#i hope u know that i am always here for you in any capacity i can be and that !! i am literally ALWAYS cheering u on!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyunverse · 2 years ago

Text

midnight existential crisis ꔫ seungmin

best friend!seungmin && reader.

genre — fluff, drabble.

warnings — vomit.

about — you and your best friend have a talk about the future.

note — hi!!! first request for skz, kinda nervous. hope u enjoy this bubba ^_^

part two here.

"oh my god i feel disgusting," you cry out, placing down half a slice of pizza.

several boxes of pizza are stacked on the table, some empty and some not. you managed to finish most of them, leaving only two boxes full.

seungmin merely watches — partially amused. out of boredom and greed, you decided to buy every topping of pizza available in domino's. he had told you that it's impossible to finish them all, but you insisted — said that it's possible if it's personal-sized. after three hours, he's currently basking in the glory of being able to say "i told you so."

the couch dips at your weight as you sink down, whining, "it's not fair. you barely ate any."

he shrugs, "i ate like three boxes."

"you have no ambition!"

"are you seriously insulting me for knowing the capacity of my own stomach?"

you loathe how seungmin always seems to have a rebuttal. he always has witty comebacks, yet so composed — it's his role in your shared apartment. amidst the calamity among you, hyunjin, and felix — he's always been the smartest one despite his own chaotic shenanigans. it's the very reason why you get along with him best.

"my god, minnie," you whimper, hand gently rubbing your bloated stomach, "one push on my stomach and my insides will immediately burst out."

a complete mistake on your part. it's not seungmin if he isn't constantly searching for ways to annoy you. before you know it, his hands are attempting to push your stomach. as you try to avoid his attacks, the two of you laugh, and laugh — until it slowly turns to silence. a homely type of silence.

“feet,” seungmin breaks the silence.

you’re laying on the armrest of the sofa, him as well but on the opposite. legs stretching out — his feet are now on top of yours. menacingly, he pinches your foot with his toes. you yelp out, kicking him in the shin in process.

“annoying ass!”

“at least i have an ass,” his response has you fuming in the inside.

“fuck you, i can’t wait ’til hyunnie and lix comes back.”

seungmin glances at the clock, eyebrows furrowed, “it’s midnight and they’re not here yet. . . they’ve literally been out since morning.”

a heavy sigh slips past your lips, and you sink yourself even more into the sofa. you wish the whole earth could swallow you alive. you, and the pathetic feeling harboring in your chest.

“it’s valentine’s day, hyunjin and felix both have dates,” you say, “why are we staying in?”

“‘cause we’re bitchless.”

“why are we bitchless? like, i don’t get it,” you add — seungmin could tell it’s the beginning of a long midnight talk, “felix has so many friends that he could go out with a different friend every other night. hyunjin gets both dudes and chicks, he gets asked out every week. why am i alone? like, what’s wrong with me, minnie?”

your best friend props up his body with his elbows to get a better look at you. he doesn’t answer your question — knows you well enough to know that you don’t actually want an answer — you just want to ramble. and he’s there to listen.

“i feel so lonely, seungmo, so lonely. i feel like i’m going to die alone. i can’t pinpoint what’s unlikeable about me, really. you, however. . . so many people like you, y’know that? have you ever considered, i don’t know. . . freeing your schedule to date? not be too stressed over college?”

the question causes seungmin to plop back down onto the leather sofa. he buzzes his lips together. it isn’t the first time he’s heard the statement, truly. the people he has casually dated has told him that he’s too driven by college, that he’s too determined.

“i don’t want to change that part of myself just so someone would date me, y/n,” he exhales the breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding, “i want to be loved without feeling like i’m begging for it. and we’re almost done with our degree, too. so, what’s the point anyway?”

you shoot up in your seat. a nauseous sensation starts to creep up your system — your legs move before you could think — suddenly you’re bent over the toilet, vomitting out all the food you’ve eaten. seungmin isn’t too far behind you. by the time you’re hunched over the toilet, you could feel his larger hands massaging your shoulders and rubbing your back.

“let it out,” he says, voice hushed.

once you’re done, the raven head helps you. he turns on the sink for you, even grabbed a couple tissues for you.

“we’re almost done with college,” you cry out, sitting on the bathroom floor with teary, red eyes and a snotty nose.

seriously, the dominos workers must’ve drugged the pizzas with something to make you so emotional.

“it’s our last semester, seungmo,” you add, sniffling.

obediently, seungmin sits beside you. he gently pushes your head down onto his shoulder, letting you cry out all your emotions.

“it’s so scary, seungmo, too scary.”

“of course it is scary, it’ll only get scarier as days pass by.”

“i feel like i’m the only one with no life plan. i know felix wants to work at a bakery once we graduate, and hyunjin’s going for interior design. i know you have plans too, no way you don’t,” you ramble in one breath, “i genuinely don’t know where i’m going after college. it’s so pathetic.”

seungmin shrugs, “i don’t know what i’m going to do either.”

“what?”

“i’m having second thoughts about my major.”

your lips purse into an ‘o’. a part of you feels bad for seungmin, considering you know how hard he studies, but a part of you feels relieved that you’re not the only one.

“that’s a huge yikes.”

“it is,” seungmin huffs as he rests his head against the blue tiled walls, “but i guess that’s that. sometimes the plan you initially plotted just doesn’t suit you.”

you nod at his words, “wow. we’re bitchless and jobless.”

it’s all pathetic — crying and vomitting at the thought of the future but someway, somehow, having seungmin by your side makes it less lonely. less scary, even by just a little.

“you ever thought about how your burdens are truly only yours and cannot truly be shared?” seungmin asks in a matter-of-factly tone.

your stomach churns at the statement.

“yeah. . . all the time. i feel like you could share your feelings but it’s only to get it out of your system. at the end of the day, all the burden is only yours.”

seungmin shuffles in his spot, hugging both his legs to his chin.

you sigh, “i’m always here for you though.”

a soft smile paints seungmin’s visage. his hand reaches out to pat your head.

“me too. you’re stuck with me until we’re both wrinkly on our death beds,” he jokes, “i don’t think i’m moving out once we graduate. i think i’m staying, i’ll find something to do in this area.”

you nod again, looking up at him. your eyes meet his — he sends you a reassuring smile. as if to say — “i’m with you, we don’t have to rush.”

for the first time in months, you genuinely feel reassured.

“me too, then. i’m staying.”

the night goes on — the clock constantly moving but neither of you does. you talk about nothing but everything, about how you used to be passionate about many things, how seungmin actually wanted to get serious with his last date but was ghosted, how hyunjin’s probably getting laid while the two of you wail and complain. it’s fun, and sad at the same time.

when the clock strikes four, two bodies are entangled on the bathroom floor, slightly snoring. the sight leaves hyunjin utterly confused when he walks in.

“what in the world. . .” the long-haired boy mumbles, tilting his head as he watches, “yongbok! you need to see this!”

the pitter-patter of footsteps could be heard as felix approaches, arms still busy taking off his jacket.

“what? oh wow— bestie goals.”

hyunjin chokes back his laughter, not wanting to wake any of you up, “i’ll carry seungmin to bed, you carry y/n?”

“okay.”

1K notes · View notes

bylertruther · 2 years ago

Note

what do you think about will's line "you make [me] feel like [I'm] not a mistake at all" coming after the rain fight? he was devastated by the rain fight and thought of himself as stupid because of what mike said to him about not liking girls. he also destroyed castle byers because he was so hurt by mike's words. how does that fit into will's perception of mike as someone who has never made him feel like a mistake and who makes him feel better for being different?

(I really hope this ask doesn't come across as anti-mike or anti-byler bc I love mike and I love the ship so much, I'm just trying to understand how will's clear hurt after the rain fight and the distance from mike in lenora connects to the van scene and I'm asking you because you seem to have a good grasp on will's character)

warning: this is Extremely Long and i am Extremely Sorry, but the rain fight and what it means for their characters is one of my favorite things to talk about ever and so i have So Many Things to say abt it. sorry i lov u don't bite me pls.

no, i think it's totally fair to ask that! seriously, don't worry at all about how you come across. i don't agree with the idea that liking something = never acknowledging its flaws, so i'm always down to discuss stuff like this. i'm going to dive deep into my interpretation of the rain fight, because i feel i need to express that first in order to answer your question fully.

if i'm honest, back when it aired, the rain fight was what 100% struck down any microscopic crumb-of-a-crumb of hope that i had for byler in Any capacity, platonic or not. i finished the season and then didn't give a single shit about the show as a whole afterward, because i felt like it was such a slap in the face. not only to will, but mike, too, considering this is a character that's stood by will's side against all sorts of monsters, whether they were middle school homophobic bullies or eldritch monsters.

at the time, it was exceedingly difficult to reconcile the mike i loved and the mike i was seeing on screen, but i feel a little more clear on it now. i could be totally wrong, clouded by my own bias and perception, but here's how i see it all.

the rain fight hurt me more than anything in the entire show, because of how real it is and how neither of them are objectively wrong.

mike is in his very first relationship. it's shiny, exciting, and new. he's kissing all day, getting a rise out of authority figures, and having enough fun that he spends All of his time with her. it's not a serious relationship, but he's a kid, el is the first girl ever that isn't repulsed by him, they have an Insane trauma bond, and she's his "superman". it's not serious but it's Serious 2 Him, you know? he feels like a Big Boy now and he hides from his Very Bad Do-NOT-Touch-Or-EVER-Think-About Trauma behind this relationship. it makes him feel like he's moving forward.

will is feeling a similar sense of exhilaration and freedom. the gate was closed and the upside down has fled their world for good. hooray! he can finally be a teen again! he can finally be his version of Normal now, aka the will he was before the upside down! no more now memories, true sight, or fear that Something will come to get him, whether physically or mentally. he's a hostage unchained basically. it's summer, he has his party, and he just wants to have a good time with them. he just wants to be happy, live a little, and feel safe.

mike is seeking safety and reprieve in a girlfriend and will is seeking safety and reprieve in his friends.

but then...

mike's turning point:

mike is told that if he wants to continue to see el, he has to lie to her. so he does and then his Serious 2 Him relationship is over in a very unserious blink of an eye lol. he doesn't know how to win her back, because he doesn't actually know her, and he's understandably upset because he Wants To Have A Girlfriend Again because she's his Crutch.

he Needs her to feel Normal, but she does Not need him, which canonically makes him jealous. remember that this is something Super Important to his character, because having a girlfriend means he's Cool and Normal and Needed, which are more important than water and food to mike right now. i reiterate this, because that's mike's Entire Thing Since Forever. he Needs to keep up the act, because he doesn't like who he is without it as we learn in s4. he Needs it, desperately.

as such, this has him out of sorts and he seeks out lucas's help to win her back. we know mike, which means we know that he can get tunnel vision when he fears he might lose someone. so, this aggravates his already-negligent behaviors ("i was worrying too much about el" [paraphrased], "it's been like this all summer") and he turns into a Super Shitty Friend.

... i was going to go over will's turning point, but his journey is pretty clear, i think. everyone has a girlfriend and they all want to do girlfriend activities and they canonically forget about him in the process. he's there and yet no one sees him. ouch. lets fast forward to the fight.

will has reached his breaking point, because this campaign he's worked so hard on and is putting genuine effort into to make engaging for his friends is being treated like a joke. they're not laughing with him; his friends, his best friends are laughing at him. and that fucking Hurts. he's been trying to get them to do things they used to do, he's been trying to have fun with them in any capacity, and now that they're here... he's the fucking joke of the hour and they're quite literally jumping up and running at any opportunity to cast him aside.

so, you know what? fine. whatever. you guys win; i give up. have fun with the girls. i'm going home. lucas is shocked to the point of speechlessness at how upset will is, but mike immediately jumps into action. he softens, tries to go back to the game in earnest this time with lucas, and goes after him - almost trampling lucas - when his pleas are ignored.

will was invisible (to all, to mike) until he wasn't. (something about being careful what you wish for..?)

now, we fast forward again to the moment when will's heart is torn in two: "it's not my fault you don't like girls!"

first, let me say this: michael wheeler is a fucking bitch. we know this and we love him for it even when it hurts. that was a shitty thing to say, but... that does not make him The Shittiest Boy Alive, Ever. not even a little bit.

in season three, mike is a teenager behaving like a teenager. he felt ambushed by will's feelings and like it wasn't fair that this was all on him. ("you're the heart / without heart, we'd all fall apart"; again, the party is his responsibility, "but why is this all on me? why am i the bad guy?"; mike always has to be the leader, carrying the party on his back, but he himself doesn't get to unwind which is unfair in his eyes.) he isn't privy to will's journey like we are; he's caught up in his own world and his own shit, remember? he doesn't react super well, but will is yelling at him, very upset over something He Didn't Even Know He Was Doing All This Time ("you knew she was having trouble for a year and didn't tell me" aka this is where the "will doesn't tell mike the truth until it's too late" pattern begins), and telling him that he's the one ruining the party over some stupid girl, aka his (ex-)girlfriend, aka the girl that saved their lives, aka the girl that saved the Entire world twice so maybe don't call her stupid, will. (mike always sticks up for people, so of course he isn't going to react well to el being called stupid here, even by will.)

he shouldn't have said it, but mike is knee-jerk, cornered-animal reacting to will putting this all on mike's shoulders at the very last second after never having given him a chance to fix any of his actions. will bottled this all up and then exploded on him. of course mike isn't going to react well. of course he's going to put his foot in his mouth and say the first thing that comes to mind.

because in his mind, it really isn't his fault that will doesn't like girls lol. and it isn't HIS sole fault that the party is falling apart. not everything has to land on HIS shoulders. not everything has to be HIS responsibility.

he's a kid going through his own shit, that's lashing out at someone for lashing out at him first. it was shitty, it hurt will to his core, but i don't think mike meant to be cruel. he immediately backed down, tried to explain himself rationally (that they're all just changing and will should've expected that bc it's not like they can be the same kids forever), and then went after will (literally across town, on bikes, in the pouring rain and thunder, to his house and then to castle byers) to apologize.

he doesn't do this with anyone else—not even lucas or his own girlfriend. and when he does apologize? it's because someone is forcing him to, walking him through it, or because they did it first. mike doesn't ever make the first move or humble himself first... unless it's will. then he suddenly knows exactly what to do and what will needs from him. because he knows will and he listens to will.

everything that he did for will in that scene is precisely, word-for-word, what max told eleven that he'd do for her In The Same Episode just moments prior—but he didn't. he didn't!

he did everything he was "supposed to" without guidance or hesitation or headassery... for will.

when eleven confronts mike in season four and tells him he never says i love you, mike responds, very seriously, with "i say it." and you know what? i agree with him wholeheartedly.

mike loves will more than anyone. we're shown very clearly from the very beginning that the only person in the show that rivals his love, devotion, and loyalty for will is joyce. and will knows this! that's why mike is his bestest best friend! that's why he's hopelessly in love with him! because "max, dustin, and lucas, they're great..." but they're not mike! no one treats will the way mike does, and mike doesn't treat anyone the way he treats will! they're perfect for each other and will knows this! that's why he expected and wanted a future with mike!

and... he thought that mike wanted that, too. because THAT'S the crux of the rain fight. it isn't that will is gay. it's that will thought mike wanted Crazy Together, too! it's right there in the dialogue, what it is that they're really fighting about:

MIKE: I mean, what did you think, really? That we were never going to get girlfriends? We were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives? WILL: Yeah. I guess I did. I really did.

the fight is representative of an amalgamation of things and it cuts will's life into yet another before and after, but the point isn't that will doesn't like girls. the point was that will really thought it was always going to be them together—he thought they both wanted that; that that would be the one thing that never changed, even if they and everything else around them did.

when will is looking at a picture of them and saying "stupid.. so stupid" and RIPS IT DOWN THE MIDDLE BETWEEN HIM AND MIKE, with the memories that Start And End With Mike And His Voice Being The Focal Point, i interpret it as him feeling stupid enough to think that his feelings, his wants, and his dreams were ever reciprocated. stupid enough to believe that mike really did mean crazy together in every single way. that he meant it the way that will meant it and had always meant it.

mike is the one that brings up forever and will confirms it. he says yes, i did want that with you and i thought you wanted it, too. their argument ends there, because THAT was the real issue. You Got A Girlfriend And Replaced Me With Her; Something I Never Thought We Would Do To Each Other. THAT'S (!!!!!) the issue. THAT'S why mike looks so devastated afterward. THAT'S why he bikes in the rain to apologize. THAT'S why he looks so sheepish when will puts his dnd book in the donation box, why he's worried that Will Is Going To Replace Him With Someone Else!!! because their rain fight was about the fact that it was no longer him and mike against the world!! mike got a girlfriend and broke their unspoken promise!!

THAT'S why mike repeats "we're friends. we're. friends." at rink-o-mania, why he tried calling him all the time for Months (he felt like he'd lost will the same way that will felt like he'd lost mike last summer, their roles were perfectly and exactly reversed here), why he said that hawkins wasn't the same without him / there's no one like you, why he said they should be a team again (an Us, a We, Crazy Together; curiously after his gf breaks up with him lmao). it's the same fight all over again. "i lost you" / "i'm right here." + "friends... best friends." / "not possible." it's always about loss with these two.

that's why i feel like the rain fight doesn't contradict will's van confession. i think will's line of thinking is that mike can't help how he feels; aka, "i can't blame him for not returning my feelings / outgrowing our childhood love". and him not returning will's feelings doesn't make will feel like a mistake.

what made will feel like a mistake was his desire to go back to how things were and the realization that that was impossible. will tears down castle byers because it's too full of everything he once had and he learned the hard way that There Is No Going Back, There Is Only Going Forward. the theme of s3 is about change and will realizes this in the most heartbreaking way possible.

i hate the idea of anyone reconstructing castle byers, because the point is that will outgrew it. he can't hide through escapism in dnd or in castle byers. he has to build a life that he loves and feels safe enough in that he Doesn't Need a castle byers. (that's why s4 has him coming out of his shell wrt his sexuality and wanting to be open and honest about it as much as he can be with the ones that he loves and trusts, and he'll continue/conclude that journey in s5).

in season three:

mike learns that he doesn't Need eleven (see: how happy he was with will especially at the end, seemingly on good terms, and giddy still as he told el abt them coming over for christmas [note how he mentioned playing games in their basement for the rest of their lives in their fight vs how he's making plans to have them both over so they can play with their gifts {aka he's still thinking of will bc he Wants that future with him, too, deep down}]) ... until she kisses him, tells him she loves him, and then his brain breaks and all hell breaks lose again because the byers are literally leaving in just a couple minutes so how the FUCK is he going to deal with any of that, AND THEN in s4 when he does seem okay with being broken up with again he's then 1) reminded that she's his responsibility and 2) he needs to save her because if he doesn't then the world literally goes to hell and they all fucking die. so. yanno. that's tough. mike takes two beautiful steps forward and then gets pulled fifty steps back every time.

and will learns that hiding is not the same thing as living and that he needs to stop that if he wants to be able to move forward (see: "he's good at hiding", using dnd as an escape vs him giving away his dnd books + hopper's letter and the cave metaphor + being more open in s4 and wanting to "come clean" about being gay + the gay-coded advice he gives mike abt truth and fear).

mike definitely hurt him, but that's one moment out of a million where he's otherwise made will feel strong, loved, and capable, and will has told us that much himself more than once. will doesn't fault mike for wanting something else, someone else. he loves him without any expectation of it being reciprocated in that way.

he loves him, just because; because mike has always loved him and shown him a kindness and mercy like no other; because mike has known what he is and loved him anyway; because mike came to him and told him he didn't deserve anything after their fight, that hawkins wasn't the same without him, that the past year was weird without him, that he's more to mike than any of their other friends even after all this time, that they should be a team again as they face the end of the world together without superman's help.

because no matter what... they always love each other in a way that no one else does. even if will wants more than that, even if he aches with it, he still knows that what he has with mike is so special as it is. and that's enough for him.

mike didn't treat him any differently when their biggest concern was some mouthbreather calling him a fairy and he didn't treat him any differently after the upside down when everyone walked on eggshells around him, thinking he was about to break. mike has always treated him like a person that is strong and loved, and one sentence in the middle of a fight during a very stressful time for both of them doesn't diminish a history bursting with love.

i think what will fears isn't mike knowing he's gay, but mike knowing how will actually feels about him. i say this, because of the van confession and this line of will's in particular:

Sometimes I think it's just scary to open up like that. To say how you really feel, especially to people you care about the most. Because, what if… what if they don't like the truth?

this is played with the [tender, emotional music] which we know the sound directors used for intimate moments. will is also gauging mike's reaction here, giving him a searching kind of look, like he's testing the waters. will doesn't know this, but we as viewers know that this is a conversation about mike not being able to tell eleven he loves her. it isn't a reach to say then that will is talking not about being gay, but specifically about "how [he] really [feels]" about mike. that's what scares him: his unreciprocated crush, not his sexuality.

the duffers have said that will is trying to make himself be understood in the van scene and that will cries because mike doesn't get it. if he thought that mike was a homophobe, he wouldn't want to share this about himself. instead, mike makes him feel better for his otherness in all its shades. he wants to tell mike, because he wants to be honest with him and release some of that burden from his chest. but he's scared. he's so, so unbelievably fucking scared.

because, it's exactly as will says: "what if [he doesn't] like the truth?" what if that ruins the friendship that they just rebuilt? what if eleven finds out and then it's Even More Weird and Uncomfortable for everyone involved?

and considering how self-sacrificing will is... i feel like that's his other biggest concern regarding that entire clusterfuck. he loves them both. he doesn't want to hurt them or come between what he Thinks they have, because that'd be selfish and will isn't ever selfish even when he should be.

will's line about mike making him feel better for being different has canon support from season one and two. mike's outburst in season three is an outlier in his otherwise spotless record of loving will byers to an unhinged degree. even in season four, we see that mike never stopped reaching out to will. it was will who never reached out and mike was understandably upset about that, but even then he did try to include will afterward only to get iced out which "sabotaged the whole day" in his eyes. will didn't know this, though, and that's why he behaved the way that he did. still, will knows who mike is when he's not pretending and he wants mike to know who he is when he's not hiding. the rain fight hurt will indescribably, yes, but not because of the "it's not my fault you don't like girls" line in the way that it's understandably interpreted. so... i think it all fits together just fine.

#i could write essays on essays on essays on epic poems abt the rain fight bro don't get me STARTEDDDDDDDD #believe it or not this was me holding back 2 the point where i had to take so much out n try to condense it.#byler #byler analysis #asks #long post #mine

106 notes · View notes

fortheloveofwonderland · 4 years ago

Text

A Memory Locked In The Heart - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - Requested by the lovely @overduelibrarybooks I hope this was the kind of thing you were looking for!

Find my masterlist here.

My taglists are open and requests are open.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: "could u ever write a spencer reid x reader where reader def works for the cia but more as a translator who’s kinda forced into doing agenty things in order to gather intel and on a mandated break she finds out the UNSUB before the team does so she uses herself as bait, and shoots the guy all very badass fashion n then gets interrogated bc ms girl just shot him coldblood and halfway thru she recognizes spencer bc her mother and his mom lived in the same care facility??? idk sorry my mom has paranoid too so it just hits different but u don’t have to write this if u don’t want to i love ur writing <3"

CW: disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the CIA and what they investigate so please go easy on me here. This is all made up so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. Mentions of violence and sex work, schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, some swears. Mentions of drug use and overdose. Spanish used towards the end is from Google Translate so I apologise if it isn’t completely accurate. Italics indicate flashbacks.

Plot: Eighteen years ago you met a boy named Spencer Reid whilst visiting your mother at Bennington Sanitorium. This time you are meeting under entirely different circumstances; across the table of an interrogation room.

WC: 5.3K

—————————————————————

How did I end up here?

That was a question you kept asking yourself as you rolled into your third hour of sitting in that cold, dimly lit interrogation room at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia.

Well you supposed you’d have to go back to the beginning to truly work that out.

The CIA and FBI joint task force for a country wide sex trafficking ring they believed to be operating out of DC.

When your team at the CIA had started investigating it was estimated that the ring had close to a hundred women who had been abducted and forced into the sex industry.

A lot of women were believed to have been taken trying to cross the border. Your job as a translator had involved spending a lot of time in Mexico, helping interview witnesses and family members who didn’t speak English.

The FBI involvement had come when women believed to have been part of the trafficking ring started turning up dead.

At last count they were up to twenty bodies. The Behavioural Analyst Unit had given their profile of the man they believed to be running the show.

White male in his mid to late forties. Bilingual. Possibly born in Mexico or an area surrounding the border but grew up in DC, they assumed based on his knowledge of the area. He’s attractive, charming and has a good level of education, he’d need to be able to charm the women into trusting him. He doesn’t have a full time job because he wouldn’t have time for one. All his time and focus goes on his girls. He was tech savvy, incredibly so, he’d have to be, to be able to set up the network on the dark web which enabled his customers to pay for his services.

It hadn’t been going well. Bodies kept dropping and the task force was no closer to catching the person responsible.

This went on for six months. Everyone was exhausted. You kept hitting brick wall after brick wall. It was demoralising.

Your boss had called for mandated time off. You’d all argued but she had been absolutely adamant. You’d all been working yourselves to the bone and she didn’t want you burnt out entirely.

You’d argued but your words had fallen on deaf ears.

“Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the lanky, messy haired agent who called himself Doctor Reid, sticking his head through the door.

“Is coffee an option?”

He smiled brightly at you, a smile you swear you’ve seen before.

“Coffee is always an option.” He told you. “How do you take it?”

“Strong and black. Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With that the door closed leaving you to your thoughts once more.

There was something so familiar about the Doctor. His dark yet sparkling eyes, his awkward smile and the way he dressed. You couldn’t place it. But there was definitely something about him that stirred some memory buried deep in your brain. You just weren’t sure what it was.

He returned a few minutes later, bringing your coffee into the room and placing it on the table in front of you.

“Hopefully you won’t be stuck here too much longer. It��s just standard procedure.” he spoke sweetly, his voice stirring the hidden memory.

“Yeah I know. I get it.” you sighed as you spoke, wrapping your hands around the coffee. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled before he started backing out of the room. You wished you could ask him to stay because you felt so much more at ease with him around. But you knew you couldn’t.

He turned to you in the doorway.

“You look cold in that.” He smiled a little sadly at you.

You’d forgotten about your outfit choice. No self respecting CIA agent dressed like you were right now.

“I guess I am a little.” You shrugged.

Spencer instantly shrugged his blazer off of his shoulders and laid it in front of you on the table.

“Thank you Doctor Reid.” you spoke again before he disappeared out the door.

“Goodbye Agent Y/L/N.”

The door closed, his voice reverberating in your ears, dragging you into a long forgotten memory.

As you slipped his jacket on, your eyes fluttered closed, his scent wafting up your nose.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Your eyes shot back open, a frown on your face.

“Spencer?” you muttered under your breath. “Spencer Reid.”

Where had you pulled that name from? And why did it feel oddly connected to Vegas?

You tried to push the thought away, you already had enough on your mind. There were much more pressing things to deal with than a vague memory from your hometown an undetermined amount of time ago.

***

You’d been instructed to switch off. Your time off should be used to recoup, relax and not to think about the case.

Easier said than done you thought.

Before you’d left the office on your mandated leave you’d taken photocopies of some files and slipped them into your bag. You knew you’d be in trouble if you were caught but you couldn’t help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to relax with this case still open.

As far as you were aware the BAU was still working on it but it provided you little comfort. In your time with the CIA you’d never gotten to be involved so heavily in a case. Your skills were mostly utilised in interview capacities and then you were sidelined.

You’d never had the privilege to work on a joint task force or investigate a crime so brutal.

You felt personally invested in this case. You thought if you could just find that one missing puzzle piece you could crack this case wide open.

And then you’d found it. The golden ticket. The smoking gun. The missing piece.

It had taken five days of your leave and copious amounts of coffee but you’d connected the dots no one else had.

You knew how to draw the unsub out. And you were going to do it tonight.

***

“Let’s start again from the beginning shall we?” Agent Rossi linked his fingers together on top of the table as he looked across at you, still slowly sipping your coffee.

“Oh goody.” You sighed. “Could Agent Jareau not fill you in what I’ve already told her?”

“Humour me.” The old man shrugged.

You didn’t have any ill will against him. Far from it. You were actually a big fan of David Rossi. But you were sick and tired of being treated like a criminal.

“Tell me how you managed to work out how to find him.”

You took another long sip of the coffee.

“All the pieces were there, they just hadn’t been put into place.”

“And how did you piece them together?”

“There was a pattern to where the women had been last seen. It was a guess more than anything. A lucky guess.”

“And the pattern was?”

You sighed in frustration.

“As I told agent Jareau,” you sipped your coffee. “The bars they were last seen in all had ties to Mexico. I’m not a native to DC but I know the area like the back of my hand. They were all either Mexican owned, had a Mexican name or were previously establishments such as Mexican restaurants. I made an educated guess that he frequented places such as these looking for his targets. I just got lucky I picked the right one.”

***

You felt incredibly exposed, but you supposed that was the point.

If you were going to get this guy's attention, you had to do this right.

It was a long shot. Just because Western’s bar was known for its famous tacos did not mean it would be the place he chose to pick up girls.

You just had to hope.

You wore a skimpy skirt that barely covered your ass, knee high boots and a crop top that accentuated your assets.

Your firearm was hidden in your left boot.

Your outfit garnered a lot of looks as you headed through Westerns towards the bar.

You felt men’s eyes on you from every angle, making you feel extremely self conscious. But you needed to keep your cool, exude confidence.

If your guy was here he needed to see you shine.

You ordered a soda to keep your head clear and sat at a table over the far side of the bar. From there you had a good view of the entrance and most of the room. And more importantly, the room had a view of you.

Three hours you sat there nursing your soda. It was a huge stab in the dark, you weren’t really surprised.

You finished your drink and headed out onto the cool DC street.

You made it five steps before you felt a presence behind you.

Just as you were about to turn, something covered your mouth.

You struggled against a pair of strong arms.

A smell wafted up your nose seconds before you lost consciousness.

Chloroform.

***

“Why didn’t you tell your unit chief before you went in?”

“Because I thought it was a long shot.” And because she would have been furious I was working the case.

“So you chose to use yourself as bait?”

“Yes.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” Rossi raised an eyebrow at you.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Yes agent Rossi, I’m well aware. But I had a lead and I wasn’t going to ignore it.” You pulled Doctor Reid’s jacket tighter around your scantily clad body.

You caught his scent again. Coffee. Old books. A hint of peppermint.

Another long shut off memory wormed it’s way to the surface.

“So are you here visiting someone?”

“Yeah.” You smiled sadly. “My mom.”

“Oh.” He returned your sad smile. “Me too.”

“Agent Y/L/N?”

You were brought back by Rossi’s concerned voice.

“Hmm?”

“I said, what happened next? You were chloroformed and then what?”

You shook your head, your mind clouded.

“Can we take a break? I could really use some air.”

Rossi sighed with a small nod.

He stood from his chair and motioned you to follow him.

You got some odd looks from his fellow agents as he led you to the elevators. They all recognised what you were wearing as Spencer’s jacket.

You followed Rossi into the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

“Agent Rossi, can I ask you a strange question?” You asked as the doors closed.

He gave you a curious look.

“I suppose.”

“Doctor Reid. As in Spencer Reid?”

“The one and only.” Rossi frowned unsure what you were getting at.

“Where is he from?”

Rossi’s frown deepened, not sure he should tell you such things about his team. But you were an agent and you didn’t pose a threat to the team.

“Vegas I believe.”

Vegas. Of course.

“Ok.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” You chewed your lip. “I think I might have known him.”

“Oh?”

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. This was not the time or place.

“I’m probably wrong. Just forget I said anything.”

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. As you stepped out you pulled Spencer’s collar to your nose and sniffed it.

No you weren’t wrong.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Hi again.” You smiled at the lanky man, Spencer you’d met a few days ago. “How’s your mom?”

“Still angry at me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stubbed the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“She came in recently?”

“Yeah a few months ago. I turned eighteen and I was able to have her put into care.” He blanched, clearly feeling guilty for his decision.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“Uhm sure.” He shrugged.

He followed you through to the day room. It was late and there were only a few patients inside and a few nurses milling around.

You got two cups of coffee from the machine and the two of you sat at a table together.

“Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with your mom?” You dared as you slid him the drink.

He sighed heavily, gnawing on his bottom lip as though his life depended on it.

“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic.” He spoke clinically, words he’d had to say too many times in his life. It was as though he’d distanced himself from it. Like he was giving a patient a diagnosis rather than talking about his own mother.

“Mine too.” You gave him a wry smile. You had something in common, just not something you would like to have in common.

“How long has your mom been here?”

“Three years. She got really bad and my dad couldn’t take care of her anymore. She’s been doing much better since she moved in here.”

“That’s good.” Spencer nodded. “I hope my mom realises I did this for her. For her well being. At the moment she’s just so...angry.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on top of his. He seemed a little startled by the physical touch but you didn’t move your hand.

“This is the best place for her. I assume from what you said earlier your dad isn’t in the picture?”

He used his free hand to sip his coffee with a sad shake of his head.

“He left when I was ten. He couldn’t handle mom's illness.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you to have to look after her by yourself. It was hard enough with my dad there. Really makes you grow up fast.”

“It really does.” He agreed. “I’m not sure I ever got to be a kid.”

“I know that feeling.”

After that you spent hours chatting about anything and everything until way into the night. It wasn’t until a nurse came and asked you politely to leave that you realised how late it was.

“I’ll probably see you around?” You spoke as you stepped outside together.

“Maybe. In a few weeks I’m heading out of state. I’m working on a PhD.” He didn’t want to tell you it was actually his second PhD.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to hide the disappointment from your voice.

Despite the circumstances you’d enjoyed talking to someone like minded, someone who understood. You didn’t have anyone else your own age you could talk to about this kind of thing.

“Maybe we could exchange numbers?” You blushed a little.

“I don’t have a cellphone.” He shrugged.

“Oh.”

“It’s not an excuse.” He sensed you didn’t believe him. “I’m not so into technology. I don’t even have email.”

Normally you would have thought it was just a bad excuse to get out of seeing you again but the look on Spencer’s face told you he was being genuine.

“Ok.” You gave him a shy smile. “Well maybe I’ll see you again before you leave.”

“I hope so.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you on the dark street.

There was an air between you, some kind of thick tension but you didn’t know what it meant.

“If I don’t see you again,” you spoke trying to ignore whatever it was. “It was really good to meet you and I hope your mom gets used to the facility.”

“You too.” He smiled so genuinely at you, it made your heart skip a beat.

And then you went your separate ways.

***

“Ok, so what happened next?” Rossi wasted no time once you were back in the interrogation room.

“Well I blacked out after I was chloroformed so excuse me if I don’t remember.” You gave him a sarcastic smile.

“What’s the next thing you do remember?” He reworded his question.

“I woke up in a large basement. It was gritty and dingy. And there were other women there too.”

“How many?”

“At least twenty.” You sighed letting your mind travel back to the basement you never wanted to go back to. Not even in your mind.

***

You woke with a start, your head pounding. You gasped for air as though you’d been drowning.

You blinked your eyes trying to adjust to the dark room you found yourself in.

It was cold and damp and you could hear a pipe dripping in the distance.

You tried to roll over but your arm wouldn’t budge. You were met by a loud clanking sound when you tried.

You tugged your arm, hearing the same sound and being met with a sharp pain in your wrist.

“Good luck.” A woman’s voice scoffed. “They don’t come loose.”

You blinked a few more times, looking over to your left arm. There was a heavy metal cuff right around your wrist that was attached to a metal bed frame.

That’s when you realised you were laying on a small cot on top of a ratty, itchy blanket. You were still dressed, thank god.

You suddenly remembered your firearm concealed in your boot. You patted your left calf and sure enough you felt the hard weapon still inside.

That was something at least.

Oversight on their part.

You remembered the voice you’d heard before and turned as much as you could with your arm cuffed to take in the rest of the room.

There were at least forty other cots close together lining the walls, with at least half of them containing the body of other women.

The voice you’d heard belonged to a woman in the cot next to you. She gave you a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes were broken.

“Hi,” you croaked. “I’m Y/N.”

“Delilah.” Her accent was Spanish. You were sure Delilah wasn’t her real name either.

“How long have you been here?”

She sighed, playing with a strand of curly black hair.

“What month is it?”

“September.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Not that long then. I’ve been here since July.” She looked confused as though that couldn’t be long enough.

“Delilah?” You narrowed your eyes on her. “What year do you think it is?”

“2018…” she saw your face drop and knew instantly it was no longer 2018.

“Oh gosh.” You felt for her, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s 2020.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Wow.”

“It’s ok.” You lowered your voice. “I’m CIA. I’m going to get us out of here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

***

“Delilah.” Rossi opened the file in front of him. “Was that Roberta Suez?”

He pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table. You averted your gaze.

“Yes and please I don’t need to see it, I was there.”

“How did she end up in hospital fighting for her life?”

“You know how.” You huffed. “Look I’m starting to get fed up with this now.” You folded your arms. “Carlos Ramirez was a sick son of a bitch. If I hadn’t done what I did he would have killed all those women. I don’t regret what I did.”

“How did she end up in hospital?” He repeated.

“Good lord.” You grumbled. “I’ll talk but I don’t want to talk to you.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes on you.

“No? But I’m so compassionate.” He spoke sarcastically.

“I won’t say another word unless it’s to Reid.” You looked up to the two way mirror. You didn’t know why but you had a feeling he was there.

Sure enough it was barely twenty seconds before the door opened and Doctor Reid himself stepped in the room.

“I got this Rossi.” Spencer told the older man who stood up with a shrug.

Rossi left the room while Spencer took the seat he’d been occupying.

Did he remember you? It had been close to twenty years since you’d last seen each other. Had it not been for the olfactory memory that struck you when you put on his jacket you might never have remembered him.

But you knew the rest of his team was behind the two way glass, or at least some of them were so it didn’t seem an appropriate time to ask such things.

“So agent Y/L/N,” he smiled softly at you. “Can you please tell me how Delilah ended up in hospital?”

“You already know the answer to that Doctor but since you asked so nicely,” you leant your elbows on the table, entwined your fingers and rested your chin the little bridge you’d created. “She had a drug overdose. But you and I both know it wasn’t her who administered the drugs.”

“And who did?”

“I did.”

Your words hung in the air between you and Spencer. He knew the answer, the whole team did. You’d already told Agent Jareau everything.

This was a huge waste of time.

“I administered the drugs because he told me if I didn’t he would kill me. I needed to stay alive so I could save those women.”

“Who said he would kill you?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“It wasn’t Ramirez?”

“No.” You shook your head. “If it was Ramirez I would have shot him. But it must have been one of his right hand men.”

“How would you know that? You’d never met Ramirez correct?” Spencer had a soft tone to his voice which made his line of questioning easier than Agent Jareau’s.

“I’m not a profiler but I’ve been to enough seminars over the years. He didn’t fit the bill. He was young, scatty, he didn’t strike as much fear into the other women as I thought the boss would. I made an educated guess and I was right. If I’d shot at him I would have blown my chance at getting Ramirez.”

***

“Shit shit shit!” You pulled yourself as close to Delilah’s cot as possible with your restraint. “Delilah, keep breathing, try to breath. Fuck I am sorry.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, the empty needle you’d been made to inject in her vein between your cots on the floor.

He’d held a gun to your head and said he would shoot you if you didn’t do it. You didn’t think he was bluffing.

“It happens a lot.” A woman opposite spoke up. “You’ll soon find out. If she wakes up she’ll have the pleasure of returning the favour.” She gave you an almost manic grin.

If she wakes up. It was the if you were having the issue with.

“Who’s in charge around here?”

She shrugged.

“Don’t know his name. Big guy. Tattoos. Mustache. You can’t miss him.”

“Does he come down here often?”

Again she shrugged.

“Being down here you have a way of losing track of time.” She clicked her tongue. “But he’ll be here for you later. He has to test his new girls.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Test?” You swallowed, pretty sure you knew what she meant.

“He can’t very well expect you to make him money if he doesn’t know how good you are.”

Oh god.

Your heartbeat raced. No, it was not going to come to that. You were a CIA agent and you were armed.

It was not going to come to that.

***

Spencer’s face paled a little at your words. You hadn’t told Agent Jareau that part.

“He was going to...he didn’t…”

“No.” You cut him off, pushing the memory back down. “I had a gun, remember.”

You offered him a wry smile.

“So you know what comes next.”

“I’d like you to tell me.”

The way he said it was more like he was a therapist than an FBI agent. As though he wanted you to tell him so you could get it off your chest, unburden yourself, rather than for interrogation purposes.

“Ok.” You nodded. “He came for me later that night. And that’s when it happened.”

***

“Ahh look at you.”

A deep, Spanish voice woke you.

Your eyes fluttered open and landed on a strong, tattooed man with a mustache standing over your cot.

This must be him.

“Tan hermosa.”

So beautiful.

You tried not to shudder.

You sat up wiggling your legs in your boots to make sure you could still feel your firearm. You could.

“Su nombre es Rosa.”

Your name is Rosa.

Guess again.

“Su nombre es Y/N.”

“Tú hablas español?”

You speak Spanish?

“Si.”

“Eres perfecta.” He grinned menacingly. “My clients will love you.”

He reached in his pocket and fished out a key chain. He reached over you and unlocked your cuff.

You rolled your wrist to try and get your blood circulating again.

“On your feet.”

You complied and stood up. Your legs were shaky.

He grasped your wrist, hard enough so you couldn’t wriggle free but not hard enough to leave a mark. He started dragging you across the room.

With his free hand he undid the four locks on the large steel door and pulled your through it. Once on the other side he took care to lock them all again, keeping a firm grasp on you the whole time.

You were dragged down a long, narrow corridor towards another steel door, this one with just one lock on.

He slid the key in and opened it, pulled you inside and locked it behind him.

The room was much smaller than the one you’d been held in and only housed a single cot.

He licked his lip as he looked at you. His large, thick fingers stroked your cheek and you had to try and hide your disgust.

“En la cama. Ahora.”

On the bed. Now.

You had to pick the opportune moment. You had to plan this just right. You had no doubt he had a gun on him so if you faltered even slightly, he would kill you.

“Qué tal esto.”

How about this.

You made a show of licking your lips and then dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Whoa, feisty. I like it.” He grinned, his meaty hands going to his belt buckle.

Yes. Right where you wanted him.

While he was fumbling with his belt, you reached your hand back into your left boot, drawing your gun in one swift move.

You head butted him in the crotch, sending him stumbling backwards, crying out in pain.

“Mierda!” Shit. “Usted puta!”

You whore!

You were on your feet in a second, your gun trained on him.

“You will never hurt another woman again.” You spat, furious tears suddenly streaming from your eyes.

He looked up at you, his mouth opened to speak.

But the words didn’t come out as your bullet hit him between the eyes.

“Who’s the puta now?”

***

“I would say,” Spencer chewed his lip. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank god.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “And I did. If I hadn’t shot him, who knows how many other women would have died.”

Spencer pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Just so you know, we got word from the hospital a little while ago. Roberta Suez, Delilah, is going to be just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You felt tears brimming your eyes.

He opened the door and turned back to you.

“Are you coming?”

“I can leave?”

“You were never under arrest.” He smirked at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You got up from the chair and Spencer motioned you out of the room.

“I’ll walk you out.” He showed you across the bullpen towards the elevators. There was an awkward air between the two of you.

Did you say anything? It didn’t seem as though he remembered you, was it worth reminding him?

He motioned you into the elevator first and he followed, pressing the button.

The elevator started its descent.

Time was running out.

“So uhm…” Spencer turned to you and turned too. “How’s your mom?”

A smile broke out on your features.

“I didn’t think you remembered me.”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I recognised you the second you walked in.”

“It’s been twenty years.” You laughed.

“Eighteen years, seven months.” He corrected you. “But I could never forget your face.”

You blushed a little, averting your gaze.

“My moms doing ok. Thanks for asking. How’s your mom?” You looked back at him.

“Recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.” He told you sadly.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. These things happen.” He shrugged. “Made it to thirty without having a schizophrenic break but now I have to wait until I’m older to find out if I’ll develop Alzheimer’s.”

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped out, Spencer close behind.

“I really am sorry Spencer.”

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. “Is your mom still at Bennington? I used to see her when I went to visit my mom but I moved her out a little while ago.”

“Yeah she’s still there. She likes being close to my dad.”

You both hovered by the exit, not ready to say goodbye.

“Can I take you for coffee? If you don’t have anywhere else to be.” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“I’d like that. A lot actually. But I’d really like to shower and change out of this getup.” You laughed. “How about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” He grinned at you.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you made it to the door Spencer spoke again.

“Y/N,” he called your name, his voice cracking a little. “You uh...you forgot something.”

You turned to face him curiously.

He walked closer to you and without a second thought, placed his hands on your face and kissed you.

For a second you stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

But after a few moments you wrapped your arms around his neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you were both smiling at one another.

“What was that for?” You asked softly.

“Oh you know…” he shrugged with a coy smile. “Just something that needed to be done.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” You told him, touching his chest briefly.

“Ok.”

“Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.” He croaked.

And with that you sauntered out the doors but not out of his life.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada - 1999

“Spencer?” You’d only made it a few paces away from Bennington before you stopped in your tracks, calling his name. “You uh...you forgot something.”

He turned to face you curiously.

You walked closer to him and without a second thought, placed your hands on his face and kissed him.

He stood frozen, in shock of what was going on.

It was just a brief kiss, Spencer was too confused to do anything but stand there dumbly.

“Wh-what was that for?” He swallowed.

“Just something that needed to be done.” You smiled. “Bye Spencer Reid.”

“Bye Y/N Y/L/N.”

And with that you sauntered back down the street, hoping that one day, the universe would lead you back into each other’s lives.

—————————————————————

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added) -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #jennifer jareau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader

847 notes · View notes

lululawrence · 3 years ago

Note

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

#long post #rant #i almost deleted this #but you sent it on just the right day and instead i let loose #this is unedited and unbetaed lmao but ENJOY #or don't #whatever #writing stuff #i should tag it #writing SHIT #but that's not really a tag i keep cause who wants to keep track of the negatives #not me

193 notes · View notes

implexedactions · 4 years ago

Text

Penance is a virtue

Yandere!Enji Todoroki x Reader

Enji Todoroki is many things; kidnapper, lover, sadist, hero, villain, husband. He is many, many things. But he isn’t delusional.

Beta-Read by best person: @absolute-flaming-trash

Warning: Yandere content and themes, Angst, Heavy emotional themes, Suicide, Stockholm syndrome, Kidnapping.

---

You wake up, eyes dashing to the clock.

5:55 AM - SUNDAY

Okay, good, you hadn’t slept in. Enji always wanted you to wake him up. He got...mad if you didn’t. You turn over to him in bed, expecting to find him still sleeping.

Teal eyes stare back at you instead.

“Ah!”

His face takes on a sorrowful expression.

“Did I frighten you? Sorry. I could not sleep.”

Not leaving you time to respond, he pulls you into his chest, under the covers. He sighs in content, and you press into him, not wanting him to forget your devotion.

After some time, he pulls you up to his face, kissing your forehead gently.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“U-uh, what do you mean? Are you okay?”

Enji sighs, failing to meet your gaze.

“I never do compliment you that often...”

---

He carries you to the breakfast table, adorned with pancakes, your favourite.

“What’s going on Enj- I mean, dear. I’m meant to make you breakfast?”

He fails to answer you, instead sitting down with you on his knee. He takes a fork and puts some pancake on it.

“Eat.”

And so you do.

When you finish, he moves to wash up.

“W-what are you doing? You told me that was my job.”

Your memory wanders back to your first few months here, when you disobeyed his every command...and received due punishment for it.

“Are you going to punish me again?”

It escapes your lips before you can stop it. The thought of being punished again, like before, makes your veins cool with fear. Your breathing increases and you move down on your knees onto the cold kitchen floor.

“P-please, I swear, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t-”

“Stop.”

He walks over, his thighs the same height as your head. You move to undo his belt, but a hand puts a stop to that.

“There is no punishment. I am just doing an acceptable act for my spouse.”

The words “but you never do that” get stopped in your throat. You instead swallow and try to weakly smile. Looking up at Enji from your position on the ground, sunlight bathing him in a warm glow, to contrast the unsettled expression on his face.

---

He places you on a stool while he washes up. You fiddle with your hands, nervous. This isn’t how Enji usually acts. He’s so...vulnerable. In all honesty, it’s scary.

“Do you like the sunrise, my sweet?”

You look out to the orange glow emanating from the windows.

“Do you want me to like it, my sweet?”

Enji simply sighs and continues washing up.

“I’m sorry you cannot enjoy it. One should always appreciate what they have...”

---

After breakfast, he walks silently to the study. You follow behind him perfectly, like he trained you to.

He walks into the study, sitting down at his writing desk, and you take your place in his lap. He pulls out pen and paper, and you avert your eyes.

It isn’t for good spouses like you to read.

He spends the better half of 6 hours writing. You entertain yourself by tracing the pattern of the wallpaper. This evolves into focusing on Enji’s breathing, noticing how he breathes in more, not less when he becomes frustrated with something on the page. You eventually move on to thinking about all the things you miss from the outside world, like ice cream, and human connection. You finish out the last hour by thinking about how angry Enji would be if he knew such a perfect little spouse were thinking such nasty little things.

Shuffling about, he motions for you to hop off his leg, and then stands and leaves the room without speaking to you. You get the feeling he’s coming back, though; he left the door open.

You’re worried. You’re scared beyond belief. This isn’t like him, this entire day is wrong. You’re hoping he’ll burst in and start yelling, the anticipation feels worse than any potential punishment. You consider that maybe this is the punishment and that you should perhaps just start apologising regardless. He didn’t take well to that before though.

This day has made little sense. Enji is acting so far out of his usual behaviour that it doesn’t just scare you because he might hurt you. It scares you because you don’t know what is even happening. It takes you back to the days you first came here—a blurry, hazy mess. You struggle to even remember it. You remember bits and pieces. Chains, fire, the cold, the scent of sex. Small things like that.

You turn your head to the papers on the desk, intrigued by what took up so much of his time. Before you can look away, you see what they are. Letters, addressed to countless people, your parents, Shoto, Rei, Hawks, various news stations.

You glance towards the open door...surely what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

You pick up the letter to the Hawks.

Keigo, I write this letter to you as a mentor, and I presume a father figure. I know that in some capacity, you looked up to me. You were just a scared kid, and I helped. That said, if what I have done becomes public knowledge, do not defend me. I do not know how much you know of my dealings, but for the sake of your future, throw me to the dogs. Do not say that I was perfect, or that I did no wrong. When I turn and look at my darling, I see my mistakes for the damning judgments they are. You will be a fine no.1 hero, just let go of your predecessor. Please.

That alleviated little concern. Undeterred, you move onto the letter to the media.

To all the news channels and gossip rags that haunt this city like the festering ghouls you are, I detest you. You created division, turned heroics into a popularity contest, seeded doubt during a time where we needed hope, and fought so hard to bring us all to our knees. I know my story will vilify me, so I accept my place in the burning flames of hell. Just know that when you get down there, I will be waiting to enact justice.

You are practically hyperventilating now. You grab the letter to your parents. You don’t know what these letters are, but they seem like-

The letter is snatched away from your hands. It appears you forgot to watch the door.

Turning around, tears in your eyes, fear in your veins, half-baked excuses running rampant in your mind. You expect to see vengeful Enji with a glint in his eye, telling you it is time for your punishment. Instead, you find an apathetic Enji, eyes soft and watery, stance broken and exhausted.

“I did not want you to see that. I am sorry that you did.”

Enough is enough, you want answers. Pushing against your instincts, you stammer out a question.

“W-What is going on? Why...why are you like this?”

He seems taken aback, eyes opening wide. This minor act of defiance, of speaking out when not spoken to, is enough to break you. Falling to your knees, you look away from him. Aghast that you even thought of defying his wishes.

“I’m sorry! Please, forgive me! I didn’t mean to question you like that! Or read the letters! Please! I didn’t- I don’t-”

A calloused hand grips your shoulder.

“Please. Stop.”

You look up to see Enji’s eyes, dull and watery again.

“Sorry.”

“Trust me, I am sorry too.”

---

The afternoon is spent on the couch, watching TV in Enji’s lap. He seems to notice your nervous disposition, as he slowly envelopes you in a hug the more the hours go by. Eventually, he gets up to make dinner by himself, much to your unvoiced dismay.

You simply stare as he makes it. Both of you silent. He occasionally looks over to you, as if to make sure you haven’t merely vanished into the ether. You feel like you might vanish into the ether, honestly.

You move to the dining table, and a couple of minutes later, he brings out dinner. Silent, he sits down beside you, but a hand stops you from eating.

“Tell me, do you remember when we first met?” he sounds...hopeful.

“Is...Is this a trap?” you ask cautiously. This entire day has put you on edge.

“No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“I...I can’t remember it, really. Most of those months are...blank, I remember a few pieces of my first couple of months here. They’re admittedly not pleasant memories.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I appreciate that you did those...things you did to me! If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be any good at my job.”

He turns to you and raises an eyebrow.

“Your job?”

“Yeah, loving you, being your spouse.”

“Ah.”

Both of you go quiet. You wait on the signal to start eating. It doesn’t come.

“It was a gala event. You told me how much you hated them, and I laughed and agreed.”

“Ah. Gala’s sound so wonderful, don’t they though? Being outside, getting to dance, to listen to beautiful music.~”

You sway slightly thinking that you could have once been permitted to be a part of such a magical event.

“You may eat now.”

Enji’s command breaks you out of your daydream. He watches as you take your first bite, and follows in kind.

---

When you finish, he seems restless. He gets the plates and puts them in the sink. He then takes you to the living room. He fiddles with a speaker for a couple of seconds, before classical music emerges.

“You said you cannot remember our first meeting, and by extension our first dance. I was wondering, would you like to dance with me?”

Confused, but delighted, you join Enji in the embrace. Softly dancing around the living room, you try to imagine what it was like meeting Enji for the first time. He must’ve seemed so sweet, right? That’s how Enji would come off to a stranger, right?

You lose yourself in the moment, allowing yourself to imagine a life outside of these walls. You would’ve met Enji at the Gala. He would’ve laughed. He would’ve given you his number, the gentlemen that he was. He would’ve taken you to a fancy restaurant for your 1st date. You could’ve shown up at his agency while he was buried under paperwork once, and it would’ve made his day. You could’ve kissed him under the rain, snickering as you pulled away and saw droplets evaporate on contact with his blushing face. He would’ve proposed in a quiet place, with a brilliant ruby. You would’ve met Shoto, and figured out what his deal was. You would’ve grown old together.

But this life is just as beautiful, right?

Enji leans down during the dance and kisses you. Softly, unlike all those times before. It’s beautiful to you. And based on the silent tears running down his face, it’s beautiful to him too.

He pulls you down onto the couch, staring into your eyes as the soft music plays.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

“What for?”

“For a lot of things. For kidnapping you. For...training you. For punishing you. For breaking you, beyond belief. For so many, many different things. You are not the person I fell in love with, you are hardly a person. I broke you, I gutted your personality until all that was left was a shell, echoing any command I gave it. You do not have a soul anymore.”

He pauses, seemingly debating over this next part, ignoring your shaky and scared reassurances.

“And I am also sorry for the poison in our food tonight.”

Your world shatters at that.

“The fatal effects should kick in soon enough. It will not be a nasty death. Even in death, I intend to remain dignified. Or at least, I wish to preserve your beauty.”

You cannot vocalise anything, your mind is failing you. From either the poison or situation, you are unclear.

“There is an antidote on the kitchen counter. If you can get there and drink it, you will live. And if you are feeling ever so generous, you may even give some to me.”

He turns and looks you in the eyes.

“My only command is that you do not get that antidote.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me. Disobey me, and save yourself. Or obey me, and die.”

He shrugs.

“I did say I was sorry.”

“I-I...why?”

“Like I said. You are a shell. If you get the antidote, maybe I have not entirely broken you, maybe you can still be saved from my conditioning. If you do not get the antidote, I get to make Dabi just that little bit happier.”

You try to get up and into the kitchen. You really try. Your arms try to push up. You try to move off the couch. But...that feeling of fire licking at your body...it’s paralysing.

You instead collapse back onto the couch, and Enji sighs.

“Can you hold me?”

“Sure, my sweet.”

His arms pull you into his body. You feel yourself getting more and more tired.

“I’m sorry...I couldn’t be...what you wanted...”

“I am sorry I could not be what you wanted either...”

#yandere #yandere enji todoroki #enji todoroki #reader insert #yandere enji x reader #gender-neutral reader #boku no hero x reader #enji todoroki x reader #enji x reader #yandere enji #boku no hero academia #yandere endeavor #endeavor #ImplexedWriting

530 notes · View notes

waybrights · 3 years ago

Note

Sats au

Marcy, after a whole day of nonstop writing: *sleepily/aimlessly walks around the studio*

Sasha, sipping her her coffee in the dark: "You know it's midnight, right?"

Marcy, going completely still: *looks around confused*

okay i wrote smth for this and ik it doesn't fit the prompt exactly i hope u enjoy it anyway!!!

There was something strangely comforting about the studio, especially when the only sound was the hum of the air conditioner and there was no one around. Well, no one but Marcy. Technically, she wasn't allowed to be there, but it's not like anyone was going to kick them out. Besides, she was certain no one knew she was still there. And if they did, no one had come for them yet, so they couldn't get mad when they found her asleep on the couch in the morning.

Besides, the studio was probably one of the only places Marcy could actually focus on what she was doing. Their house was too noisy, especially since Sprig and Polly were over for the week whilst Hop Pop was away on some important trip, and her phone and laptop were there too, all easy distractions from the music she was meant to be going over. So she stayed behind, in the dark studio that had really, really, shitty wifi and an air-con that was stuck blowing cold wind into the building.

Sure, it wasn't the best and they could afford to rent out a new one, but all three of them liked the studio enough to stay, even if the couch was starting to fall apart and it was constantly just above freezing.

On one particular night, Marcy was sitting on the cold floor, one of Sasha's guitars in her lap as she tried to figure out a chord progression. No matter how many combinations she tried, it never sounded right. Sure, they could always just ask Sasha to play something for her, but Marcy knew how tired she'd been recently, and didn't want to bother her with something as trivial as a chord progression. Plus, figuring out herself might make Sasha less stressed about having to do a whole tour after not playing for months due to an injury.

She hadn't meant to stay up so late, but then again, this stupid chord progression was meant to be easy. Luckily, the coffee machine had been fixed just the day before and restocked with just about everything Marcy needed to keep her awake for an extra ten hours and she was absolutely going to take full advantage of it.

---

Marcy wasn't sure how long she'd been sat there, staring down at those stupid lines, but the notes were starting to blur together, making it all the more harder to actually figure out what they were supposed to be doing. Their fingers hurt from playing and the song was rattling around in her head, the same three lines playing on a loop, bringing Marcy closer and closer to just tearing up the sheets surrounding her.

She hadn't realised she'd been crying until a single tear fell onto the paper, it only smudged one note, but it was enough for the frustration that had been building up for the past however long to boil over.

Biting her lip to stop herself crying even more, she stood up and made a beeline for the door, because if she stayed in this stupid recording booth for any longer, Sasha would come in finding her guitar in pieces.

Swiping up the half finished coffee, Marcy stomped out of the room, blinking quickly to get rid of the tears pooling in their eyes. God this is so stupid, she thought to herself as she slammed the door open. In the back of her mind, she knew it would mark the wall, but she didn't have it in her to care. She'd probably just let everyone down. It was a simple chord progression and she couldn't even figure it out. So much for one of the best songwriters, she huffed, practically slamming the cup onto the desk.

Only, she slammed it too hard and the handle came clean off. Marcy stared at it for a few seconds, their eyes flitting between the handle closed in their fist and the mug Anne had got for her birthday on the table. "Fuck," she mumbled, pressing the handle back onto the mug as if that would magically mend it. For a moment, it looked like it was balanced, and Marcy slowly pulled her hand away, only for the handle to clatter against the desk a second later.

For the next ten minutes, Marcy tried to reattach the handle, each with less success than the last. It was pathetic really, but she was so caught up in the fact that she broke Anne's gift to her, that she didn't really have the mental capacity to care about it. So what if everyone saw her breakdown the next time they checked the security footage? That didn't matter when she'd just ruined something Anne gave her.

It was the feeling of warm hands on her own that finally got Marcy to stop. Everything seemed to drain out of her as the mug and handle were pried away from her. Vaguely, she wondered who was in the studio so late, although there was a chance she'd just spent several hours trying to force a cup back together and everyone had arrived for their final session. Either way, they didn't object as someone wrapped their arms around her waist and picked them up.

"I'm sorry," Marcy mumbled after a few minutes. It hadn't been part of her plan when she opted to stay behind to have some sort of breakdown and then cry in someone's arms, and she couldn't help feeling like she should apologise.

"Don't worry 'bout it, you looked like you needed this," Sasha's voice was a mere whisper in her ear, but it still sent Marcy's heart racing.

"Sasha?" Marcy asked, her eyes snapping open as she stared up into her band-mate's face. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sasha said, a small frown on her face.

"I was," they paused and looked down, resting their head against Sasha's chest. "I was trying to figure out that chord progression you were complaining about. You've been so stressed recently, and it doesn't help we're going back on tour soon and you haven't played in a while, so I thought that, maybe, if I fixed it for you, it would make you slightly less stressed," saying it out loud, she realised that maybe it wasn't her best idea, but she wanted to do something for her friends. They both did so much for her, it was high time she did something for them.

“You… you didn’t have to do that, mar-mar,” Sasha said gently, and even though she wasn’t looking, Marcy could see the smile on her face. The way Sasha’s lips twitched up and her eyes would crinkle ever so slightly, because she didn’t usually smile and when she did it was a sight to behold. “But if that’s what got you so upset…”

“No, it wasn’t that,” well, not entirely, “I just got stressed.”

“That, or you haven’t slept properly in about a week and keep sneaking off here when you think Anne and I are asleep,” Sasha said, though her voice held no anger.

Marcy felt themself go still as Sasha spoke. How did she know? Were they that obvious? No, no she couldn’t be because no one had even asked her about it before! “That’s stupid,” Marcy scoffed instead, “I’ve been sleeping perfectly fine.”

“Marce…” Sasha mumbled, her arms coming up to gently squeeze their shoulders. “You don’t have to lie to me. I won’t force you to tell me, but if you think it’ll help to get it off your shoulders I’m-” she swallowed, almost like it was hard to admit that she was there for Marcy. “I’m always here, whenever you need. Even if it is 1 am on the shitty studio couch,” she ended lightly. Marcy giggled and moved slightly to bring a hand up to where Sasha was drawing random shapes on their bicep.

“Thank you, Sash, seriously,” they said, threading their fingers together. “And I will tell you, both of you, just not right now.”

“It’s okay,” Sasha whispered, very obviously trying to hold back a yawn, “I’ll wait for as long as you need.”

Marcy smiled and pressed the pad of her thumb against Sasha’s. “Are you excited? For next week?”

“Hmm?” Sasha hummed, her body jerking ever so slightly as she woke up. “Yeah, but I’m also nervous, y’know?” she mumbled, slowly waving her lightly bandaged hand around. “I haven’t played in a while, so I don’t want to mess up or anything.”

“You won’t,” Marcy mumbled, her eyes growing heavy as they sat there, Sasha’s warmth creating a bubble of sorts, where nothing could get to her. “You’re really great, Sash, you’ll be amazing.”

When no response came, Marcy slowly lifted her head, only to find Sasha fast asleep against the arm of the couch. It looked uncomfortable, and they knew she would complain in the morning, but she looked so relaxed and Marcy didn’t want to ruin that for anything. So she slowly shifted so she was laying down, their head on Sasha’s lap and her arms wrapped tightly around Sasha’s waist. “Night, Sash.”

#sasharcy brainrot coming back fast <333 #I JUST THINK THEY GET RLLY CLOSE OKAY!!!#and yh maybe this is slightly angsty but it ends in cuddles so <33 #amphibia #amphibia fic #sasha and the sharps au #sasha waybright #marcy wu #sasharcy #anon #you ask i answer #marie.txt

94 notes · View notes

the-modern-typewriter · 3 years ago

Note

Hey sorry if it’s too much to ask but I was wondering what’s the process for choosing what stories you wanna write on your Patreon? Do u have a list and just get started on the ones you feel the inspo strike in first or do you do it by order. Sorry if it seems intrusive I was just curious😅😅😅

So the significant majority of what I do on Patreon is stories that have been requested by Patrons, mostly because I get enough requests that filling them keeps me busy enough that I don't actually have time for writing that isn't requested. At least not if I ever want to do a story on tumblr, or work on my novels.

Anyone on the Fast Track Snippet Request tier ($7) or higher gets priority if they ask for something, because that's what the Fast Track means. I aim to get any of those requests written up in a working week (providing I'm not drowning in Fast Track requests, just because unfortunately I am a human with limited amount of time and capacity to actually write in a week...for context I aim to get at least three new pieces up a week, but it does depend a little on word count and how long any given piece takes me. If that is the case, I will chronologically work through the Fast Track requests first.)

All requests go onto a word document, which working around the Fast Track one week rule, I try to respond to more or less chronologically (e.g., I do the ones that have been their the longest first.)

The three exception(s) to this are:

a) I am really genuinely stuck on a story and I can't think of what happens next in a way that isn't appalling and terrible writing (in which case it sits on the document while my brain ticks it over in the background) because I'd rather give people something good? Also, sometimes I think as the writer, a story is done. Adding more would ruin what made it work in the first place.

b) The second I get a request I instantly know what I want to do with it and cannot keep myself from writing it because I have such a strong idea in my head that I don't want to lose if I wait. Because I always say I won't forget what that idea was, and then I forget because I am dumb!

c) Some people request more often. I like hearing from people and what they want, so this makes me happy. However, for the sake of fairness if I notice one person has (random example) three requests pending on my doc submitted in fairly quick submission (e.g., before I have had time to write something for their last one) I will be more likely to pick whichever of the three I have the most inspiration for to do first, and also will slot another person's request between like request 1 and request 2, just to kind of try and keep it balanced. I'll then work through the other requests alongside whatever else is on my to do list.

My to do list currently tends to be between 10-20 story requests long at any given time. Applying the three stories a week minimum aim as rough estimate, with four weeks roughly in a month, I'd like to say that my turn-around for non Fast Track is usually about a month/month and a half, just because there has been no point in the last two years where I haven't had a backlog of requests going simply because of the whole 'writer can't write all the time, it's not physically, logistically or creatively possible' problem.

TL;DR It goes Fast Track, then chronological. I hope this helps!

For anyone curious, my Patreon is here.

#mod post #writing talk #my patreon

112 notes · View notes

lovecinnatwist · 3 years ago

Note

Hope u stay safe and healthy! Abo with omega dick and alpha Jay, fluff if possible? Thanks :)

Hi Anon! I am in fact safe and healthy! Have a nice little ficlet of Alpha!Jason and Omega!Dick being very glad that their little pup is also safe, healthy and coming home.

Where the heart is - JayDick Omegaverse

Tags: Kid Fic, Omegaverse, Alpha Jason, Omega Dick, surrogate parent/adoption, lactating/milking Helena Wayne is Helena Mary Grayson Todd

Sometimes Dick Grayson forgets that his mate is an alpha.

It’s easy to do when Jason’s so sweet in a way that’s distinctively omegan. Perhaps it’s the influence of the mother who left him or remnants from the tender affection B only had for his second pup. It’s something soft and tender and so uniquely him that makes Dick love him more and more everyday.

Jason curls around him effortlessly. Warm muscles squeeze tight enough to be pleasant, but not chafing.

Dick has always been a runner. Jason understands that and leaves a clear exit open at all times. A difficult obstacle for traditional courting rituals. Not that the alpha had any challenge clearing hurdle after hurdle. Jason is anything but traditional as well.

So is their current situation.

A large warm hand rests on his shoulder. The heat bleeding out is more than soothing to his already twitching instincts. There’s no reason to be nervous. After all this is a natural occurrence. The pup with latch, Dick knows it will but still his heart flutters with nervousness.

Jason’s rumble soothes the eagerness away. It quells the barrage of emotions ready to burst.

“ Mr and Ms Grayson - Todd? “

The agent from CPS is wonderfully nice, light brown eyes glittering with excitement. The delightful purr of her tone of voice betrays her enthusiasm. Just as Jason’s rise in happy-hopeful-ready betrays his. Dick’s been dreaming of this day for a long time. Long before the aspiration had been stolen from him by a knife. Then again by age and a barely functioning body strung out by high stress.

It’s Jason’s strength that helps him stand.

The sleepy scent of milk and pup adorn the air like perfume. Even before Dick spots his- no their- daughter, every part of his instincts sing. His breast began to ache immediately. The grueling weeks of hormone treatments and supplements are finally worth it.

Worth it as Doctor Leslie gives him tiny, little Helena.

Dick thinks he’s been in love with her since the moment he saw her behind glass. From the moment his breast began to ache when they gave him a few of her blankets to add to his nest. From the very moment Jason told him he could have her.

She’s heavy in a way Dick doesn’t expect. The weight is foreign yet so comfortable to bear. The alpha does not press to see her, or to touch her. Dick gets a few precious moments to marvel at the prettiest pup he’s ever seen.

Gorgeous green eyes open up in seemingly joyful curiosity. Though potentially, it might just be his hopeful outlook that makes it appear that way. Dick wants so badly for her to love him. To love them- to belong to their little broken family. To an omega who is half of what they should be and an alpha who is dysphoric instead of dominating.

The scent of milk is strong enough to draw the pup to root amongst the fabric covering his breast. It’s a gentle motion, one made precious by the very soft sounds of pup calling for pack. Dick’s throat is tight from emotion. Luckily his partner wastes no time in letting out a soothing rumble. The vibrations of the action shakes against his back.

Hot tears sting two different sets of blue eyes.

“She should be quite hungry. It’s time for her lunch time feeding. I’m sure she would greatly appreciate milk from her mommy. “

The word mommy devastates him. It washes his soul out to sea, and wraps him in a whirlpool of bliss. It’s too much and not enough at the same. This child- this pup is going to see him as her dame. She will spend the rest of her life in a warm safe nest never knowing anything but love and affection. Dick hopes that she will love him despite not being apart of her DNA. For not being able to give birth to her himself.

Jason’s touch breaks the track of that train of thought.

It’s a dance to bring a beading nipple to her hungry little mouth. Jason, who is leagues more natural, helps Dick undress and get both him and the pup comfortable. If Dick is lost to the tides, the alpha is a wreckage on the bluff. The chair is big enough for both soon to be parents.

Jason’s warmth is ever present and grounding.

The massive fingers that trail down Helena’s face makes her look so tiny. Like a delicate little thing that could be broken by too fast a movement. Not that Jason has the capacity to be anything but gentle. His heart bleeds for people. It bleeds out until the entirety of Gotham is red with his protection.

It takes both of them together to get Helena to Dick’s leaking breast. The pup whines as she struggles to get the nipple in her mouth. She’s more familiar with the bottle they had told him. That it would take time but eventually she would suckle. There’s no inhale or exhale as the pup attempts to nurse.

Then like magic she latches.

The tears refuse to be held back. Dick’s heart alarmingly full as Helena feeds forcefully but eagerly. The moment she gets a mouth full she’s quick to take more. Her hungry little mouth makes loud sounds and she feeds. Jason purrs in encouragement. His hand lightly tickles her wispy black curls.

She’s perfect. She’s perfect wonderful and Dick won’t know what to do if they can’t take her home today.

Luckily they don’t have to find out. Both breast get equal attention as the infant switches from one to another. It’s so natural and easy Dick doesn’t know why he had let himself worry to begin with. They pass with flying colors. After the feeding and burping both he and Jason get a neat stack of forms that require their signatures.

Then she’s free to leave with them.

Jason holds Helena as Dick takes his turn to sign. The alpha looks so at ease with their baby girl in his arms. His muscular frame dwarfing her’s. Dick hopes that the pup knows there is no place safer than in her father’s arms. Even if she seems grumpy as he harrasses her in her drowsy state.

Dick has to steal her back when the alpha kisses her nose, drawing a very upset puppy whine from her still developing vocal chords. Jason is absolutely heartbroken to let her go. At some point when Leslie goes to process the paperwork they get to be alone with their daughter.

Helena Mary Grayson-Todd.

Jason takes to sating his instincts by smothering Dick instead of their very sleepy pup.

“She’s so beautiful. “He murmurs, voice low enough not to set her off again. The thickness of the words would be impossible not to recognize. Though he’s doing a good job holding it together, Dick can tell the alpha is close to tears. The gravity of the situation finally sinks in.

“ You were perfect Dickie. “

The nickname melts down his spine, deep and warm like something butter. Typically that tone would make his eyes flutter shut. His body going loose and lax against his mate. Not now however. Now while his eyes are so busy trying to memorize everything about their pup.

The process had been grueling. They had to get Jason legal, find a reputable company, pick a donor, try on each of her ovulations, suffer when it didn’t take, then try again, then the paper work, the fees, the complications, the waiting- Oh God the waiting.

It had been the worst, most agonizing part. Right after the premature birth, and watching their little one breathe in a little shallow tank, kept warm by heat lamps.

How Dick wishes he could have just taken her home that very first day.

Not that it matters anymore. Not when she’s theirs now. Not when she get’s to come home today and be put in their nest where she belongs. Right in-between her two parents.

God Dick doesn’t know how he’ll manage to share her. The perfect pup in his arms is just so wonderful. It’s been such a long agonizing journey, he barely wants to hand her over to her sire.

He laughs, wetly, trying not to wake Helena from her nap.

“ If I can’t share you with Daddy how will I give you to your aunties and uncles huh? “

Jason’s laugh is close to his ear, sweet and silent to the point where it barely breathes. The soft sound makes his toes curl in his shoes. The searing comfort of love and happiness runs through his body as happy chills.

It’s something to get familiar with. The quiet laugh of a father trying not to wake their pup.

He looks at those watery blue-green eyes and Dick is falling in love all over again.

God who knew they could end up here? The two of them- finally starting a family together. That they could walk away from a life of pain and agony, to gift themselves something so beautiful.

For the first time in months, giving up the moniker doesn’t feel so suffocating.

When Jason laces their fingers together over their pup he knows his husband, his mate, the half of his heart agrees.

All while the new half lays in their arms, peaceful, healthy and forever loved.

#jaydick #omegaverse #alpha!jason #omega!dick #ficlet #request #kid fic #fluffy fluff #mommy Dick #Daddy Jason #ficlets

75 notes · View notes