#and I know the whole “the dark side is entropy” thing is not a new idea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blackkatmagic · 3 years ago

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It's just turned monday here and I know I'll forget about it in the morning so... For some reasons (insert furious handwaving) Maul was married off to Jaster to cement an alliance with the Mandalorians. Maul is pissed off but can't afford to be sent back so he's just. Silent and glowering. This is torture for Jaster, who has SO MANY QUESTIONS about the force and can't get a word out of Maul. Jaster learns to echolocate facts about the force by confidently saying things and measuring how wrong they are by how much Maul grinds his teeth. (Maybe he'll hit upon the thing that will make his new husband finally open his mouth and correct him)

Maul is going to make himself a widower in short order.

Murderous, faintly sleep-deprived, entirely fed up with absolutely everything, Maul slouches in his chair, one foot braced on the seat, and glares across the table at his new husband, contemplating whether he can refine his technique enough to actually murder someone with his eyes. Even if he can't, the excess of gold he’s wearing has to be good for something. Jaster won't be able to spout his stupid theories if he’s choking on five kilograms of jewelry.

“Don’t be silly, Arla,” Jaster says, in that particular confident tone that truly drives Maul to the edge of homicide. “Force-users have a long history of translocating themselves across vast distances.” There's a pause, and Maul ignores the dark eyes on him, watchful and amused, and instead contemplates how hard he’d have to throw the delicate curls of gold currently wound around his horns for them to kill a man.

Then, with the conviction of a man who’s never been mauled by a Zabrak for his sheer idiocy, Jaster says, “And besides, everyone knows of their ability to change their shape on a molecular level.”

A vein in Maul's temple probably throbs. He definitelygrinds his teeth, trying desperately to remember that Savage and Feral are both currently under Mother Talzin’s thumb, both sold into their own marriages to bring her power as she plays all sides. Serving the Sith Lord before his untimely demise wasn’t precisely better, but—

At least the safety of his brothers didn’t rest on Maul's ability to tolerate sheer stupidity.

Jaster doesn’t show any signs of recognizing that his lack of intelligence is causing Maul physical pain. He simply sinks back in his chair, swirling his wine in his glass, and smiles at Maul like he’s won something. “No shapeshifting, then?” he asks, amused.

Maul narrows his eyes, tips his head back to look down his nose at Jaster. Thinks, determinedly and a little bit mulishly, of Feral married to the clone army’s Marshal Commander, of Savage wed to a Jedi and forced to play husband to the new Master of the Order. Kit Fisto isn't Obi-Wan Kenobi, but Maul has no faith in a Jedi’s willingness to guard his younger brothers from Talzin. Clearly it falls to Maul to uphold this bargain, at least well enough to establish a safe place for Savage and Feral to flee to when they’re inevitably betrayed.

“Still no words for me, husband?” Jaster asks, still smiling. Maul might think him attractive if he weren’t so frustrating. “You were willing to exchange words at the wedding, but I've rarely been blessed with your opinions since.”

“Jaster,” Arla says, rolling her eyes from further down the table. Deliberately, like she’s making a point, she reaches out, tips more wine out of the pitcher and into her cup, and then downs it. “Please. Some of us are trying to eat here.”

“I'm hardly stopping you,” Jaster protests, entirely innocent. Maul twists one of the rings on his fingers and contemplates how much force he’d need to embed it in the wall above Jaster's head, as a warning. “I was just saying, Maul can finally confirm what I've known for years, which is that as the Force is the manifestation of a vast creature of entropy—”

Maul is going to break a tooth, he’s grinding them so hard. He digs his fingers into the arm of his chair, the black cloth of his formal wear, and fixes the image of Feral in that last moment before parting in his mind. Feral, thin and weak from punishment at the Nightsisters’ hands, being tradedto Commander Cody, passed into the ranks of the vast army made with stolen DNA and set against the Republic. Feral will suffer if Maul breaks this alliance. Talzin made that very clear, and Maul has little enough family as it is. He isn't about to lose his brothers. Not for this.

Jango, slumped down on Arla's other side and looking as though he greatly regrets agreeing to this dinner, groans and buries his face in his hands. “Old man, if you can't even flirt normally—”

“It’s not flirting, it’s science,” Jaster says. “I have a theory. Maul, would you care to help me prove it right?”

Since Maul would much rather attempt to drown Jaster in his soup, he bites his tongue and glares.

Jaster beams. “The Force,” he says, and Maul braces for impact, “is the expression of a vast hive mind beyond the known galaxy—”

It’s worse than Maul thought. He’s going to physically implode if he has to listen to this for one second longer—

“The Force,” Jaster says again, still watching Maul, “is an energy field created by living things.”

Not quite correct, but certainly more so than hive minds, and Maul only rolls his eyes a little. “If you're quite done,” he says darkly, because he knows what Jaster is doing, but that doesn’t exactly make it easier to bear.

Jaster chuckles, leaning across the table to pour Maul more wine. “For now,” he promises. “Though if you're open to a debate on the origins of the Jedi as a cohesive order—ow!”

One of the small, bright red fruits pegs Jaster squarely in the side of the head and bounces off. Not, surprisingly, thrown by Maul, and he blinks, casting a look sideways down the table, to where Jaster's majordomo is veryinterested in the last few spoonfuls of liquid remaining in his bowl. There is, notably, a bowl of the fruits right in front of him.

“Treachery,” Jaster complains, straightening with an offended expression. “Jango—”

“If it had been me, I would have thrown my whole plate at you,” Jango says, raising his hands. “Blame Arla.”

“If it had been me, it would have been a knife,” Arla says, clearly already a little tipsy, and single-mindedly trying to get herself right to drunk.

Well. Maul can appreciate the assistance of an ally, when the circumstances are right. He opens his mouth to take credit—

“Did you know,” Jaster says, perfectly certain, “that each lightsaber’s color represents the phase of the moon under which it was mined, and the resonance of them—”

Maul is going to murder him, delicate political alliances be damned. Feral will understand. With a low growl, he shoves himself up, lunges across the table, and grabs Jaster by the collar of his shirt, hauling them in until they're eye to eye.

“You,” he bites out, “are the most imbecilic manI have ever had the vast misfortune to meet. That is not how lightsabers work.”

“Oh?” Jaster asks with interest, leaning in even as Maul's eyes narrow. He smirks, his hand curling over Maul's, lacing their fingers, and then he deliberately, like a dare, raises Maul's hand to his lips. “Tell me more?”

Maul picks up his soup bowl and coolly upends it over his head. Truly, such a request deserves no other possible response.

[On AO3]

#my writing #PBP I HATE THAT YOU MADE ME SHIP THIS SO HARD #jastermaul #jaster mereel #darth maul

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

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you+me+the Devil, m | myg, jjk | summon

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: The Devil and his right-hand demon are forcibly yanked from Hell to encounter a power they've never seen before, a power that everyone thought was only a rumor. In chains and unable to break free, they are asked to give up part of their souls. And they do. For science. But, mostly, to fuck.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you're religious, maybe skip this one; world building; short graphic descriptions of sexual acts; supernatural and horror (and it gets way creepier during the smut, you have been warned); non-idol!AU - Hell!AU; Devil!Yoongi x chaos!reader x Devil's right-hand demon!Jungkook and switches between their POVs; they don't have your best interests at heart and neither do you.

you and me and the Devil makes 3 prologue | the summoning | the collection | 666

there’s not a word for what i wanna do to you

One second, the Devil, also known as Min Yoongi, was frowning as he gazed up at his right-hand demon Jeon Jungkook, pondering the whereabouts of the missing soul-shards. The next second, the volcanic ground below him exploded, multiple giant red-black rings adorned with symbols and images creating a circle, expanding a larger and larger surface area, crackles of red lighting and tendrils of black smoke shooting everywhere. It consumed everything, bleeding into every nook and cranny of the throne room, saturating the air with summoning intent. It was happening far too quickly for the Devil to stop, the ground splitting and black chains shooting out, surrounded by a deadly ice-silver signature of the kind of magic you don’t bring home to your mother.

“Fuck–!”

That was Jungkook.

“Ah.”

That was the Devil.

The black chains snapped around their bodies and bound them in an instant. Jungkook snarled and fought with all of his power, black wings flaring out that were instantly crushed and shredded by the enchantment, his curved black horns protruding from his head and being forced back by the power. In contrast, the Devil merely sat there. Yoongi knew he couldn’t stop it, not this kind of magic, if it could even be called that, so he didn’t try. He let the chains wrap around him and shackle him. Instead, he furrowed his brow and tried to trace the source, tried to find the purpose. In order to defeat an enemy, you must be informed. Yoongi lived by this philosophy, which was why he was the Devil.

He could not trace it.

That was very disheartening.

But he didn’t need to worry earlier, because the red-black summoning circle was closing in, and he would find out very, very soon who it was. He had nothing to worry about.

Yoongi was the Devil, after all.

You inspected your nails.

Matte black, pointed. You had just done them. You liked to look nice for your guests.

“Hm, the Devil works hard, but I work harder,” you chuckled.

This was not what the Devil expected.

Yoongi expected a dark cave, a crowd of hooded figures, lots of candles. Maybe a Bible or a Koran. Devil worshippers, Satanists, cultists, or whatever they liked to call themselves. He fully expected to fight, to kill, to maim, and to fucking enjoy it, because he was the Devil and he served no one.

That was the whole fucking point of leaving Heaven in the first place.

He did not expect this.

You.

“Oh? A new development.”

Yoongi had seen many things in his time. He thought he could no longer be surprised.

He was wrong.

You stood over the two figures chained to the ground, peering curiously at them. A plain black dress with a flared skirt and a lace high collar. Long-sleeved with small ruffled cuffs at the end. No socks or shoes, just long, beautifully sinful legs and pretty feet. Pointed, matte black fingernails at the ends of lovely hands. A single nail was on one of your full dark lips, small amused smile dancing on that pouty mouth.

Your nail pressed into your flesh.

Yoongi wanted to shove his dick into that mocking smirk.

Sharp, distinctive eyes. Unforgettable. Yoongi would not forget the eyes of the fool who summoned him anyway, but your eyes… They were different. They held no malice. No innocence either. No, your eyes were the greatest mystery of all.

They were an enigma, revealing nothing to the one who could tell everything.

Yoongi did not like this. He did not like how him, an all-powerful being, one who could poison the minds of all other beings, was being confronted with a human who seemed very not human.

You were holding something on the crook of your arm. He narrowed his eyes. A black plush goat-man with horns and an upside-down red pentagram stitched on his head. It had little leather hooves for feet and hands. Black leathery wings as well. Another common misconception of the Devil. As if he wanted to be an ugly goat for all eternity. Hmph. But there was something about the way you held it that made Yoongi think it wasn’t an homage to him.

No, you held it close to your breast, next to your heart, squeezing the plush goat-man’s little arm lovingly.

It made him ache with longing.

They were in a bedroom, on the floor next to the bed. Black sheets, fluffy blankets with white stars all over them. Black walls with posters all over them, cute animated characters, haunting imagery, various musical artists, sinful and innocent, a vast plethora that told him nothing of true intent. Modern, sleek furniture. A high-end desktop with multiple monitors. A nice flat-screen television. Many soft plushies of adorable and strange characters, stacked on shelves and in corners, both popular and niche.

Who was this person?

With every passing second, Yoongi was liking this situation less and less.

Jungkook was beside him, disheveled and disoriented, chained down with black. The demon sat up, growling in his chest, trying to exert his power.

“Who do you think–”

“Ah, little Satan, they shouldn’t talk until I allow them, isn’t that right?”

The Devil was not a fool. You were not talking to him. You were talking to the little goat-man in your arms. Yoongi heard a choking sound and he turned his head to see a very large black ball gag ramming itself in between Jungkook’s teeth, snapping closed with a black chain strap behind his pretty head. Jungkook looked livid, trying to bite through it, but Yoongi doubted he could break it.

You smiled at him.

Yes, indeed, Yoongi was liking this situation less and less.

In some ways.

Seeing Jungkook in a ball gag was a pleasant image.

“I didn’t expect it to turn out this way. I was aiming for him first,” you said to Yoongi, lowering the little goat-man and holding him by a hoof. Yoongi wasn’t sure if he wanted to rip apart the plush or be it. He decided that wasn’t important right now.

“Ah, well, this might be better,” you mused nonchalantly. Jungkook was still fighting his restraints, but neither you nor Yoongi acknowledged it. You crouched down, a delicate flash of inner thigh and black velvet panty in his view. Yoongi narrowed his eyes. You cocked a brow, smirk widening. “Two birds with one stone, no?”

You set the little goat-man in front of him.

Sat down, spreading your legs to squeeze the little goat-man with your inner thighs.

There was no question now.

Yoongi wanted to both be the plush goat-man and rip him to shreds.

“I’ll let you speak to me, Devil. You seem polite.” Conversational, calm. Not condescending, which somehow made it worse. At least if you spoke to him with hostility, he would know how to turn it against you.

“You have magic that doesn’t belong to you, human,” he said softly, a raspy renounce in his voice. He festered it with sweetness and warning at the same time, accenting it with a discerning stare.

You grinned.

Even he, the Devil, was unsettled.

“Nothing belongs to anybody. You only borrow it for a short while and then the powers far beyond even you take it back.”

Yoongi felt his heart drop and race at the same time. As he suspected. This was not the work of his father or some a wayward demon. Magic, power, illusionism, these were all words to describe things that could not be described. Entropy holds no bounds and there is no meaning behind it. It exists only to cause anarchy. For some reason, perhaps simply chaos alone, you, a human, was in possession of something even he could not control or understand.

Shit.

He stared into your eyes and they reflected his expression back to him. He tried to search for it, the desires within the heart, the small tendrils of pain that asked to be soothed, the soul begging to be freed. An ordinary demon could be fended off by a strong-willed human for a while, but Min Yoongi was no ordinary demon.

He was the Devil, even if he was bound by your chains.

You tilted your head at him, hair curling around your cheeks and lashes.

Yoongi could take even the weakest flame of desire and stroke it into a blazing fire. Even the holiest of saints could not fight him. Everyone wanted something, even if it was, disgustingly, in the name of his father. And humans, well, they were the masters of wanting things they couldn't have. Easily manipulated, even by each other. The Devil hardly needed to do anything at all. It was only a matter of whether or not Yoongi cared to do it and, most of the time, he didn't give a single shit.

You tilted your head the other way, smiling.

Yoongi did not find a maze or a barrier preventing him from the soul. He found the soul within seconds. It was there, all right.

The Devil just didn't know what the fuck he was looking at.

Why was your soul just you sitting there in the abyss, looking up at him with the same smile you were giving him right now?

And why did he feel nothing emitting from it?

He pulled back, looking into your eyes again. He did not like this.

You leaned forward and touched his horns.

His eyes widened as your fingertips brushed against the large curved black-red horns against the sides of his head. He hasn't even realized they had protruded. How? His horns were a sign of his power, a symbol he used for fear, for appearance, and for the moments of when he was exercising a great deal of his influence. Your fingertips brushed against the second set, the ones that bloomed upwards into wicked black-red spikes. Both sets? His soul-search had him reflexively procure both?

Shit.

He started into your eyes, seeing himself reflected back. Min Yoongi was the Devil. Emotion was no stranger to him. He harnessed it all, consumed himself in the passions and wonders of emotion. There were ones he felt less, simply because of who he was. For instance, there was not much that made him afraid.

You smiled.

Fear. He could feel it rise within him.

Yoongi grinned back.

Was this what he thought it was? He had heard of such things, rumors and whispers, even amongst the angels themselves. The hidden truth that Heaven and Hell belonged in a specific dimension or realm, Order. That there was another realm, the mirror, the reflection trapped, the unknown.

Disorder.

His kind, the high-above, and those between angels and insects, the humans, none of these belonged in the realm of Disorder. There were rumors that Order was merely a concoction of Disorder and that their realm could collapse any moment, erasing all of existence without a trace. Entropy was waiting for them all.

Yoongi understood now.

This was chaos.

The Devil was a master of desire. And a master of deliberately doing exactly what he shouldn't. He should not be tempted by a glimpse of chaos. His father would warn him to stay away from it.

His father could fuck right off.

Yoongi leaned forward, still bound, his horns disappearing. The chains clanged around him, his power rattling underneath. He wasn't doing it to fight them. He wanted to feel it. To understand what could not be understood, to touch the untouchable, because it was there, there right in front of him and he wanted it, he wanted it, and the Devil feeds off desire, even his own.

He wanted those lips.

You backed up.

The denial only made his desire stronger.

You left the plush goat-man sitting there right in front of him.

Jungkook was pissed.

Absolutely furious, jaw and head aching from this ridiculously large ball gag, fuming that he had no idea what was going on and that a single human was doing this bullshit. There was no way you were working alone. There had to be other beings behind this. He couldn't figure it out right now, but he would and he would tear them apart, right after he fucked your pathetic human body and tore you apart.

You must be a fool, thinking you could shackle him, Jeon Jungkook, the right hand of the Devil himself, the epitome of pure sin and free will.

He continued fighting the magic, trying to exert his strength, rattling the black chains, ice-silver lashes beating him back down. He tried to release his wings, but they were ensnared, pain shooting up his back. Jungkook cared not for pain. He had felt pain for millions of years. A few seconds was nothing. He tried to release his horns, but he could not, as if the very air neutralized him.

He was enraged.

Maybe would simply kill you so he could spend an eternity torturing you for your insolence.

Then the Devil's horns appeared.

How did he–?

Then you touched the Devil.

Jungkook wanted to scream.

He did, deep in his chest, muffled rage, jealousy, hate, all at once, and both of you ignored him, your fingers grazing Yoongi's horns, fucking smiling, looking unflinchingly into the Devil's eyes, and Jungkook wanted to erase you from existence, destroy every single shred of your soul for not groveling at the feet of Min Yoongi.

The horns disappeared and your hands hovered around Yoongi's head, fingers splayed out around the black hair like a shining halo.

Ironic.

The Devil leaned forward.

Don't you fucking kiss her, hyung!

But you moved away, backing up, gaze lingering on Yoongi before closing your eyes and reopening them slowly, a gradual shift to Jungkook's face.

He snarled at you through the gag.

He had you now. Eye contact and Jungkook could exert at least part of his power, the soul-search to find your deepest desires, your hidden gems, the calamity within that would call to him. He would find it and manipulate it, bend you to his will, turn you into his puppet. Play with you until you begged to die, only to find yourself in his arms once more, his plaything for all eternity.

All he had to do was find it.

You slid to your hands and knees, crawling to him. He felt it inside his chest, his own desire, watching the curve of your back to ass, his cock twitching at the sight, his mind conjuring images of your pretty body on a leash. Jungkook didn't have preferences when it came to bodies. A body was a body. In his hands, all bodies became prettier. You already had the base and he already had the wrath to want it. You stopped in front of him, the black skirt of your dress flaring out. He could see parts of your bare body.

Legs, knuckles, knees.

A small, amused smile on your lips.

Eyes that Jungkook searched valiantly, looking for malice, for innocence, for desire, for the darkest shadows and the lightest light.

Why couldn't he see anything?

This must be part of your magic. No matter. Jungkook had other ways. He was creative and cunning. You would break under his hand. He wouldn't stop until it was done. He was a demon that saw things through, even to his detriment.

His jaw was suddenly released from its prison, ball gag disappearing, fading into ice-silver smoke. He coughed, snapping his teeth, glaring at you.

"You dumb bitch," he hissed, violent resonance in his voice, oppressive and intense. "Do you think you humans are above us with your tricks and schemes? Kneel before those who invented such things."

You tilted your head.

Yoongi chuckled beside him.

Jungkook's brows furrowed. What–?

Your body trickled down like liquid, laying against the dark wood floor, looking up at him. Jungkook froze, maddening desire rising, infuriated at your face looking up at him, plush dark lips parted, hands on your chest, fingers spread out and molded to your flesh under the plain black dress. Sinking in, making him clench his jaw.

Your smile like a Cheshire Cat, eyes reflecting his rage.

Jungkook wanted to straddle your face and shove his cock into that smirking mouth, bulge your throat and cheeks with his girth.

"Is he always like this?" you asked, still not looking away.

"He pretends to be nice when he wants something out of you," the Devil answered calmly.

"Isn't that you?"

You still didn't look away from Jungkook. Why couldn't he find what he needed from your eyes?

"I'm always nice."

"That means you always want something out of someone."

Yoongi laughed, raspy and deep, the sound echoing in the bedroom, filling it up with his sound. Why couldn't Jungkook find it? His rage began to become infested with something else. Your eyes reflected only him.

Like a mirror.

No matter. The demons had other ways.

"Come here," Jungkook purred.

"I wouldn't do that."

That wasn't you. That was the Devil.

Your body lifted as if it was on a string from the center of your chest, fingers and black fingernails trailing against the dark hardwood, head tipped back, the line of your neck hidden by the high collar of lace, shielded from his hungry gaze. Legs curling up, skirt pooling around your thighs, his rage molding with carnal need, festering with something else.

Fear.

You rose to your knees, in prayer position in front of him, almost as if you were about to reach out and touch faith. Jungkook furrowed his brow, watching your presence near, wanting it, ready to coax or rip your desires from your lips themselves. It didn't matter if he was bound, it didn't matter if his black suit was torn up and ugly, it didn't matter if he was bleeding from his efforts to escape this magic.

You were still a human.

He was a demon and he would taint you.

Closer, your lids lowering, entranced by his spell. Jungkook smirked. Too easy. Humans were so, so easy. He craned his neck, lips parting, the palpable lust of his breath exhaling. So close to those pretty, dark, fuckable lips.

"You're really falling for it, hm?"

Jungkook paused. His eyes shifted to Yoongi. The Devil had turned his body to watch, clad in a tailored black suit. In contrast, Yoongi's was unmaimed, as he hadn't fought his restraints. The Devil had black hair like him, parted slightly, with shadowy dark brown, cat-like eyes that glinted with something sinister. Pale skin, almost luminescent. Exposed neck, elegantly laid black silk tie, unlike Jungkook, who preferred not to wear one. Lips that demanded you to plead for your life.

A body that made Jungkook want to sin for him.

That was the power of the Devil.

His eyes shifted from Yoongi to you, who had stilled in front of him. Hands beneath you and knuckles pressed to the floor like an obedient pet. What was Yoongi talking about? He had you right where he wanted you. And yet, he hesitated.

Then you spoke.

Delicate and calm, with no resonance. Human.

"I thought demons had free will?" you whispered. "That not even the Devil could control a demon."

Or was it?

Jungkook watched your lips form the words.

"If he is powerful enough, that is."

Yoongi didn't bother warning Jungkook anymore.

The Chaos knew what it was doing.

Clever girl.

Jungkook growled, leaning back a little, letting the passion of emotion course through him, wrath, lust, pride. Fear. All of it. Drawing from it, his power pulsing, singing through his muscles.

"Come here, human."

You had to crawl into his lap, his thighs against your thighs, hardness against softness, bringing your lips to his, sudden and sweet with your legs, knuckles, knees. Jungkook smirked, white teeth and canines flashing, urging you to him.

"What a good little girl,” he breathed softly. “I can be anything you desire. All you need to do is tell me."

Your eyes locked with his.

"A kiss, please."

He groaned at the small plea, finally getting it out of you, finally, and he would make you regret doing this, sow every seed of desire within you and reap it all, turn you into his pet on a leash. All he had to do was kiss you.

Jungkook kissed you.

He pressed his lips to yours, ravenous to consume what you had, eager to claim his offering.

You smiled against his lips, a small, amused smile.

It was instant, his hunger to your plushness, the rush euphoric and wild, immediate lust and power dominating him and now he could taste your tongue and fling open the doors, clawing for the soul within, the moment so close he could taste it, taste your moan sliding into his throat, his favorite treat, intoxicating in the way you sucked in his breath to fill your longs.

Jungkook arrived at the last gate, tearing through the door. Looked down into the abyss, triumphant.

You looked back up at him from below.

A small, amused smile.

A nothingness like he had never felt before.

Jungkook's eyes snapped open and widened, staring into the reflective glass of yours, his chest constricted. He had never felt this. Your lips still on his, tongue flicking, taking his breath, and then he felt a strange kind of compression, like everything was being pressurized, tighter, tighter, suffocating, and he gasped in your mouth, recoiling.

The kiss broke, your eyes still on his, lips shiny with his saliva. Your hand was outstretched, hovering in the air, fingers coated with black tendrils mixed with ice-silver, right above his chest.

Your eyes, void of anything but himself.

“What…” Jungkook breathed, hard cock straining against his slacks. “Are you?”

He didn’t understand. You were only a human. Only a human who had done a very stupid thing, summoning the Devil and his right-hand demon to your bedroom. Just a stupid, foolish human. You tilted your head. Lowered your hand and placed both hands on Jungkook’s thighs. He tensed. You pressed your fingers into his slacks, kneading the firm flesh underneath.

Where was your fear? Your malice? Your innocence?

Where was your desire?

He could only feel his own, rising, rearing its beautiful head, teeth bared and ready to strike as your fingers drummed against the fabric of his pants. You had tried to take something from him in midst of the kiss.

Part of his soul.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?” he hissed, forceful and direct.

You stopped moving your fingers. He wanted to scream in dismay.

“Only a small thing.” Your lips curved into a gentle smile. “A token to remember our fateful meeting.”

Now, only now, did Jungkook not like this.

You removed one hand from his leg and Jungkook clenched his jaw, watching it rise, nearing his heaving chest, the black chains spreading apart, links snapping with ice-silver sparks, but he was still bound, still chained, and he did now know why and not knowing infuriated him. You stopped, right above his heart, the heart he forgot was there sometimes.

The true irony of this world was that angels gave up their hearts to serve the one above and demons kept them to serve themselves.

Jungkook felt it again, the compression of his insides, making his breath hitch and his teeth grind, the sensation unbearable. Your expression remained the same, the small, airless smile. Eyes reflecting his terror.

“I could take it just like this.”

Not a threat, only a statement. Only a testament to the power within you, a power that Jungkook was beginning to think wasn’t something he knew or understood. The Devil could take souls. He could reap them, he could tear them, he could wring them dry. But not like this.

“I will give you a choice,” you murmured, hand retreating, releasing him from the uncomfortable pressure. “Because everyone deserves a choice, don’t they?”

The chains were lessening, slowly slipping off Jungkook’s body.

“I’ll let you give it to me willingly.”

Your hand on his pants caressed the fabric.

“If you have the power to take it,” Jungkook snarled. “Why not take it?”

Your other hand found his other thigh, squeezing lightly, sparks of heat flying through his veins. The chains slid off him, clashing into the hardwood floor and turning to ice-silver liquid that faded to nothing.

“I do not want to take.”

You stopped your touches and Jungkook wanted to scream.

“It will feel better for you if you give.”

He raised on eyebrow. “Considerate of you.”

You smiled wider. He stared into your eyes and only saw himself.

“What do you think, Jeon Jungkook, the Devil’s right-hand man?”

He felt the tendons on his neck tense, expression twisting into anger. You shouldn’t know his name. You were a human. You would only know if he told you directly. Someone else was behind this. Someone who wanted to kill him and the Devil, thereby putting Hell itself in imbalance.

“How do you know my name?” he seethed.

“You told me.”

What?

“When you looked into her eyes, you told her your name,” confirmed a deep, cavernous voice.

Jungkook started, whipping his head to the Devil beside him. No longer chained, simply sitting lazily on the ground, one knee raised to rest an elbow on it. Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Getting soft, Jungkookie?” the Devil taunted.

How…? Was he so absorbed in his own lust and deceiving you that he did not realize? He looked back at you. Your eyes lowered to his slacks and then back up to his eyes.

“Pants can always come off.”

Jungkook raised a hand, running it through his black hair, jaw set. “You are too greedy, human. Do you even know what you’re doing?” he sneered.

Your hands jerked down a few centimeters closer to his crotch, making Jungkook hiss. Your tongue slid out, feathering against the plush dark mauve of your lips. His cock throbbed with need, demanding to abuse the mouth presented. You leaned forward, putting more of your weight on him, welcome weight that Jungkook wanted all over him. He was a demon, after all. He was no stranger to carnal desire.

“I do,” you murmured softly. “You and me and the Devil makes three.”

Jungkook sharpened his gaze. “You couldn’t handle that, human.”

You said nothing.

You simply removed your heat and turned to the Devil, where Yoongi held the little goat-man plush by a single hoof, dangling it next to his lap, making your crawl into it to reach the doll. It was almost an innocent gesture, the way you took it and tucked it into your lap before looking up at Yoongi’s face, lips parted slightly, nearly curious, childlike awe decorating your features.

Jungkook growled like a hurt animal.

Your eyes shifted to him, looking at him under lowered lashes. Dismissive, vacant gaze.

“Yes or no, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Yes.”

The thin black string between you and him darkened, searing with ice-silver, a contract made. He didn’t even know the terms. He didn’t care. No human could outsmart him. And you, you must have been human once.

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t know if you were human anymore.

Yoongi watched your eyes return to him. The little black goat-man plush was tucked between your legs, pressed against your core. Slowly but surely, he was understanding. The original vessel was human, now tainted by someone, something, or simply bad luck. It made you something else entirely. You were a creature from the realm of Order polluted by the realm of Disorder. How long could this last? Would you die eventually from it? When you died, what would be left? Was the soul still there? Would he be able to collect it? Contain it? Study it?

Yoongi didn’t know the answers to these questions.

He wanted to know.

“Your turn,” you whispered to his chin, warm breath against his skin. “What is your answer, my Devil?”

Yoongi chuckled. “A shard of soul is all you ask for?” he purred. “What for?”

You tilted your head. “I want to complete my collection.”

The Devil doubted that. He doubted you wanted anything. Something was driving the entropy in a direction, a purpose given to the original human you long ago, and now you did it because it was the only thing left in the shell, a memory of a purpose, the human determination so strong that it could not be killed or erased, even though this body was now only a container for the power within.

The Devil had spent a lot of his time lately doing nothing. Nothing fun, nothing exciting, nothing worthy of his attention. Yoongi already knew everything there was to know about humans. He cared not for those above. But this.

This was new.

This was different.

This was something he wasn’t supposed to know.

He raised his hand, fingers tracing your jaw, staring into the eyes of Chaos. The Entropy. The Vessel.

You.

“I’ll be part of your collection, little one,” Yoongi purred.

And you will be mine, he vowed as the black string between you and the Devil glowed, ice-silver magic contaminating it with the power of Disorder.

part ii the collection. if you get in bed, someone will fall in love

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years ago

Text

Long Nights - part 3

Neil x Reader

Chapter 3: Difficult

(see chapter 2, 1)

summary: the morning after.

warnings: 18+, explicit language and other things, not that descriptive but I am not leaving you with -implied- this time, nsfw

author’s note: Right, this is actually half of what I wanted to write for this chapter, but I thought that it might work better this way. A bit shorter one, 2.4k words, I hope you’re still gonna like it.

Also - apparently all fandom writers share one brain cell, so let me just say that any resemblance to other works is purely coincidental. (hi Tessa!)

The song for this part is Billy Raffoul - Difficult

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas @neutron-stars-collision @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @the-gazette-of-tea @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

------

Even before you opened your eyes, you knew something was off. The smell of bedsheets. Their texture. You rolled to the side, groaning slightly. A pulled muscle. Or two.

And a few other sore places.

Oh, right.

You heard the muffled sound of a door clicking shut and you glanced towards the entrance to the hotel room.

Neil looked like he’d just woken up himself, the lack of proper sleep painting dark circles under the blue eyes, a somewhat crumpled olive green t-shirt amplifying the usual dishevelance of his appearance. He caught your stare as he removed his shoes, balancing two cups of what you hoped was coffee in the other hand, and smiled lightly.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, but your timing is impeccable,” you laughed, stretching your arms and stifling a yawn. And then you smirked. “Glad to see it still holds true in the daylight.”

Neil snorted, his gaze lit up as you sat on the bed, not really bothered to cover yourself up.

“Coffee?” he said and handed you a cup.

“Yes, please and thank you.” You took the first sip and sighed with delight. “You’re an angel,” - a wicked grin crept on your face - “...a naughty one, but still.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hide the smug smile behind his cup.

“I did exactly what you suggested numerous times during the training,” he said, and then tugged the bottom lip between his teeth. “...and maybe elevated it here and there.”

You hummed in agreement as your sleep-deprived brain rolled a pretty vivid the best of tape; the string of flashbacks quickened your pulse more efficiently than the hot beverage in your hand.

“That you did, all right.”

Then your gazes met, and you pushed back the urge to curse. Yep, that was it. That scanning look. Vibe check. When both of you tried to figure out if the previous night changed anything between you. You wondered if he could see the silent plea in your eyes.

Please, don’t make this weird.

Neil hesitated, suddenly tense.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked sheepishly and took a swig from his cup, grimacing with regret as he evidently burned himself in effect.

“We had a fun night. Now we’re enjoying the coffee,” - pursing your lips, you tilted your head - “Did I miss anything?”

Seeing you all casual about it, Neil relaxed and exhaled slowly.

“I think that covers it.”

With the air cleared, you finished your coffee and put down the empty cup on the nightstand. Your clothes still scattered the floor, but there was something you needed to do first. You got up and stretched again, smirking as you caught the blue eyes wandering across your naked body.

“I’m gonna hit the shower,” you said, walking past Neil on the way to the bathroom. “Feel free to join me.”

Soon the hot water was soothing the stiff muscles and you closed your eyes, blessing the minds behind the concept of the rain showers.

The glass door creaked behind you.

“There you are.” You smiled, pouring a bit of the shower gel on your hand and spreading it on your shoulder. “For a second you got me thinking you’re not gonna come.”

Neil scoffed, amused.

“As if I could say no to an offer like that.”

His hand replaced yours on the shoulder and you gave him the bottle, groaning quietly as he started slowly rubbing your neck. The tension eased under his fingers, and you took a step back, turning your head and reaching to his cheek. As Neil leaned in to kiss you, his hands slipped down your sides. then up your stomach, and when they cupped your breasts, you gasped breathlessly. He smiled against your lips, looping one arm across your waist and pulling you closer.

You tangled your digits in wet blonde strands, tugging at them and shuddering as Neil stopped teasing your nipple and moved upward, wrapping the long fingers around your throat gently while he deepened the kiss. As if the act alone wasn’t enough to haze your mind, it awoke the memories from the night before, wiping any coherent thought from your head. Maybe that’s why a delicate stroke on your clit was almost enough to make your knees give out.

You whimpered and broke the kiss, then turned around and rested your forehead on his collarbone, catching your breath. Neil’s chest heaved under your palms as he embraced you, chuckling lightly.

“Still tired?” he asked, tucking dripping hair behind your ear and pressing his cheek to your temple.

“Not that tired,” you replied, smirking as you dragged your fingertips down his body.

A moan built in his throat but you were there to capture it with your lips. Your mind overcast with desire as you felt him getting even harder under your touch.

Even with the weary mood of the morning after, that pull between you was too strong to resist. And with your current state, it was so easy to get lost in each other’s closeness, in shared shaky breaths, in pleasure flowing through you to the rhythm of your bodies. Slow and careful at first, gentle brushes and gliding fingers - with the steam from the hot water enveloping you, the temperature was rising, and soon you wanted more. So did Neil.

He waited for a sign from you, and when your hips bucked and you started pushing against him, needy and desperate, his hold on you got firmer, his kisses more hungry and the pace of his thrust faster. The pulse pounded in your ears. Cold tiles against your back. You buried your face in his neck, gasping. Faster. The fire roamed through your veins, leaving you a moaning mess. Faster. The sounds of your bodies coming together filled the air. He cursed and pulled you closer. Harder. You cried out, so close to the edge. Neil tilted your chin and when his lips met yours, the world dissolved and you came undone, clinging to him as he joined you with a guttural groan.

You rode out your highs, trembling in each other's arms, huffs and giggles breaking in between sloppy kisses.

Neil pulled back to take a look at you.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, running your fingers along his jawline. “Thank you.”

A smug smile dangled in the corner of his mouth.

“My pleasure.”

You scoffed and smacked his chest, making him laugh in response. Pressing his forehead to yours, he cupped your face as the other hand stroked your back in a soothing manner, and you closed your eyes, letting out a small sigh.

“I think I need a moment to recover,” you said, melting into his touch. “Feels like I could crash right here and now.”

Neil’s thumb brushed your cheek.

“Good thing we have some time before the meeting.”

“Wait, we...?” - you furrowed your brows, trying to focus - “What meeting?”

“With the boss. He left a message a few hours ago.”

You pushed him away, staring at him in disbelief.

“And you’re only telling me now?!”

He shrugged, unfazed by your outburst.

“Was there any appropriate moment earlier?”

“Okay, fair enough,” you said and pinched the bridge of your nose, collecting yourself. You’d been waiting for a chance to ask your questions for so long, and now that you finally could get it, you were exhausted from indulging yourself with a hook-up. A stellar one, hard to mark as a mistake, really, but a stupid thing nonetheless. “Do you know what it's about?”

Neil studied you intently, puzzled by the sudden mood swing.

“I have an idea or two, but you never know with him.”

“Perfect.” You drew a long breath, and then you felt a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. The blue eyes finally found yours and you couldn’t hide that fond smile any longer. “Pass me that shampoo, will ya?”

-----

“So to recap - you have a tech that allows you to move backwards in time,” you said, combing a hand through your hair. “Sure, yeah, cool, makes total sense.”

You recalled Neil's reverse entropy theory and you looked at him just to catch his stare, checking on you if you made that connection. You knew better than to mention it aloud, chances were that he hadn’t told the boss about his slip-up.

“Glad to hear that it does.” The Protagonist smiled, but he was watching you closely as if he could see right through your bullshit.

Because to be completely honest, though? It didn’t. The whole concept was absolutely fucking mental. But at this point, all you could do was simply roll with it. Especially since it somehow explained why that goddamn lock they’d used to lure you into cooperation behaved the way it did.

You slumped on the chair, processing the new take on good ol’ reality. All the answers you got somehow led to even more questions, but before you could decide on one, The Protagonist leaned in.

“I asked you to come because I need to know if Neil is ready to check his skills in the field.”

You shrugged. “Depends. We’ve covered most mechanisms, but there are still things I need to introduce to him. But from the ones he knows? He’s good to go.” You smiled, your expression nothing but innocent as you glanced at your student. “He passed his recent stress test with top marks.”

If The Protagonist noticed the way Neil’s eyes widened at your words, he didn’t let it show.

“What if he had to be inverted?”

“Beats me,” you said and puffed your cheeks, exhaling slowly, considering the implications. “I assume that would mean the lock remains regular?”

The boss shook his head slightly. “I can’t guarantee that.”

You looked at Neil. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, pinching his little finger, the eyes darting between you and The Protagonist. Probably not too comfortable with being a passive subject of the conversation, bless his heart.

“Have you ever tried picking any of those locks that way?” you asked Neil, shifting on your chair to sit in a way that was supposed to make him feel more included in the discussion.

“Once, at the very beginning,” - he sent you a nervous smile - “but I failed miserably. Since then I’ve only practiced on the old locks in our regular setting.”

“I see,” you said, shifting your gaze to The Protagonist. “Then I can’t guarantee anything as well. We’ll add that to our training plan, when’s the first mission?”

The dark eyes bore into you.

“Yesterday.”

You scoffed, but then you realized he wasn’t kidding. You bit back a hysterical giggle and sighed.

“If I’d known about that from the start… about the mere possibility of training like that, I would’ve included it in the schedule a long time ago.”

“I had no idea it would take so much time.”

You didn’t know if that it was aimed at your teaching skills or at the pace Neil was learning, but it pissed you off enough to not care to ask for clarification. You weren’t having any of those.

“Listen, pal, you can’t learn it fast if you want to learn it well. Even with all the shortcuts provided, you need practice, and you can’t do that without spending hours polishing the skills enough to use it in the real world,” you huffed, glaring at the indifferent man behind the desk. “Neil can be exceptional all he wants, but he simply can’t cheat the process and skip right to the end.”

A light split-second brush against the side of your knee made you miss a beat. You blinked twice and you looked at Neil, but he was focused on the boss, using your moment of hesitation to chime in.

“Do you have any intel about locks on the location?”

The Protagonist nodded, handing him a folder.

You watched as the blue eyes flitted through the documents, the color draining from Neil’s face with every other page. Uh-oh. He cleared his throat.

“What’s our window to prepare?”

“Two days.”

Neil stifled a curse and rubbed his face. The boss fell back on his chair, reading enough from that reaction. You watched as they both considered the options.

“Is it just a b&e kind of assignment?” you asked, cutting into the heavy silence.

The Protagonist looked at you, puzzled.

“You mean breaking and entering? Yes, it should be, why?”

“Take me there, then.”

Neil straightened in his seat. “You can’t know for certain what we might find there,” he blurted out at the boss and turned to you. “No.”

But you ignored him, locking your eyes on The Protagonist.

“Seems like I’m your best chance.”

He couldn’t deny it, and from that brief glance at the information he’d collected on your jobs, you knew he got an idea about the things you were capable of. A certain level of flexibility was required in your line of work, and some of the stuff you’d gotten yourself into while working with Mahir proved you could get shit done, even if everything came crashing down on your head. Once or twice - quite literally. Ah, fun times. The Protagonist drummed the fingers on the desk, weighing his decision.

Meanwhile, you finally granted Neil some attention. He stared at you in silent protest, the features clouded with concern. The fact that he could be worried about you was utterly adorable, even if totally out of place. A corner of your lips twitched and you winked. Neil slouched against the back of the chair, rolling his eyes as a faint smile crept on his face.

Finally, The Protagonist made up his mind and nodded.

“All right. But I’m not sending you there without a basic training. Neil, I’ll ask Ives to clear his afternoon. He’s at the shooting range now, both of you should get there and start preparing straight away.”

“Oh, I know how to handle a gun,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. You’d rather jump straight into something more fun than that.

“Not an inverted one, you don’t.” Neil grinned and raised a brow, playful lights shining in his eyes. “Have you ever tried catching a bullet instead of shooting one?”

You fought the urge to massage your temples. Of course.

And then you beamed, barely containing your excitement.

That was more like it.

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfiction #neil tenet #robert pattinson #tenet #tenet fanfiction #neil tenet imagine #long nights

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fortheloveofwonderland · 4 years ago

Note

hey! you said you were still taking requests for song fics, so how about No Plan by Hozier for Spencer x Reader? I think he’d like the astrophysics😌 (and having someone he wants to spend until the end of the universe with obvi)

Thank you! I hope I managed to do this some kind of justice.

For starts

What a waste to say the heart could feel apart

Or feel complete, baby

Why would you make out of words

A cage for your own bird?

When it sings so sweet

The screaming, heaving fuckery of the world?

Spencer was a master at many things, unfortunately love was not one of them.

When he met you he knew he loved you, almost in an instant. Another thing he knew well enough was that nothing lasts forever, the universe included.

Philosophy. Astrophysics. These were things Spencer knew all about. He tried to relate his knowledge of the universe into his relationship with you.

Why would you offer her name

To the same old tired pain?

When all things come from nothin'

And, honey, if nothing's gained

Entropy. Heat death. The end of the world. Spencer had studied it all at great length. But really that was the least of his worries.

None of that mattered anymore since meeting you. He knew there was a finite amount of time left and he wanted to spend every second with you, making you happy in any way possible.

My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand

It's how I know now that you understand

Living in the moment. It had never been something Spencer had been very good at. Not until he met you.

Late night phone calls and laying in the grass just to stare at the clouds passing by overhead became his new normal. You made him stop and smell the roses, sometimes quite literally.

You gave no regard to what the future may bring, not in the grand spectrum anyway. You often told him “the story of tomorrow can not be manipulated by today’s actions.”

And you were right, he had just never thought about it that way before.

There's no plan, there's no race to be run

The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun

There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come

I'll be your man if you got love to get done

Sit in and watch the sunlight fade

Honey, enjoy, it's gettin' late

There's no plan, there's no hand on the rein

As Mack explained, there will be darkness again

You lived every day as if it were your last. You didn’t plan things, you didn’t worry about what tomorrow may hold. You didn’t get caught up in fears and worries of everyday things you wouldn’t change.

Spencer loved that most about you. He loved how carefree you were.

He loved that you brought out a side of him he had never seen before. He loved that you managed to unlock something inside him he didn;t even know existed until he met you.

It was nice not to worry about the things he couldn’t control. His life became less planned, less structured and less focused on the negative.

Let it hurl, let the awful song be heard

Blue bird, I know your beat, baby

But your secret is safe with me

'Cause if secrets were like seeds

Keep my body from the fire

Hire a gardener for my grave

Everyone was only granted a brief time on the planet and you made him realise it was better to live in the present and appreciate what he had.

And what he had was you.

From spontaneous road trips to skinny dip in your neighbor's pool while they were on vacation and making love anywhere and everywhere.

You had turned his whole world upside down and Spencer was loving every minute of it.

Your secret is safe with me

And if secrets were like seeds

When I'm lying under marble

Marvel at flowers you'll have made

You changed the way he felt toward the whole universe. Somehow, with you by his side nothing else mattered. The future was a problem for another day. When he was with you, you were the only thing that mattered. He would live in the moment with you. He would follow you to the ends of the earth if that’s what you wanted.

My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand

It's how I know now that you understand

Your hand in his and your calming aura was the only thing he needed in life. It was as though nothing in Spencer’s life had really mattered until he met you.

There's no plan, there's no race to be run

The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the sun

There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come

I'll be your man if you got love to get done

Sit in and watch the sunlight fade

Honey, enjoy, it's gettin' late

There's no plan, there's no hand on the rein

As Mack explained, there will be darkness again

It shouldn’t have been surprising that the two of you married on a whim on a trip to visit his mom in Vegas.

Life was short and you never knew what tomorrow would bring. But today there was a chapel and you were in front of it.

All that mattered was your smile and the way you were telling him he was the only man for you and you wanted to spend until the end of the universe with him.

My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand

It's how I know now that you understand

How big the hourglass, how deep the sand

I shouldn't hope to know, but here I stand

So with no plan, the two of you tied the knot. It seemed crazy sure, but it also made so much sense.

You’d found each other on this wild blue marble and there was no way you were ever letting each other go.

Not until the universe came to an end. And maybe even after.

There's no plan, there's no race to be run

The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun

There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come

I'll be your man if you got love to get done

Sit in and watch the sunlight fade

Honey, enjoy, it's gettin' late

There's no plan, there's no hand on the rein

As Mack explained, there will be darkness again

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader

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great-heropon-riki · 3 years ago

Text

An analysis of Higurashi Sotsu’s new OP, “Analogy” by Ayane

Spoilers for Higruashi Gou and speculation about Sotsu under the cut

Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni Sotsu

A duel between loopers. Two gods intertwined and yet diametrically opposed. Feelings unspoken, and voices unheard. Another perspective on the events we had previously seen.

The difficulty of this chapter is medium. Let us conjecture on where the pieces shall fall.

Pardon me the opening, my experience through the original series was through the visual novels, so I had to. As the title says, this is an analysis of the new OP. Enjoy.

To start, we see Rika in an abyss of darkness, with a downtrodden face, and end our little opening sequence before the music picks up and the distortion on Ayane's voice is lost with Satoko falling backwards into a scenery very reminiscent of imagery used in the very end of the "Irregular Entropy" ending. This could be the starting of a theme we see a lot in which we see that Rika's approach at the loops is very passive, while Satoko with her modified powers takes a much more active roll in achieving her goal.

In between these we see images of Keiichi, Rena, Shion, and Mion in pairs in front of backgrounds that depict their inner struggles, but of the one who is not in focus. For our first pair, we have the junkyard and Keiichi's house, alluding to their issues relating to their family, Rena's being a very rough divorce and Keiichi's being high standards placed on him that eventually broke him. Shion and Mion have something similar, with the Sonozaki main house and St Lucia, alluding to the burden that Mion carries as the heiress to the Sonozaki household and the neglect that Shion suffered. These also carry double duty in giving some visual ties to Onidamashi and Watadamashi that we will be seeing the answers arcs to soon.

Next up we get our girls Rika and Satoko. Rika closes her right eye, and across the split screen Satoko opens her left. We then see them together at the school in Hinamizawa, facing the same way with their hands together. The chairs are in disarray, some set up on the desks, some not, and one is even laying on the floor. Things were chaotic for them, but no matter what they had each other. And then, things changed. We move into the eyes closing and opening again, only this time they have that look that denotes them as loopers. The classroom this time is now what appears to be their classroom at St. Lucia, with everything very orderly, but this time the two are facing away from each other. Of course, this shows their growing distance on their way to high school.

However, we move into the next line of the song.

“I want to be with you”

We than move into a shot in the Sea of Shards where Hanyuu is... well she looks like a Fire Emblem Heroes character below half health. And when we see Eua, she’s draped on her couch, seemingly bored. I speculate that this is solidifying the connections between the two that we already have that I will go into later, as well as that Eua is some sort of usurper of some kind. Perhaps she’s holding Hanyuu hostage, stealing her powers, who knows. I know there’s speculation between Eua, Hanyuu, and Featherine, but not only do I not have the knowledge of Umineko to speculate on that, but that’s a whole essay on it’s own.

Next, we cut to this shot, zooming out to show the entire forms of Rika and Satoko as they move in to each other. Mind you, I am a VERY strong SatoRika shipper so I do have some bias (that edit where the two are kissing in the closer shot is the best), but it is very clearly that these two long for each other. Their growing distance at St. Lucia has left them yearning to be together again, and perhaps more. Most likely more. Ryukishi make it happen.

Than like all lesbians they have a Sayan battle within the Sea of Shards. Honestly, this seems to just be regarding the conflict between the two.

We then see Satoko running along the rice paddies at sunset, reaching out to Rika. This parallels a scene from “I Believe What You Said” in which Rika is running through the forest at night, reaching out to the saiguden and likely Hanyuu

This parallel here is likely to show how the two are similar in goals even if they don’t realize it, as well as conceptualizing time and that Satoko chasing after Rika here is before she got her powers.

We then see Satoko fall into a red abyss, nearly fade away into dust, but has her hand grabbed onto by what is assumedly Rika by the blazer and cuff being that of St. Lucia’s uniform. Despite everything, these two anchor each other. At the end of this whole thing, they likely will find each other again and make their way through all this trouble and chaos. I even speculate that Satoko falling into the abyss here is foreshadowing that Satoko is falling into depravity here, that Eua has corrupted her mind and actions, and that finally putting her plan into motion, especially during Tataridamashi, has led her to want to escape. The speedrun of suffering in Nekodamashi was I think Satoko breaking and wanting to get her ‘win’ in as soon as possible and return everything to a perfect world so she could cast these powers, cast this suffering, aside while also not loosing her stubbornness.

This here is.. confusing. It’s nice to see more of our gang aged up, but these faces are a bit off here. Perhaps it’s perceptions of Satoko’s regarding her friends having left her to go to high school college? Who knows.

As we near the end, we see an upwards shot of the Furude shrine, a shot through the same forest that we see Rika running through in “I Believe What You Said”, a shot of the statue of Oyashiro-sama, and than Eua in the sea of shards. To me this just feels like more tying things between our two new OPs together and further solidifying the ties between Eua and Hanyuu, whatever those may be.

Finally, we see a shot of Rika and Satoko, young, looking over Hinamizawa, holding hands at sunrise. Once again, these two care deeply for each other and will come out the other side together and stronger than ever. Again with how time has played in this OP, we go from late day at the beginning, to sunset, to night time, and now everything has cleared. The demons hide away until their next coming, but these two will be there for each other whatever may come.

And thus concludes my analysis. Please, do leave any comments or feedback, and I look forward to seeing how things play out in the show this season. I hope you are as well.

#Higurashi #higurashi when they cry #when they cry #satoko houjou #rika furude #higurashi sotsu #spoilers #higurashi spoilers

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katsukisbeatingheart · 5 years ago

Text

capella and rigel

au where you don’t see color until you meet your soulmate. they come to you one at a time the longer you’re together.

word count: 2,530

a.n.: you guys are BREAKING MY HEART you’ve been so sweet and receptive with the last one ( sing to me ) im such a mess ( ´༎ຶv༎ຶ`) i SEE YOU i WILL kiss you i am not playing. anyway!! im posting these soulmate works in an order backwards from which i started - which is funny, because that way it goes from least angstish to most.

here are the others!

Shinso

Sero

Bakugou

ao3

When the blue exploded, you weren’t ready for your world to change with a rushing suddenness. You were blindsided with the odd experience of a first time that felt like memory.

First off, you didn’t know how you knew blue would be it, but you did.

When someone told you that’s what color that sweater you liked to wear all the time was, you just knew. When someone told you that’s what color some of your favorite fruits were, you just knew. When someone told you that’s what color the sky was, you just knew.

When someone told you that’s what color the ocean was—because it reflected the sky—you cried because you just knew.

There was something revelatory of such a relationship—the rhapsodic truth that two forces of nature could be reflections of the other, even with completely opposing standpoints.

In your greyscale vacuum, you were none the wiser to a life that could promise that yet. From a young age, you hoped and prayed for that day to come, until it became a hapless strain of static that took a backseat to growing up.

In general, you hadn’t known what to expect; you imagined that cats were probably the color of sprinkles on ice cream, trees were balloons floating in the air, and pavements were the color of spring. When you looked up to the night, you thought that stars might be like lighting a candle. You thought that might mean yellow.

And even when it was so dark, you hoped the sky would still be blue.

It tore through every crevice of your vision, crowding your sight and singeing your senses.

Blue wasn’t supposed to come to you in a maelstrom on a previously peaceful Sunday morning. It wasn’t supposed to burn through the pages of one of your favorite books, or weld your utensils together.

It was supposed to bump into you on a tramline station, at a park, in a crowd, and then apologise quickly; it was supposed to be in widening eyes and stuttering breaths that gave you a name you’d knew like an old friend you had yet to meet.

It wasn’t supposed to be in so much pain.

It wasn’t supposed to cause any of it, either.

You’re on your back, starry eyed and afraid all at once, suffering the memory of your first time seeing color. It’s burning you, you realize, and the tears evaporate before they touch skin.

Blue fire is attention grabbing—it’s blue, you know it is—and watching it move like you imagined blue waves would was mesmerizing. It soaked the ground with scorch marks, scarring bedlam and terror into the earth.

Your eyes blown wide catch every moment, frozen in blue.

Though, as more of the hue crops up in all different directions, your eyes are suddenly the only part of you that can’t sit still. If the fire does anything else better than burn, it’s cast light—as it throws your vision farther than usual.

You don’t miss a single detail.

The sea of people around you scatter in fear— there’s chaos but you just can’t move—and you’re anchored to the ground like roots of a tree that didn’t get to choose its growing place. You’re trapped somewhere off centre in a spiraling vortex of entropy simultaneously inhaling and granting your newfound freedom.

Across the street in spots on a mailbox, the smallest pieces detailed the metal in cool colored rivets; in the scorching bed along the stone wall cafe lay crisped, blue calla lilies; the delicate hue accented in little flora shaded your spilled and shattered tea glass.

With the proximity of unimaginable heat, noise, and overall calamity shuffling so quickly around you, you felt encased in time. An hourglass tipped in your throat and the scalding sands ran through your veins. The inferno raged on until you noticed your place in it. It spun in a tempest around you and everything melted away.

Your vision shifts and you find the catalyst to be a tall, dark, and lanky shadow of a man. He contrasted the unyielding light—that he was producing, you agnised—to an almost sardonic degree. He held his hands in his pockets and shoulders in a slouch that said all of this was of no consequence, concern, or effort to him. He looked bored.

That is, until he saw you, too.

Freezing blue eyes glistened back at you in a cacophony of emotions.

There’s comprehension, apprehension, indignation—you try to settle on one, though absolutely fruitless with a whirlpool of your own at your feet.

You tried to speak your disbelief, a sense of joy, a simple admission to life, but your voice died on your tongue. The fumes coiled at your throat, still you held your ground. It was all you could do in your dormancy, and it was all you were going to do on the precipice of eruption.

It was like watching someone conduct a hurricane, what he did next.

His hands hummed an unknown melody to the flames, and you watched and waited and listened to the music that poured out if him—quickly becoming a little more afraid at the prospect of becoming an unwittingly unwilling participant from the audience.

However, the coiling and dissipation of the blue told you that this was the grand finale, and in a voiceless and motionless dance, he swayed out of sight under the haze of blue hellfire—so searing it was cold to the touch.

•.•.•.

When the heroes arrived, the police whisked you away to take your statement and check for injuries. It was like talking—and mostly listening—through a thick pane of glass, though. You said very little, and perceived even less.

What were you going to do? Include in your witness report that the perpetrator was your soulmate? That fact alone changed everything, and you knew that if you were to speak up about it now, the authorities would take you in. You weren’t about to be used as an asset when you had barely any time to process the truth yourself.

Everything was running smoothly, until the heroes came around to check on the injured. An expressionless man with two-toned hair and a nasty scar over his eye stepped before you, an ‘Are you alright?’ soft on his lips, contrasting the sternness in his features.

You took one look at the color of his left eye and fainted against the ambulance doors.

•.•.•.

Waking in a sweating bundle on your bedcovers was not a good way to end the day. It skewed your sense of reality, and you had to wrestle away the idea that the whole thing might have been a dream. The headache didn’t help, but it was proof you know what you saw. And what you were currently seeing.

A lot of everything else was still in greyscale, but your eyes weren’t lying to you as you took in your room. Blue comic books, pens, decals, posters, pictures; the laundry overflowed your basket, spilling in a pile of blue onto your carpet.

Blue eyes in the corner of your room.

“What did you see?” you whispered. He’s there like the shade of gossamer window curtains, a figureless concept of existence, and yet you speak knowing he’s suddenly the most solid thing there.

“You.”

You inhaled sharply, barely a pinprick to the weight in the room.

“You know that’s not what I mean. I’m not a color.”

“You were the brightest thing there. Might as well have been.”

“Impossible,” you laughed, waving your hand absently to dismiss your incredulity. “You set everything on fire.”

“Makes no difference,” he affirmed in a tone that sounded rich, drawled, and deep like molasses and a smoky room. There was silence as his voice drizzled along your skin, a safe distance in the uncertainty. It doesn’t break, even when you speak the opposite of what you should be uncertain about.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Yet here I am.”

There’s a flutter by your open window, and you unfold yourself from your stagnant place on your bed. Without argument, you wisp to its side, facing the world like it was unchanged.

His presence is permeable next to you, yet you were sure you had never felt anything as real.

Everything and nothing was the same.

“What do you see?”

“Still you.”

You glance to the side and see an almost facetious simper gliding across his features, even though you knew he was probably being anything but flippant.

“Dabi.”

He shifted almost imperceptibly, coiling with the dark to a time and space closer. He smelled like amber pine and sawdust, collecting evening dew.

“So you do know who I am.”

You picked at the peeling paint along the sill. It was still white.

“I follow the news. I’ve seen your face stuck to faded alley posters.”

“Now what would you be doing in alleyways?” He chuckled lowly through thinly veiled, amused bewilderment.

So he didn’t know who you were.

Just as well, it wasn’t like you lived a life of any consequence.

Truth was, you were simply a curious person with an awkward and clumsy sense of direction—finding yourself on adventures you could easily get yourself out of, only with a little time, effort, and backtracking. Even though you’d much rather see it through to the end, no matter how dark, twisted, or ugly.

The truth wasn’t meant to be pretty.

But he didn’t need to know that.

And if this were to keep up anyway, he’d find out soon enough.

You peered at him through your eyelashes and his shape almost disappeared. Instead, you leaned forward into the open world, trying to catch life as it moved below you. Your eyes spotted grass and trees, and you gasped before you could stop yourself.

“They’re green.”

“So I’ve been told.”

You turned your head to face him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“I’ve never seen green before.”

He’s quiet as he stares at you. He had leaned against the wall beside you, hip and head propped like he wouldn’t rather be looking anywhere else. You stare back softly, still not used to the visceral experience in eye contact.

“What do you see?” he asks like holding glass. You’re tempted to keep it to yourself for at least a day longer—safeguard the truth like you were the only one in the world who could see colors. An innocent secret you’d never have to share with anybody.

And yet here was a thread presented to you by the universe, asking to be pulled from the tangle.

You looked at his frayed edges and twisted knots, feeling your own pull tighten like a lifeline.

“Blue,” you breathe. He’s beside you now, angled to the open window, eyes still burning answers and questions—so many questions—across your very surface.

You both stretch out, casting your eyes up to the night sky, in your own world like he wasn’t who he was and you weren’t who you were. Collected in a jar of your own making, you spill your breath across the open air, and he’s there with you like a pooling splash of ink you don’t want out. Oh, the memories you could write with him.

“So these are the stars, huh?” his tone hasn’t lifted from that tedium, but he talks like he’s standing among them.

Tears prickled the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t tell whether from happiness or nostalgia or disappointment or confusion or another nameless thing—you only knew that you were looking at the stars. You were looking at the night sky and suddenly seeing the stars, and—

“Some of them are blue.”

Dabi traces the bottom hemline of your sweater with his thumb, breathing clearer air than he had in a long, long time.

“There’s yellow up there, too.”

The tears spill down your cheeks, but his hand is there to catch them with cracked fingertips.

“You know,” you begin with a small sniffle, “I don’t remember the night being this… luminous.” His face splits in to a grin.

“That’s your fault.”

You roll your eyes, peeling back to lightly shove against his arm. You had barely touched him, but his heart beats as though he’d been caught in an earthquake. He’s unsteady, and grows more and more terrified by the second of the anchor in your eyes. He’s not strong enough to try and move it.

You watched him pull back, startled by the alertness in his movements. He sweeps his legs up and over the side, perched on the windowsill as though he made to jump through it.

“You’re leaving?”

“I thought you were the one who said I shouldn’t be here,” he grinned, though not without that bitter glint in his already harshly blue eyes. Your lip finds its place pulled between your teeth.

“I think there are still some things I want to see.” You glance to the side, searching for words in the spots of color blooming along the edges of your world. “With you.”

Dabi bridges small gaps between you two—some rickety and many burnt, but still there—leaving space for you to jump ship. His fingers brush warm trails across the skin of your face again, like forfeiting a whittling candelabrum to the shaking hands of a blind man.

You suppose someone like him defies all laws, even the ones of the natural world as he ghosts down the siding of the building, just another wandering shade looking for its way back.

In a day of unforseens, you try and convince yourself that it was the stars that got to you. It’s easier to place blame on things you can’t control, and part of you feels liberated knowing this was just not one of those things you were meant to expect. You let your hopes and predictions solidify the labyrinthian ground you walk on.

But as you lean through the window, you call out to him and realize you’re swallowing your assumptions like antifreeze.

“Wait!”

His head turns to the side to catch you pouring out of your mundane and into his living underworld.

“You have to come back.” The yellow on your sweater burns into your irises, and he has never been more wary of his place in the universe. Especially when it glows back at him through the eyes of a future he didn’t know he even had.

“I want to know what sunrises look like.”

The tempest in him glares up at the beacon your window—no—you provide and he feels a weird, opposing sense of mitigation and incertitude. A ubiquitous tangibility his first instinct declares a malignant impediment.

Still, he can’t help but feel as though a tide were in the process of crashing his lifeboat—a stray piece of driftwood—on to obscure shores.

That can’t be all that much of a bad thing, he considers.

With a small, barely there and imperceptibly honest smile, he places a two fingered tap to the crown of his forehead—throwing an ignition to the wind in a quiet promise.

The light fades, and you clutch the matchstick, watching the blue disappear with him into the dark of night.

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha reader insert #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bnha dabi x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #bnha soulmate au #soulmate au #shinsou hitoshi x reader #a123

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smugpugchimera · 4 years ago

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Random thoughts on Hollow Knight !!!SPOILERS!!! I bet no one really cares but I kind of just wanted to write this down for myself cause why not :>

As you may notice I kind of fell deep into the fandom of HK as of last week and my impressions had some changes during my lore exploration and while I tried to lay all those things down in my head. As soon as I finished my first let’s play I felt super taunted and conflicted, I just witnessed gorgeous peace of interactive media but I also feel dissatisfied with how rough games realty is. That’s honestly probably just a side effect of my overly obsessive nature when it comes to new things, and generally being depressed. Someone said it well- “I play to escape universes unfairness, not to remind myself of it.”I did a deep dive in lore to get to know what I’m exactly dealing with, witnessed all the endings and as much in-game content as I could. I felt bad about such amount of beloved characters dying, and that there’s basically nothing you can do with it. In the same time I really admire the tone developers took this creation, the more I think about it the more I get why they would do that, that’s just what makes sense for the setting they’ve built, and i’m not actually upset with the story they tell, but the implications of originated in our own world, our own experience. There’s a reason there were whole centuries when underline theme of culture came down to how life is short and painful. (i may dig to deep for this point) THK portrays decay as a part of natural order, inevitability, and fate punishes those who fail to accept it. Entropy is forever increasing, we all gonna die, the universe will end blah blah blah With my hot take i failed to see the meaning behind those endings being the way they are, and also thought of them as being more depressing than they actually were. First think to address- we arrive in the word already being a wreck, no matter what we do it won’t get much better from there, and it’s hard but also makes perfect sense. Mistakes were made. The damage has been done. We get a chance to understand why those things turned out this way. It is sad, but game also make an effort to show beauty even in places as such. The old word died, but as much as fall of all that lives is inevitable, new life always seeks for a way to bloom ones more, and we ourselves can make our small contribution. BTW on our protagonist, vessels in general. We don’t know much about what drives us into doing what we do, like at all, the most insight we get is for HK (sealed vessel) themselves, and even that is vague and up in the air. Judging by actions of two Vessels we know about journey of the most they share kind of weird unconditional selflessness. Like, HK are fine with being abandoned in one dark place with the infection within them for eternity, they don’t gain anything from this situation and still they accept it. Even being warped by infection they try to help the cause knowing it meant them dying (I’m referring to them stabbing themselves, I know there’s a debate why that accrues, but I don’t think it’s Radiance who does it, mostly do some hints in leitmotiv and cut dream nail dialog, where R is clearly scared of Protagonist and wouldn’t wanted for HK to be destroyed before killing them, cause she knows she’ll be captured again. HK realizing that helps us defeat them so we can absorb the infection, and to weaken their body so the fight would end faster.) Protagonist are ready to replace HK or gave it all to defeat the infection for literally no reason as well. Wonder why though? More symbolic than anything, but I think there’s just this clever irony of creatures of darkness being more noble than creatures of light we get to know as well (Pale King, The Radiance, we don’t know that much of White lady’s personality tough). That I think may come from Vessels not being devoid of emotions or mind or will, (which we don’t know for sure, HK might been a special case, hdfk) but duo to them not having proper self-realized sense of ego. Gods as we know may even physically depend on admiration, Wyrms has a habit of turning lawyer beings into their servants in their nature, The Radiance weakens if her people don’t worship her. Having strong need for approval, having large ego and acting on it, acting selfish, acting narcissistic. The void being the opposite of both beings of light may have given it’s creations opposite set of traits. (as a note even such a weirdo as Collector does not contradict those traits, just wanting to protect the creatures of Hallownest, even though the approach is... strange to say the least) still those all are just speculations hah One more thing I wanted to say is just that on the first run I was super upset because there’s no ending where all 3 of main sibling-trio are fine Took me some time to realize that the one ending we fight The Radiance is actually the most forgiving, All the vessels return to the Void getting their peace in the end. As much as I wished for characters all be alive and well, the very act of Vessels creation was inherently cruel, and this is the best way to actually end their suffering (if they have it, still we don’t know for sure). The point stands that leaving them the way they are is pretty messed up, they didn’t meant to be, the doing was atrocious, it’s wrong and unnatural and I doubt they could ever be content in such a state of existence. Infection actually defeated, Hornet is save, void beings reuniting and returning where they belong, the lands having new chance in life after all the suffering and sacrifices made. Lil melancholic but not so bad at all.

#hollow knight #hk discussion #hk the knight #hk hornet #hk pale king #hk the radiance #hk the vessel #hk the collector #hk little ghost #hk little shadow #hk fanart #the hollow knight

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erin-bo-berin · 5 years ago

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Darkest Storms & Brightest Rainbows (Part 1)

MASTERLIST

Part 2

Part 3

Hard Love (unoffical part 4)

Finally, the first part of my “Cat fic” is here! I kept some lines and plot lines from the show, but I also added some different elements. For example, there’s a lot of scenes/references from Entropy and Date Night later on, but I didn’t include much from Red Light. You’ll soon see why.

I began this at the end of last year and didn’t think it would see the light of day as it wasn’t going anywhere. But after some inspiration, I finally finished it. I decided to break it into three parts in honor of the three Cat episodes. Besides, if I had wrote one long fic it would’ve probably been around 15k words. Anyway, this way I can leave you guys hanging in suspense for a little bit (mwhaha 😏). Lastly, I just wanted to say I chose this title for this 3-parter because the characters go through some dark storms but also experience some bright rainbows along the way throughout this story. Enough of my rambling, I hope you all enjoy. 🥰

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (part 1 only has some angst)

Word Count: 4,143

It’s truly fascinating how one small drop can create a ripple in the water.

That was what meeting Spencer Reid was like.

It was a typical day at work at the coffee shop you’d been employed at for almost a year. Life had slowly been getting somewhat back to normal for you. It had been a hard previous year when you lost both parents to a car crash. Living alone was difficult, but you were making it work.

It was like a breath of fresh air to find work in a DC neighborhood cafe. You loved being able to form relationships with some frequent customers and hear about their days; it was surprisingly very cathartic to connect with so many people after feeling so much loss.

There had been a small breather between waves of numerous customers when he had first appeared at your counter for a coffee.

His order was just as unique as he was; coffee with whole milk and a little bit of honey.

He was cute. He was really cute.

His shaggy brown hair was probably just a touch too long and in need of a cut, but his loose curls made it work and it looked good on him. He had light eyes that would shift from green to brown, depending on how the sun shone through the window next to the counter and a smile so bright it rivaled the sun’s rays.

Something else you’d noticed, he was tall. Possibly 6 feet, if you were to guess. With a lean frame and a slight shyness about him, you were instantly intrigued.

You saw him more often, never managing to get his name, but managing to pick up the tiniest details about him.

There was a slight cleft to his chin, a shadow of a feature that was dominant in some others, but only was fully shown on him at certain angles.

The same went for the chameleon like dimples he sported, only showing up now and then. Every time, they made your stomach flutter, just about as much as he did.

He had a smattering of freckles that you could mainly see only up close. Not the usual freckles that would be across the bridge of the nose and cheeks on an average person, but random ones. A few under the outer corner of one eye, a lone one on the far side of his forehead, one on the side of his cheek, just along his cheekbone, another larger one on the opposite side just underneath his earlobe, plus many more tiny ones scattered everywhere.

Everything about him was unique.

His hands were large and gentle, always carefully handing you money for his drink and taking his order from you.

He was sweet and always polite, asking you how your day was going, wishing you a good day when he left.

He also had these small habits of licking his lips or squinting his eyes just the tiniest bit, without even being aware of the actions.

It was actually a bit pathetic how much you’d learned about this stranger yet couldn’t even muster up the courage to ask for his name.

It was one day, maybe six months after you’d first met the handsome stranger when you decided to take a chance.

He’d come in bright and early before 8 am dressed in gray dress pants, a purple dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a two toned purple tie. Slung across his body and resting on his hip was his usual tan satchel that you’d seen him with every day. You didn’t even have a clue what his job was.

“Morning,” he greeted with a bright smile.

You greeted him back, automatically reaching for his coffee that’d you’d been in the midst of preparing.

“Large coffee, whole milk and honey?”

“As always,” he chuckled.

Unlike other larger chains, it wasn’t a normal thing to label a person’s drink with their name, so it wasn’t easy to find out his name; hence why you still hadn’t learned it.

You were fastening the lid, about to hand it to him when you asked.

“Um, just out of curiosity, who would this coffee be labeled for?”

The minute the words were out of your mouth you wanted to take them back. It sounded so awkward and weird. Labeled for? You wanted to hit yourself.

A small smile tugged on his lips.

“Spencer. Nice to meet you—” he paused, waiting for you to fill in with your name.

“Y/N.”

He took his drink, turning to leave before pausing.

“Have a great day, Y/N.”

Less than a month later, you’d gone on your first date with Spencer.

•

Three years later, life looked a lot different.

You no longer worked at the coffee shop, but now worked from home. It took a little time, but you eventually found out you had a passion for being a social media manager for different brands. You loved social media and posting content for brands was rather fun.

You and Spencer had hit it off during that first date, considering you’d been dating for almost three years now.

As much as you missed your previous work family, you had a big new family that you’d come to be an (unofficial) part of, within these last few years.

You had finally found out after a few dates that Spencer worked for the FBI in a unit called the Behavioral Analysis Unit as a profiler; a position that uses an art of studying behavior and a lot of psychology to catch killers. It was interesting, but dangerous work. It did come with some good things though, like a work family that was like a real family. You, too, had grown close to his team members through the last few years. They were like the family you had desperately needed since your parents’ passing.

It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows in the BAU between the long hours and dangerous cases, but you were always there for Spencer. You were so proud of him and impressed by how good he was at his job; you were also proud to call him your boyfriend.

Recently, the BAU was dealing with a group of assassins, some that were hired through the deepest parts of the dark web. It had begun with one hit man that specialized in making his hits look like accidents. He had been seeking revenge on his customers and that led to the BAU discovering that there were a whole network of hitmen, each known for their own method of killing.

There was a chemist.

A sniper.

A bomber.

And the deadliest of them all, Ms. .45.

A black widow, Spencer called her.

She’d been the only one to evade capture and Spencer was going to be the one to lure her out.

You were freaked, to put it mildly. Just from what Spencer had told you about this woman, you knew dangerous didn’t even begin to describe her.

Unlike her former “co-workers”, she liked to be up close and personal with her targets. She played her games and when she was done, she’d shoot them without a morsel of guilt to drag her conscious down.

“Spencer, I really don’t think you should do this.”

You were sitting on the bed, watching him loosen his tie as he simultaneously told you about this case and changed out of his work clothes.

“Y/N, it’s better if I do it,” he said, turning to face you, his tie now hanging undone around his neck.

“Why you though?”

It wasn’t often that you argued and you couldn’t exactly count this as a fight, but you both definitely stood on opposite sides of this matter.

“I’m the closest to her age on the team. If anything goes wrong, she’ll be most likely to negotiate with a peer.”

“But Spencer,” you frowned, “I don’t like the sound of how dangerous she is. If she believes that you’re a client, she could kill you.”

“We aren’t going to let it get that far,” he assured, sitting down on the side of the bed, next to you.

“I just worry about you, always being in dangerous situations. I know it’s just a part of dating someone who works in your profession, but what if something happens to you?”

You can’t help the tiny crack of emotion in your voice and he pulls you into his arms.

“Nothing will happen to me, okay?”

You nodded into his chest and he pulled back, frowning at you.

“I don’t like to see you sad. I want to see that pretty smile of yours.”

His fingers tickled your side and you tried to hold back the laugh bubbling in your throat. You were extremely ticklish and he only ever used that against you at a time like this.

“Stop,” you squealed, trying to wriggle away from his touch, but he kept tickling you.

“Nope, not a chance,” he grinned.

You fell back on the bed, laughing and squirming as he continued his tickle torture.

“There we go,” he smiled, satisfied, “There’s that smile.”

You grinned more shyly as he cupped your face with his hand and kissed you gently.

“Just be safe, okay?”

“Always.”

He kissed you again, his lips parting from yours to trail down your jaw to your neck.

“Is this your way of distracting me?” you chuckled.

“Hmm, maybe,” he smirked.

“No complaints from this corner.”

His lips returned to yours, kissing you with such intensity, it left you breathless for a moment. Your lips moved with his, your hands tangled in his hair.

The rest of the evening was spent doing nothing other than a little fooling around.

•

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Garcia asked.

On the screen of her computer you saw Spencer entering the restaurant and speaking to the hostess before being seated.

“I’m sure,” came a moment later.

“We’ll protect him Y/N.”

This statement came from Aaron Hotchner—Hotch for short—, Spencer’s boss. You were grateful that Hotch had even let you be here, yet still the dread twisted in your stomach.

Garcia had hacked into the cameras to allow you three to see what was going on during this take down. Spencer sat facing the camera.

Only moments after he’d been seated at the table did a petite woman walk up.

She was slim with a short, angled cut. Her dark hair seemed to be in perfect place, just like the fake smile she was showing. She was dressed in a form fitting teal, sleeveless dress. The bottom was embellished in some sort of sparkling beads or perhaps rhinestones. She looked harmless enough, but you knew better. Looks could be very deceiving.

“Reid, we have you over her left shoulder. Do you copy?”

You watch as your boyfriend briefly glances straight towards the camera and taps a quick, stealthy answer on the table, with two fingers.

“I already hate her,” you glowered at the screen, watching as her hand lingered on his arm, seduction written all over her face.

“Put the claws away tiger,” Penelope muttered.

“So, how far along is your wife?” the hit woman you now know was named Cat, asked.

You watch Spencer swallow nervously, playing the part of an apprehensive first time customer.

“A few months. Do you, uh mind if we don’t talk about her?”

Cat was quiet for a moment. You can’t see her face, but somehow you just know she’s studying him.

“Let me see your ring.”

He furrowed his brows, but took it off handing it to her.

“You say you’ve been married for four years, right Spencer?” She studies the band, turning it over in her hand.

“Yeah.”

“For a 24 karat ring, it sure looks rather cheap. Apparently she loves you as much as you love her,” she tossed the ring on the table with a clank.

“Also, if it were four years old, it’d look more worn, don’t you think?”

You hear a click over the audio. It sounded suspiciously like a gun cocking and your eyes widened in horror.

Penelope gasped.

“Is that what I think it was?”

“Yes,” Hotch answered her, “She knows.”

“You’re not married Spencer.” Her gun was pointing at him under the table, unbeknownst to the other diners in the restaurant.

“And guess what? I didn’t walk into your trap. You walked into mine.”

“Oh no,” Penelope breathed.

“I’ve got a gun pointed at your crotch right now, Spencer. What’s to stop me from taking you and the little ones out right now? It’d be such a shame; doesn’t Y/N want kids?”

“Hotch,” you growled, “He didn’t sign up for this.”

“He knows what he’s doing. Let him handle this. If it truly becomes a dire situation, we have backup in there with him.”

You pick at your nails, tuning back into Spencer and Cat’s conversation.

He ignored her remark, continuing to stare her down.

“You honestly think I’m dumb enough to waltz in here thinking you’re just another deadbeat asshole that’s tired of his wife? I know way more than you think I do. The BAU is the only one that got this close to us. But I’m still the only one left,” she smirked.

“Doesn’t mean anything. I’m good at what I do,” Spencer retorted.

“Tell me. Are you this cocky with Y/N?”

Your eyes narrowed, glaring at the screen.

“I’d love to shove my foot right up her-”

“Y/N,” Hotch chided.

“Sorry.”

She’d scooted around the booth closer to him, her hand sliding into his suit jacket and down his button down shirt. You couldn’t clearly see what she was doing, but you got the general idea. He jumped when her hand brushed his crotch before reaching into the waist of his pants, pulling out his gun with a smirk.

“So tell me, did you actually knock her up or was that just part of your cover? I mean unless you’re here to put a hit on her which is totally fine by me. I’m not one for commitment either.”

“You leave her out of this,” he growled, glaring at her.

“I bet you’re wondering how I know about her, right? Probably the same way I know that Blondie over there is part of your team, just waiting to take me down. Am I right?”

Spencer stayed quiet, his gaze hard on her.

“Do me a favor and tell her to take a hike will you?”

“Stand down,” Hotch says from next to you. You know enough about the plan to know that the entire team can hear messages from him here at the BAU.

You watched as JJ set the drink she’d been sipping on, down on the bar. She’d dressed in leather pants, a low cut black top with a quarter length sleeved, maroon fur jacket over it to appear as just another fancy dinner guest. She passed their table before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Thanks for playing, sweetie,” Cat smiled at her disappearing form.

“Now, tell me more about yourself Spencer. Why don’t you?”

Cat rested her chin in her hand and watched him, her gun laying by her side where she could have easy access to it.

“Don’t you already know all about me?”

“True,” she made a face, “Then tell me all about me.”

“Well, for one, you’re quite loquacious.”

“I’m gonna pretend that means sexy,” she grinned flirtatiously.

“Gag me with a spoon,” you mumbled.

“Now, like I said,” Cat continued, “Tell me about me.”

“You’re a psychopath that runs a different course than the rest of your fellow hit men. You like to be up close and personal, watch men lie and try to seduce them all before turning on them and killing them. Which in itself speaks to many deep rooted issues.”

“Is that your way of saying I’m just another woman with daddy issues?”

“You said it, not me.”

“So, how exactly did you find me?” She rested her chin on her laced fingers and cocked her head at him.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course.”

“Fine. It all started unraveling when we first took down what we thought was a lone hit man. One who specified in making hits look like accidents.”

You can hear Spencer still talking through the monitor as you paced back and forth behind Hotch and Garcia, your nerves getting the best of you.

You jump when you hear loud feedback from the mic.

“What was that?”

“She muffled the mic. We lost audio,” Penelope grimaced.

On the screen, you can see Cat’s hand on his tie, thumb over the microphone, her mouth moving as she says something to Spencer. He turns in the direction where Rossi was slyly approaching their table.

With a few words that were unheard to the three of you, Rossi backed off, heading towards the kitchen.

“She caught on to Dave being there too,” Hotch mumbled.

“Hotch, this is not going as you planned, is it?”

Your question remained unanswered and by the way his posture remained rigid you knew you were right. That did little to reassure you.

“Entropy reigns supreme in this whole situation,” you grumbled.

You looked over and saw Hotch and Garcia staring at you quizzically.

“What? Isn’t another definition for that, lack of order or predictability or gradual decline into disorder?”

Hotch arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I used it wrong. I’ve heard Spencer use it before. This is why he’s the genius and not me.”

Nothing else was said on the matter as you three’s attention was turned back to the screen where Cat was talking to Spencer again.

“I’ll let that slide considering I learned something important about you.”

“What’s that?” Spencer questioned.

“Your backup. I’ve flushed them out. It’s just you and me now.”

“Guess again, bitch,” you mumbled.

You knew, as well as the rest of the team, that Tara and Morgan were still in there.

“I know you’re stalling, but why?”

“Cause I know there has to be a pretty impressive crowd of agents out front, just waiting to take me down.”

“You’d be correct,” Spencer deadpanned.

“Which is why you’re going to walk me out of here. I get away with no issues and no one gets hurt. If not,” she paused.

She ran her fingertips over the gun that she’d moved to the table, just in his line of sight.

“I have a fully loaded gun that can do quite some damage.”

“You won’t do it though,” he challenged.

“Oh wouldn’t I?”

“No because shooting up a restaurant isn’t your style. You’re more calculated than that. You like less mess, more mind games.”

“So you do understand me, Spencer,” she smirked, “Then you’d understand that I need you to call off all the FBI agents so I can leave quietly.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Spencer shrugged, not breaking his eye contact from her, “I’m not letting you walk out of here if I have to hold you down myself.”

“Would you hold me down and leave bruises that wouldn’t go away?” she purred.

“Is that what you want?”

“I bet that’s what Y/N wants,” Garcia mumbled.

You opened your mouth to respond, not sure if she meant you doing bodily harm to Cat or your wanting Spencer to do that to you.

“Focus,” Hotch reprimanded.

“No, I want the agents cleared.” Her hand tightened on her piece.

“Everyone stand down,” Hotch ordered, “We let her walk. Reid let her go.”

“Well?” Cat pressed.

You saw him bite his lip, clearly trying to make up his mind what to do.

“Reid. Let her go.”

“Spencer?”

Cat was getting annoyed, that much you could tell and you knew she was definitely a person you didn’t piss off.

“Fine, you can go.”

She gathered her things, standing up to leave.

“But you won’t,” Spencer said.

She turned, gazing at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I found your father,” Spencer challenged.

“Reid, what are you doing?” Hotch asked, glancing at Garcia who just shrugged in response.

“Spencer, no,” you whispered, anxiety flooding your senses.

He was playing with fire and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to get burned.

“Tell me where he is,” Cat demanded.

“Sit down and I will.”

You glance at the two next to you.

“This wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

“No,” came the terse answer from Hotch.

You see her sit once again across from Spencer.

“To prepare for tonight, I had to do my research on you,” he started.

“Is that so?”

“Lewis, Morgan, try to clear out the restaurant as subtly as possible. If this goes wrong, she could start shooting. I don’t want any injuries on my conscience tonight,” Hotch commanded.

You didn’t see their movement on the screen, but within a few minutes there were more than the normal amount of waiters moving along the tables.

“I found your father Cat,” Spencer continued, in effort to distract her.

“You’re lying.”

“Does it look like I’m lying?”

“No, but I know you are because I never mentioned that I found him myself. He’s been dead for years, Spencer.”

You saw her reach for her gun at the exact moment a commotion towards the front of the restaurant broke out. You couldn’t see on screen what was happening, but it was all the distraction she needed.

Hotch was barking orders and you heard Spencer shouting something to Morgan.

It was later you found out that against Lewis and Morgan’s wishes, someone—most likely a waiter—had started freaking out. Whether that caused the following events to happen or not you would never know, but it sure didn’t help them either.

“Oh my god,” Penelope gasped.

Your eyes were glued to the screen and the horrible events that were beginning to unfold.

Cat had Spencer by the arm and her gun was pointed directly at him. She had him in her claws and she wasn’t about to let him go without a fight.

“Get everyone out of here!” Spencer hollered.

You heard the rest of the people fleeing the dining room, Tara aiding them, but you didn’t take your eyes off of Cat and Spencer.

“Well lookie here,” she grinned up at Spencer, “Back where we started. You and me and a gun.”

“We can talk this out,” Morgan said, slowly approaching, his gun still aimed Cat's way.

“I don’t know Agent Morgan,” she smirked, “I don’t like liars. How do I know that Spencer is true to his word? He’s already lied once.”

“Let him go and we’ll talk,” Morgan said.

“It’s too late for that.”

A loud crash came from the front of the restaurant. Distraction number two. You couldn’t tell if it had been planned by Cat or not, either way, it was her perfect moment to strike.

Multiple gunshots sounded.

Time slowed down.

Penelope cried out.

Hotch cursed.

You fell to your knees.

In a split second Cat had shot Spencer and he went down, bright red blood beginning to stain his dress shirt.

Shots were fired from Morgan’s gun. Tara went running after Cat, Morgan went running to Spencer’s side.

There was commotion on the screen. Tara came back in from the direction of the kitchen where Cat had run. Luck must have been on her side because she had disappeared into the night.

Everything changed in one quick moment.

Spencer had been shot and Cat had gotten away.

•

You had no memory of how you’d managed to get from the BAU to the hospital, but here you were, fidgeting in a chair, tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even had a chance to see him before you got to the hospital and you were wracked with worry with how he was.

The last thing you remembered was falling to the floor, your head feeling woozy as you tried to process what was unfolding before your eyes.

Spencer had been rushed into emergency surgery and you waited anxiously with the rest of the team in the waiting room. You were positive you hadn’t stopped shaking since you heard the gun go off.

The awful sound rang in your ears and every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Spencer falling to the ground, blood soaking his shirt.

You looked up when you heard the click of heels and saw JJ coming back with an update on Spencer. The look on her face sent a feeling of cold, icy, fear through your body.

“He didn’t make it,” she whispered.

A buzzing sound rang in your ears and you were sure you’d heard wrong.

“What?” you croaked.

“Spencer’s gone,” she choked out.

The guttural sobs that came from deep within you didn’t even sound human. Your anger and your pain melted into one.

Cat Adams would pay for this.

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#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid gifs #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid gifs #dr spencer reid smut #cat adams #spencer and cat #Criminal Minds #criminal minds gifs #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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crushedbyhyperbole · 5 years ago

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In His Lap

A/N: Written for @the-ss-horniest-book-club Drunk Drabble prompt by anon:

I am so sorry that I don’t seem to be able to grasp the concept of a drabble. I literally started writing and ended up with 1.3k oopsy!

There will probably be a smutty follow-on from this but this one is more soft and fluffy. Link to follow-on smut piece at the bottom.

Warnings: plus size reader, mentions of a break-up, theme park ride related adrenaline, hints of horniness and mutual attraction, Bucky is the proactive type ;)

Alternate Universe; a new theme park you’d been itching to go to with your boyfriend Rob had opened a few months ago. Themed around space, physics and quantum mechanics, it was right up your street. In fact, you just about had a nerdgasm when you managed to get tickets, one for you, Rob and your two best friends (Zara and Rachel). You had booked the weekend off work, Rob planned to drive and you were going to stay in a hotel nearby to get best use out of your weekend passes. And even when Rachel dropped out, you were beyond excited!

Only, You and Rob weren’t together now and you and Zara weren’t friends anymore, and yes the two cases were related. Cheating scum and back-stabbing snakes belonged together, you thought bitterly. But that hadn’t stopped you from going and you were determined to enjoy this trip even if you were alone, after all, Alternate Universe was on your bucket list.

You spent the whole morning following your carefully constructed plan of how to get around as many rides as possible and you’d had an amazing time despite feeling a little self-conscious squeezing into the seats on some of the rides and not collecting many memorabilia photo’s because, well, it was just you. You visited rides called Quarks, Entropy, The Black Hole, Terminal Velocity, Newton’s Cradle and were queuing for The Photon.

The warnings for this ride were off the charts, more strict than normal on account of the fact that the carriages of this rollercoaster freely orbited the track on a circular rail. You were both nervous and excited.

You swallowed dryly when you reached the front of the queue and you were told that you could only ride in pairs. Everyone around you were in even numbers and a call was put out for any solo riders to step forward. Your palms grew sweaty and your heart raced. Already embarrassed by the attention you were drawing, you hoped people weren’t looking at you thinking you were too large for this ride.

Finally there was a murmur, someone from the back was being escorted through the throngs of people to the front, a tall man in dark jeans and a red Henley, with long-ish hair and shoulders broad enough to make even you look petite. You did a double-take – he was stunning with sharp blue eyes and a strong jaw covered in soft-looking stubble.

The seat was a cushioned bench where riders would sit with their feet on either side, one in the back and one in front.

“You wanna take the front? I’m a bit,” you gestured to your plumpness, “round.”

“I’ll take the back.” The man’s eyes twinkled as he stepped in ahead of you and, once seated, offered his hand to help you inside. “I’d hate to squash you.” His breath puffed against your ear sending a tingle down your spine.

“I’ll try to sit forward.” You reassured him, worried you’d break his ribs if you put too much weight on him.

When the safety bars were pushed into place you were slammed back against his chest with a squeal and he laughed.

“Sorry.” You whimpered.

“Hey,” he squeezed your shoulder gently, “just relax. I’m good back here. You just enjoy yourself.”

You didn’t know what to say so you nodded and tried not to lean on him too much while you waited for the other carriages to be loaded.

“I’m Bucky, by the way,” he said softly.

“Y/n.” You glance over your shoulder to see his lips pull up at one side in a devastatingly cute smile. Your mouth went dry and you tried to control your breathing. You did not just instantly develop a crush on a complete stranger.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached to shake your hand. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s a sweet lady like you doing here all on her own?” You didn’t mind as much as you thought you would, so you told him your story, earning a curse from him and a promise of broken legs for your ex.

The mechanical lock on the bars pushed the padded brace harder against your chest, squashing you back further against the solid wall of man behind you. You groaned at the feel of his thighs on either side of your hips and his body heat penetrating through your t-shirt.

You squeaked when the ride kicked in, the ratchet picking up the contact and pulling your carriage forward with a jolt.

“You ok there, sweetheart?” Bucky seemed genuinely concerned.

You nodded silently, not trusting your voice right then. When the carriage reached the top the carriage would be in free motion, it would swing upside down and all sorts as it followed the tracks at high speed. You began to shake, adrenaline flooding your system.

“Hey,” Bucky soothed, resting a hand on your shoulder to lean you back the few inches that remained between you, “I got you, just relax, ok?”

You did as he asked and laid back against him, not worrying about crushing him, enjoying the feel of him at your back. You might have sighed when the carriage neared the top of the incline, the view was spectacular.

“So beautiful.” You sighed.

“Tell me about it,” he chuckled, “and the view ain’t half bad either.”

For a split second you forgot where you were, the perilous drop in front of you loomed and as the feeling of free-fall kicked in you gasped and tried to back up.

The sound of Bucky’s moan was lost under the gasps and giggles you made as the ride whipped you around and spun you upside down. Bucky’s hands were on your hips encouraging you to lean with him to spin the carriage upside down at every opportunity. Your shrieks and laughter spurring him on.

Three minutes and fifty seconds of pure joy and excitement later the carriage air-braked, sending you forward into the restraints but Bucky held himself back so as not to crush you.

“That was so much fun! I really wanna do that again!” You laughed, looking back over your shoulder to see a strange look on his face. You worried maybe you’d hurt him. “Sorry if I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, sweetheart,” Bucky said, giving your hip a squeeze, “but I’m feelin’ some kind of way and I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman about it.” He shifted his hips away from your lower back slightly.

Your mouth flapped awkwardly and you didn’t know what to say.

The bars suddenly released themselves and you jumped to your feet trying not to meet his gaze, which was intently fixed on you. You had one foot out of the carriage when he reached for your hand.

“Before you go and I never see you again, I gotto ask,” Bucky locked eyes with you and your heart jumped a mile, “I know we just met but I’d really like it if you’d have lunch with me.”

“Why would you want…?”

“Sweetheart,” he stood and offered you his elbow in a gentlemanly gesture that was so far removed from what you were used to that you couldn’t help but accept. “Trust me when I say that I want to, ok?”

“Ok,” you agreed with a firm nod, “but I have my day all mapped out, and for lunch I was gonna go to Schrodinger’s cat café.” You bit your lip nervously as if it was some cringy thing he’d never agree to.

“Deal,” Bucky’s grin faded to hunger as he watched your mouth, “you’re really somethin’ else, you know that right?”

You simpered as he led you away.

“I can’t believe you literally fell right into my lap.”

Follow -on smutty drabble: Ride of Your Life >>>

#hbc drunk drabbles #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes x you #not a drabble #im sorry #my writing #plus size reader #cloudy's writing

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alarawriting · 4 years ago

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52 Project #20: The Lake

This is another songfic. Normally I try pretty hard not to have two stories of similar types fall this close to each other, but the themes of the two stories are really different, as are the songs they’re based on, as are the bands responsible for the songs, and in fact there’s basically no point of commonality except that they’re based on songs.

This one is based on “Under Ice” by Kate Bush.

Fun fact: I originally wrote a story based on this song back in 1986, and it was my first “published” story, appearing in a local literary magazine. Years later I decided that my original take on this was shlocky and I didn’t like it, and instead I wanted to incorporate themes from a poem I’d written, “Entropy Reversed”. Parts of the original story have been cannibalized for this one, but the entire ending and in fact the entire point of the story are different.

***

It's so fresh and clear, out here on the ice. I feel so free. There's no one around, for as far as I can see.

The cold is crisp, bracing, and the ice on the lake is unbelievably clear. Not the sort of transparent clarity that makes it untrustworthy – a thick, wavy, distorted sort of clarity that tells me the ice is strong. Under it the lake is dark, winter black and sluggish, so cold looking. But I am free and clear above the ice, skating.

As I skate past trees and bushes, the wind bites at my face – good, clean cold! It's so sharp and refreshing. I can feel my face turning red, but it's not uncomfortable. After the stuffy heat inside, the cold air is like water, running through the clogged channels of my mind. So fresh and bright... The cool wind whips through my hair, teases at my earmuffs, as I skate faster.

The world is so open before me I feel as if I could do anything. This is like new territory, unexplored. My skates make little white lines on the dark ice -- I am here! I have gone here! the lines say. There is not another living soul around. I could skate to the other side of the lake, the far side I cannot see in the morning fog, and never see another person. It's such a wonderful feeling! I am a pioneer, going where no one has before. I can do whatever I want, and no one will see me, or stop me. My skates place my mark on virgin ice, frontier territory untraversed by humanity. So exhilarating!

And as I skate, I think about entropy.

Entropy is often thought of as chaos, but what it actually is, is a measure of the energy within a system that’s unavailable for doing work. The molecules become more disordered as the energy is expended. Because energy can’t be created or destroyed, the energy is still there, but in a useless form, because the molecules are too disordered to get anything done. Heat is the last step energy takes before it becomes entropic. Decay releases heat, and then the heat dissipates, transferring from the place where there’s a lot of heat – the point of decay, the thing undergoing entropic breakdown – to the place where there is not. It merges with the universe, and is lost.

The sun shining up above does not make me think of decay. It makes me think of positive energy and negative entropy – endless transfer of heat and light energy to our planet, allowing everything that is alive to re-order their molecules in a way that does work. It’s not actually endless, of course, but humanity will probably be gone long before that light runs out.

In reality, I know, the sunshine should warm the ice and weaken it, turn it into liquid like the cold dark water underneath. But the sun is life and energy. The water is cold death.

The sun is strengthening the ice. Protecting me. Shining down on me, making the chill exhilarating, the experience of skating fun. I expect it to burn away the fog at the far side of the lake and let me see the other shore. Any minute now.

Things loom in the fog, far away. Mountains, maybe. Rocks. Giant monsters. There’s no way to know; they’re too far away and the fog covers them, so I can’t see that far.

It’s afternoon. I’ve been skating for a very long time, haven’t I? My muscles have started to burn and ache, and the cold that was so invigorating this morning has started to seep into me. But I’m still strong, I’m still active and focused. I can keep skating. I haven’t much choice, after all; I haven’t reached the far side yet, and now the shore I came from is lost behind me, hidden in the fog. There’s nothing around me but the lake.

I can’t really remember what the shore looked like. It doesn’t matter. Keep moving forward, that’s the important thing.

I catch a glimpse of something moving under the ice, trying to follow me.

I don’t look down. I skate faster, despite the burn in my muscles. I want to outrun whatever that is, under the ice. A monster? A sea serpent? Maybe it’s just my reflection, but I don’t want to look.

The shore seems very far away.

The sun is going down. Exhausted, I skate more slowly, unable to keep up my pace, and I see the thing again. Something distorted, writhing. A Lovecraftian horror, but pink. I’d have expected green from an underwater monster.

The sun is going down, and the energy it imparts to the world is fading. The air is growing colder, more bitter. The ice should be hardening, growing stronger, but it’s not.

This is not a place that works by the laws of physics I know.

The ice is growing thinner.

I stop and look down. For a moment I think it’s my own reflection, and I laugh at myself for being so scared of it. But then I see that it’s moving independently of me. Writhing under there, trying to break out, to get out—

In horror I begin to back away. Then a distorted screaming shape presses itself to the ice, and I see that it's a person.

A person! What's a person doing there? I begin to feel panicked. I’ve been skating, trying to escape this person, and the whole time they’ve been trapped down there, drowning! I want to smash the ice, to let them free, to pull them out, but it’s still too thick.

I start stamping on the ice, trying to shatter it with the blades of my skates. Both of us are banging on the ice, trying to break it from both sides, but it's still too thick, it won't even crack.

The cold has filled me, a tiring, dragging cold, pulling all my limbs down. Tired, I kneel down on the ice, hoping to get more leverage. Then I see the person's face.

Then I see. And know.

I stand up and skate away, fleeing the future. My future, the other side of a divide I am trying to run away from.

Night is falling, and the ice is weakening. I cannot see either shoreline; even the fog has disappeared into darkness. There are no more looming shapes, nothing at all but endless ice in every direction, and the ice is getting thinner.

It’s me under the ice, and I’m running, I’m skating as fast as I can, but I can’t outrun the fall of night, and I can’t outrun myself. Swimming after me, under the ice. Waiting for the moment when the ice cracks, when time meets itself again and the me that I am now becomes the me of the future, trapped in the dark water.

“Help me,” I try to call, but my voice has become weak and hoarse, and the cold is in me everywhere, and there’s no one to hear me call anyway.

The ice is melting in the cold and dark, the ice that needs the sun, because it’s the wall between me and the endless dark water and without the sun it’s melting, melting…

Beneath me the thin ice cracks, and I fall into the dark and the cold.

For a moment, as I fall, I see the one who was chasing me, the self below the water, embracing me. And then there’s just me, and I look up, and see another me above in the sunlight, above the ice, trying to skate away from me, to forget I am here.

Weighted down by my skates, I keep falling, falling, further down into the cold and black.

#52 project #surrealism #songfic #kate bush

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heavenlyrosegenius · 4 years ago

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Cat and Mouses

A/N: Set during Entropy

Abigail had everything she could have dreamed, a wonderful but stressful job, a wonderful father, an impressive intelligence, but the most perfect thing of her life was waking up to her genius husband and brainiac girlfriend.

Abigail stirred as light poured through the black curtains in the bedroom. She sighed quietly as she rolled over, opening her green eyes meeting blue-green eyes. She let out a quiet sleepy sigh, “Good morning Maeve.”

Maeve let out a smile looking down at her raven-haired girlfriend, “Good morning, Abbie.” Maeve ran a hand through her hair. Abigail only had allowed Maeve and Spencer to call Abbie, it was special between them. Abigail remained on her side, wanting to remain in the warm bed when she felt Maeve’s delicate fingers trace down her stomach.

“Abigail, the faster you wake up and get ready, you will see Spence, he was supposed to get home last night.”

“You are right, I forgot.” Abigail stood from the bed, making a gesture at Maeve to follow her.

After a streamy shower, Abigail stood in front of their vanity applying black eyeliner as Maeve’s arms wrapped her middle.

“You are so beautiful, how did Spencer and I get so lucky getting to be with you?” she breathed.

“My genius brain landed me in places where you two happened to be working.” Maeve let out a little chuckle in her ear. Abigail put the eyeliner down and turned giving Maeve a little peck before applying her dark lip gloss. She adjusted her choker in the mirror, it had been a gift from Spencer. Maeve took her hand into hers, walking down the stairs when Abigail caught the scent of pancakes in the air.

“Pancakes?” Maeve looked at her, realizing what that meant.

“Spencer is back.” Without a second word, Abigail and Maeve walked into the kitchen to see three plates of pancakes on the dining room table, and Spencer pouring two cups of coffee and a cup of tea sat on the table. Spencer heard the soft footsteps, causing him to turn. He let out a huge smile to see his two favorite girls in front of him.

“Good morning, sleepyheads.” he teased, opening his arms, Abigail ran into them quickly, he had been gone almost a month to visit his mother to help with her condition. Spencer’s strong arms picked up the small girl, holding her for a bit, placing a kiss on her head, as Maeve walked over, getting a kiss from the genius as well.

“Abbie really missed you,” she said with a light smile. Spencer placed Abigail down, keeping his arms around her as Maeve hugged her as well.

“I missed you both too so much.” Spencer pulled away, taking both of their hands leading them over to the breakfast he had prepared. He handed a cup of warm coffee to Maeve and a warm cup of earl tea to Abigail.

“Two warm beverages for two beautiful women.” Abigail out a small giggle, she had missed Spencer’s sweet compliments, they still made her blush to this day even if there had been together for five years and married for half a year. As they were finishing up breakfast, Spencer’s phone pinged.

“New case?” Abigail asked as he pulled it out.

“No, Morgan wants to see him since he heard I was back, and he wants you to come with me since he referred to you as small fry.” Abigail let out a small smile. Maeve took Abigail’s hand.

“You two, go. I can clean up before heading to the lab.” Abigail gave her a kiss.

“I love you,” she said and got down from the table grabbing her keys and her bag as Spencer was grabbing his satchel and their guns out of their safe. She felt him sliding it into her holster. “Thank you.” She blew a kiss to Maeve.

“Be careful saving lives. I will be saving them as well. Abigail drove them over to Morgan’s where Savannah let them inside. Abigail stood as Savannah and Spencer hugged, he looked so uncomfortable, he always had a thing about germs. Morgan and Spencer talked for a bit before Spencer got a text. A text that got Abigail sitting at a bar sipping a glass of water with lemon.

“Hi. Table for two for Spencer.” Abigail looked up from she was sitting, she had been texting Maeve for a little bit, letting her know they were okay and would be home safely tonight. Abigail watched as Spencer sat at the table, pulling a red rose out of his suit placing it into the table. A woman with short black hair approached him.

“Spencer?” she asked.

“Cat? Hi!”

“Hi. Hi.

“Hello. Hi. Hi. Nice to finally-- “ Cat tried to hug him.

“Oh--sorry, I have a-- a germ thing. Oh. I'm kind of weird with hu-hugs. Sorry.” Spencer stuttered out, he was truly awkward.

“Can I sit down?”

“Yes, please. Oh, yeah. Of course. Sit down.

“First time doing this?” Cat asked, sitting down.

“Yeah. I mean, yeah.”

“Yeah, I--I still get nervous, too. Really, it wasn't until an hour ago that I was like, wait, we've been trading emails back and forth, but I still have no idea what this guy looks like. Hence the... I know. And then I was like, wait, he's going to bring a red rose, so we need to go to a nicer place, which is why I switched the restaurant last-minute-- “

“Not a problem at all.

“And now I need to change and put something nice on for this place, 'cause I was totally underdressed, and my whole wardrobe makes me look like a Kardashian. You know who that is, do you?” Cat sighed.

“No, oh, yeah, Robert Kardashian. He got O.J. Simpson off. You--you don't look like his daughters.” Spencer said. Abigail out a quiet laugh at Spencer’s cluelessness, with him being married to a profiler and dating a geneticist, the three of them preferred enjoying a night at the opera instead.

“Yeah, no, I was making a joke about them,” Cat said plainly.

“No, it was good. It was a good joke.”

“No, it wasn't.”

“It was funny.” They both chuckled. “

“Can we start over? Hi, I'm Cat.”

“Hi--hi, I'm” Spencer let out a laugh -- I'm Spencer. It really is nice to meet you, in person, finally. It's nice to meet you.”

“Tell me a little bit about yourself. Do you really have 3 Ph.D.s?” Cat looked fascinated by the fact of it.

“Yes. Um, I--yeah, I do, I have 3 Ph.D.s.”

“What was your favorite book that you read last year?” Cat asked.

“Um, honestly, I've never read a book I didn't love,” Spencer admitted.

Cat switched the subject. “Tell me about your wife.”

“If you don't mind, I'd, uh, I'd rather not talk about her.”

Cat sighed, “Might as well get it out in the open, right? That's why we're here. How long have you been married? 4 years. When is she due to give birth?”

Spencer cleared his throat.“Uh...A couple of-- a couple of months. Should we talk about price now, or...”

Cat stopped him “Slow down, tiger. What exactly are we negotiating here? You know. I want to hear you say it.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “To have her killed.” Cat pointed at the ring on his finger.

“Let me see your ring. You know what that is? A noose. Only it doesn't kill you all at once. It kills you slowly, day by day. You ever feel that way? I feel that way all the time. Take it off.” Cat explained.

Spencer raised his eyebrow.“Why?”

“As a sign of your commitment. To me.” Abigail watched as Spencer slowly slid the ring off, the same one she had slid on his finger half a year ago, giving it to Cat.

“24-karat? 24k times... 4 years means this ring should be dinged and nicked. But the sucker is brand-new. You're not married.” Cat said. Abigail heard a click.

Hotch spoke into her ear. “Everyone hold, but Abigail. You need to help Reid outsmart her.” Abigail placed some money on the table for the water before walking over to Spencer.

“It is true, he is married,” she said, holding her hand to show her silver wedding ring.

“Who are you?” Cat demanded. Abigail slid in next to Spencer.

“Dr. Abigail Reid, hello Catherine.”

Cat sneered at her. “No, you are Abigail Smith, I have heard of you.”

Abigail chucked. “I was until I married a few months ago. Cat smirked at her.

“Why are we here, Spencer?”

“We're here because you belong to a network of 4 hitmen who've been operating in the shadows of the Internet. You're known as Miss .45. My team and I have been hunting for months, and I knew that if I boxed you in, I could arrest you with as little resistance as possible.” Spencer explained.

“Your team being the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI? You guys are good. You're the only ones that got close to us. But we got kind of close to you, too, didn't we?” Cat taunted. “Hi, Penelope. Do you know why I'm so good at my job?

“Because you kill without compunction or remorse.”

“That only gets a girl so far in life. No, it's because I think through every potential outcome and then I plan accordingly. You see, I didn't walk into your trap. You walked into mine.”

“Where's your head, Spencer?” Cat slid over to him. What are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about entropy.” Cat hummed at him. “It's the thermodynamic measure of the degradation of matter and energy in the universe.”

Cat slid over to him, taking his gun out of his holster as well as Abigail’s. “ To put it another way. There's your gun.”

A waiter came over. “Good evening.”

Hi, uh, you know what? We've been having so much fun getting to know one another, we'll let you know when we're ready, ok? Thank you.” Cat said with a sickenly sweet smile. “Now that we got that out of the way, will you do me a favor and tell Blondie McBlonderson over there at the bar to disappear.”

“JJ, stand down.” J.J got up pulling her fur jacket over her chest as she glared at Cat. “Thanks for playing, sweetie.”

“All right, you're in charge. Tell me what you want and I'll see if I can get it here for you.”

“Anything I want?” Cat questioned.

Abigail nodded her head. “Anything you want.”

“Like a million dollars in unmarked bills, maybe a plane to Aruba?”

“Is that what you want?”

Cat crossed her arms. “And you'll say you'll bring it here, but the real plan is to distract me from what is, I'm sure, an impressive law enforcement response just outside that door. Is that the plan?”

“That's the plan.”

“Ok, let's talk, but let's talk about something interesting, at least. Tell me about me.”

Abigail smirked at her as Spencer as he profiled Cat. “You? You're a black widow hitwoman. You specialize in seduction and you're patient. You learn everything you can about the men you're hired to kill, physically, psychologically, and emotionally, because you want them in as compromised a position as possible so they don't see it coming when you pull the trigger.”

“And when I do it really well, they pull the trigger themselves.” Cat held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what I want now. I want to play a game with you two. You like games?”

“I do,” Spencer said.

��Do you win?”

Abigail let out a little chuckle. “He always wins.

“Give it to me.” Spencer handed it to her, the timer was set for 30 minutes.

“Ok, here's my game. You have 30 minutes to answer every question I ask. And if you lie, I'll know. Because I've spent the past 10 years of my life studying men and their lies before I kill them. Do you believe me?

“I do.”

That was true. You're getting this. Now, here's how we'll know who wins at the end of 30 minutes. If you win, you'll drag me out of here in handcuffs. But if I win, you will escort me out like a gentleman, to make sure I exit safely. What do you say, Spencer? Think you can win this one?” Spencer gestured for Cat to lean forward, Abigail felt a blush on her cheeks.

“Considering everything you've put Garcia and so many people through, you're going to have to shoot me in the face before you walk out of here.”

“Game on.”

“What do you want to ask me?” Spencer asked.

“How you found me, of course. A professional learns from her mistakes.

“We got our big break in the case at the end of last year. I didn't learn how big until I came back from some time off.”

“Why'd you take time off?” Cat questioned. Abigail gulped, even she did not know why Spencer had taken time off besides going to see his mom at her hospital.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morgan came into the room. “Hey, get your greasy hands off my girl. Nice to have you home, kid.”

Spencer laughed.”Good to be back.

“Let me get my stuff.”

Savannah handed Spencer a file. “That thing you called about, here's some updated stats.”

“Stats? Stats from what” Morgan questioned.

“Medical research. Shop talk. Things you wouldn't be interested in.” Savannah explained. Morgan took Savannah in her arms. “Well, I can tell you what I am interested in, and that is you. You gonna love me forever?” Abigail looked away, their attraction for each other was romantic, but she preferred to keep it in private. Spencer’s phone pinged.

“Guys. Garcia and Hotch need us ASAP. for a briefing on the 4 hitmen.” Cat held a finger up.

“Stop"

“What?”

“You didn't tell me why you took time off.”

“It's not relevant,” Spencer said.

“That's not the game. The game is you answer every question I ask.” Cat explained.

“Is it a secret?” she asked.

Spencer shook her head.“No.”

“Is it dirty?”

Abigail sighed. No. I was not with him, and he would never cheat on me.”

“Then tell me,” Cat demanded.

“It's not important to your story. “

“Out of curiosity, is it me you don't want to tell or the people listening in or your sweet Abigail?

Abigail rolled her eyes, this girl was good, but she was better. “Is this really how you want to spend your 30 minutes?

“Yes. No. Ok, so you were saying you showed up for work that morning and...

“We learned that someone unexpected decided to talk.”

And who would that be?” Cat asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hotch pulled a man onto the board. “Brian Cochran from the NSA. I've placed him on 24/7 lockdown at USP Terre Haute. The network has proven that they can kill anyone, anywhere, anytime, and now that they've targeted Garcia, we can't afford to lose another lead. Cochran used one of the hitmen to target DEA supervisor Graff.

“But we can press him on that to get him to cooperate,” Morgan said.

“Well, fortunately, that won't be necessary. He had a breakdown in solitary confinement and he was already willing to make a deal.”

“We need to go talk to him.” Rossi stated.

“Garcia and I already did.”

“This is, we video-conferenced with him. He was limited in what he could tell us about the hit people. He didn't know their names, but he did know all of their areas of expertise.” Garcia explained.

“How specific do they get? Most successful hitmen are basically just Swiss army knives of murder. Spencer asked.

Well, take the O.G. hit guy who got us into this mess, Giuseppe Montolo. Remember him? He was a genius at making hits look like an accident. The others, depends what you're looking for. Take the guy that's still out there who's responsible for shooting poor Mr. Graff. He's known simply as the sniper. He can make a T-zone shot from over 2,000 meters.

Morgan looked at “Which means he's ex-military. Not necessarily ours, but he's definitely trained.

“So who's number two?” Tara asked.

That would be the chemist. He works with poison. He specializes in hits that don't leave a trace.”

“He sounds delightful,” Rossi said with sarcastic. What about number 3?

“Well, that would be the bomber.” Garcia pulled a picture on the screen According to Cochran, he's responsible for this. It's a chemical fire in Tianjin, China. Apparently, a bureaucrat didn't pay his bribe on time.

“You know that's conspiracy theory garbage.” J.J said.

“But what is credible is Cochran's insistence that he was trained by Mossad. Jack Garrett's following up on leads.” Hotch said.

“That leaves us with number 4, the one with the highest body count of them all.

Spencer peered his eyes. “And who's that?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Me.”:

“Yes.” Spencer nodded

“Wow, that was really impressive. Yeah, the way you just made all those brilliant deductions with all that information that was just handed to you on a silver platter. “

“Quick question--are you guys really profilers or are you just lucky? Because this, what I'm about to say--” Cat cleared her throat is profiling.

“The reason you took time off from work was to deal with the same girl who broke your heart.”

“No, Spencer and I are still happy together, very happy.”

“Then why do you wear two rings, both of them on your ring fingers,” Cat questioned, taking one of Abigail’s hands.

“It is none of your business.”

“The death of a parent, then.

“No.”

“Ah, hello, I'm getting close. It's mom or dad in the billiard room with the candlestick.” Spencer remained silent. “Oh, you're mad at me, aren't you?

“Not even a little bit.”

“Yes, you are, I can tell,” Cat said with a smirk.

“No offense, but you're not really worth getting angry at.”

“So you figured out what the 4 of us did, and then what?

“We profiled that you operated as spokes on a wheel. Somehow it had to be centralized, how you got jobs, who paid you. Somebody did all that for you.

“You found the Snowman, didn't you?” Cat questioned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer explained how they found the Snowman, their technical analyst.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm confused. What just happened there?

“When we arrested Cochran, we found a flash drive, one that gave us access to a specific shadow of the Darknet, one we didn't even know existed.”

“Well, well, well, you took the chemist and the sniper out of commission, huh?” Cat taunted.

“Did you know?” Abigail asked.

“ I knew something was off. They didn't bid on some contracts. And this isn't the kind of job where you get to take time off to be with your... Mother? she asked. Is it your mom? It's gotta be your mom. Why'd you take time off from the FBI?”

“I'm not gonna tell you.”

“Abigail, why did he take time off from the FBI?”

“You can ask us as many times as you want, and you can continue to waste your time, but he is still not gonna tell you.

“Then you're cheating, and I don't like cheaters. “

You don't get everything you want just because you're pointing a gun at me under a table. You're not the first killer to point a gun at me. You're not even the first woman to point a gun at me. Sorry.” He apologized, Cat wished she was the first woman to point a gun at him, but that belonged to the woman who they saved Maeve

“You're really gonna take this all the way, aren't you?”

“Yeah”

“So am I. Look at my face. Does it look like I'm bluffing?

“I know you're not bluffing.” Cat moved back over, grabbing at his tie. “I'm gonna ask you one more time. Before you say no, I want you to consider something.” She pulled his tie back pushing on the microphone.

“I'll kill the fed walking toward me first. A stationary target's easier to hit. After that, it's a free-fire zone.

“Fine, I'll tell you.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Cat teased.

“I'll tell you. Rossi, stand down.” He looked over his shoulder. “Please.” Spencer fixed his tie before continuing.

“My mom has schizophrenia, and the doctor has changed her medication, which seemed to agitate her, and so I went to the treatment center to help her.” He explained. Abigail looked a little surprised, she had not known she was getting bad, all she knew her medication was not working.

That's it? That's it.

“You just risked your life over mommy's pills?

“It's the truth.”

“It's part of the truth. You're holding something back. Here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna penalize you by adding 10 minutes. And keep in mind that the only reason you're not dead right now is because I did learn something important.

“Oh, really? What's that?” Abigail asked.

“Your backup. I flushed them out. It's just you, Abigail and me now.”

“So when we left off, the score was you had two of our guys and the Snowman. You must have thought you were home free.”

“No, if anything the case was harder.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon Spencer had been able to figure out how to lure out Cat. Abigail walked into the room as he was explaining his plan.

“I'm going to pretend to be a husband who wants his pregnant wife dead.”

Abigail placed her cup of water down. “Well, I'd want to kill you if you told me that.”

“Exactly. Then all we have to do is set the right meeting spot. A bar or a restaurant we control so the odds are better of us taking her alive. That's our best strategy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“But there is one flaw. You. You're the flaw. You're might be married but you don't have children.” Abigail let out a chuckle and placed a hand on her stomach.

“Wrong again, Catherine,” she said. Spencer looked at her in surprise, “Abigail you are not pregnant..” he put two and two together, “You were going to tell me after I got back.”

“Yes, Spencer, I found out shortly after you left, now keeping taunting her.

“I'm the person on my team who's the closest to your age, and I knew that if I lost control of the situation, you'd be more likely to negotiate with a peer.

“You have zero control here. None. I outflanked you from the beginning. “

“Some of your moves were pretty obvious. Spencer pointed out.”

“Such as?”

Such as showing up armed. Such as changing the venue at the last moment.

I needed a restaurant full of innocents in case this was a trap.

If you really suspected this was a trap, then why show up at all? Even when you first laid eyes on me, from the bar, from outside, from wherever you were, you should have seen through me and kept on moving, but you didn't. You couldn't. Because you can't get to the man you really want to hurt, so you need to hurt any man who reminds you of him. “

“That's kind of boilerplate psychology, isn't it? I'm just another girl with daddy issues.” Cat sighed.

“You'd be surprised how many killers do what they do because of their parents, but some of them use their skills to help others.

“Like me.” Abigail said.

“If it's so boilerplate, why don't we test that theory? How hard did you look for him?

“Very hard. “

“And how disappointed were you when you realized that you will never find him? You needed some other outlet for your rage, and for a while this worked, but it also tripped you up. Can I tell you a little secret? Everything eventually falls apart. The trick is accepting when it's over.” The stopwatch rang.

“Except it ain't over, is it?”

“Do you really think I'm just gonna let you walk out of here?

“You profiled so much about me, except you forgot to ask the most important question. Why would I make you sit here for 30 minutes?”

“Because you're stalling.”

Then you don't know me at all. Did you guys show up here without an escape plan? Or is that what just another girl with daddy issues do? Maybe if you hadn't fallen victim to your own gender bias, and, yes, all men have gender bias, even you, Dr. Reid, you would have recognized that your entire strategy was based on one faulty detail. Can you see it?” Cat taunted again.

“You're not here alone,” Abigail said.

And my partner? Less paranoid than you think.

You planted a bomb in the building. We're on the move.

“I didn't. My job was to keep your entire team focused on us, so he could do what he does best.” Cat said.

“There are innocent people here.

Yes, there are. So let me remind you what we're playing for. Not only will I walk out of here, but you will make sure I leave safely. And from where I'm sitting... It looks like I've won.

“You need to pay attention to this part. I'm going to tell you the terms of my victory. I want you to move all of your backup away from this building. If I walk out of here and I see one cop, I will incinerate us all.

“We can't do that.”

Cat started to say his name. “Spencer--

“It's not me. What you're asking takes time.”

“This is to whoever's in charge. Unless you guys want to be responsible for the biggest FBI disaster since Waco, you will back off now. Watch this.

“There they go. All we want to do-- Minimize the collateral damage. I get it. I'm not mad. It'll give me the cover I need to slip out. I just need to know it's clear, so do me a favor and tell your boss that nobody leaves until it's safe for me to. Spencer remained quiet.

“Spencer...”

“You can leave.” Cat stood up, grabbing her jacket and bag, but for Abigail this was not over.

“But you won't.” Abigail said,

“I'm sorry?”

Double or nothing. You need to sit back down.

“Wow, now you're stalling.” Cat pursed.

“You played your trump card, but we have one, too.” Abigail explained. Cat was not buying it. “Thanks for dinner. I had fun.

“ I found your father.

“No, you didn't.

Look at my face. Am I bluffing? I'll tell you where he is. But you need to sit back down and listen to the rest of my story. No. Tell me now. Or I'll-- detonate the bomb?

“You're not gonna do that, Cat, because then you won't learn anything. You said you were good at your job because you think through every outcome. Well, guess what-- so do I.” Cat sat back down.

“All right. Finish the story.”

“ To prepare for this dinner, I had to learn everything about you, starting with your real name.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abigail was going undercover for this case, she had changed into a black lace dress with fishnet tights and black heeled boots. Meave had called her when she had finished getting ready.

“Hi, sweet girl.” she breathed.

“Hi, Abbie. I wanted to see how much longer my favorite boy and girl will be working on the case.” Maeve’s soft voice said on the line.

“We will be home tonight, I get to be a little sneaky tonight.”

“Oh, define sneaky.”

“Let’s just say I’m wearing your favorite dress on me.”

“The lace one?” Maeve asked.

“Yes, You will see it tonight when Spence and I are home, I have to go. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Catherine Adams. Daughter of Daniel Adams, who did in fact leave the country in 1987 but returned in 2012. Based on confidential records in rehabs and sober living houses, which in turned pointed us to flophouses and soup kitchens. He couldn't put 24 hours together sober. And you can probably imagine my surprise when I discovered that he actually lives right here in D.C.

“Where?” Abigail could sense they had a hit a nerve.

“It's not that simple. He was in bad shape when I found him.

“He didn't remember me?”

“ The alcoholism shredded his brain. I'm sorry.

“You're not sorry. Sorry is what people say when they don't understand. Cat had tears in her eyes. “Wait. Your mother--tell me.

“ Is--is this part of the game?”

“No. The game's over.”

“When I looked at her medical chart, it--it didn't make any sense. The medication that they gave her should have been helping, but I couldn't figure out what was making her so angry. So, I, uh, I went to see her. The moment I walked in her room, I saw it. Spencer had some tears in his eyes. “For 3 seconds... She didn't know who I was. I, um, I had her tested that morning, and I found out that night... That she had early onset of dementia. Most likely Alzheimer's.” Spencer explained. Abigail took his hand under the table, he had not told her this information.

“Did you test yourself? Spencer looked down, he bit his lip. No, you didn't. You were too scared.”

“I thought I dodged a bullet when I turned 30 and didn't have a schizophrenic break like her, but, uh, this is somehow bigger and scarier because I can actually see it happening. All the memories that we used to share are just dying. I can't stop it. I can't help her. All I can do is find people that I can help.

“Is that really why you showed up tonight? To help me? Do you know how many men have told me that they wanted to help me? How do you think that worked out for them?” Cat taunted with her questions.

“You're right. You don't need my help. You don't need anyone's help. You are completely in control.” Morgan grabbed a girl in a blue dress. Abigail suddenly felt a hard grab and a gun was pointed at her head.

“Oh, Cat, you aren’t the first woman to hold me hostage and I’m not the first woman in Spencer’s life to be held hostage either.

“Don't!” Cat yelled.

“FBI. Everybody stay calm, please. “

Tara had the bomber in her tight grip .“We're gonna be smart about this and talk it out. Aren't we, Cat?

“That's up to you.

“Get everyone out of here,” Spencer said. “Morgan, you, too. I'm not going anywhere. “

“Guess we're right back where we started. You and me with a gun.” Cat said.

“Reid, it's time,” Morgan said.

“No. “

We don't have a choice. We have to do it. “

“Do what?” Cat asked, holding the gun closer to Abigail’s head.

“ Morgan, shut up.”

“There's one thing he hasn't told you yet. “

“That's not true. He's lying. Don't listen to him.” Spencer protested

“What haven't you told me?”

“Nothing. I told you--nothing! Nothing!” Spencer said.

“What don't I know?” We brought your father here.

Spencer sighed “Here? He's here?

“He's right outside. Reid thought he needed every bargaining chip he could get.

“Morgan, I'm begging you, don't. Don't.” Spencer pleaded.

“Every bargaining chip he could get to convince you to do the right thing. “

“How is this the right thing?” Cat asked.

“Your father killed your mother. And there's no statute of limitations on murder, so you really need to think about your options right now. You shoot her, I will kill you. Or if you surrender, you will live to testify against your father.” Morgan explained.

“That's not good enough.”

“We can arrange it for the two of you to drive into custody together, and then you can remind him of who you are.”

Spencer sighed. “If you give her this, she wins. Don't do it.”

“Kid, I am trying to save Abigail’s life. Now let me do that. They're bringing him in right now.”

“You're really upset about this, aren't you?

“This is what you wanted, isn't it, a chance to finally hurt the man who deserves it?

“They all deserve it.

“He deserves it the most.” Morgan said.

“Only if Spencer and Abigail escort me out.

“Deal.”

“Wait. Ok, I'm ready.” SWAT opened the back of the truck, revealing the empty back.

“You lied to me,” Cat said, as Spencer handcuffed her onto the chair.

“If it makes you feel any better, I really-- I did look for him. But...I couldn't find him, so, yeah, I did make it all up.” Spencer admitted.

“Not all of it. You don't pull a story about a parent losing her memory out of nowhere. Your mother and the Alzheimer's, that's true. And Abigail, you wouldn’t lie being pregnant especially everything you have gone through I won.”

“How so?”

Because I will get out of here.

Abigail laughed. “Yeah, in 20 years, maybe, if you're lucky.”

“Yeah, that's fine. You know why? Because in 20 years... I'll remember your name, but you won't remember mine.” Cat taunted. Spencer got out of the truck, leaving Abigail.

“He will remember your name thanks to me and well Maeve.”

“Maeve, who is Maeve?” Cat demanded, trying to grab at Abigail.

“She is the reason I wear the second ring, and like Spencer said, people like you do what they do because of their parents, and he is right, I am one of those cases, my stepmother is the reason why I became a profiler,” Abigail said and started to walk out of the truck.

“That is why, I know you, Abigail, but one day you will cross a line and never return.” Cat screamed. Abigail walked over to Spencer, they had gone back to Morgan’s to celebrate. She was texting them that they would be home soon.

“Abigail, are you really pregnant?” Spencer asked when they were alone, walking outside of a local park.

“Yes, Maeve noticed the signs so I got tested,” she said, feeling the soft lips of Spencer on hers. The familiar ones that were always chapped from him constantly licking him when focusing on a case or reading.

“Let’s go home.” He said softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abigail laid on the bed, a blanket pulled over her, her hair flowing around, she felt a small hand rest on her stomach.

“Are you okay?” Maeve asked, looking at her.

“Yes, Maeve, I am, I am just blissful in everything, especially taking down Cat Adams.” she breathed then laughed feeling arms wrapped around as the bed dipped next to her.

“We both did, little one, but you were clever.” Spencer chuckled.

Abigail giggled, looking in Spencer’s hazel eyes.

“She learned not to play a cat and mouse game with Dr. Abigail Reid,” she said with a laugh.

“Yes, Spencer and I have learned you are a brilliant young woman.” Maeve breathed and kissed the top of her head. Abigail sighed, she really did have a perfect life, well until Cat Adams came back.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x maeve donovan #spencer reid x maeve donovan x oc #criminal minds #original character #original female character #spencer reid x oc #maeve donovan

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ysalamiri-queen · 5 years ago

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2019 Fic in Review

Inspired by @myevilmouse I’m going to sum up all the writing I’ve been up to the past year. I’m really proud of what I’ve accomplished, and thanks to you all for the encouragement to put my ideas out into the world! This has been a year of trying new things, and really growing as an author I feel… And wow according to AO3 I’ve written about 400k words in the past 12 months, damn. So let’s get to the list, going from the beginning of the year to the end, and as always please heed the tags on these before reading.

Note: As I go back, I’m realizing a lot of the links were messed up or are just straight missing. I am on the Mobile App so things can get messy. Please visit my works page on AO3 HERE to see all of these on my page under JessKo and my other pseuds.

1 Late Night at the Slab

Idea: Filling a prompt for the Thryce server in which some, uh, unique Chiss anatomy was assigned.

Result: A 3-way with Thrawn, Arihnda, and Eli and my first foray into the more Xeno side of things in a Modern AU setting. Yeehaw!

2 The Trouble With Free-Roaming Ysalamiri

Idea: Based on some adorable ysalamiri cuddles art by @strength-through-order I wanted to write some Thranto fluff.

Result: Ysalamiri-filled Thranto fluff X’D

3 Inquisitor’s Debt

Idea: What if the Grand Inquisitor changed sides at the end of Rebels season 1?

Result: Some fun throwbacks with Obi-Wan and Caleb Dume leading up to Quizzy defecting with Ezra.

4 Ancient Stems

Idea: Eli Week drabbles based on the Vanto Week prompts.

Result: A silly buzz droid narrative with Thrawn and some cute slice of life Eli backstory/Ascendancy days bits.

5 Charnsuka

Idea: Kinky stuff with Lord Garmadon when he’s an Anacondrai.

Result: Kinky stuff with Lord Garmadon when he’s an Anacondrai. Sorry Zane!

6 Caged Like Prized Birds

Idea: Again inspired by the awesome Chiss anatomy and Thrux drawings by @strength-through-order , I wanted to craft a narrative around Armitage, as a young man, stumbling upon a clone of Thrawn.

Result: Man, this might just be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, had so much fun plotting it out and the smut is mmm! Tentacles everywhere~ I’ve gone back to re-read this a lot, I’ll admit it. I hope you all enjoyed it too.

7 Quiet On Set

Idea: Must. Write. Talos.

Result: A cute little platonic x-reader with everyone’s favorite Skrull. This was my first MCU fic too.

8 Diagnostic

Idea: Wanted to apologize to Zane for the damages done in Charnsuka with some Glacier shipping fluff.

Result: A silly glacier thing leading to a bit of foolery. I’m happy with it!

9 Heron Soaring

Idea: A continuation of the plot line from Heron Rising with Kanan and Thrawn.

Result: Too many feels… but some great sex to soften the blow, Kanera too!

10 Patron

Idea: Responding to a tumblr prompt from @wukeskywalker regarding Thrawn commissioning LOADS of artworks of Eli.

Result: More Thranto fluff! I see a trend here…

11 Black Heron

Idea: Kanan x Pryce for @myevilmouse , I think this was our first ‘collaboration’ on something!

Result: Juahir hires a special someone to show Arihnda a good time!

12 Red Heron

Idea: @star-wars-rebels-4 is always an amazing wealth of ideas for Grand Inquisitor, and encouraged a work featuring him and Kanan.

Result: Delicious back alley smut when an undercover Jedi is caught!

13 Warm Homecoming

Idea: Give my and a friend's OCs some cute fluff.

Result: OC fluff and a vacation to Hoth!

14 sowing the seeds

Idea: Add something cute to the spank war project.

Result: Another contender for my ‘favorite thing I’ve ever written’ rank. Two chapters of pining, cooking lessons, and sweet slick smut.

15 Red Frost

Idea: After watching “The Evil of Frankenstein” with @sneakybunyip ‘s amazing movie night group, I wanted to do something fun with Victor and Hans.

Result: A fun little adventure fic with some huddling for warmth to boot. Victor and Hans are the hammer-horror-verse Thranto send tweet.

16 a setting sun to hide the ruins

Idea: What if I tortured Kanan to the point he turned evil and joined the Inquisitors (and went a little insane in the process)

Result: Instead of torture, let’s just use some serum that drives him mad. Perfect. Smut ahoy, pretty much a dead dove type fic.

17 Pinktown

Idea: When browsing abandoned towns in Florida, I came across Flamingo… what if Thrawn had been exiled here instead.

Result: An alternate history of Thrawn’s exile and eventual discovery by the Empire. Huge thanks for @badgerandk on this one for the perfect epilogue and beta.

18 the sun rises to only illuminate the stranger i have become

Idea: Setting sun… part 2! But it’s actually what happens before sun?

Result: How Kanan ended up where he is for ‘a setting sun’... lots of imp smut and again, it's sort of a dead dove style fic.

19 Frozen Over

Idea: Ar’alani x Eli Vanto

Result: Somehow me and my writing partner ended up at sensory deprivation focus on this one.

20 Shape of Honor

Idea: Well, this one started in 2018 but ‘finished’ in 2019. Still working on the epilogue. Lots of tweaks… If you are not familiar, this is my AU in which it explores how the Thrawn novel and Rebels show would be altered if Palpatine distrusted Thrawn from their first meeting and accused him of being a Chiss spy. Vaguely inspired by the film The Shape of Water.

Result: Well it's nearly a novel now, isn’t it. This was a great adventure in learning how to create compelling story arcs. I’m extremely satisfied with how it is shaping (lol) up.

21 Datura Stamonium

Idea: Thrawnbine ovi smut.

Result: Oops it has plot now, a whole backstory with Eli and such and so fourth. Will need further stories told…

22 Desert Entropy

Idea: Luke/Wedge modern AU shenanigans.

Result: Also pulled Nath/Wyl and the Rogue Squad/Alphabet Squad peeps into this. Set in Vegas, Luke and Wedge meet and have a cute little romance, but some legal troubles set them back (Palpatine, as always, is That Bitch™) Very happy ending!

23 The Great Eli and Thrawn Prank War

Idea: See Chapter 1: Mullet Thrawn

Result: This thing really grew up, and thanks to all the contributors for allowing me to join in! My contributions were: 7-Bombs Away! In which a bit of drama brews and Thrawn makes a paint bomb that forces him and Eli back into being roomates. 11-Tooka Troube 2: Electric Boogaloo in which Eli finds his quarters slowly filling up with Tooka plush toys, and then something huge goes off in supply. 17-The Bitch is Back In which who knew Thrawn could sing?!

24 Clipped Wings to Keep Us from Flying

Idea: Continuing the story line from Caged Like Prized Birds

Result: Dragging Eli and the OG Thrawn into this, seeing that their stories were left untold in the first work. Also Armitage and the clone are up to all sorts of cool things. Still a WIP, on the list to keep working on this year!

25 I’ll do what I can.

Idea: Some Ronan/Krennic feels post Treason

Result: A Ronan character study that I really needed to get out of my system and finally a stable alliance between Krennic and Thrawn!

26 Purple Heron

Idea: @punk--kenobi and I concocted some fun Kanan/Zeb/Hera smut featuring Lasat heat cycles.

Result: Ah this came out so cool, full of emotion and wonderful imagery. Massive kudos to @punk--kenobi for beta-ing my portion and contributing some of the best smut one can find!

27 Ninjago Angst Week 2019

Idea: Do some 1-shots for Ninjago Angst Week

Result: ow right in the feels. Each character got a highlight in their own ‘dark retelling of a canon or canon adjacent event’ chapter.

28 Vertigo

Idea: Thing’s don’t go right planetside for Eli, Pik, and Waffle in Treason.

Result: Big oof. I hope Eli can one day forgive me… I even put strain on the end game Thranto! Bittersweet ending and lots of angst.

29 More Than Just a Treat

Idea: What is Obi Wan up to in the desert…

Result: Aunt Beau and baby Luke baked him cookies obviously!

30 Datura Metel

Idea: Continuing the Datura cycle…

Result: Just how Eli ended up where he did in the first installation.

31 Here & Now

Idea: Some Thranto Fluff! For @jewelliffer

Result: A camping trip for shore leave! And a marriage proposal for extra sugar.

32 Monster Under the Bed

Idea: Benevolent Boogeyman Chiss

Result: Modern AU Thranto spooky sillies. Bit of an intense climax but they talk it out!

33 Haunted by Sentiment

Idea: Nath is in denial of being the Squad Dad for @glassprowlers

Result: Nath’s very bad no good oh so terrible day! It's very silly and I really like how it ended up, the title is way more serious than the story itself XD

34 Pulse

Idea: Werewolf AU Lavashipping

Result: Oops Kai is a werewolf! Good thing Cole is here to help him figure out how to press on.

35 Stories from Area 51

Idea: remember the raid Area 51 meme? I do! Gotta clap them alien cheeks!

Result: Oh no it got PLOTTY! Pretty much all of my favorite characters and ships cherry-picked and plopped down into a Men In Black style facility in the middle of the desert. I really have a thing for the desert huh…

36 Good Day

Idea: The “truth” behind the “Good day, Lieutenant Vanto” from Thrawn in Treason.

Result: Oh stars the FEELS! Thrawn is in deep water and he KNOWS IT! GAH!

37 Fur Ball

Idea: Chiss are mogwai/gremlins…

Result: Silly Thranto fluff. Thrass shows up too! Feeding them after midnight is actually a good idea here… Grow your own ideal man!

38 Came Back Haunted

Idea: A mission fic centered around the @peters-pumpkin-day prompts.

Result: Ice planet survival with Tarkin, Krennic, Galen, and Ronan.

39 Sewn Together

Idea: This drawing actually is what lead to the fic-

Result: A fairly unique reuniting of Thrawn and Eli after both return to the Ascendancy.

40 Spiked Heron

Idea: Oh no… Kanan gets himself in deep poodoo this time.

Result: Devaronians really like humans huh? The next chapter is half way written I swear it is coming soon!

41 A Colder Embrace

Idea: Thrawn/Purrgil/Ezra and Luke/Wampa for SW Rare Pairs.

Result: It's very cold on Hoth… and even colder in space.

42 Surround

Idea: Luke/Wedge for SW Rare Pairs

Result: Luke has to confront Wedge post ESB regarding what is, essentially, his deserting the Rebels.

43 What Happens Planetside…

Idea: Eli/Pik/Waffle for SW Rare Pairs

Result: heheh a scrumptious Eli sandwich! And surprise tentacles because, well, why not?

44 Hesperidium

Idea: Fluffy Kylux for the Kylux Secret Santa event

Result: Ah its so sweet you might get a cavity

45 Reanimator

Idea: Lovecraftian eldritch horror Thranto

Result: This is the sort of project that it takes 2 months to fine tune each chapter, so bear with me, but I can promise a wonderful, creepy ride is ahead!

46 Floral

Idea: Luke/Faro for SW Rare Pairs. Enjoy the Jedi lovin’, @myevilmouse

Result: Sex pollen and accidentally defecting from the Empire. Whoops!

47 The Harch

Idea: Bouncing off of THIS art by @mamidlo , we worked together to create this plot. Very much inspired by the Hammer Horror films, such as Dracula and Frankenstein.

Result: A fun and spooky romp of Kallus and Zeb getting trapped in a creepy castle featuring mind controlled drones and a species-obsessed Harch. This was my first time posting the entire story at once, too!

Wow, I can not believe how much has been written this year. Thank you all again for reading and kudos-ing and your amazing comments. I’d not be here without the support and love <3 Cheers to 2020 and much more fic ahead!

#ysalamiri-queen writes #year in review #too many tags XD so im not even goign to try

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bifacialler · 5 years ago

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👀

Hehe, okay, this was supposed to be a comic from the Demon!Barbara AU that you can... probably find in the art tag, and it was supposed to be a convo between Walter and Barbara, in which Strickler, that one principality who was once supposed to look over monks (the history recording ones), ask Barbara, the demon of progress, how she fell. Here is the script, called tentatively “The Walk-Out”.

S: So… how did you fall?

B: I didn’t. I sort of… walked out.

B: …now that I think about it, I did the first even union strike. I should add it to my record.

S: That would mean that… you disagreed with the policy.

B: Oh, I disagreed the hell out of that policy.

B: Do you know what kind of stuff I was in charge of making during the creation?

B: I made Black Holes.

S: …you worked on something that dissolved the the very thing we were making.

B: Not dissolved. Moved. Everything has its natural finite point. The entropy of the universe is life itself, and without it there is no change, no growth. Nothing should exist in a constant, otherwise we are faced with nothing but stagnation. I just helped it move along a little.

B: This is what I always did. Sometimes I just had to get inventive about it.

S: That sounds almost noble. I doubt your management supports that.

D: Please. My side is many things, but they are really not very good at long-term planning. They try. But it goes about as well as you think, if you remember how the Up- or shall I say Down-rising went.

S: Disastrously?

B: That would be a word to describe it. But at least they did something.

S: And so did you.

B: Later. After the fall but before the apple thing. I actually suggested it. There was a pie chart involved. Very fancy.

S: So your disagreement was about the apple?

B: Yes, it was about the flipping apple! We made all these things, we made whole worlds, moving, growing. And for what? For two creatures actually capable of exploring and studying and marvelling in those creations to just sit on their asses in one garden doing jack? If that doesn’t sound like a complete waste of everyone’s time, I don’t know what is. And which ever ass though that putting that tree right there in the middle, that’s just adding an insult to the injury.

B: So yeah, as I told HER, if SHE thinks I will sit, just like the rest of them, and watch paint dry, she is wrong.

S: Was SHE upset with you?

B: I don’t know. SHE didn’t say anything. Or maybe I didn’t hear over the sound slamming the gates behind myself on the way out to find an organisation that would appreciate my ideas.

S: Did it work out?

B: You are a scholar. You tell me.

S: It’s… fascinating to observe. All of it. The good and the bad.

B: As all life should be.

In other news, Demon!Barbara invented both the Fidget Spinner and the Suffragette movement, and I can’t even begin to describe how bored she was during the Dark Ages. Also, she still “works” as a doctor, except she just miracles sick people to health while muttering medical mumbo-jumbo because she can’t be arsed and writes it down as “facilitating bad habits in mortals”.

#trollhunters #Overcoming Adversity AU #ler draws #wip meme #this is now I write comic scripts btw #babblish

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alexanderlightweight · 5 years ago

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Serendipity

(Part of the Roswell New Mexico Week 2019)

Prompt: If I could do it all over again

His ship isn’t alive, not quite. It’s not completely sentient or at least he doesn’t think it is. Michael’s not sure about anything at this point, least of all the console that hums like music in his head. Entropy and quiet until all he can hear is a voice that sounds like a song asking him, “would you live twice, the same life but different?”

“If I could do it all over again, could I change things?” Michael asked, too tired to bother hiding the desperation in his voice. “Could I fix things? Could I save the people I love?” His voice trailed off but his eyes begged, the question ‘could I make it so the people I loved stayed with me?’

“You could,” the voice replied. “Anything is possible, the power I wield, the power we would use together. It can both form and destroy worlds.”

“Then yes,” Michael said. Something close to hope forming in his chest, “I would do it again, as many times as I had to. Anything to make it different, to make it better.”

The console remained silent but he could still feel the steady echo of it in his mind, “you wouldn’t have to go alone. Together we have enough energy. I will not be the same then, too fragmented and alone for too long. Until we meet again, you could have help. I can send two back.”

Michael’s whole body lit up, mind weaving scenarios as he grappled with who to take. Who did he trust to do what needed to be done, who actually had the skills to have his back, to…. His mind blanked, his thoughts at war with each other.

“How far back can we go?”

“A decade of these human years, possibly a little more but that is as far as my energy will go right now.”

A decade, god but he wanted to take Isobel, he desperately needed her to be the one to have his back. She couldn’t be though, the time they’d be going back too would be at the height of Noah messing with her brain and Noah was strong, strong enough that he’d notice her brain changing and strengthening. They couldn’t afford to tip him off without a plan and Isobel would also want to tell Max everything, a Max who he was still close to but a Max who made the rules and hadn’t matured enough to realize they needed to work together.

Isobel also lacked the skills he needed most, skills that only one person he knew had. The one person he’d desperately wanted a clean slate, a new beginning to which they could start over with.

Michael cursed under his breath and his hand reached out, a bottle of acetone flying to him and he swallowed it greedily. He needed to numb himself, to tear away the emotional side of him that begged to take Isobel or Liz, anyone but Alex.

This could destroy him. The possibility of having everything he wanted with Alex was being dangled in front of him and he couldn’t take it. It would be selfish, to take that hope and make it a reality. He needed Captain Manes. He needed the Alex Manes who could hack into domestic and foreign military and government servers the way other people played solitaire.

He needed an Alex Manes who could look Jesse Manes and feel nothing but disgust. Most of all, Michael needed an Alex who knew how to make sure the Caulfield massacre never happened again. He was too selfish and selfless to pick anyone else.

Once again life screwed them over, ensuring that he and Alex couldn’t have each other, no matter how badly they wanted to.

“Can you safely send a human back?” Michael asked, knowing he sounded unhinged and beyond caring. “Can you swear to me on who and what I am to you,” -he still didn’t know why he was so important- “that it won’t harm Alex. That sending him back will be safe for him?”

“Yes.”

“I need to talk to him then,” Michael reached for his phone, “I’ll have him come over. He will if it’s important.” Michael tried not to think about the fact that they’d barely spoken about anything other than work and saving Max and hunting down other possible branches of Project Shepherd in months.

“I can reach him from here. He is who you are most connected to on this planet, in all of the universe. You bond will protect him. There is no need to ask questions to which you are unsure of the answer.”

“I can’t just tear him apart from this time and this world without asking!” Michael froze, suddenly realizing what he was doing. He and Isobel had sworn to each other after Max had died, he couldn’t break that promise. They had promised not to make choices for each other, or do anything drastic without letting the other know.

“I will take that burden on myself. I merely needed to know your willingness and who to send with you. You will be protected now, this new world will be better. You will make it so.”

The peace in his mind vanished and he shook his head, mouth forming the words ‘wait’ even as the console flashed and it was as though every star in the galaxy imploded. A stunning ethereal light before it faded into darkness, flashes of memories flitting through his brain like pulses of electricity.

He remembered a ship, moving through space, being cradled by warm arms and then the comforting embrace of his pod.

Then, he woke up.

His first thought was one of confusion. The air was dry and dusty, his tongue numb with a lingering hint of acetone at the back of his throat and his eyes heavy with an exhaustion that didn’t quite make sense. He rolled over on his bed, uncomfortable and strangely hard only to hit his head again metal.

Michael started up with a fit of flailing arms, panic making his breath come in and out in short heaving little gasps as he looked around. He was in the middle of the desert, parked under a rising sun and curled in the back of his truck. A lumpy pillow and blankets the bed and home he’d made for himself when he’d had nothing else, remnants of a life he hadn’t lived in almost he hadn’t slept on in almost a decade.

“Fuck,” he muttered and brought his hands up to scrub at an unscruffed and soft cheek, “oh fuck.” His hands, both completely intact and even the one that Max had healed -the one that had ached with pain and that would seize up unexpectedly as though it were still injured- it felt whole again. Complete in a way that Max’s healing could never have made it.

His hand shook.

“I’m going to have very strong words with my ship when they’re rebuilt,” he muttered under his breath and if he weren’t already an alien, he might have thought this whole experience was an acetone induced nightmare. As he rubbed at the muscles in his left hand, his mind wandered to Alex. If he was already awake. How he was dealing with this and if the ship had been true in it’s promise that Alex would be safe. As he stretched out the joints in each of his unbroken fingers, he idly wondered how Alex was handling having his leg back.

The world crashed around him and Michael froze.

Despite the unfamilitary of a body a decade too young, Michael tore out of his truck-bed, ignoring the need for shoes and slammed the hatch before hauling himself into the cab. In an instant he was driving, a manic gleam to his eyes and his heart beating a terrified staccato in his chest.

While the ship might have been honest in it’s promise not to harm Alex, even the ship couldn’t control how Alex handled the shock of both time travel and waking up with a limb he’d only just gotten used to missing. Especially since Alex would have had no warning prior to waking up in his childhood- Michael swore, fervently. Almost worse than either of those, he suddenly realized that not only would Alex be unprepared for either of the two events but that he was also waking up in his father’s house. The thought of Alex, stuck under Jesse Mane’s roof in a body completely different to the one he’d had a decade down the road, made him press harder on the gas pedal.

He just had to hope that at the end of the day, after he found Alex and explained to him what had happened, that Alex would still help him out. Even if nothing else came of this new chance, he knew that he couldn't fix the future without Alex on his side.

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