further at the realization. Your eyes blow wide open and your lips parted in a perpetual pant as he nonchalantly lead you in a slow dance, circling the empty area of the office to the beat of the soft music. You followed him in a haze, barely noticing your body move, a practical rag doll in his arms as he spun you around and watched your pupils get ever wider and the flush on your cheeks get ever deeper.

You were so hot and bothered in such a short period of time, it was absolutely overwhelming. Your hands shook in his, your mind barely able to comprehend the music as it was singularly focused on his warmth, his smell, his voice, his everything that was so close to you. You couldn’t look up at him, ashamed that with every dance step you shared, your essence flowing so freely from you was being smeared along your thighs and the back of your legs.

He knew what he had done, you could tell with the way the corner of his lip turned up. He was trying so hard to hide that self-satisfied smirk he always had on whenever you were right where he wanted you. You were so wet and ready for something other than the innocent game he was playing; but you knew better than to rush him. So you held onto your slipping control, pretending everything was alright when your body screamed to be used and not teased. That control disintegrated as you could smell your arousal while you dance; you knew there was no way he missed that smell either.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, his voice full of faux concern after the second time you circled the room. “You seem so out of it.”

“It’s just… It’s hot, Lucifer.” You said, clinging onto his lapels and leaning into him. With his arm no longer around your waist, you couldn’t seem to keep yourself upright. You could hear his heart beating as you pressed your face against his chest, steadying yourself. “It’s… I don’t know what happened, I’m just, so hot…” It was a lie, you knew exactly what happened, what those strawberries were laced with, but you couldn’t say it out loud, not when you were so affected by his sneaky little plan.

“Oh dear… Are you coming down with something?” He asked, gently guiding you to sit down where you stood. “Are you feeling ill? Are you hurt?”

Yes, you were hurt, your whole body ached in need and he was playing around like he didn’t have any idea what he had done to you. You whine, pulling the skirt of your dress up, a wave of cool air offering you a bit of relief on your heated body. “I hurt… right here.” You said, spreading your legs apart and giving him a clear view of the wet mess you had become in such a short time. “It’s hot… and I hurt…”

Your lips and throat felt dry, your whole body flushed and heated to a point where you wanted to tear off the fancy dress and just dunk yourself into a vat of ice water. You needed relief that only he could give you. Lucifer’s face of concern changed drastically the moment you revealed yourself to him and that sadistic smile you knew so well spread across his face.

“Oh now, that is a problem…” He murmured, pressing a finger against your soiled panties and rubbing his finger up and down to mold the fabric to your slit. “But… I would hate for you to leave the party so soon.” He drawled, putting on a dramatic pout. “I was so sure you would enjoy your time, is it not to your liking?” He pulled the skirt back down, earning a desperate whine from you; but you didn’t protest. There was a promise of satisfaction in the lilt of his voice and you were willing to go through the ends of the world at that point to get to it.

You crawled into his lap, rubbing your face against his crotch in a futile attempt to get him to the same playing field as you were. But, he was firm, preventing you from getting what you craved and helped you back up on your quivering feet. The music had stopped and the lights dimmed, giving you a sense of security. You leaned against him, tears starting to form as your desire became the only thing you could think about. You wanted him so badly. “What else do you have in mind for tonight?” You asked, your voice shaking and you looked up at him.

“Just some games....” He replied casually, leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Just the brief contact along sent a massive wave of arousal through you and you saw stars for a moment. “Mainly, I want to see how long before the special ingredients in those strawberries really kick in.”

Your eyes went wide. If this wasn’t the brunt of the effects coursing through your body, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. There was no way it could get any more intense than this, yet the way he spoke hinted only at a high that you hadn’t felt before. He chuckled, burrowing his head at the crook of your neck, kissing your sensitive, heated skin and you were helpless to stop him. Your whole body spasmed in need as your nerves were caressed and teased. It lost feeling at the tip of your fingers and your arms fell limp to your sids as you were completely swept away from him.

He didn’t need to do anything more than grab one of your breasts, kneading it experimentally before your tender nipples sent enough pleasure signals through your body to have you cumming. Your knees gave out and you sank to the ground, gasping as you rode out the sudden climax. The edge of your vision blurred and your ears rang as you caught your breath. Looking up, you saw Lucifer with that stupid smirk on his face, his eyes glittering and a noticeable bulge growing in his pants. You reached up to nuzzle it, burrow your head against the thing you crave and took in his musk. “Please… I need you…” You begged. “I need you right now…”

Those were the words he had been waiting to hear from you. Just the sound of your pleas were music to his ears and did more for his libido than you could ever imagine. He brought you back up on your feet, kissing you deeply and swallowing all the delightfully lewd moans that came from your throat. His hand laced into your hair at the back of your head kept you right where he wanted as he took the prize he had waited all day for. “Then you shall have me.” He said, licking his lips menacingly once he broke the kiss.

You were ready to sink to your hands and knees and let him use you as he saw fit. However, he brought you out of the office and into the elevator instead. You blinked in confusion until you saw him wave a black card over the scanner at the elevator, requesting for a floor that you never accessed before. It wasn’t until you stepped out that you realized he had brought you to the top most floor to his own abode.

There was no time to admire the great view that the floor to ceiling windows had of the city. You weren’t in the right mind to notice the collection of fine art or the practical furnishings that decorated his abode. All that mattered was the beeline the two of you made to his bedroom. Even if you wanted to take a second to soak in your surroundings, Lucifer gave you no time to do so, nearly throwing you into the massive bed in the room. You let out a little yelp of surprise when you hit the silky sheets; but that was quickly replaced with your need to feel his hands on your skin.

Now that he had you in his own space, in the privacy of his own home; Lucifer had the freedom to act as he wished. The first order of business was to help you out of that slinky number of yours. It had served its purpose and now he was ready to move onto looking at the most beautiful thing he possessed. He chuckled darkly, sliding the straps of the dress of your shoulders, turning you over just long enough to pull the zipper down to reveal your lacy underthings. As soon as the dress fell to the floor, it took no time at all for him to expose the rest of you by quickly removing your panties and bra.

Even if it took mere seconds to divest you of all your clothes, it felt like an eternity to you. The drag of the fabric across your skin made you shiver. His featherlight touches made you moan and when he finally pulled away to witness your nude form, the way he licked his lips made you shiver in anticipation.

Without clothes, the heat of your body was more bearable; however, it did nothing to quell your pussy’s need to be stuffed full with his cock. Spreading yourself wide once again, you beckoned him to take what you knew he wanted. This time, he was more than happy to oblige to your request. His clothes seemed to evaporate off of him; likely a result of some magic, but you didn’t care to discuss the details on how he removed his clothes. What you cared about the feeling of his weight above your own and the fullness you felt whenever he entered you.

Your hips levitated off the bed as soon as the tip of his cock started to tease at your folds. “Please, don’t play with me like this, Sir.” you cried, clutching onto the sheets below you as he made slow passes up and down your slit. He chuckled darkly, pushing you just a little further before he finally, gratefully put the tip of his cock into you.

Just at that, you could feel your inner walls clenching around him at your entrance, wanting to draw him in further into you. With how busy you had been with work and how much time he had given you to recover since being impaled by Diavolo and himself, it had been an eternity and a half since you last felt him fill your needy hole with his dick. A mixture of curses and his name fell from your lips as you hungrily took every inch of him. He was so terrible, taking his time to make the first pass in you; but it was the most fulfilling experience when he was fully seated inside of you. Your body molded itself around him, clinging to him for dear life as you rutted against his hips, begging for stimulation.

He didn’t want to torture you any further, after seeing your sweet face scrunch of up pure pleasure once he fully sank himself into you. Now, what he wanted was for your body to memorize just how good he could make it feel; and that meant fucking you right into his bed. The pace he set was just enough to bring you to the precipice of an orgasm with a few thrusts. “I know you want to cum…” He growled into your ear. “Feel free to do as many times as you want tonight.”

As soon as the permission was given, you spasmed around his cock still thrusting into you. You screamed his name, the sounds of sex and your moans filling the room as he picked up the pace and slammed his hips into you harder as you climaxed. Fucking you while your inner walls fluttered in orgasm never failed to bring him close to the edge and he was losing himself as well to the throes of pleasure.

You counted maybe two or three more orgasms before his own hips stuttered and his pace became erratic, his own release coming soon. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him closer to you until his own hips stilled and he spilled his seed into you.

The brunt of what was in the strawberries finally hit you and the need that roiled in your blood intensified, making you keen and milk him hungrily. He pulled out of you, watching his cum drip out of your hole before taking a finger and slowly working it back into you. The sex was already mindblowing and your body was telling you that it was getting tired of being so overstimulated; but, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more and you pulled him in for a searing hot kiss full of tongue and teeth. “I want all of you. Give me that demon cock of yours. Fill me.” You demanded in between kisses. “Please, I need it…”

You heard him chuckle darkly before he agreed to your request. There was a fluttering sound and you saw black feathers in your peripheral vision as he shifted into his demon form. You smiled lazily, admiring how beautiful he was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. You hadn’t seen this side of him since the first time. Even if you knew what to expect the second time around, it was just as awe inspiring as the first. You knew what was to come now and you eagerly awaited his next move.

“Hands and knees.” He growled and you scrambled to follow his orders. Your knees quaked a bit as you got into position. You could feel the bed dip from his weight as he joined you in it, lining the tip of his cock with your dripping cunt. With one smooth motion, he was buried in you right up to the top of his knot. “Yes... “ He hissed, fisting his hand in your hair and pulling you up to be flush up against his chest while he set a brutal pace. “Yes..”

You were in heaven, your body feeling nothing but euphoria as it conformed to every ridge and vein of his cock that worked in and out of you. You came only after a few thrusts, but you knew it was far from over. Lucifer’s thick girth and massive length working in and out of your dripping pussy would push you right to the edge of pure bliss and you couldn’t wait to chase that feeling with him.

His free hand snaked around your waist to rub your clit, sending you keening and again into another orgasm. His sharp fangs raked the soft skin of your neck, leaving welts and marks that would last for days. The pain only added to the experience and you rode out yet another high around his cock.

“All of me.” He growled, slowing his thrusts to start pushing his knot into you. You let out a strangled gasp, feeling the familiar stretch at your entrance. It was blindingly blissful, being penetrated so deeply by his cock and then to be stretched to your limits with his knot. There was no other feeling like it and even without the aphrodisiacs coursing through you, you knew it was the best sex you would ever have. You breathed slowly, feeling every inch of his knot enter you, your eyelids fluttering as you could only imagine what it looked like right now as your pussy engulfed him.

He groaned when the tie was complete, your core accepting every last bit of him and now, his true pleasure began. He pushed you back onto the bed, letting you brace yourself on your elbows while his hands went to your waist to keep you steady. He rutted into you, rocking back and forth and groaning every time he felt your walls clench around him. You could tell he was close and with one last possessive growl, he pushed himself as deeply as he could into you, releasing his load. The warmth of his seed filling you doing its job as it brought you to one last climax before you felt your arms give way and you collapsed from exhaustion.

Lucifer gently maneuvered you to lay on your side so he could join you in the bed with his knot still fully embedded in you. He could still feel his balls twitching, releasing his cum in spurts inside of you as he nestled you into the crook of his arms and protectively wrapped his wings around your form.

“Congratulations on making it through a year here.” He praised, stroking your hair and lulling you into sleep.

“Of course, I expect to be with you for many years to come.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear.” He chuckled, kissing the top of your head as you dozed off into slumber. “Stay for the night… It’s too late to get you home by now.”

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” You said, clenching yourself around his cock and he chuckled at your response.

“This is very true.” He said, still petting you methodically and watching you fall asleep.

He waited patiently for you to start softly snoring before he allowed himself the privilege of resting as well. His knot was still hard and firmly entrenched in you and it would likely stay that way for a few more hours. He watched your body slowly rise and fall in slumber and listened to you mumble in your sleep while he let himself soak in the soft moment.

“I love you, Lucifer…” You mumbled in your sleep, shifting a little and clinging onto the arm he had thrown across you.

“I know.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head, fully satisfied with the result of a long years’ worth of training. “I love you, too.”

Caring for humans was still a foreign concept to Lucifer; but, he could make an exception for you.

Fin

Taglist: @ptv-hades @bluelipsblueveins-blue @utopiamiroh @vanillaicebaby @taehyungtrasholiviahaneul99 @weebartistinc

#Obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x oc #obey me smut #wow this took two days to write #almost not sorry #I saw you anon #I just didn't want to spoil what I already had planned a week ago lmfao #enjoy the end of this smut #i hope y'all liked the wild ride #my writing

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practicallyanyth1ng · 3 years

Text

I thought I'd post some snippets I wrote on my VKerry Google Docs file! Thank you for all the prompts yall have sent my way; I wasn't expecting the decent amount I received! 😳 Here's to more crying over how utterly perfect V and Kerry Eurodyne are 😭

[Prompt: V fighting against Rhino as Kerry watches from the sidelines, cheering his boyfriend on.]

(Honestly out of all the melee fights, Rhino's was the one that took the longest for me;; Thus it gave birth to this idea of what V must've went through as I struggled to block her hits correctly 😭)

One more hit, one more!

That's all that's running through V's head as he's challenging Rhino. He's almost half collapsed on multiple occasions, but he isn't giving up.

Not while Kerry's watching. Just the knowledge of his boyfriend cheering him on gives him all the moral boost he needs, so he keeps going and going.

The floor starts to get slippery with blood, both fighters growing weary from all the punches and the shortage of blood running through their veins.

Rhino starts making her move, but its slower and more predictable. V blocks all the attacks and waits for the perfect moment.

When Rhino stumbles on her last kick, foot slipping on a small puddle of blood; V's eyes flash.

He delivers a swift and brutal punch to her face and the bell rings. She collapses, holding her broken nose in pain as V exhausts himself to his knees.

His vision is blurry, but he sees a familiar figure rush towards him. They're pressing a cool icepack against his bruised cheek and he leans into it, sighing in relief.

A cold bottle is held up to his lips and he drinks the water the pours out like an oasis. The cool liquid helps him recover some stamina and he looks to see the person-Kerry-fretting over him.

Hes being kissed all over his face, and he smiles.

"Ya proud of me?" he says weakly, throat hoarse.

"You were amazing."

. . .

[Prompt: V cleans Kerry's mansion]

(This drabble is still a WIP, but one of those WIPs that I don't know if ill ever finish. This was never supposed to see the light of day but I thought I'd share some domestic fluff)

"Vincent, you don't have to-"

V hushes him, putting on a mask and wrapping a bandana around his forehead.

"Kerry, I know I don't have to, but I want to. Someone has to clean up this mess, and as your boyfriend who loves you, let me do it."

Kerry whines, still protesting. "I could hire a maid! Or even get one of those cleaning robots!"

V ignores him, starting to sweep the glass shards on the floor that he's been stepping over for a week now.

"After this, no more shoes in the house. It brings dirt all around the house, and slippers are a nicer alternative anyway." V hums, remembering his youth as his mother would always lecture him if she caught him wearing shoes in the house.

"You sound like my mom…" Kerry groans, leaning back lazily on the large couch. He stretches, relaxing his limbs on the soft cushions as he messes with a guitar that had been abandonedo n the floor the previous night.

V huffs, an affectionate smile on his lips. "And we're cutting back your drinking. Regardless of how many liver replacement implants or modifications you get it's still not good for your health in general. Not to mention your hangovers are getting worse and that's not a good sign."

"What?!" Kerry gawks, staring at V with wide eyes, hoping to any God that it was a joke. V sideyes him in response, challenging any protests that dared to slip past Kerry's lips.

Kerry gives up, pouting as he lies back on the cushions.

A solid hour passes by with V cleaning the house and Kerry strumming random tunes, hastily writing down random lyrics and cords on a tablet.

V's almost done cleaning the first floor when a pair of arms wrap around his waist. Soft lips press against his spine, as searching hands slip underneath his shirt.

An obscene moan sends goosebumps in his skin. He resists the temptation to lean back and let his boyfriend have this way, instead opting for pulling away and simply kissing his forehead, resuming his work.

"Oh no you dont-" Kerry grumbles, using his strength to hug V from behind again, but this time grope his crotch.

V lets out a yelp, jumping at the sudden sensation and the loud thump of the broom hitting the wooden floor.

"Kerry," he tries to warn, but his tone comes out all breathy and not at all intimidating.

"Yeah, baby?" Kerry purrs.

V's will breaks as he leans back, arching into the warm body as teeth attack the skin of his nape. "I'm still cleaning…"

"Well I think you deserve a break for all your hard work this far…" he starts licking from behind his ear to his shoulder, nipping at the skin to seal the deal.

V was fucked.

. . .

Lmk if you'd like to read more of my VKerry drabbles I've wrote at 3am, sleep deprived and lacking the mental comprehension to write properly 🤣

Feel free to submit some VKerry ideas of your own in my asks! I love reading each and every one of them!! 🥺

#cyberpunk 2077 #v x kerry #kerry x v #games #prompts #text #personal

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bettsfic · 3 years

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hi, i was reading your years in review and i noticed that you quit a job of many years to go your own way. i was wondering if you would mind talking about this decision/if you struggled with it? idk i've always told myself that i wouldn't let the idea of a "career" get in the way of what i want (e.g. writing) and that one day (shortly after 30?) i would just quit whatever job i had and go my own way, but as that deadline comes up i find it harder to imagine how i could just uproot myself...

yes, i very much did struggle with the decision to quit (what i thought was) my very stable and lucrative career in finance to get an MFA in creative writing. it’s a bit of a long story so i’m putting it under a cut.

warning for suicidality and sexual assault.

i used to believe i grew up poor, but it was the 90s so poverty looked very different. my dad didn’t work for a long time, and so we only had one income, and we lived in an apartment that was kind of a lowkey hoarder home. as a kid, all i knew was that i didn’t get to have toys, or my own space, and i wasn’t allowed to have friends over. the concept of an allowance was totally alien to me. but it also wasn’t like i ever went hungry. the food we had wasn’t particularly healthy but it was always there.

i didn’t really realize how much that instability affected me until much later, when i noticed other people hadn’t lived their entire lives aware of and obsessed with money. i used to compulsively count the change in my piggy bank and beg my mom to take it so she could pay her taxes (i didn’t know what taxes meant, i just assumed they were the reason we couldn’t afford nice things).

my safe haven was always my grandparents’ house, which was clean and had semi-healthy food and the door was always open. my grandpa was a high school chemistry teacher. my grandma worked at a bank. growing up, i had no idea what she did at the bank, just that it sponsored all the fun things we did, like going to amusement parks and baseball games. my parents never took my sister and i on vacation, but every year, my grandma would drive us to visit our family in missouri, which, even though it only cost the gas to get there, seemed like a wild indulgence to me.

i started working at 16 so i could have my own money. by 17 i was working illegally full-time and getting paid under the table. then i bought my own car, and shortly after i turned 18 i got my own apartment. even though i could pay my bills, i was still terrified about money. i thought about it all the time. i checked my bank account multiple times a day. i was a cashier at a restaurant and i would often open my drawer and just stare at the money or count it when i was bored.

but i hated working at the restaurant, and one day i thought to myself, how can i keep the money part of this job but lose the food part? then i remembered my grandma’s career at the bank (from which by then she’d retired), and that afternoon i sat down and applied to be a teller at the very same bank. obviously the bank was very large and it wasn’t like my grandma was in management. she worked in ATM operations. nobody on my hiring committee knew who she was, and honestly i have no idea how i got the job.

i stayed a teller through college, working 25ish hours a week. it didn’t pay very well and i was still nervous about money, so i picked up a job altering bridal gowns on evenings and weekends, and also an admin job at my university. so i was working 60ish hours a week, plus going to school full-time and trying to keep up my 4.0. in retrospect, i can’t remember how necessary all this was. i know i was living in an apartment whose rent was higher than i could afford, and i lived with my boyfriend who was struggling to find a job. anyway, it was definitely the lowest time of my life, and i was so exhausted that every day i hoped something horrible would happen to me so i could be hospitalized and rest.

then something horrible did happen. my dad died. and even though everyone in my life was telling me to please dear god take a break, i did not.

i got promoted to business finance, which paid what seemed at the time to be an ungodly amount of money. i was still part-time and finishing up my undergrad degree. once i graduated, i got promoted to full-time. for the first couple years, i really did try to be a banker. i was good at my job only insofar as someone who is left-handed can write with their right hand if forced for long enough. it felt very much like i was in the wrong place, but by that point i had so much unchecked trauma that i had convinced myself the highest human ideal was misery and deprivation. i wish i was kidding. i was the definition of ascetic and martyred myself. i didn’t believe happiness existed. work was all that mattered to me.

then i bought a house. so at this point, i had student loans, a car loan, a mortgage, and credit card debt. after my dad’s death, my mom had to file for bankruptcy because of all the medical bills. she abandoned her house. by this point i was 23, single, in six figures of debt with no familial support net, but i was making decent money at the bank, so it wasn’t like i was drowning. in fact i was doing pretty well. the bank was a rock in my very turbulent life. i got a lot of vacation time that allowed me to travel a bit. i had insurance and a matching 401(k). it was really a decent job.

but the bank was also in many ways an abusive relationship. i don’t mean that metaphorically. i had bosses who manipulated me, insulted me, humiliated me in front of other people. i had one boss who went so far as to look at my checking account and ridicule my purchases. i didn’t have any idea what it meant to stand up for myself or say no. in fact i wasn’t allowed to say no. my job at the bank involved solving other people’s problems. i could never say “i can’t solve that problem.” i could only say “i’ll figure it out.”

i had convinced myself working at the bank was a stable career because it was boring and i hated it. but actually it wasn’t stable at all. after 2008, there were mass layoffs and restructures every year while the bank tried to recover from the recession. i worked for a sales team, and so my job was dependent entirely on whether or not the salespeople did their jobs well. if they didn’t make goal, they’d get fired. if they got fired, i’d get fired.

i started trying to date again and was sexually assaulted. after that i really struggled at work because i was dissociating a lot and couldn’t focus. my team, despite my having worked there for years, instead of being concerned for me decided to start complaining about me to my boss. finally i had to tell a coworker what happened and that i wasn’t doing very well. my team started being a little nicer to me but ultimately they didn’t care about me, they cared about how effective i was at my job. my boss didn’t want to fire me, so instead i was pushed onto another team.

that move came with a raise. then that team was dismantled and i was pushed onto another team. that was a demotion, but i got to keep my raise from the previous move. by then, i was working from home, and even though i was more comfortable i was also very isolated and miserable. my “fulfillment through deprivation” attitude was destroying me. i wasn’t eating well or taking care of myself. i was isolated and lonely. i still didn’t believe happiness was real and i constantly thought about killing myself.

but i had started writing fanfiction, and even though i didn’t think i was any good at it, i was beginning to see a way out. i was beginning to learn how to dream, and want things, and give myself the things i wanted. i just couldn’t imagine leaving the bank, or selling my house, or moving out of my hometown. all of that seemed impossible to me.

then i had to go to a business conference where my team had a retirement party for one of my coworkers. she’d done what i was doing for 45 years. by that point i was at the 9 year mark. i’d spent my entire adult life at the bank. and i realized: the bank benefited from my fear and passivity, and nothing in my life was going to change unless i was willing to make sacrifices.

but i still wasn’t entirely convinced. and then came the day i had to physically hold onto my desk to keep me from killing myself. i didn’t end up trying it, because i had another realization: this was a life or death situation now. if i kept working at the bank, i knew i would die. i knew eventually i would get low enough to do it. i didn’t actually want to die; i wanted an escape and didn’t know what else to do. suddenly i was off the hook. my options were not “financial stability or imminent poverty” but “live or die.”

those were the big epiphanies i had, but the process of actually leaving the bank was a slow one. i wrote a bit about it here. i got into an MFA program basically by telling myself repeatedly i would figure out the money stuff later. when it came time to quit the bank, my boss convinced me to stay on working part-time, with the assumption i would move back to full-time once i’d graduated. i agreed to it, because just trying to quit was enough to convince me i could, and that better things were ahead of me. for a year and a half, i stayed on working two days a week while doing my MFA, which involved both coursework and teaching, and it felt a bit like it did during undergrad, having too many jobs and no time to breathe or think or feel anything.

between my first and second year, i had a looooong overdue mental breakdown. there were a lot of causes, but one of them was spreading myself too thin. shortly after, i quit for good. by then it didn’t feel like a big deal at all, i was so far removed from the work and my team and so focused on my degree. one day i turned on my work laptop and the next day i didn’t. i shipped it back to HQ and it was over.

then i graduated from the MFA and suddenly had to face the consequences of this life i’d chosen. my school kept me on as an adjunct, but it felt like being a ghost. i no longer had the community of my cohort. i had no health insurance. i was given my teaching schedule and a contract to sign, that’s it. there was no guarantee i would be getting classes the following semester, and after a year, that was what happened. i remember sitting in my favorite coffee shop trying not to cry when i got the email that said the department had nothing for me to teach the following semester.

i really wasn’t the same after the breakdown. i went from “i can do anything i put my mind to no matter how hard it is or how much it hurts” to “i have to step carefully, and treat myself gently.” i hadn’t fully realized that yet, though, so i tried to get a Real Job. i got the first and only job i applied to, because i am bad at nearly everything but somehow i’m exceptional in interviews. it wasn’t a bank but it offered the same sort of benefits package. it was a full-time salaried position at a non-profit. if i had found it earlier, i think it would have been my dream job. it was the kind of work you throw yourself into because you care so much about doing good.

i lasted a month. during the first week something happened that triggered me in a way i’m very rarely triggered. i realized i needed disability accommodations, but i needed to go to a doctor to get an assessment and i had to be on the team 60 days in order to get insurance. i thought i could white-knuckle it, and i could, sort of, but every minute i was at work, it felt like i was forced away from the thing i should have been doing. i was constantly trying to write a few paragraphs here and there on my phone when no one was looking. i had to find excuses to take breaks and go to my car and breathe. at one point i told a volunteer i was an english instructor, and she looked at me very confused, and i realized i’d said it in present tense, like it was part of who i was and not a job i did for a while. then finally, my breaking point was an after-hours function. when i left i saw a field full of fireflies and thought about how, if i’d just stayed home, i could have sat outside and enjoyed them all evening, not just a glance at them on the way to my car. i liked the job but it was making me miss all the things i’d learned to love about being alive.

i quit the next day. i’d sold my house by then (which was its own feat) and moved in with my grandma, which hadn’t been a possibility until my grandpa passed away the previous spring. i paid off my car. i figured out finally that i would probably never be able to work full-time again unless it was teaching, and that the downside to this life would be accepting fear and instability, only being able to look ahead one semester at a time. staying open to the opportunities that arise. being a little selfish.

i wrote a bit more about the financial realities of the writing life here. i can’t tell you what you should do, because the path i took definitely isn’t the path for everyone, but i do believe we all owe it to ourselves to pursue our best and happiest lives, because we only get one, and there’s no reason not to live it the way you want to.

#writing advice #the writing life #Anonymous

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