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charliemwrites · 7 months

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Hello, hello! Per ceilidh's request - a Soap x Reader ficlet from the prompt thingy.

#11 "You tricked me."

I was heavily inspired by that tiktok sound (iykyk)

Rating: M CW/TW: brief/vague torture, threat of SA (doesn't happen), manipulation, dark!Soap

Being a medium in the military isn’t that much different from being a medium anywhere else.

The rules are roughly the same. Don’t talk to ghosts in living company. Don’t join idiotic 2am summoning circles. Try to help the ones you can; try not to lose sleep over the ones you can’t.

Oddly, there aren’t as many ghosts on a base as any given suburban house. Depends on the base, of course, but a reassuring number of former-military souls continue to their final rest. Even if their bodies (or parts of it) don’t make it back, tags and a symbolic burial usually suffice.

The 141’s main base only has a handful. A few you’ve already gotten closure for, sent off into the beyond. The others you’re working on, or already know they’re a lost cause. Most of them are even friendly!

There’s a corporal that haunts the mess and laments mashed potatoes. A captain appears in Price’s office occasionally, his residual energy glaring down at reports and rustling at phantom papers. On the range, you sometimes speak to the ghost of a prostitute murdered by some piece of shite back in ye olde times. She doesn’t talk back – can’t with a crushed windpipe – but she smiles when you have the privacy to acknowledge her.

Your favorite, though, is Johnny. He’s a comparatively new spirit, by your estimate. Lots of energy, still coherent. You can’t tell how he died by looking at him, but that’s not unusual. It could have been internal bleeding, or a stroke despite his youth. He won’t tell you his last name despite all your asking, always just laughs.

“Yer no’ gettin’ rid o’ me tha easily!”

He always lays the Scottish accent on in a thick velvet blanket. You want to wrap yourself up in it.

Yes, the rules for being a medium are the same, even on a military base. The main one: don’t get haunted by feelings.

That was never a concern, never even a thought, until Johnny. Until you caught his eye around Price’s shoulder during your introductory tour. He followed you for hours, interjecting little asides that put your selective hearing to the test. Always orbited just close enough to send chills down your spine and goosebumps up your arm.

You confronted him when you’d finally been dismissed back to your barrack, whirling around as he popped his mohawked head through the door. Despite yourself, you made quick friends with him.

He’s an unusual ghost. Doesn’t seem tied to a particular place or thing on base. Isn’t trapped along the same paths he walked in life. He’s always solid or near solid, doesn’t waver at certain times of day. You’re utterly charmed by his unorthodoxy, by his miraculous non-existence. And by the fact that, while he knows your secret – as all spirits do – he seems more intrigued than solicitous.

It's not that you blame other ghosts – the coherent ones – for wanting help. It’s torturous to toe that line, not alive but not at peace. Stuck and dwindling little by little. You can’t imagine what it feels like, but you can sense from some that it’s frightening, and cold. No, you’re not bothered that they ask for help. Or with the ones that are just angry; they have every reason to be.

Johnny, though… he’s special. You don’t feel so alone with him, even if the room looks like it to an outsider.

“Oh, aye, that’s pure dead brilliant. You know they’re sending you to Russia?”

You flick Johnny a glance. He’s leaning over Price’s shoulder, peering at the briefing docket that’s actively being explained. You don’t mind the extra or early info. Saved your ass a couple times before.

Your lack of response ruffles his feathers though. He stalks through the table to Gaz, flicks his pen right off the surface. You snort softly as he curses under his breath and ducks to retrieve it, trying not to interrupt Price. You make eye contact with Johnny, blink and minutely shake your head. He can see the twitching at the corners of your mouth anyway.

He smirks and wades through solid objects back to you. His presence looms behind your shoulder, an uneasy flicker at the edge of your consciousness. Like this he seems bigger, inhuman beyond ghostliness. Rougher and darker in the corner of your vision. You’ve done a double-take and gotten teased for skittishness enough times by now to quell the urge to check. It’s always just Johnny.

You’re paired with your lieutenant, Ghost. He’ll be watching with his sniper while you’re on infil. Usually, you’re paired with Gaz, but he and Roach will be at the other end of the compound taking out a target.

When the team is dismissed, Ghost only pauses long enough to give you a nod before skulking off. Not unusual for him; you take no offense. Johnny, however, is scowling something fierce after him.

For whatever reason, he’s never been a fan of your LT. The one time you asked, the lights started flickering and Johnny dismissed the question with a sharp “just don’t like him.”

You suspect that it’s because Ghost was your mentor when you joined the 141. The two of you spent the majority of your time together, training you up to run with the rest of the squad. Due to his constant proximity, your ability to respond to Johnny was greatly hindered.

Still is with how observant Ghost is. Have almost blown your cover several times and had to really watch yourself, and your reactions. You think Johnny might resent him for that.

Back in your barrack, though, Johnny happily chatters while you gear up for the mission. Base gossip and bits of intel he shouldn’t know and shouldn’t tell you. It’s standard ritual for you two; he likes to talk, and you’re accustomed to listening. You hum in the right places, storing tidbits away for your own amusement later.

A playful tug to your bitch-strap makes you yelp, then laugh when you catch Johnny’s grin. He does it again, loosening one of the buckles on your thigh. You swat him uselessly, retightening it only for him to pluck at your bootlaces while you’re occupied. He’s got so much energy, for a ghost. So adept at interacting with the physical world.

“Quit it!” you giggle, trying to dodge his darting hands.

“Why should I?” he chuckles. You curse as he gets a finger in your harness and jerks, misaligning it with the rest of your gear.

“I’ll banish you,” you lie, wriggling various straps back into place.

“Oh, sweet girl, it would take a lot more than you’ve got to get rid of me now.”

It’s an odd turn of phrase for him, but it’s the tone that draws your gaze. There’s an unfamiliar, inky darkness in his voice that pools in the pit of your stomach. You frown, open your mouth to ask what he means. But just like that, his electric smile is back, eyebrows arching as he nods to your bedside clock.

“You’re gonna be late.”

“Shit!” You snatch up your backpack and fling it across your shoulders. “I’m gonna kill you, Johnny!”

“Can’t kill something that isn’t alive,” he cackles as you sweep out the door.

You make it the transport just short of reprimand, though that doesn’t stop Ghost from narrowing his eyes as you duck into your seat. Gaz has already started a lively conversation with Roach, and Price is staying back this time.

You miss Johnny already. He may not be trapped in any particular part of the base, but he can’t come with you on missions or leave. The spaces where he’s absent feel colder and quieter. Everything seems just a bit… off. A song missing an instrument, a rainbow lacking one color.

You’re not sure when that started happening, when Johnny became such a vital part of how you perceive the rest of the world. When did longing for him become a chronic illness?

“Focus up!” Ghost barks in your ear.

You blink, shake your head, and take stock bewildered. Gone is the transport and the rest of your team. It’s just you now, hidden behind a generator, presumably about to infiltrate the target.

How?

When you try to recall, you have vague recollections of exiting the transport. Hiking to the compound. Splitting off with a few parting words amongst the lot of you. It feels watery at the edges, more of a vivid dream than a waking memory.

“Yessir.” It jumps instinctively from your tongue while you flex your cold fingers, trying to coax the nerves back to life.

You take a deep breath – lungs aching like you’ve held your breath too long – and continue with the mission. There’s no room for error now, or idle daydreams of noncorporeal men with wicked smiles.

The building is only three stories and you’re not meant to clear it. Just get to the server room, collect the information, and slip away with minimal enemy contact.

Maybe that’s why you don’t realize that something is wrong at first. You’re supposed to be avoiding guards, so you don’t notice the lack of them. Things do go right, sometimes, the intel can be good.

But it’s the quiet the finally prickles at your awareness. You may be more attuned to the dead, but you have a sense for the living as well. Always made you the worst to play hide and seek with. Now, you can feel that this building is vacant, deprived of any souls.

“LT, something is wrong,” you whisper, frozen mid-step.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s too quiet.”

To his credit, he doesn’t dismiss you immediately. “How?”

“I think the building is empty. Have you seen anyone?”

“Negative.” A pause as he considers, maybe scans the other windows for signs of occupation. “Sit tight, I’ll update Price.”

There’s barely a heartbeat before you hear distant gunfire. Too much and too soon for the plan. Roach and Gaz weren’t supposed to neutralize the target until you were collecting intel.

“Fuck,” Ghost snarls. “Get out of there!”

You’re already sprinting for the stairwell. Nearly pop your ankles leaping down, boot treads catching on the edge of steps. No one is chasing you, but your team needs help. Gaz is shouting in your ear, the channels reconnected for ease of communication. The situation is devolving quickly and violently.

“Almost there,” you report.

Your foot hits the last landing before the ground floor when the building explodes.

---

It takes three tries to get your vision focused. There’s not much to see once you do. A concrete room tinted by bare yellow halogen. There’s a drain in the floor just in front of you and old blood dried in the corners. It smells like rust, infection, and despair. Your head pounds; your entire body aches. Being tied to a metal chair doesn’t help the post-explosion soreness.

You’ve been stripped down to your fatigues, no boots. There isn’t a door in any of the three walls you can see, so it must be positioned behind you.

Confirmation comes about a minute later. Three sets of boots entering your little box. Only one of them walks into your line of sight; a mean-looking man with face tattoos and a gold tooth. He asks if you speak Russian, and though you do, you spew a string of English profanities and threats at him. The backhand you get in return says he understood you.

The questions start as soon as he switches to English. They want information; they always do. What you had been sent to collect and why. Who Roach and Gaz were sent for and why. You don’t speak a word. Even when the pain starts, and then doesn’t stop. You lose track of time, the head injury floating you on the edge of consciousness within the first thirty minutes.

Hours – days? – later, the man takes a step back, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“It’s alright,” he tells you, “I like taking my time, and we have plenty. Your friends think you are dead.”

That, you think through the haze, is probably true. You thought you were dead too.

“Perhaps next time we try something… else,” he muses, running a finger down your neck. “You are not as pretty now, but… prettier than you will be later, da?”

Ice forms in the pit of your stomach and climbs up your spine. It was always on the table, you know that, but facing it is something else.

Whatever expression you’re making seems to satisfy him, because he laughs heartily and finally leaves you alone.

Alone, with the promise of his next visit looming.

You squeeze your eyes shut. There’s a dripping sound nearby that you realize, vaguely, is your own blood. Maybe you’ll bleed out before he comes back. You time your breaths with it, using it as a count to get your wild and unsteady heart under control.

Reality washes over you in waves. There is no escape. Your team thinks you’re dead. Eventually, you will break and/or die. You might even become a ghost, join the collective that darkens the edges of this very room, a thing of pain and fear and rage without any coherency or singular will.

You didn’t even give Johnny a proper goodbye.

That somehow hurts the worst. Johnny, hearing second-hand that you’ll never make it back. No one to mourn with him, to offer any comfort. He’ll be alone with grief and then beyond, no one to tell his jokes or stories to.

You miss him more fiercely than you ever have. Part of you is glad he isn’t here. You know him, know he’d be too stubborn to leave you. He’d stay and watch, helpless, as you were tortured and killed. It would tear you apart to do that to him even though it wouldn’t be your own choice.

But… an awful, selfish part of you longs for him. Even just being able to see or hear him would soften the pain and fear. Would make this hell on earth almost bearable. You want to leave this world with Johnny whispering in your ear, maybe even join him when your body finally goes cold.

Given the choice, you would want him here.

You want Johnny. No, you need him. Regret ever leaving him behind, even though he couldn’t come with you. You’d do anything to change that now; anything to be with him again.

Anything?

It’s an unbidden thought, almost intrusive. Doesn’t even feel like yourself asking.

“Anything,” you whisper aloud, just to hear something other than your own despair. “Johnny…”

“You called?”

You jolt, head snapping up so fast it makes you dizzy. The world spins but he’s there, right there, crouching in front of you, arms balanced on his knees.

“Johnny?” you whisper.

Were you closer to the brink than you thought? Is this some sort of final hallucination as you slip into death?

“In the flesh.” He tilts his head, snorts. “Well, in a manner.”

“How…?” you ask, eyes already stinging.

“Told ya, you called. I’d never – hey, now, hey. No need for all that,” he soothes. He wipes the tears from your face. You can feel the warmth in his fingers. “This is a happy occasion.”

You huff in watery amusement, shaking your head. “Did you lose your glasses when you died? I wouldn’t call this celebration-worthy.”

His eyes scan over you, flicker dark. “It will be, don’t you worry.”

You blink, try to focus. Exhaustion and injury and chemical rush are making it difficult, but you know things are off. He shouldn’t be here, least of all because you called. And… something else too. Something in the way he’s holding his shoulders and the twitching around his expression.

“Johnny, really,” you say, “why are you here?”

“You offered me anything, and I’m here to collect.”

Between one blink and the next, his eyes are black. Pitch black, from corner to corner. You suck in a breath, try to jerk back but there’s nowhere to go.

His grin is sharp enough to cut yourself on.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” he sighs.

He leans in, lips parting. His tongue rolls out, long and split at the tip. Licks a luxurious, burning trail from your chin to your temple. You make a sound borne of confused pleasure and fear, high in the back of your throat.

He shushes you, plants a slow kiss at the corner of your mouth. “My brave little lass, finally offering herself to the demon she’s been courting.”

The word bounces against the walls of your cell and burrows into your brain. Demon, demon, demon.

Johnny is…

“You tricked me,” you sob.

He cocks his head, onyx eyes soft with avarice. “Tricked you? No, angel, I’m saving you.”

His hands pet over the cruel ties around your ankles. The itch of them digging into your skin falls away. Gentle thumbs rub circles over the imprints the left behind. Hope and relief pounds hard in your chest.

“I’m only taking what you so willingly and enthusiastically offered,” he explains in hushed awe. Like you’ve given him such a wonderful gift, the greatest gift. Suppose you have.

“I’m going to take such good care of you,” he croons. His arms wrap around you, almost like a hug. His fingertips trace down your bruised arms to the cuffs biting your wrists. Those too fall away, and you find yourself reaching for him so quickly, folding into his chest, free of that wretched chair.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs, a hand curling into blood and sweat soaked tangles.

“It… it is you, right?” you ask. “You’re my Johnny?”

“Always, angel,” he replies, “it’s always been me. I will always be yours. All you have to do is say yes.”

You tilt your head back, catch the wicked curve of fangs as he speaks. He smells like heat and woodsmoke.

“Yes to what?” you ask.

“To everything,” he answers, deep and rough. “You offered anything, and I want all of you.”

You should say no, you should throw yourself away from him.

There is not an inch of your mind or body that wants to leave the safety of his arms. This is Johnny, your Johnny, hellfire and all.

“And… in return,” you venture, “I get… you?”

“Eternally.”

Then it really doesn’t need much more thought.

“Yes. Please.”

“Good girl.”

#my writing #fanfiction #john soap mactavish #reader fic #cod #writing prompts #demon!soap #soap x reader

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halfbakedspuds · 1 month

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OC in fifteen

Thanks for the tag @illarian-rambling! This'll be fun to do.

Rules: pick fifteen or less quotes that ideally capture the essence of a character. Add a little beat of action or context if required

For this, I'm going to use Maire Aitkin from Echoes of Shadows because that WIP needs more love, and she's my favourite character to write.

If A' couldnae see shite, 'twould still be brigh'er than this fecking tunnel.

Johan. A' thought ye knew tha' blood belongs inside of th'body?

Holy Bozhe, lord o' heav'n and ward'n o' the nine hells, what th'fuck is tha'!? (First time seeing a demon)

With ye lot 'tis always, "Oh Maire, A' done screwed it, aye? Be a dearie an' heal me up, would'ya?" Well what if A' need healin' an' A'm tae burnt out tae patch m'self up? Already lost an eye an' a leg tae tha', thankya kindly. If ye ain't already dyin' or a hinderance in your current state, wrap it up an' walk it off.

Well A'm so bloody sorry tha' ye blitherin' fecks bleed out faster than A' can plug th'holes.

Oh, so terrifyin', A'm a-quakin' in my wee boots! Oh wha'ever shall A' - have fun breathin', jackass (Said while collapsing a cultists lungs with magic)

People forget tha' us bioworkers are incredibly aware o' ev'ry wee movement people 'round us make. Ev'ry time Johan sees ye, his muscles relax, an' he feels more comfortable - in all fairness, he feels more comfortable 'round all o' us - but A' find it curious that his heartrate also picks up a wee bit only when it's you he sees. And e'en more curious that yours does th'exact same thing when ye see him.

Wow, right fascinatin' story, mate. Hey, A've heard tha' th'Green Rooves are wonderful this time o' year. (Said the first time she hears Johan and Anastasia discussing demons. 'Green Rooves' is Ost-Rietland slang for a mental institution)

Ha! Ye think this is cold? Go spend a month in Northern Rostov. Nae, e'en better, go spend a month in th'Angeheim wilderness. Then ye can talk 'bout the cold.

Always wanted tae go sightseein' in Genesh. A' probly wouldnae survive a day in th'desert but A' always wanted tae go. Maybe Neureich would be a good place tae visit, too, but wha's really over there anyways? Thirteen bombed out cities 'long th'coastal forest followed by Bozhe knows how many miles o' e'en more desert? Nae, thanks, A'll stick tae ma books.

Righ' then, hands up an' arses on the ground, this is a robbery! We're nae here tae rob any o' you's tho', so dinnae try bein' no hero 'till we have wha' we came for.

A' sometimes hate that A' can feel everything yer body does. A' can feel yer desire tae throttle me an' now A' have tae ask m'self wha' A' said that could've warranted it. Why d'ya force me tae introspect an' grow as a person? How dare ye? (Said with the express purpose of annoying the hell out of an already livid Hans)

Pffff-fucken, sacred hells, when last did anyone clean this place up a bit, 'tis rank! Hey ghosts! Open a window from time tae time, a wee breeze is good for th'soul. Or... souls, in this case.

Rostovan is such an easy language, though. Just get drunk, shove half a potato down yer throat an' make whatever noises come tae mind. Bob's yer uncle!

Shut it, or next time A' put ye back tae-gether, A'll leave an earing in yer colon.

Open tag for whomever wants it

#writer tag #oc in fifteen #writeblr #writing #fiction #wip #Echoes of Shadows

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bluejaybytes · 2 months

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@snowshinobi Hiiiii :3 I'm responding to your tags on a new post and not the original since the original was already somewhat lengthy, and I plan on being LONG and RAMBLY, but I have sooo many thoughts on what you said and I'm going to say them. Also my browser crashed TWICE (TWO TIMES. 2) when trying to write this post so I'm really fighting for my life out here to get my silly little OC posts done. Also it's under the cut because it's looooong as hell LMAO

Firstly, you're so nice to me forever <3 Secondly, I think you've basically hit the nail on the head. The majority of the issues Maggie has coming back from death and her 9 years gone are really tied almost exclusively to her close family, because she... never really had anyone else. While in-universe it's only 9 years, realistically the jump in technology and culture is around ~20-30 years (Maggie died in the 90s/early 2000s essentially, and wakes up in a just barely futuristic city), but... the most jarring thing to her in terms of what she missed out on is just. Flipphones are no longer popular. Other than her family, she's only close with one other person... who just so happens to be a ghost, and therefore both 1. Wouldn't change much over the timespan due to how long she's been a ghost and 2. Unlike her family, was aware that something happened, since she could see the ghost-of-a-ghost Maggie left behind (The ghosts name is Opal, she positions herself as a sort of "guardian angel" figure, though she's not actually, and serves as just another parental figure for Maggie while also getting after the ghosts that constantly harass her to pass on messages to the living). Maggie has no real relationships outside of her family, and while her relationships with her family are massively impacted by her unknowing death, other than that... the timeskip itself doesn't weigh on her because she had no one regardless. Her struggle to adjust to everything thats happened would've happened regardless of the timeskip for her, because she was such an isolated shut-in that it's the same whether it happened the next day, or nearly a full decade later

So another very interesting thing is that you've actually completely seen where I was going with everything, in spite of everything I said being very surface level and not actually delving into the plot at all. I completely skimmed over Jenna (She's very important to the plot, but she's by in large a regular person as opposed to Maggie's... everything), but for some additional context, Jenna has a horrendously shitty homelife, so her moving in with Maggie is both a gradual process (It goes from spending time there, to spending nights, to eventually just never going back home and moving in fully), and also serves as an escape for her. Part of that is also, so vitally, the food aspect. For some additional additional context, souls essentially serve as a persons lifeforce, practically every bodily function is improved by a soul that's stronger, though the "strength" of a soul is essentially entirely random, and not dependent on the individuals actions of any kind. Maggie had a generally weird soul before (Seeing ghosts inherently means she has to have something going on with her soul), but when she wakes up after her death, her soul is now even weirder, and part of that is that it essentially lets her get away with bad habits she absolutely should be seeing more consequences for. She barely eats, and when she does, it's basically exclusively crackers and whatever other safe foods she has around the house, because actually making food is a level of care and effort she just... doesn't give to herself in the slightest. Part of Jenna staying with her is that Jenna, without really discussing it, entirely takes up the mantle of caretaker of the apartment, with the biggest task being food prep, Jenna sees Maggie's unwillingness to take care of herself and silently steps up and starts making her actual meals so she's eating properly.

The problem is is that this also kinda... just straight up sucks? Jenna doesn't think much of it, it's something that needed to be done so she's doing it, she wants Maggie to be well fed even if she won't do it herself, and she's already been responsible for making all of her own meals for years prior anyways, so it's just another thing she does. Except that's shitty! Maggie's seen firsthand how terrible her homelife is, and it really weighs on her how even in her escape from that, Jenna's still being put in a position where she feels like she must care for her or else she just won't eat properly. So food is such a massively important thing to both of them, it's this symbol of love for both of them, it's love on the part of Jenna, for stepping in and taking care of Maggie when she can't do it herself, and it's love on the part of Maggie, for realizing how her own bad habits impact the people she cares about and wanting to lift that weight by taking care of herself better. It's also very vital for Maggie because she just... doesn't... have hobbies. Learning how to cook becomes really her only hobby and she puts all of her love and care into it, because for the first time in a long while she's actually passionate about something! ...Unfortunately she also is very very bad at it. She's inventing new dishes like "Burnt Salad" and "Please Help I Fucked Up Kraft Mac N Cheese" and still having to have Jenna come in and help her. But it's the thought that counts, and it'll only be a matter of time before she can make something vaguely edible.

And finally, the stuff about names! I didn't post it here, but while idly talking about her in a Discord server I'm in, I definitely think that had I made Maggie like even a few months later than I would've done she would've been nonbinary. As it stands right now though, I'm saying she's probably some form of genderweird but too busy trying not to die to think about it <3 Growing up knowing that ghosts are real and routinely being shut down by authority figures in her life about it has made her very aware of how bullshit a lot of things are and how the people who claim to be knowledgeable tend to not know what they're talking about (Beyond just the "people don't think ghosts are real", she's also got ghosts willing to tell her when people are lying because they've got nothing better to do than just gossip) , so if she spent even just a moment thinking about gender as a social construct she'd instantly recognize that and probably take up some form of genderweird label, but as it stands she's just too stressed with Being The Protagonist to think about that

Now, the thing with Margaret. I'm not even going to lie to you, I think you made a better connection to how a name connects with community in terms of the narrative themes than I did. The thing with Margaret denying the name "Maggie" existed for two reasons, the in-universe explanation is that, with the little scrap of soul Margaret has leftover from Maggie, it's essentially working overtime just to keep her vitals working, it can't dedicate time and energy to making her an individual with preferences and a personality, so part of that is that she doesn't respond to "Maggie" because ultimately, that is not her name. Her name is Margaret and she's not going to respond to "Maggie" because "Maggie" isn't her name. Of course, out of universe the reasoning is that I wanted an easy way to distinguish between Maggie as she is the protagonist, and the version of her that lived in the years she was gone, so different names makes the most sense.

I think your connection to how name relates to community genuinely works on a level I hadn't fully pieced together myself yet and I really love that because I think that absolutely works with everything. One of the main conflicts of the plot is how Maggie is entirely disconnected from her family thanks to the years she was gone, with Margaret having no priorities beyond "survive", she basically never spoke with her parents or brother for years. While her family tried to reach out to her repeatedly (Especially given that, while they're unaware the truth of what happened the night Maggie was murdered, they do know something happened, and they believe that whatever it was severely traumatized her, and that's where the sudden and drastic shift in personality came from), there's a point where they just... gave up. She wasn't trying to talk with them or contact them in the slightest, so around a year or two after Margaret moved out, her parents gave up on her. Her brother would still be there a bit, but he also didn't really... try... anymore.

When Maggie wakes up, she tries to call her parents... and they don't pick up. They'd grown resentful over the years, and now that Maggie wants to talk to them, they don't forgive her for the years of not speaking to them, and aren't interested in whatever she has to say after nearly a decade of trying to reconnect with her and being met with nothing. It's her insistence that she wants to be called Maggie that actually gets her brother to realize she's telling the truth and that something happened. She shows up at his door, already something that Margaret wouldn't have done, and that combined with her being visibly upset when he calls her Margaret and tells him that's not her and that she's Maggie, it signals to him that whatever's going on is real (...though he would've figured this out eventually, given that she also literally 17 again and not in her mid-20s, and has a giant glowing stab wound in her chest). I think it works absolutely perfectly as being a symbol of community, her disconnect from her community is what led to her being called Margaret, and her desperation to be returned to that community is when she's Maggie again. So uh. Congrats on getting the themes of my OCs better than I did <3

And uhhhh closing thoughts! I honestly did still skim over the majority of the plot (Literally never even mentioned Eli or what's going on with her stab wound </3), but I think you reeeeally hit the nail on the head with everything I'm kinda getting at with these OCs, which is... frankly wild given how little main plot I actually got at. Basically everything I mentioned in my original post was the setup, not the main plot. But waaaaugh thank you for being so niceys to me and also giving me another excuse to ramble endlessly <3

#my OCs #uhhh MAGGIE FUN FACTS:#Animals can tell when a soul is weird so she has a colony of stray cats that hang around her apartment door #she doesnt even LIKE animals that much (She barely takes care of HERSELF shes not taking care of any animals.)#but they all like her weirdass soul and keep hanging around because of it #When the plot ends she gives one of the stray cats to her parents as a 'sorry i died' gift #The cats name is Marge- named by Jenna and also specifically its 'Marge' said in a Simpsons impression. any Simpson #It's Jennas FAVORITE cat out of the strays bc she says she looks like Maggie. also Marge is a male cat #Neither Jenna nor Maggie know how to tell the difference between a male and female cat reliably so they assume Marge is female- hes not #Also Eli's the closest to the 'main antagonist' the story gets. hes an old coworker of Margarets and basically her only friend #and Maggie's too scared with her whole 'is actively dying' thing and doesnt know how to tell him 'hey im not your friend- she died'#ELI thinks that Margaret is essentially have some sort of extreme mental breakdown and is trying to get her help bc he cares about her-#-unaware that Maggie is essentially a different person and doesnt know him #anyways uhhhh Maggie attempts to beat him to death with her laptop once. sorry Eli. luckily shes 17 and scrawny as fuck-#-so he's able to throw her off of him but its still. BAD #Maggie's got INSANE insomnia for a large variety of reasons- and falls asleep on the floor one night while on her laptop #Eli- having gotten off work late and going to check on Margaret- who hasnt shown up to work in weeks and isnt answering her phone #-spots Maggie passed out on the floor and assumes shes having some sort of medical emergency #Margaret had left her spare keys at work which he'd grabbed- so he lets himself in to get her to a hospital #Only for Maggie to wake up. With a strange man in her apartment in the middle of the night. Wuh Oh !#THIS time however- when she's home alone (shes not alone Jenna's asleep in the other room) and she spots a stranger in her house-#-she ends up with a fight reaction and NOT freeze <3 #also her full name is Margaret Elisabeth Newell and her brothers name is Hawke #one of the very few times i will give my OC a full name- and entirely bc my friend suggested her last name LMAO #also she believes in bigfoot. GHOSTS are real and theyre WAY less believable than 'big ape' so she fully believes it #Opal keeps trying to tell her no that ones ACTUALLY not real and shes like uh huh. sure. ill believe it when i see it

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captainderyn · 11 months

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OC Tag Game

Ehehehe thank you for the tag @tiredassmage <3

Favorite OC:

Oh man...oh how can you ask me to choose my favorite? In all honesty it kind of rotates depending on what game I'm fixated on that most that day/week/month lol. The usual havers-of-my-fixation are Five, Ryn, and Raenor & Wulfwryn (they come as a pair, fight me).

(But, just between you and me goers-of-tumblr, Five and Raenor are pretty tied :P)

Newest OC: I'm not going to count my Ryder from ME:A because I haven't introduced her here yet, so I'd say Roslynd. I wanted to create her in theory for awhile but then I got bit by the agent bug thanks to @tiredassmage and finally actually created her!

Oldest OC (length of time you've had them): As far as some form of their existence in the source material, probably Wulfwryn. I created her waaay back in...oh man...2011/12 when my Lord of the Rings hyperfixation was really sparked. Though I was an early middle schooler at that point, so naturally Wulfwryn was a thirtheenth walker insert and also far less developed and nuanced its a good thing I didn't post in the internet

However, in any iteration, probably Emeldir and Wren. They've been two of my longest standing OC concepts that have kind of bounced from universe to universe from old RP forums, to LOTR, to SWTOR. Though they're very, very different now. Emeldir used to be a wolf shape-shifter and Wren used to be far less of a WLW boss ass bitch.

Emeldir is my oldest SWTOR OC though, he was my first character way back in 20...uh...2015/16 when I first picked the game up.

Meanest OC: See, I'm really bad at making mean characters so I'm not sure xD Wren is probably the one who gives the least fucks and is more likely to put you in your place. She is a Dark Counselor after all, she's got to have an edge to her to succeed.

Softest OC: Raenor my bby boy (affectionate, that's a whole ass 500+ year old elven man). He is absolutely my softest OC who gets dragged into The Plot. He just wants to love Wulfwryn and create his music but instead Things Keep Happening.

Most Aloof/Standoffish: *trying to card through all my OCs, I have too many, especially Dragon Age ones I haven't talked about in awhile). I would say Five, only because that's how he is with basically everyone except Roslynd, Era, and his junior agents in the Cipher Division.

Dumbest (affectionate): This one probably goes to Ien, but I haven't talked about Ien in awhile he's fallen off the radar :') my idiot freckled blueberry smuggler. He's dumb as rocks (by choice).

For OCs I talk about regularly(ish) that has to go to Emeldir. He very book smart, but very young and naive at the start of the class story and very much NOT what you expect from a smuggler's personality and so many times Risha has to keep him from getting scammed because "NO they aren't being nice, they will take your money, no they don't actually need your help."

Smartest OC: Five and/or Ryn no contest. Five is smart as a whip, he needs to be and he's very logic-minded.

Horniest OC: *sigh* V. This woman cannot stop being horny for Judy even when we have plot to do. She's singularly minded, that one.

Ryn is also surprisingly horny but neither she nor I understand why she's attracted to turians, if she's actually attracted to turians at all, or if Garrus just Got Her With That Voice And Personality and the rest just kind of happens. So let me correct myself, she's *VERY* horny for Garrus, I just rarely write it because I don't understand physically why.

OC You'd Bang: *bisexual panic* Ha..ahaha...quite a few of them. Let's see, Five I accidentally projected My Type Of Man onto so definitely him. And also Ryn...very much Ryn, I mean *c'mon* yes Shepard hold me in your buff arms.

OC You'd Be Best Friends With IRL: Probably Emeldir ngl, he's so nice and chill and really just a quiet guy and by proxy that means I get a token extrovert friend in Rielay. I would love to be friends with Era but I definitely feel like she'd be way cooler than I am IRL.

Tagging... @storyknitter @queen-scribbles and @greyias if you'd like to join!

#captainderyn memes #me with my many ocs but only a small handful that ever come out of the toybox

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starrysence · 5 years

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#i feel like fuckign shit physically and emotionalky hggsfsgs Nice.#i feel so horible because i love all of my friends in herw so so so dearly but ive distanced myaelf out of fear and anxiety bc i have #no timw to write #like i relly rwlaly rewllly wanted to catch yp with my rwquests this summer and i was finally feeling slme motivation but then .#shit happened #like its been a fun summer i just feel so bad tha ti havent been able to put content out for you giys #and i miss everyone on hwre so dearly and i feel like garbage for not talkingt o you all as much or interacting with yall in yeneral #esp jellybean fizz juls matt em n probably sk many more people #im soery i cant reemmber everyone right now im tired and i have to go to bed soon #but please kjow i love and miss u all so so so much and it would mean thw worls if u could talk to me #im cryknf fuck fickbfuck #omay goodnight #love uu #sanj speaks #rant tag

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sage-writing · 3 years

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Desire // Andy Barber

Dark!Andy Barber x female reader; (Frank Adler x female reader)

Summary: You're trying to move on after your breakup with Andy. But he has other plans.

Word count: ~5k

Warnings: +18 ONLY, dark story, mention of break-up, non-con, explicit language, stalking/obsession, coercion, angst, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), vaginal sex, non con drugging [Read at your own risk. DO NOT read if you don’t feel comfortable with these topics]

A/N: I FINALLY managed to finish my contribution for the 2021 Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge proudly presented by the amazing @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 ❤️ Thank you so much for hosting this challenge. I hope you both had a wonderful birthday month and were spoiled with lots of hoe-tastic stories.

Prompts used: Andy Barber (+ Frank Adler); “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you”; “You’ll be lucky if you can sit for a week by the time I’m done with you”; Obsession/ Stalker.

Dividers are mine, you can use them but please tag me if you do.

as always I am not an English native speaker so there will be probably some errors. Feedback is always appreciated ❤ Now enjoy!

Your friend Beth turned away from the bar, thrust a freshly tapped beer into your hand, and led you to a free bar table at the corner of the room. It was the first time you'd been out among people in months.

In your last relationship, there hadn't been much time for friends or other activities. Your boyfriend had preferred to have you to himself. He had made sure of that in a manipulative way. For that, you were all the more grateful that Beth had been by your side when you'd had enough strength to cut ties with him.

"Cheers! Here's to our girls' night out." Beth toasted your beer glasses with exaggerated vigor, and you struggled to balance the glass again so as not to spill. "Relax, we've got all evening to down this drink and many more to come," you joked with a laugh.

"Absolutely, you still owe me a lot of tequila, you and I haven't been out in ages," Beth replied. Even though you knew she meant no harm, her true words hit you. You had really neglected your friends and for a man who wasn't willing to put you above his work.

Beth purposefully changed the subject and showed you photos of the new interior on a boat she had designed for a client. The evening passed and together you emptied many more beers and shots.

After you returned from a quick trip to the restroom, a man stood next to Beth and seemed to be talking animatedly with her. Tentatively you approached the two, trying not to disturb their conversation. Beth didn't hesitate for a second, however, and introduced him to you.

"Oh, this is Frank. Frank Adler. We've met a few times at work. He fixed one of the boats I was supposed to redecorate for a client."

You introduced yourself to him as well and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you," you said as you eyed him intently. He looked really handsome. "The pleasure is all mine," he replied, holding your hand a little too long.

You must have had a confused look on your face, which Frank noticed and then laughed sheepishly, letting go of your hand. "Do you want to join us, maybe?" Beth nudged you with her elbow to elicit your consent and you nodded in response. It was obvious Beth was planning to set you two up, her expression said it all.

"I would love to," Frank replied, settling into a vacant chair. "Something to celebrate?" he asked, looking at the empty glasses that had gathered in front of you.

"I start a new job on Monday. Same company, but a new position with more responsibility. That also means I'm moving from part-time back to full-time." Frank raised his glass and waited for you to follow suit. "Well, to your new job then! Cheers!"

Beth inquired about Mary, Frank's niece, whose legal guardian he had become after her mother, his sister, died, as Frank explained for you. His smile was wide as he spoke about her, and though you barely knew him, you knew immediately that he loved her dearly.

Your eyes abruptly focused on something, no someone, who seemed to be walking through the pub in the background. Before you could confirm your suspicions, the person had already disappeared.

Was that him?! If so, it would hardly be a coincidence. He wasn't the type to spend a Friday night in a pub. But probably your brain was just trying to play a nasty trick on you and you had mistaken someone else for him.

Pushing your negative thoughts aside, you turned back to Frank and Beth and tried to follow the conversation again. However, although you did your best, your thoughts were restless and you felt increasingly watched.

Beth's brow furrowed. "Are you okay?" she murmured to you.

"Um, yeah. I've had a long week and I think I'd rather go home." She nodded and asked if she should accompany you, but you declined gratefully and called an Uber on your phone.

As you said goodbye to her and Frank, you almost missed the slightly disappointed look in his eyes. You couldn't dwell on that now.

Waiting outside by the street, you shuffled from one foot to the other. Partly to keep your body warm, but also because you still felt unsafe. Fortunately, the Uber driver arrived quickly, a young man who greeted you in a friendly manner and made an overall harmless impression. Before you sat down in the back seat, you looked around. The street was completely empty. There was no one to be seen. The only sounds that reached your ears were those of the guests in the pub. The car drove off and disappeared into the night.

After about half an hour, the driver stopped in front of your house. You thanked him and walked briskly towards your front door. In the sparse light you had to fumble for a while until the key slipped into the lock.

The door popped open after less than a turn. You had locked the door, hadn't you?! Maybe you had just forgotten. You walked down the hall towards the stairs but stopped when you realized that someone was sitting on the sofa in the living room. You knew this person. Exhaling in annoyance, you almost hit the light switch and the room abruptly brightened.

"Andy. What the hell are you doing here!" He sat there motionless. His dark suit was a bit rumpled, even his tie hung loose and untidy around his neck. In his hand he held a glass of whiskey. He looked tired and worn out.

Slowly, you walked closer to him. "Andy? Are you listening to me?" Sipping his drink, he looked around the room.

"After all, it didn't take you long to remove all traces of our love from our home."

A sarcastic laugh came from you in response. "We've been separated for months. Why should I still keep anything here that reminds me of you."

As you spoke, you could see Andy clutching the glass tighter and his knuckles standing out white.

"Besides, this isn't our house. It's mine. You don't live here anymore."

Andy jumped up from the couch and slammed the glass against the wall to your left, where it shattered with a loud crash. The shards scattered on the floor and the alcohol left a damp stain on the wallpaper.

Startled, you jerked back a step, though you didn't want to show Andy your fear. This wasn't the first time he'd raged like this. During your relationship, he had rarely controlled his anger. He had never been violent toward you. His way of maintaining control was different.

"We didn't break up. You. You broke up with me. Just threw our future in the trash like it was nothing." He spat the words out like they were poison, braced his hands on his hips, and glared at you piercingly.

"Do you really think I would just give up on you? Just let you make the biggest mistake of your life?"

You took another step toward him, ready for a confrontation. "Fine, I just broke up with you. But you know exactly why I did that. And if I'm right, you still haven't changed your behavior. Tell me the truth. Are you stalking me? Did you follow me tonight?"

Andy's silence was answer enough. You had been right after all.

Anger boiled up inside you and your voice almost began to roll over. "I can't believe this. Get out of my house. I fucking mean it. If you don't get out of here right now, I'm calling the police."

"Oh sweetheart, do that if you want." Slowly, but purposefully, he circled the table and walked toward you.

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest. You knew you'd better keep your mouth shut now. Provoking Andy would only make him angrier.

As he stood in front of you, he gently put his hands on your shoulders. "But you know very well that I have friends in the police. Your charges against me would come to nothing."

His massive hands kneaded your shoulder muscles and inevitably your body relaxed, as if it were trained to respond that way to touch.

"I know I've made mistakes in the past. My work at the DA's office took up too much of my time, and because of that, I had too little for you. For us. That will change from now on." Tenderly, he cupped your face as you tried to understand what he was trying to tell you. "I want us to get back together."

Your jaw almost dropped in speechlessness. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I want us to be a couple again. I know that scares you, but I'm going to show you how good I can make you feel."

You hated the way he talked to you like you were a petulant little child.

"No. I guarantee that won't happen." With a firm shake of your head, you tried to back up your statement.

"Yes it will, darling. I promise you that." Andy leaned down to you and kissed your cheek. His beard lightly scratched your skin.

A feeling you had once liked. After his sign of affection, Andy disappeared without another word, leaving you confused and shocked.

Your vibrating cell phone in your pocket brought you out of your thoughts. It was a message from Beth.

Hey, did you get home okay?

Yeah, I'm home. Need to talk to you. Emergency meeting tomorrow morning at 9:00? My place? Breakfast?

OK. See you then.

Carefully, you picked up the shards from the shattered glass. As you went into the kitchen to throw them away, you noticed that there was an oversized bouquet of flowers on the counter. They were your favorite flowers. And only one person could have left them here today.

Andy Barber.

Your body was weak and already crying out for sleep. You changed your clothes and hid under the covers.

Your thoughts kept wandering to Andy's words.

"After all, it didn't take you long to remove all traces of our love from our home."

He was right. No sooner had you uttered the word "breakup" than you had insisted that Andy move out and take all his things with him.

Now half the closet was empty. Books on the shelf were missing. In some picture frames, only the white cardboard of the back wall was visible.

The other side of the bed remained cold. That's the way you wanted it. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. A feeling stuck inside you and bored into your heart. Andy wouldn't let you go. Not so easily.

The night had been restless. Again and again you had woken up and had switched on the light, for fear a particular someone would have penetrated again into your house.

After much tossing and turning in bed, you decided to get up and prepare breakfast. The table on the veranda facing the garden was the perfect place.

The sun was just coming over the crown of the trees, so the garden was covered in a pattern of shadows.

Promptly at 9, Beth was at your door. Concern was in her eyes, you could tell. Together you went out to the patio and you poured both of you a big cup of coffee first.

"So spit it out. What happened? You left pretty abruptly last night, and then this meeting."

Numbly, you took a sip of your coffee and sorted out your thoughts. "Andy came to see me last night. Well actually, he was already in the bar too and probably watching us, but that was just a guess at first. Anyway, he was already here when I got home."

With a sinking feeling in your stomach, you thought again about his promise. "He's decided we're going to be a couple again."

"He's not serious, is he? How did he even get in here, I thought he turned in his keys when he moved out?"

"I hadn't even thought of that. The bastard must have duplicated a key in the before. I guess it looks like I'll have to change the lock."

Beth popped a grape into her mouth and chewed on it lost in thought. "Now I understand why you wanted to talk so badly. But you're not planning on giving Andy a second chance, are you? The relationship with him just didn't do you any good."

"I know ... it's weird. Even though I don't miss the relationship itself, I do miss him. I know he loved me ... maybe loves me, in his own twisted way and-"

"Nothing and," Beth energetically set her cup on the table, "he's in the past and he should stay that way."

Your eyes started to get moist and before you could realize it, Beth had pulled you into her arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I'm just worried about you. You deserve someone better than him."

"I know, it's okay." You wiped the tears from your cheek, took a deep breath, and calmed down again. "I could use pancakes and a milkshake right now." You could only agree with her and grin.

At noon, you lay in the sun with Beth on a blanket and pillows on the lawn in the backyard. You watched the little clouds slowly move across the sky.

"Peaceful, isn't it?" your friend remarked. You just nodded silently.

"I have something to tell you too, by the way. After you left yesterday, Frank asked me quite a bit about you. I think you made a lasting impression."

You gave the grinning Beth a fun punch with a pillow. "No shit, I think he likes you. I know it's a little early, but maybe a distraction would do you some good." "Yeah, maybe you're right."

Andy sat in his car, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, watching you say goodbye to Beth.

Of course, he didn't use his Audi for that. He knew you were looking for that car. Perhaps it had been foolish to seek you out the previous evening, but every day apart from you hurt, and he simply had to see you again.

Unobtrusively, he slid deeper into his seat as Beth drove by. Andy hated her. She was the one who had put nonsense in your head. Said he wasn't good enough for you, would only hurt you.

Bullshit. You were perfect for each other and soon he would prove it again. Caution and gentleness were called for. It was essential to slowly get you used to the idea of being his wife again, and you didn't even know the deepest recesses of his soul.

You were his perfect little angel. Innocent and pure. You never noticed how he slowly and carefully integrated himself into your life. From your first meeting to the accidental fire damage in his house, after which you yourself had offered to just move in together after all.

Anger gathered in his chest as he watched you come out of the house with the bouquet of flowers he had left you and dump it in the trash. He had to restrain himself and be patient with you. Soon you would be ready. And he would be there.

The next few days did not go well. Every damn morning, a bouquet of flowers showed up at your door. At least it indicated that Andy had really just put the flowers down and hadn't invaded the house again.

After the fourth time, you gave up on throwing the bouquet away.

You had texted him and asked him to return his obviously copied key, but had received no reply.

After that you had called the locksmiths in town and, strangely enough, they all told you they didn't have an available appointment for another two months.

Andy had his hands in it. It was more than obvious.

Work had taken up a lot of your time and at least there you were able to focus on something positive. Many meetings and team discussions had been scheduled and you already had the feeling to have your new job under control.

Nevertheless, Andy was always in your head and besieged your thoughts. After a week of not being able to sleep through the night, you decided to go for a walk early on Sunday to somehow clear your head.

You needed a way to put an end to this spook. Preferably as soon as possible. Equipped with boots, raincoat and a warm scarf, you set off in the direction of the small forest that was near your house. Due to the rain of the last few days, there was still a lot of moisture hanging around, so the air was full of the smell of damp earth and plants.

The birds were happily singing their morning song. Carelessly you stepped straight through the puddles as if you were focused only on one goal. But you weren't. Your goal was to be free of Andy, but you knew it wouldn't be easy. As he had already made it unmistakably clear to you, contacting the police was futile. Neither fleeing to another city nor giving up was an option. Frustrated, you kicked a small stone and watched it roll along the path.

"Didn't I realize correctly that you roam the woods here, too?" Turning your head to the side, you realized Frank was coming at you from a side path. Judging by his mud-encrusted boots and wet jacket, he had been out for some time.

"And I thought I was the only crazy one tromping through nowhere at this hour," you reply with a grin. In the middle of the forest crossroads, you both stopped.

"Well that's also because I came from an impromptu night shift. Work at the harbor took longer than I thought and since my neighbor is watching my niece anyway, I thought I'd take another spin to get down," he explained.

"That makes two of us," you replied with a tired smile. "I'd have to go on as well," you pointed to the forest path that ran back towards the settlement, "it looks like rain and I'm not too keen on getting caught in a shower."

Frank looked up at the sky and nodded in agreement. Indeed, dark clouds had rolled in again.

"I need to head that way, too. Would you mind if I accompanied you?" Actually, you had come to the forest to be by yourself, but Frank radiated such a calm positive energy that you decided it would do you good not to be alone. You accepted his suggestion and the two of you set off as well.

There was an uncomfortable silence for the first few meters until Frank started up a conversation of his own.

"How did it go at work? You told me about your new job last weekend." Questioningly, he tilted his head to one side.

"Busy. A little tiring, but it's going well. I didn't think I'd be excited about working more, but it's fulfilling in kind of a way. In hindsight, it had been a bad decision to step down from my old full-time position. At the time, I thought it was the better decision...for my previous relationship."

Frank gave you a slightly pitying look, and you could tell he didn't quite know how to respond. "I can understand how you feel, maybe better than you think. The important thing is that you are happier now."

Suddenly a loud rumbling sounded over the forest and just a few seconds later the raindrops began to fall from the sky. Briskly you tried to put on your hood, but it didn't quite work because your scarf got caught.

Then you felt Frank's hands on yours, gently taking them aside, straightening your scarf and gently pulling the hood over your head to protect it from the rain. Only then did you realize how close he was standing in front of you and you could even make out the detailed color patterns in his irises.

A quiet thank you was all you got out. "Come on, we should get you out of the rain and into the dry."

You continued on your way and only a few minutes later you had reached the edge of the forest and it was time for you to part ways. You bid him a friendly goodbye, but he interrupted you before you could turn away.

"Hey, I don't mean to be indiscreet. Beth had only hinted to me that your last relationship wasn't exactly good for you. I respect it if you don't want to or need more time, but I'd really like to get to know you."

You felt flattered and a warm pleasant feeling gathered in your chest. Something you hadn't felt in a very long time.

"Yes, I would be happy to see you again. What do you think about a second walk, hopefully in better weather, and then dinner at my place? Next Saturday?" You were surprised at your courage yourself, but all the happier when Frank agreed.

Andy's fists clenched as he watched this strange man hug you before you headed toward home. This was not how it was supposed to go. He had planned it differently. Even after your first meeting in the pub, he had taken the precaution of investigating. He didn't like what he saw in the forest. It disgusted him, how he had touched you. He was the only one who was allowed to touch your pure form. He had planned to be patient, but that was no longer possible. In his opinion, there was an urgent need for action. But first he would have to deal with the person who created this whole problem in the first place.

Late in the afternoon, you were making yourself some tea when there was a knock at the door. You weren't too pleased to see Andy after opening the door.

Because of the weekend, he was dressed more casually than usual. He was wearing a dark sweater but his classic gray coat.

"What, you don't bring me new flowers?" you asked sarcastically, not hiding your anger at his actions. His expression remained motionless and you had a hard time guessing what he was thinking.

"Take it easy. I just want to talk and bring you the key. That's what you asked for. May I come in?"

Actually you didn't want to let him in, however his supposed peace offering surprised you and you wanted to give him a chance. Maybe this was the opportunity for the two of you to finally get some clear closure.

You took a step away from the door, clearing the passage for Andy. Once in the kitchen, you poured you both a cup of tea. Behind you, you heard a clacking sound, turned around, and saw that Andy had placed the key on the counter. "Thanks." Before you'd even finished saying it, you regretted it. Why should you be grateful when he was the one who had gained entry to your house?

"Shall we sit in the living room?" He just nodded in response, but before you could reach for your cup, Andy took them both. "I'll do it."

You let him go ahead, took the key, stowed it in a drawer, and then followed him into the living room. There he had already settled down on the sofa. You preferred the armchair to keep some distance.

Slightly nervous, you sipped your tea. It tasted bitter, you had probably let it steep too long. "So, what do you want to talk about?" Andy eyed you slowly, as if expecting something. "Have you thought about my decision?"

Trying to calm your boiling anger, you took another sip. "Is this starting again? Andy, I don't know what you want me to say. It's over and it's going to stay that way."

His look turned sad and dark. "Honey, I was hoping you would have realized it yourself by now. Just a few months ago we were on such good terms. You were slowly stepping back from work, ready to become a housewife and make a home for our children. And I wanted us to get back to that point. And now? You throw yourself back into work and at some strange man's neck. I didn’t like the way he was looking at you."

"What? How? This thing with Frank is nothing, and even if it were, it's something you don't get to decide." You tried to make your voice sound clear and determined, but you didn't feel as strong as you did a short time ago.

"You can't control everything. You can't control me."

"Then maybe it's time I started doing that again."

The room began to spin slowly, as if you were standing on a turntable. Finally, the penny dropped.

Andy had never intended to make peace with you. Not his way or manner. He put something in the tea.

Drugs.

That's why it tasted bitter.

Eyes widening in shock, you stared at Andy as he leaned back, grinning broadly. "What did you do?" Jumping up, you only heard the cup collide with the floor.

The black dots dancing in front of your eyes grew larger and larger and you had a hard time keeping your balance. Andy caught you while you watched helplessly as your own body stopped obeying you and your breathing slowed down.

He tried to calm you down, held you tight and safe in his arms and stroked your head. Then everything went black.

Your skull throbbed as if someone had hit you with a hammer.

Ten times.

The bright light shining on your face didn't make things any better. The last memories slowly crept back into your consciousness and suddenly you opened your eyes.

The bedroom you were in was completely foreign to you. What was even worse, though, was that Andy was sitting on the bed you were lying in and stroking your hand with his thumb.

Before you could even slide away from him, he grabbed you by the wrist.

"Well, now look at that. Someone's awake. How are you?"

It took you a little while for the words to sort themselves out in your head. "Miserable." You squeezed out.

There was a small spark of anger in Andy's eyes, but he didn't let it break through. He obviously had to control himself a lot. "You've been asleep for a very long time, but you're probably still weak so I want you to just listen."

He pulled you into his lap and into a tight hug. He was right, your body felt like jello and so you had no chance of escaping the man you had once loved and who had just become your captor.

Horrified, you realized that you were no longer wearing Sunday's clothes, but only your underwear and a football sweater from Andy.

"You're probably wondering where we are. Well, I've created a place for us to be undisturbed, away from all the toxic influences that have destroyed our relationship. A house way out there. There's not even any real road access here. And here we will stay until you learn to love me again."

There it was again. He spoke to you like a small child. Your mind wandered, Andy noticed and grabbed you firmly, but not painfully, by the back of the neck.

"Don't even think about running away. All the windows and doors are locked. And even if you did make it out of here there would still be this." He pulled the top sheet aside and your eyes fell on your right ankle.

A thick black band was tied around it and on the outside was a small black box with a green light glowing on it. Andy had put an electronic shackle on you.

"You...are sick." You babbled without thinking. Immediately Andy grabbed you under the arms, scooped you off his lap back onto the bed and made his way out of the room.

You regret your rash action. "STOP! Please." He actually stopped and slowly turned back to you. You had to choose your following sentences wisely, appealing to his empathy.

"Please, I don't mean it like that. I'm just so scared. I promise I'll stay with you and do what you say. Just let me text Beth and tell her I'm fine and not to worry. Please." Your voice grew softer and softer and in the end was just a whimpering whisper.

How could it have come to this. Your last hope was that he would believe you and you could contact Beth secretly.

But Andy's devilish grin frightened you. "Oh, dear. I've taken care of Beth. She won't bother us now. Never again."

Your scream stuck silently in your throat and you clawed your hands into the soft blanket. Your brain fought with all its might against comprehending what Andy had just said. As if you didn't want to believe it.

A pool of tears gathered in your eyes. "Don't mourn her, that would be in vain. I just have to take care of the last person who wants to hurt us. Your new little friend Frank Adler." With slow steps he came towards you.

"But I'll make you an offer. If you can convince me you're done thinking about him and want to stay with me, maybe I'll let him live."

Your heart clenched. You wanted to protect Frank at all costs. You didn't want to imagine what Andy would do to him.

"What do you want me to do?" Tears left your eyes and ran down your heated cheeks. Andy scrambled toward you from the bottom of your feet, straddled you, and played with the hem of your panties with one finger.

"I can show you. Though how about you show me first how sorry you are for leaving me."

His erection obviously pressed against his velvet pants and you swallowed a bile like taste as Andy opened his pants to take out his cock.

You didn’t want this at all. It made you sick. Yet the idea that Andy would do something cruel to Frank was worse.

So you obeyed and started to glide your tongue over him. His taste was like a refreshed memory. He held your head tightly between his big hands and guided it up and down. As you heard his grunts you could also taste little drops of pre-cum.

Soon he had enough and let go of you, not without praising you for being so docile. He looked at you with his doe eyes while he took off the rest of your clothes without resistance from you. Even though he had seen you naked so many times, you now felt somehow exposed and vulnerable.

He teased your clit with the tip of his cock, slapping and rubbing against it. Ashamed, you had to realize that you were wet and thus ready for his dick.

When Andy started to enter your wet hole with only his tip, the stretch already burned your muscles and you clenched around him. After this brief moment of familiarization, Andy established a steady hard rhythm to which he thrust into you completely.

He was hitting that sweet perfect spot deep inside you and pain larded with pleasure when he started playing with your clit. He liked to tease you this way because he knew how mushy and compliant you’d get.

“You’ll be lucky if you can sit for a week by the time I’m done with you. Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”

A soft tortured mewl left your throat in reply and Andy held your hips to thrust even harder into you causing your moans to get louder.

"So wet for me. So pure. So perfect."

He was close, you could feel that.

Desperately he rutted into you until he filled you up with his cum. When he gave you his last few jolts he rubbed you clit harder and pinched your nipples additionally which sent you over the edge, too. He muffled your cry with a kiss until you thought you would suffocate.

He rolled you both over so that you were lying on his chest. You shamefully hid your face there.

You felt horrible. Numb. Used.

“Good girl. I told you we would get back together.” he mumbled kissing your tears away. “Yet, I am not sure if you have entirely convinced me. Ready for a second round?”

~End~

#shamelesshoesforchris2021 #andy barber #dark!andy barber #chris evans fanfiction #writing #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #dark fanfiction

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

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Day 9: Edging/Orgasm Control

Well I know this one is a little late, but I posted and that’s what counts, right? Please accept a bit of a lengthier one as an apology… I did have fun exploring this concept! I really did try a different perspective this time. Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content ONLY. PinV unprotected sex, nonhuman character, sub/dom themes, femdom, edging, orgasm control, some aspects of hypnosis? (more like supernatural voice control), exophilia

Tags: supernatural!creature x Male!Reader, Rusalka x Male!Reader, exophilia, terato

The Edge of the Unknown

“Oi Sci-fi, you ready?” The Captain of the research ship hollered, swinging up to his post.

You looked up from your equipment, holding up a thumbs-up. “Ready when you are!” you called back, attempting to keep your sea legs. You’d already gotten all of your things set up on deck, held down securely. The only thing you held at the moment was your marine camera.

The project had gone well so far, to your excitement and relief. You’d actually managed to document and catch on film a Rusalka that had long been rumored to have drifted from the cold waters of Russia to the warmer depths of the waters surrounding England.

The rumor had spread far and wide in the marine biologist community, but you’d waited until the hype had died down before going on your own expedition. And now you’d finally found some proof. The idea of being able to talk to a Rusalka, to maybe ask about the species and why she’d moved, was one you longed to accomplish.

The Captain made it out many kilometers from the shore, until land was far out of sight and nothing but water stretched as far as the eye could see. The readings from your equipment were staying steady, not really sensing anything notable. It would be a waiting game from here. You kept patiently monitoring the readings for any change.

You’d already made a first-contact of sorts, offering the Rusalka an ornamental hair comb as a gift of good-will. The Rusalka had made off with it after glancing into the cameras, so you’d taken it as a good sign so far. Still, you had to wonder how long before you might find yourself in considerable danger. The Rusalka’s singing was legendary for a reason, after all, as well as the magical power imbued in their words. Still… the curiosity could not be quenched.

“Ai lad, tha’ looks a bit odd, eh?” The Captain called, nodding towards the starboard side. You leaned over the side and noticed that the water in one patch had darkened, and bubbles were rising and popping to the surface as though it were boiling down below. And yet, when you glanced back, none of your equipment had made any indications of anything abnormal. You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing.

Just then, you heard something that made your entire body freeze. The haunting melody came from everywhere and nowhere, and physically seemed to seize you so that you couldn’t move, staring straight ahead. You didn’t hear anything from the Captain either, and guessed that he might be frozen as well. But your heart leaped.

Surely… surely this was—

Sleep. The whisper curled around you. Darkness seemed to catch you as you spiraled into it.

A moment later, you found yourself staring up at a face. A woman’s face, pale with angular features hauntingly beautiful. Her long hair fell around your face, and a sharp smile broke across her face. She moved away, and your body suddenly felt free to move. You sat up, blinking, and saw the Rusalka, perched on the railing of the ship. The comb sat nestled in her long tresses. She tilted her head at you, her smile expectant.

For a moment, you almost hesitated to break the silence. You wanted to say so much, and yet… in this moment, you were tongue-tied. Finally, you sucked in a breath.

“H-hello,” you rasped.

The Rusalka let out a tiny, musical giggle. Her fingers wriggled at you. “Hello,” she greeted, her voice almost hypnotic, tinged with the Slavic accent. Long eyelashes swept over her dark eyes.

Your breath hitched. “I… I’m glad you— you like the comb.”

Her head tilted the opposite direction. “You were looking for me,” she said instead, though nothing but curiosity saturated her tone.

You nodded, swallowing. “Yes. I mean— I wanted to know,” you blurted. “Wanted to ask… ask about you and— I’m a marine biologist,” you stammered. “I just… I just want to understand more about you. About Rusalka.”

Her smile widened. “Cute,” she giggled, fingers coming up to her lips. “Maybe I’ll answer for that face.” She leaned forwards a little. “Come closer.”

Your feet moved on their own, her words of power seizing you. Your heart thumped against your ribs as you got closer, almost within reach of her arms. “Thank you,” you said breathlessly as you finally stopped. Your face flushed at her words, and you desperately tried to ignore the fact that her thin shift-like dress plastered against her skin, hiding next to nothing.

“You wish to know things?” she murmured, eyes still fixed on your face with a startling intensity.

You nodded eagerly, hair falling a little over your eyes in your vehemence. “Yes! I mean… only if you don’t mind,” you amended, eager to stay on her good side.

“Ask,” she said simply.

“Why did you decide to come here?” you immediately blurted. It was the most pressing question you’d had. What had driven her from her native waters to come to English waters?

Her smile faded a little, and a sort of sadness washed through her eyes for a moment. “Ah.” She sighed, eyes wandering over your shoulder, past you. “Rusalka change,” she said, her voice wistful. “I am older, very few of us old ones left now,” she reflected. “New Rusalka— they care about revenge, not land.” Her eyes focused on you again. “I move. Find a better place for myself.”

You nodded. “I guess I can understand that,” you admitted, feeling bad for her. “It must have been difficult. To move away from your home.”

The smile returned to her face. “Silly human,” she giggled. “Home is the water, not land! Only different water, now.”

You flushed a little. “Oh… that would make sense,” you admitted with a rueful smile.

“Now you.” She crossed her ankles. “You are from?”

You chatted back and forth for a while, the exchange of information equal but civil. At some point, you managed to grab a notebook and pen to jot down notes, earning another giggle from the Rusalka. You’d given her your name, and she’d repeated it back to you, stumbling a little with her accent.

Finally, though, she glanced up at the sky. “Human need to go. Storm soon,” she remarked.

“W-wait— can I come back?” you asked uncertainly. “I… I want to know more about you.”

She looked at you, and her ever-present smile softened at the edges. Reaching forward, her fingers brushed gently over your cheek, so soft you could barely feel it. “I follow you to land so you safe. Come to water tomorrow. You hear my song.” With the parting promise, she leapt off the side of the ship.

The Captain woke up not a moment later, blinking owlishly as he stirred. “Oh, I fell asleep did I?” Standing, he yawned. “Get anything, lad?”

You finished jotting down some notes. “Hmm. Oh, I think we should head back Captain, the weather seems rather threateningly.”

He glanced up and cursed. “Right. Let’s go.”

The rest of the day seemed to pass by almost in a blur. You kept replaying the conversation in your mind, even as you fell into bed, exhausted. Reliving every moment. The way she’d called you ‘cute,’ her expressions lively as she spoke. The promise she’d made, her voice soft. Her fingers, trailing fire across your cheek.

You fell asleep, mind still whirring.

It was probably stupid of you, but you’d only brought your phone, notebook, and pencil with you to the beach, early the next morning. You’d shivered in the breeze, then sat down on the shore with your thermos of hot coffee and stared over the water.

You watched the sun rise, enjoying the sound of the waves lapping against shore and the way the colors of dawn stained the horizon. You’d gotten so engrossed in it that you almost didn’t hear it at first. The soft, haunting melody that floated across the sand.

Scrambling to your feet, you grabbed your stuff and started to follow the sound of the song. It beckoned, drawing you ever closer, until you finally made it to the far end of the beach. A rocky sort of cliff wall stretched upward, but you noticed a small hole in the wall that seemed to lead somewhere. Not even glancing back once, you scrambled through the hole and popped out on the other side to find a tiny little beach area that seemed untouched by other humans.

The Rusalka sat on the sand, her eyes closed as she sang. The song came to an end, and she turned to see you approach. When you sat close by on the sand, she reached up and pulled the comb out of her hair, beginning to brush out her long locks. The motions captured you in their domestic simplicity.

“Hi,” you breathed.

“You wake early,” she said with an amused smile.

You could feel the color stain your cheeks. “I like watching the sunrise,” you said, not wanting to admit that you’d been eager to see her. Still, the knowing tinge to her smile didn’t escape you.

“You want to ask more questions?” She nodded to your notebook.

You lit up. “Yeah—“

It was lunchtime when you finally tore yourself away to eat, with the promise to return the next morning.

And that was how you spent the next week, meeting with her every morning. At some point, you forgot your notebook and pencil. It never went with you again, sitting on your desk, forgotten. And yet she kept coming, and you kept going.

And you kept pushing away the question of when exactly you’d fallen in love with the ancient Rusalka.

After a week, you noticed that she had seemed increasingly distracted by something.

Finally, she turned to you in the lull of conversation. “I show you something. You come with me?” She held out her hand.

You took it, not even hesitating or questioning yourself. Still, you noticed the brilliant smile that crossed her face. She stood, the comb glittering in her hair as always, and started to pull you towards the other side of the tiny stretch of beach. You followed, and both of you squeezed through a hole in the rock. This time, it was your turn to be surprised as your eyes adjusted to the dark of the cave you’d entered. A staircase wound up the inside of the rock.

She glanced back at you and tugged you forward, leading you up the staircase.

“Wh-where are we going?” you asked, trying to find your footing in the dark.

She didn’t answer, and you kept ascending until you finally reached the top of the stairs. Your eyes finally fully adjusted, and your eyes widened as you looked around. She’d pulled you through a veil of strung beads that had been hung in a doorway of sorts, into a cavern that seemed to be a room.

In one corner stood a whole bed, to your shock. The whole room seemed to have been made by a human, though the decorations in the room looked newer. A desk stood in the opposite corner, and there was even a sturdy-looking wooden chair. A few shelves and a closet had been carved out of the far end of the wall. The only light was from a sort of skylight that had been carved into the ceiling of the room.

“I found this, long ago. Made by other humans,” she explained, letting go of your hand and turning to you. “I thought you like?” She tilted your head. “You move here?”

You glanced around, genuinely surprised. “Wow, this is… amazing,” you marveled, wondering if it had been carved out painstakingly by hand. Clearly it had been long deserted; the chair alone looked as though it had come from the 1800s. Then you registered her question. “Oh— well, I don’t think I could live in it as it is now,” you laughed. “But I do think I’d like to fix it up and make it a second house of sorts.”

Her face lit up. “You like!” She clapped her hands. “Then you accept? Good house?”

You grinned back. “Yeah, yeah! It’s a good place, just needs a bit of fixing.”

The Rusalka seemed to be more delighted than you’d ever seen her, doing a little happy dance. Then she tilted her head at you. “I am good mate! Find place that make you happy,” she all but cooed, the satisfaction slicking through her voice.

You froze. I am a good mate. The words kept replaying like a broken record through your mind.

“W-wait. What?”

She paused, tilting her head at you. “I find good place for you,” she said, matter-of-fact. “You accept. It means I am good mate, yes?”

Your mouth dried. “W-wait, h-hold on. Are you— are you saying that I’m your… your mate?”

For a moment she observed you. Then she slowly walked up to you. “Ahh, I see. You do not know.” Still, she smiled almost fondly at you as she took your hand. “You give me pretty gift, yes? Means to Rusalka that you interested in mate. I accept. But Rusalka have to prove that I am good mate, can protect you, give you good house. If you like, then becoming Mates, yes?” she explained.

Your head spun. Then as it soaked in, you gasped. “So all this time, you— the comb…” You groaned, burying your burning face in your hands.

But she giggled, pulling your hands away from your face. She cupped your face in her hands instead, smiling at you. “Think you are cute,” she cooed. “Want you as mate. You want me?”

You didn’t really have to think twice about it. “Yes,” you whispered. You wanted it. You wanted… her.

She smiled. Then leaning up, she pulled your face closer to her. The first touch of her lips was cold. Then the salt of seawater gave way to the warmth of her breath, like a wood fire in the Russian winter; searing, life-giving, breathtaking. She tilted her head and deepened the kiss, and you drowned.

By the time you actually found your wits, you noticed her face somehow hovering above you like the first time you’d met. You lay across the bed, while she climbed on top of you, hair tumbling around your face in dark waves. That smile crossed her lips, sharp and soft all at the same time, and your breath hitched in your throat.

“Mate call mate by name, now,” she said sweetly, fingers brushing across your cheek. “Darya.”

You repeated it, breathless. “Darya.”

Her smile widened, and the fire crept into her eyes. She tilted her head, then leaned forward. Her fingers swept under your shirt, feeling across your skin as you gasped into her mouth, arching into her cool fingers. They felt so good, soft and cool against your heated skin. She hummed into the kiss, then tugged at your shirt in a wordless request.

You shrugged it over your head, somehow self-conscious around the beautiful Rusalka. Despite the great danger she posed, despite everything… you trusted her. You loved her. You wanted her to be happy, though you’d never thought that you’d be part of what she wanted. What would give her that happiness.

Darya giggled again, brushing hair behind her ear. “Cute,” she cooed, clearly pleased as she ran her hands down your chest.

You felt your face burn with the embarrassment. But before you could think too much, she had shifted forwards and pressed up close against your body, rendering you speechless. You’d just tried to open your mouth when her name died on your lips in a gasp. Her mouth pressed against your neck, insistent, hungry— searching as her hands wandered further down.

She hummed, her lilting voice pleased. Her hands kept exploring your body, coaxing soft gasps and moans from your lips as your head rolled back and your fingers came up to clench at her hips in desperation for some sort of grounding. Anything to keep you from completely floating away.

“Okay?” Darya checked, her voice surprisingly tender as she pulled back to look at you.

You nodded. “M-more than okay,” you rasped.

She smiled again, and her fingers tugged playfully at the hem of your pants. You flushed, but you lifted your hips for her to slide them off. Reaching up, you pressed the back of your hand against your mouth in self-consciousness, knowing that you’d gotten hard from her attentions. The way her dress absolutely clung to her curves and the way she pressed against you hadn’t gone unnoticed.

But she only hummed, as though pleased with what she saw. Tugging at your hand, she pressed another fond kiss to your lips. Then her hand reached down between you. The moment her hand slid down your cock, a gasp wrenched from your throat. Your head spun, sparks flying through your body as you swallowed thickly and gasped.

“So cute,” Darya murmured against your lips, indulgently. “You like this?”

You whimpered but nodded, unable to deny how good her hand felt, stroking you, her fingers playing over your tip. Your body shuddered underneath her, unraveling under her touch and her lips trailing across your skin. She kept ringing circles around your tip, her other hand stroking you until you ached and throbbed in her grip. The entire time, she gazed at you with a soft sort of adoration, the heat of her smile contrasting with the softness of her touch.

You tumbled quickly to the brink, your entire body shuddering. Her name fell from your lips in a desperate gasp as you hunched forward a little, fingers convulsing around her waist. But just as you were nearly there, your body trembling in anticipation, she let go.

“Wait,” she murmured, the command almost physically washing over you. You whimpered, almost strangled as your body hovered at the edge. Just barely there. Not enough—

“So close,” you whimpered, your voice a hoarse plea. “Please, Darya—“

She giggled, her lips pecking a kiss to yours. “Make mate feel good, promise,” she said coyly, then slid down. Your body had just eased back from the edge when she sank her mouth over you. You choked, eyes squeezing shut as you gasped.

The heat and softness of her mouth engulfing you felt like nothing you’d ever experienced. It consumed you, her soft lips sinking over your cock, everything in you seeming to throb and ache and yearn for more. For release. You shuddered, drool pooling in your mouth as your eyes peeled open.

Her tongue slid against the vein on your cock, making you throb in her mouth. She swallowed around you, the wet sounds lewd as it echoed through the stone chamber. And yet when her eyes looked up at you, tinged with that smoldering mischief, you could only lie there and let out a broken, helpless moan. The build up was slower. Still somehow fast and yet not fast enough, making you shake your head as you drew agonizingly closer to that promised brink.

And yet somehow she knew. Pulling her mouth off, she teasingly poked your aching cock and giggled. “Wait.”She practically sang.

A sob spilled from your lips, desperate and pleading. “Darya,” you begged, voice trembling as your body flushed with heat almost painfully. You wanted it, so badly. Wanted release. Wanted the end. And yet… you almost didn’t. You could almost want to stay here, like this, under her spell for as long as she wanted. Torn, you whined and gazed up at her through blurred eyes.

She cooed, gently stroking your cheek as she hovered over you. “Ohh, it’s okay. Take good care of Mate, hmm?” She purred your name, promising and sweet.

The desperation and the despair at being denied had fuzzed your mind to the point that you almost lost track of everything else. But you instantly snapped to the moment you felt her press down against your cock. Her dress slid up her hips and waist, her core pressed against you as she tilted her head down at you. Before you had time to say a word, she’d sank down on top of you.

For a moment, your breath froze. You stared unseeingly up at the ceiling, nothing but the pure pleasure of her filling your senses. The moment she moved, another sob tore from your lips. The pure pleasure rushing through your body almost hurt after the denial. The way she kept pushing against you, kept teasing your body with hers until you writhed under her. You didn’t know if you wanted her to stop or keep going. Didn’t know if you wanted relief or more.

Somehow, you were at the edge before you knew it. You barely had time to stammer her name, but she knew. She cupped your face in her hands and murmured your name, her body clenching around you. It proved to be too much.

You arched up into her, her name spilling from your lips in a litany as you came. Stars burst behind your eyelids, tears streaming from your eyes as she finally granted release. And yet nothing had ever felt so good in your life; the edge of pain just barely mixed with the pleasure, needling through your entire body.

By the time you came down, gasping, you weren’t even sure how long it had been. Only that you’d been stuck in the throes of pleasure, wholly lost in her. She sighed, and you realized as she fluttered around you that she’d cum as well. It relieved you in a sense, to know that you hadn’t been the only one to find pleasure.

She sighed your name, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “So good,” she murmured. “So cute. Love Mate.”

You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into your chest as you leaned your head into the crook of her neck. “I love you, Darya,” you whispered. “So much. Thank you for choosing me as your Mate.”

She didn’t answer with words, but she didn’t need to. The kiss said more than enough; and you knew that you’d found home.

#elysiadjarinkinktober #elysiadjarin #kinktober2021 #kinktober #my writing #mywriting #x reader #x you #male reader #nsft #smut #exophilia #monstergirlfriend #monster x human #monster partner #monsterfucker #monsterromance #monster lover #terato

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silvysartfulness · 2 years

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first line tag

Tagged by: @cenedrariva

Rules: List the first lines of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends.

1) Heaven Has A Road But No One Walks It (The Untamed)

Xiao Xingchen was breathing.

Shallow, erratic breaths, one slowly following another, but in the absolute silence of the dead city even the whisper of sound was unmistakable.

The scene seemed an inverted funeral, the white-shrouded body surrounded by two dark-robed figures and one in pure white, bearing witness as the dead eased its way back into the world of the living.

On his slowly rising and falling chest rested a pouch inscribed with quickly fading sigils, collapsing in on itself as though the precious thing held inside for so long had finally gone. Leaving it as empty a shell as the body beneath it had been up until a few moments ago.

One of Xiao Xingchen's hands twitched lightly.

2) High Noon In Deserted City (The Untamed)

Dust swirled on the wind, grit grating between Song Lan's teeth as he squinted against the relentless sunlight. Somewhere in the distance, an old window shutter slammed opened and closed, a wailing creak of rusted hinges between sharp knocks of wood on wood. Everything else in the ghost town was silent.

Had been silent, until the quiet was broken by laughter, delighted and just a touch more unhinged than the old window shutters.

”Two of you! What a pleasant surprise! You came all the way out here just for me?”

”Xue Yang. You are under arrest for the recent Chang stagecoach robberies. I would advise you to come quietly.”

”We would prefer not to have to resort to violence,” the lone ranger beside him said, voice polite, even pleasant. If anything it made the outlaw laugh more.

”No violence? But where's the fun in that?”

”You're cornered, there is nowhere left to go. Turn yourself over peacefully, and you will have a fair trial.”

Xue Yang grinned at them, a conniving coyote, flashing too-sharp canines.

”'Peaceful', 'fair'... Such boring words, Sheriff Song! Your pretty posters do say 'dead or alive', so you'll at least try not to kill me... I have no such qualms about you – it's 'dead' all the way! Meaning I like my odds better than yours.”

3) Self-inflicted (The Untamed)

Xue Yang was roaring drunk.

He'd been respectful enough to wait until after the funeral. After meticulously washing the whole body and dressing Xiao Xingchen up in his cleanest, whitest robes – folded right over left. After tying on a fresh piece of cloth over his eyes, that would never need changing again.

Then he'd hit the liquor, hard.

He'd tried every spell he knew, every talisman, every sigil and sacrifice, each and every one, several times. The spirit-capturing pouch held something, some small sliver of a broken thing, but it just wouldn't answer, wouldn't be tied back into the dead body.

He had spent every second of the last four days exhausting every last piece of knowledge, every increasingly controversial idea, every last desperate angle, over and over and over.

He hadn't slept.

4) And To Many More (The Untamed)

”It’s really unfair,” a-Qing pouted one day, as they were walking down the market street, smacking her bamboo pole against the ground a little harder than necessary. Chengmei snorted at her.

”Everything in the world’s unfair, Little Blind. You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

She scowled and not-so-accidentally swooped the cane in his direction, scoring a perfect smack against one shin, making him hiss and narrow his eyes at her.

”A-Qing,” Xiao Xingchen said, in mild reproach, but he was smiling.

”The birthday party we walked past,” she elaborated.”People getting gifts and good food and tiger shoes just because they happen to know what day they’re born. Unfair!”

Chengmei rolled his eyes, which was stupid, since none of his companions would be able to see it anyway.

5) Eaten (The Untamed)

If possible, the city looked even more deserted than the last time they came, no sound to be heard but the forlorn wind. Even the ever-present funeral decorations were ravaged by the elements, only some few sad strips of paper still fluttering on the breeze.

Instinctively, Lan Sizhui held his breath as he stepped through the gates followed by his friends, certain past lessons ingrained on pain of congee. He almost laughed at that, allowed himself to exhale.

There would be no poison now. Yi City was truly deserted, and the only demons to haunt it were the howling restless ghosts of the dead.

It hadn't been that long, but the world had been shaken to the core since they were last here, and it felt like years had passed.

”Such a dirty place,” he heard Jin Ling, Clan Leader Jin now, sniff sullenly behind him, kicking at the sunken remains of paper dolls in a dusty corner.

”Be respectful,” he gently admonished. ”We're here to settle the lingering spirits, not make them more upset.” An offended huff was his only reply, but the young lord called Fairy to his side and kept quiet.

They weren't quite the children they had been when they had walked these streets the first time, or at least they would like to tell themselves as much.

6) Blanket Statement (The Untamed)

Winters were cold in the coffin house. Despite all their best efforts - and they had put in many long days of effort turning the abandoned building into a proper house, a home - the place was still drafty. Chengmei had taken the triumph of the elements as a personal affront and darkly vowed to get material for another layer of insulation at next given opportunity.

But like this, wrapped up in a soft blanket, with a warm pliant body snuggled up close, it wasn't cold at all, Xiao Xingchen concluded, and buried his sleepy smile into soft hair. Birdsong outside told him dawn had broken, and it was time to get up, it really was, but he could allow himself to stay like this just a little longer. If he waited, his companion would wake up, and he was never more warm and pliable than when freshly woken. Definitely worth staying in bed a little longer for.

The man muttered something inaudible and turned around in his arms, dragging the blanket with him, and suddenly it was cold. Torn abruptly from his thoughts, Xiao Xingchen gave a gasping laugh.

”Xue Yang! Don't take all the blankets for yourself!”

He felt the body next to him stiffen suddenly, all drowsiness gone from it in an instant, and the lazy heartbeat he had felt against his hands was suddenly racing. There was a moment of complete stillness, not even breathing disturbing the silence. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, and only then did it hit him what he had said.

”What did you call me?”

7) Glimpses (Pangaea)

The snowdrifts are cold enough to burn against his face, as soft as the hands holding him down are hard. Ropes tightening around his wrists again, biting into familiar grooves. It hurts – one would think it a pain he’d be used to by now. A sack is none-too gently pulled over his head and he’s blinded and disoriented when he’s roughly pulled to his feet.

”Take him away,” he hears the furious croak of the woman commander against whose throat he held a blade but mere moments ago. He could so easily have slit her throat – would have, had it guaranteed him the escape he sought. But already surrounded, there was really little point. He would have done it anyway, not so long ago, violence as given as breathing - he wasn’t sure when that had changed. ”Lock him up tight. He’s dangerous.”

If only you knew, he thinks, and almost laughs, but the laughter turns dry and chafing at the back of his throat, sobs barely held back as he’s hauled off, feet numbly stumbling and dragging through the snow.

8) Don’t Let The Groom Run Away (Pangaea)

“Is the collar straight?”

Restless fidgeting. The older man’s hands steady as they minutely adjust the heavy metal wings holding the even heavier cloak in place. Something suspiciously akin to a look of amusement on his face.

“It will be if you stand still.”

The king all but freezes, but only for a few moments before he unthinkingly moves again, shrugging against the weight.

“Nervous?” asks his uncle to distract him, tone unusually gentle. A harsh exhale, for a moment a cornered look in the younger man’s eyes.

“More nervous than I have ever been in my life.”

A confession that should have been reluctant, but comes across as all too genuine. Again that almost-smile on Rannon’s lips, knowing more than most of what said life has entailed, and what this moment is measured against.

9) Returning The Blades (Pangaea)

“I have been told countless times how these blades are the epitome symbols of the truest virtues of Kayalana,” Rylerion said, lifting the pair of blades from their stand to hold them between them. “Marks of absolute dedication to duty, to honour. After what happened, do you still feel you deserve to bear them?”

It took Rannon uncharacteristically long to reply, and for all his stoicism there were lines of pain around his eyes when he finally forced himself to.

“No.”

He had to admit he had anticipated negotiation, the smooth but unwavering manipulation he had clashed with so many times before. The short, harsh reply took him somewhat aback, and he found himself wondering again if he would ever really understand this man.

10) A Game Well Played (Pangaea)

“May I have a word with you, Sati Lazuli..?”

“But of course, Sati Narcissus. I always do so enjoy our conversations.”

The din turned only slightly less deafening as they made their way into the fresh night air of the gardens, moving with the very studied casual grace of two men expecting a dagger to the back at any moment.

“Our beloved Rava certainly knows how to throw a party, doesn’t she..?” Lazuli commented, turning to face his bitter rival with a benign smile.

“Oh, yes,” Narcissus agreed, smile every bit as sweet. “The Festival of Five Flowers this last spring? Absolutely inspired! I will have to admit, these last few years of sparring with you in all the golden halls of Machra-la have been entertaining beyond measure.”

“Past tense..?” Lazuli commented, a sudden sharpness to the unwavering smile.

“Mmm. A few minor technicalities aside, I would say our glorious rivalry is reaching its end. The dance of the aristocracy this evening only made clear the inevitable - they flock to you like moths to the moons. I owe you congratulations. Watching you play has been magnificent.”

“And yet,“ Lazuli pointed out, ”Saya-rehu Rava is still very much wearing the crown and the party is far from over. I think you may be a bit premature in your congratulation, Sati Narcissus.”

Narcissus’ smile turned sweeter still, ember eyes momentarily veiled by thick lashes.

“Oh, I think we can both tell where the wind is blowing, Sati Lazuli, and neither of us are the kind of man to wait for fortune to make its call. I have little choice left tonight but to surrender to you or kill you.”

I tag @orodrethsgeek, @ebonykain, @chigrima, @fromaliminalspace and anyone else who wants to play - wips are fine, guys!

#writing meme #silvywrites #are there any patterns?#i dunno #maybe i like opening on either dialogue #or a description setting the mood of the scene?#pangaea is my own original storyverse #before the untamed i hadn't written fanfic in over ten years #😅#long post

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years

Text

The Reward of Suffering

next chapter

Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13.

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

“Reid is in jail.”

I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

“Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

“In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

“This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

“Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

“The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

“Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

“We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

“Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

“Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

“Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

“How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

“Three days.”

“That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

“We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

“Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

“Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

“Where did you meet her?”

Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

“I… I don’t remember.”

“If you saw her, would you remember her?”

Spencer nodded in affirmation.

“You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

“It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

“And you’ve been drugged?”

I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

“Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

“Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

“Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

“Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

“Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

“Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

“Can… Can you stay?”

Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

“I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

“Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

And then there were two.

I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

“Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

“About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

“I’m… In Mexico.”

A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

“You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

“It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

“Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

“Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

“How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

“I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

“Wait, so, where are you?”

“I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

“Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

�� I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

“The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

“I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

“I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

“Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

“I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

“I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

“Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

“I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

“M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

“Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

“Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

It would have to be enough for now.

Nadi Ramos was dead.

I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

And target him he fucking did.

“We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

“How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

“She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

“We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

“What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

“He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

“Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

“It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

“Do I want to know?”

Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

“Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

“I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

“Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

“I’ll try.”

Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

“There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

“What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

“I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

“Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

“I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

“I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

We are so beyond fucked.

“How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

“He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

“They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

“We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

“I don’t know how.”

“He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

“If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

“Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

“Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

“I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

“Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

“So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

“I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

“We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

“Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

“Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

“Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

“We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

“Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

“That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

“Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

“I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

“So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

“It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

“Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

“Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

“Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

“You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

“Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

“Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

“We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

“What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

“There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

“Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

“Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

“Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

“Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

“So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

“Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

“Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

“Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

“Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

“Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

“I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

“Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

“Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

“Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

“That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

“What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

“Why?”

“Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

“Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

“Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

“This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

“It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

“We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

“I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

“With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

“We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

“I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

“It was for the right reason.”

“I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

“We do, too.”

Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

“Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

“Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

“I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

“I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

“Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

“For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

We cannot give him that recording.

Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

“I didn’t record it.”

Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

“But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

“I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

“You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

But so is Scratch.

All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

“You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

“I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

“You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

“Since when did you get so insightful?”

A grin stretched its way across his face.

“Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

“And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?” “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

-Storm Constantine

#spencer reid smut #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #prison spencer #prison!reid

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not-majestic-bluenicorn · 3 years

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TXT Universe Theory: The Dream Chapter

Hello and welcome back to another one of my theories! This theory will be quite long and will take into account everything in the first chapter of TXT’s story. I won’t be doing Minisode 1 or either of the Chaos Chapters yet cause it will give us all a headache if I do, so yes, there will be things missing. Believe me, I know, I’m just pretending like I don’t know anything for the sake of my mind XD Let’s dive into the theory!

The Protagonists

Name: Choi Yeonjun

Keywords: Promise, guilty, sleepless, apricity

Association: Paranoid Park

Metamorphosis: Horns

Songs: Crown, Magic Island

Yeonjun is, perhaps, more relevant than his character wishes he was. Paranoid Park, the book (and perhaps also movie) he’s associated with, talks about a 16-year-old boy who accidentally kills a policeman and tries to cope with it while simultaneously hiding what he did. Yeonjun’s guilt can be seen almost everywhere. His Dream-Self grows horns during Nap of a Star, which are generally associated with evil and destruction, and in Crown he expresses his fear of being evil.

In the teasers for Magic Island he says “I think there’s someone else aside from us #itsmyfault”. And in the teasers for The Dream Chapter: Eternity he adds the hashtags #imscared #itwasjustajoke when revealing his association. He did something that makes him feel guilty. He possibly didn’t kill anyone (I mean, if anyone did, it’s most likely Beomgyu, but that’s not here nor there), but it hasn’t been revealed yet what he did do.

I associate Magic Island with him because it talks about promises and about the Odd Eye Cat, which I will talk about more in detail later, but suffice to say the Odd Eye Cat might have something against Yeonjun. There is a small chance that Yeonjun feels guilty about having forgotten their promise with the Star, since his word is promise. Everyone forgot, but maybe he’s more emotionally aware of it.

Name: Choi Soobin

Keywords: Tomorrow, invisible, understanding, apricity

Association: Le Doulos

Metamorphosis: Elongated ears

Songs: Eternally

Soobin is on the opposite side of the coin with Yeonjun. He too is aware about the promise with the Star, but in a very different way. He is perhaps what we would define as a traditional protagonist, as he can hear the voice of the Star well before anyone else can, even if he can’t remember the promise. The first time we see him perceiving the voice is in Magic Island, that is when he starts to feel separated from the group. He’s still unaware of it, but he knows something that the others don’t and that puts a wall between them. In the Magic Island teaser he uses the hashtag “#IThinkImTheOnlyOneWhosDifferent”, and in the Eternity concept photos he says “Why am I the only one having a hard time?” and “Everything is your fault”. He is also tagged as invisible, which alludes to the fact that he feels distanced from the others, and is also the only one to get no interactions on his posts. The fact that he’s blaming someone might be that he’s aware of the voice or that he knows someone in the group messed up.

Name: Choi Beomgyu

Keywords: Hope, unfair, relief, serenity

Association: The Catcher in the Rye

Metamorphosis: Spines on the back

Songs: ???

Beomgyu is an interesting if confusing character. Based on how he acts in the MVs, he seems to be rather headstrong and confident, much like the main character, Holden, of Catcher in the Rye, a story strongly related to growing up and leaving the innocence of childhood behind. Holden considers adults (and his life) to be quite unfair, doesn’t trust them, and wants to become a protector of the innocence of other children. However, much like Beomgyu, he’s rather headstrong and careless, moving forward without much consideration, which often gets him in trouble. These aspects can be seen reflected on the Magic Island Teaser, where he writes “What’s the problem? Let’s just do it. #rewind #hope #CantTrustAnyone, as well as the Port teasers from Eternity where he says things like “Who saw me that day?”, “We were all together then, right?” and “I don’t think this is the world I used to know” (which is tagged with “unfair”), and uses the hashtags #NothingToHide, #IsItMyFault?”. We do see him start the fire in both the Magic Island Teaser and MV, which might hint to the fact that he feels it’s unfair to blame him when they were all there, and he doesn’t actually believe himself to be at fault. He was just taking care of them.

Name: Kang Taehyun

Keywords: Clue, suspicious, breathe, serenity

Association: Philip Marlowe

Metamorphosis: Star eye

Songs: ???

Taehyun’s character is observant and prefers to stay on the sidelines to catch every detail before casting his judgement. In the Magic Island Teaser he says “There’s got to be a way out” with the hashtag #LetsThinkAboutIt, plus, in the Port Teasers from Eternity, he keeps a reasonable suspicion on his team members about who’s truly at fault and uses the hashtags #EverybodyLies and #IWantToKnowTheTruth. This ties in well with his associated character, Philip Marlowe, the private detective. Both characters keep a distance and analyze everything carefully, never resorting to violence. It is worth noting that he keeps Yeonjun’s teddy bear at the end of Run Away, which in the teasers is labelled as “clue”. Taehyun is always observing.

Name: Huening Kai

Keywords: Secret, lonely, longing, apricity

Association: Stand by me

Metamorphosis: Wings

Songs: Nap of a star

Huening Kai is perhaps one of the most complicated and mysterious characters in the story, since his role isn’t as established as the others. He’s constantly out of the loop about the situation that is happening, which is demonstrated by phrases like “What the hell is happening?” (Magic Island Teaser) and “What happened?” (‘Port’ Teasers) as well as the hashtags #OnTheSidelines and #IKnowNothing, as well as two of his keywords being secret and lonely. His associated media is also interesting, as Stand by me talks about a man remembering the trip he did with three of his friends when they were 12 to find the body of a missing boy. At the end of the movie, the main character Gordie, recalls his friends and comments on how much he’ll always miss them and how he’s never had friendships like that again. This raises the question if perhaps one of the boys would be the dead kid the others are trying to find. Kai being kept out of the loop could point to him being it, as he’s always trying to reach for them but can’t quite do it, however it could also be argued that either Yeonjun or Soobin could fill that space as well.

The Setting: The Real World vs The Dream World

Back on the very early BTS theories, a lot of us didn’t think time travel or time loops were the answer, but it turned out we were wrong. At first, when working on this theory, I wasn’t sure where I should draw the distinction between reality and fantasy. In the end, I’ve decided that everything is real but in different ways, and I’ve decided to make the distinction between the Real World and the Dream World; after all, this is called the Dream Chapter.

The Real World is, you guessed it, pretty much just our normal world. Nothing magical or physics-law-breaking to be seen here. The Dream World is, well, a world made of dreams. But remember I said everything is real (I know the names I gave the two realities contradict this, hit me up if you have better suggestions). Whatever happens in the Dream World is just as real as whatever happens in the Real World, it’s just in a different plane of existence. It might also be of interest to note that sometimes these worlds blend.

So, if everything is real in the Dream World, what is real in the Real World? This is a complicated question because even our characters struggle telling reality apart from the dreams, especially because the dreams aren’t just dreams. The fires that occur in Run Away and Can’t You See Me are very much symbolic, but them jumping into the Dream World through the subway in Magic Island is real. The visions they have in Eternally aren’t happening in the Real World either. It’s just a matter of what is supported through other clues and pieces of evidence, which I’ll try to provide.

The Story

So, you know, what is like… happening? Everything is extremely confusing and it took me a while to understand that pretty much all videos are happening like, at the same time? As in, it’s the same event but from different perspectives and slightly different intervals of time. So let’s try to lay down a cohesive timeline.

It all starts with the events narrated in Nap of a Star. When they were children, the five of them (or well, maybe I should say six) met through the Dream world and became such good friends that they promised to meet there again. However, as it happens, they grew up and forgot about it, meeting once again many years later through the school and the company without remembering each other.

While growing up, they have gone through many different things that have hurt and changed them, which manifested in their dream bodies as the “imperfections” that they all have. I believe these imperfections are tied to each of their characters: horns tend to represent evil, which ties in with Yeonjun feeling guilty and blaming himself for everything. Kai’s wings look angel-like, which fits his sweet personality who helps the “demon” (Yeonjun) and is always believing the best about his friends. Beomgyu is very defensive, which translates into his porcupine-like spines. Soobin is a good listener (plus he’s literally the first one to hear the Star’s voice) and Taehyun is good at observing the others. So these are all manifestations of how life has shaped them to be who they are now.

They become very good friends once again and get along well, nice! However, we know things are not perfect, and they have to confront a series of personal conflicts. Especially Yeonjun, who’s so overcome by the negativity in his life that he starts a fire that can’t be put out in Run Away. This fire is metaphorical, and represents all the pain and stress he’s been dealing with. So what do they do? They try to find an escape from all their troubles.

There’s two ways this could’ve happened: the first one is that they stumble with the Dream World by accident on the Run Away MV when they go in through the pool. This seems fitting because of their reactions. After that they research it and Soobin discovers that there’s a secret magical entrance at a train station, as we can see in the Sanctuary Photo Teasers from the Magic comeback in the official BigHit website. The other option is that this accidental discovery didn’t happen and they simply researched. This would turn their visit in Run Away into a “summary” of sorts of their first impression of the place.

[Translation:

Soobin: I saw how to find the hidden magic platform?

Soobin: When you close and open your eyes there, your dream becomes reality

Taehyun: Woah, cool

Taehyun: (not sure about this one) for real?

Soobin: Should we go together?]

Either way, they get there. Of course, as shown by the door being set on fire at the end of Run Away when Yeonjun looks at it, his worries aren’t entirely gone, but at least they’re under control now, or so it seems. This part of the video also ties in with the end of Nap of a Star. All of the children come together to help the “monster” and they reunite at the Dream World once again, awakening the Star.

After this, though, weird things begin to happen. Someone or something is trying to reach out to them, and causes them to have really strange dreams. This entity, presumably the Star as marked by the pieces of dialogue, even follows them to their practice room, and keeps begging them to remember them. Yes, I think the Practice Room Ghost and the Star are the same character (and I also think they represent MOA, in a way).

[Translation: Remember my name.]

Here’s where the visions in Eternally come into play. The individual vision each of them has is, physically speaking, nothing more than that: a vision or dream. So they start having these visions, and some of them, especially Soobin who keeps hearing the Star’s voice, start doubting their reality. Plus, weird things start happening in their practice room, so no doubt they end up hearing about the Practice Room Ghost.

They have a conversation about it on the subway, and Soobin goes to mention he had a weird dream but then he backtracks. Obviously, he’s talking about the vision we see in Eternally, because he even says he always wakes up crying from it. In a split second, they decide to stop at the Magic Island using the method that Soobin found previously, and they go have fun there.

[Translation:

Yeonjun: Did you hear about the practice room’s mirror ghost?

Beomgyu: *sland for shivering* A ghost? Wow

Taehyun: I heard about it. There’s no ghosts, you’re just tired and saw wrong.

Soobin: I’ve had weird dreams lately *cries* Maybe it was because I’m tired...

Kai: Did you have a scary dream again?

Soobin: (deleted message) In the dream we...

Yeonjun: Ah, I shouldn’t have said anything.

Beomgyu: What’s scary about this? If there’s a real ghost let’s go and check at night *laughs*

Kai: Hyungs, stop talking about scary things please *cries*

Taehyun: Beomgyu hyung is joking about this too??

Yeonjun: Should we just go to Ttukseom?]

Naturally, things go wrong, what else were we expecting? Their antics end up setting the magic forest on fire, until they end up destroying the whole Dream World, and it leads us to the start of Eternally. One thing I believe to be very interesting is how, when they’re trapped in the storm, Soobin keeps touching his ears, Kai touches his chest like in Nap of a Star, and Beomgyu touches his shoulder. Yeonjun and Taehyun aren’t properly shown but they probably also touch the affected places.

I would argue that Can’t You See Me? is also just a reinterpretation of the conflict they’re going through, both within themselves but also as a group, because they did just destroy their secret place. This is pretty much where the current timeline ends. I’m a bit uncertain if they’re trapped in the Dream World or outside of it without being able to go back, because Taehyun does mention wanting to go back in the Port teasers, but he doesn’t specify where. I want to bet that they’re trapped in the Dream World but I do need to analyze the Chaos Chapter better to decide that.

The Practice Room Star

Yes, this is a play on words, as I fully believe that the Practice Room Ghost and the Star are both the same entity. When they were kids, they made a promise with the Star, but they’ve forgotten it with time, and now that they have reunited and found their way into the Dream World again, the Star wants them back. The Star is probably a very powerful being, since they are able to interfere with the Real World to reach to them, enough to make them confused about their own reality. Their bond seems to be stronger with Soobin, who’s even able to hear them reach out on occasion. It’s uncertain what exactly it is that they want.

The Visions (Eternally MV)

The night of the last day & Song of a Star (Soobin’s visions)

Eternally starts at the end of Magic Island, with the Dream World completely in ruins. Eternally happens before Magic Island, so this dream Soobin has at the beginning is nothing but a prophecy. In the dream, he is holding a book, which we also see Beomgyu with. I think this book is the one they got the information about the Dream World during the Magic era, since the cover is very similar to the symbols we can see in Run Away.

I believe Song of a Star is the Star reaching out to him. He’s the first one to be able to hear the Star, as shown in Magic Island, and he also references the Star’s song in teachers. The kid he sees is probably the version of himself that first entered the Dream World as a kid (or maybe Kai lol), which might be why he wants to cry everytime he has that dream: it’s the nostalgia for a time he left behind.

Room No. 17 (Beomgyu’s vision)

While I’m not sure what the number 17 means yet, and my research on numerology yielded no results, this vision is particularly interesting to me. Through it we get to see Beomgyu’s more ‘brash’ nature as he defends the book that Soobin was seen holding previously. If that book is their key to the Dream World, then it makes a lot of sense that he’s trying to protect it. I’m not sure who the other person trying to stop him is, but it does kinda look like things didn’t go well for them after Beomgyu transformed.

Girl of Eternity (Huening Kai’s vision)

Perhaps the strangest of names for visions, this clearly represents how the rest of the members keep moving far away from Kai and become unreachable to him. He mentions several times how he’s clueless about what’s going on and wants to understand, but the rest of them continue to keep him in the dark, so he feels a distance growing between them, which might increase in the future.

Moratorium of Rest (Taehyun’s vision)

Taehyun’s vision is perhaps the most shocking of all, as it shows us Yeonjun sitting on a chair and covered in spines and purple “paint”. Yeonjun is sitting in the middle of a field of all sorts of violets, and Taehyun tries calling him before realizing the condition Yeonjun is in.

Promise (Yeonjun’s vision)

Yeonjun shares the misfortune with Taehyun of seeing his lifeless corpse, except his vision is much less artistic about it. After finding his body, he sees a fire from the corner of his eye, and right next to it, you guessed it, the odd-eyed cat. His vision in particular finishes with the phrase “I thought it was salvation, then.” And here is where things turn south.

Yeonjun’s promise and the Odd-Eye Cat

I have a very strong reason to believe that Yeonjun is in danger of dying an awful death, and it’s only partially because of the visions. Since Nap of a Star, Yeonjun has been followed by the vigilant eyes of the Odd-Eye Cat almost religiously, and it usually never brings good situations with it. It’s bad enough that the neck cut in Nap of a Star is replicated in Taehyun’s vision, that Soobin sees Yeonjun all bloody in Eternally, and that both Yeonjun and Taehyun see the former dead, but there might be some external clues that hint towards Yeonjun’s upcoming demise.

In the official BigHit website for TxT’s discography, where we found out that Soobin researched and figured out the way to go into the Dream World, we can find a picture of Yeonjun reading a book. In English, this book is called The Alchemaster’s Apprentice. This book narrates the story of a black cat who sells its soul to a sort of wizard in exchange for food, since he’s starving to death. The wizard agrees to fatten the cat for a month, after which it will kill it and use its fat for magical purposes.

The cat in this book doesn’t have heterochromia, however I found out some pagan groups in Eastern Europe believe that a different colored eye was a witch’s eye, meaning that the eye has literally been swapped out with a witch’s. I fully believe that Yeonjun made a deal he shouldn’t have, and the Odd-Eye Cat has been sent by whoever made the deal with him to check on him. It might just be that Yeonjun’s time is going to run out very soon, and the visions are trying to warn everyone of that.

Conclusion

Magic exists and TxT might have bitten more than they can chew because they wanted to run away from the problems of real life (relatable). Now, the Star that they made a promise with is trying to reach them, and maybe warn them about something that’s coming. The fact is that they’re not safe, especially Yeonjun, and things might turn south very quickly very soon.

I’ll try to come back soon with the Minisode 1 + Chaos Chapter Theory update, but for now, if you liked this, please interact with the post and check out my other theories here!

#txt #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together #the star seekers #txt theory #tomorrow x together theory #tomorrow by together theory #txt yeonjun #txt soobin #txt beomgyu #txt taehyun #txt kai #kpop #kpop theory #bluenicorn does theories

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