#i've not written something like this in a while but it was surprisingly kind of a struggle

[joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

Can you ramble about gochi usa for a few paragraphs?

I think Gochiusa exists in kind of an interesting place within the meta of cute girls doing cute things anime, right. Cause a lot of cute girl anime have some sort of gimmick apparent within the very premise in order to stand out from the crowd, which can feel like a necessity given just how many cute girl anime there are. Sometimes it's a band, sometimes it's a sport, sometimes it's a hobby of some sort, hell sometimes it's that they're an isekai. You don't really get cute girl anime that just are cute girls doing cute things these days quite as often, it's always fairly specialised.

It shouldn't be said that Gochiusa doesn't have anything like this - your main hook in the synopsis is that it's primarily set within a coffee shop, and the two main characters' names are puns on hot drinks to lean into that. But that's kinda nothing, right? They're not fishing, they're not rifle shooting, they're not writing manga, they're not dedicated to one particularly complicated board game, they just kinda have part-time jobs. And the show is very much aware of that. So despite the coffee shop being part of the premise, the series as a whole rarely leans into it. It's mostly just cute girls doing whatever. Part of this is cause of its age - the manga started in 2011, even that long ago there was less competition and less need to set yourself apart from the premise alone. But it's still kinda noteworthy that it's a relatively modern cute girl anime without a core thing to set itself apart.

And that's where we get to the fun part. Without needing to be dedicated to one specific thing, Gochiusa kinda gets to do anything it wants without any real disconnect. They'll go to the pool, to the festival, to the halloween party, to the christmas party, to work, to just regular old school. There's no strings attached. It's just kind of normal. And since it doesn't need to justify anything it does, it can focus on just being really entertaining the entire time. The characters are adorable, the jokes are consistently funny, the slice of life is ultra-relaxing, the fuckin town it's set in looks like this

(stole these screenshots from here)

And while Gochiusa does all these normal things as pleasantly as other cute girl anime could only dream of, there's still a little bit of magic in the setting, of all things. Main character Chino's grandfather is currently in the body of a small fluffy rabbit. It's implied that other main character Cocoa accidentally did this when she was joking about casting spells as a child. It's not assumed that this is normal or anything, but for how supernatural that actually is it feels fairly incidental when you're watching the show because hey, who cares about the mechanics of this background magic when Cocoa and Chiya have got English homework to do?

It also needs to be said that a particular area Gochiusa excels in is that really every core character has a well defined relationship with one another, or in other words, there's no dynamic that goes unexplored. This is something that more cute girl shows struggle with than you'd think, but it goes a long way to sell you on group friendships and making the characters believable and shit. How differently does Syaro interact with childhood friend Chiya than she does with her crush Rize, or newly met friends Cocoa and Chino, you know? This even holds true for a good amount of the supporting cast too, whom happen to also be fun enough to carry scenes on their own without making me miss the main characters at all.

I'll say very briefly that the show does have a particularly rough aspect to it early on by way of some rather tasteless fanservice. It is thankfully only of the oldest character, but it's still far from necessary and pretty early on the series realises it doesn't need to operate like that in order to be enjoyable for the audience. So that gets phased out quick.

Past this point I start running into the issue of struggling to convey why I think something is especially good, because fuck me is it easier to talk about obviously bad stuff than obviously good stuff. And that's even harder with Gochiusa because nothing about it screams "yeah no I'm obviously good in an easy-to-describe way". It's a cute girls doing cute things anime without much of a gimmick, in written text format there are few ways I can come up with to actually sell that. And yet, the show's just really really good lol. On my most recent rewatch which was followed by season 3's airing, my face muscles started to get tired from smiling ear-to-ear every episode. Saying that out loud by the way makes me realise season 3 was almost 4 years ago - maybe I'm due for a rewatch lol.

Also as one last brief thing, Chino is just one of my favourite characters in any anime I've seen. Cute as hell design and I especially love her hair, that helps, but she also just has a nice simple character arc that happens across the series, without ever being overstated or anything since hey, Gochiusa is chill like that. Said arc is mainly one of a quiet introvert girl opening up and becoming more confident. She still enjoys her alone time and has solo hobbies the series respects, but she's also capable of taking initiative and making more of her own friends and such. It's nice. Also Gochiusa isn't immune to the passage of time so a lot of this stuff takes place over the course of Chino graduating from middle school and going into high school, which is something the anime hasn't fully gotten into yet but which a season 4 would cover, I imagine. Hopefully that can come soon - the series always does well enough to where I assume it'll happen one day.

Actual last thing just for fun

The dads look like this lol

[witchywcmans]

PLEASE, EAT. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ after you've been bitten by a sea serpent, you know the consequences are either death or the possibility of turning into one yourself. thankfully for you, laios touden is the devourer of all things monster and he is dedicated to getting that venom out of you. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ sex pollen-adjacent, cunnilingus + fingering, praise, breath play (kinda, if you squint), semi-public sex, multiple orgasms. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 3k

song inspiration ━━ too sweet, hozier / more than friends, isabel larosa

author's note ━━ this is the first time I've ever written and posted an x reader one-shot on here, so please be gentle with me lol. I usually only write x oc fics bc I'm a yapper and I love creating characters. but alas...I was perusing the laios x reader tag and wanted to read something with this plot, couldn't find it, so I figured I'd just do it myself 🫡

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

This was definitely one of the worst situations you’d been in.

You had joined Laios’ adventuring party just a few months prior. They had found you on floor 3 of the dungeon, shivering and mourning the loss of your father. His body, dead in your arms, and beside him lay the lifeless body of a ghoul you had killed. At first, the party’s leader, Laios Touden, had only been interested in taking the ghoul's body so they could use its bones for utensils after the flesh rotted off. But it was Marcille who noticed the tears in your eyes, how you trembled from the cold, and suggested they take you in. You almost declined, not wanting to leave your father’s body, but knowing he’d soon turned into a monster left you with only one option. Your father had been with you for the past twenty-five years of your life, and now, you were leaving his dead body in a dungeon to travel with a group of strangers.

You soon came to appreciate your new party, though, and you felt your father’s spirit within each of them. Marcille had his kindness, Chilchuck had a comparable wit, Senshi was gifted with excellent cooking skills, and Laios … well, you were still figuring that out. And surprisingly, it was Laios who you began to connect with the most. His knowledge of monsters was unmatched, and he had a passion for learning how to prepare them while they traveled deeper into the dungeon. He was overtly blunt, much like you, and possessed similar advanced fighting skills due to both your fathers' teachings.

Sometimes … sometimes though, you found yourself staring at him more than you should have. His face was abnormally perfect, as if he’d been carved by an artist. His tousled ash-blonde hair reminded you of a lion, and his eyes … sometimes you could’ve sworn they were made out of gold, shimmering like molten lava. Each time you thought this way, you smacked yourself when no one else was looking. I mean, Laios was your friend, your party leader. Having a crush, especially in circumstances like these, was unethical. You had always been focused on one thing: helping your party and making it out of this dungeon alive, for your father. You wouldn’t let a little crush deter you.

Everything had been all well and good until today, when you and your party reached the end of floor 4. When Laios had struggled to fight off a sea serpent, you joined him in the lukewarm water, using your crossbow to shoot the creature in the head. Finally, Laios was able to step in to slice the serpent’s head off … but not before the creature could snap its jaw, tearing one fang down your hip. You jumped back, screaming as you felt the venom seep into you instantly. Some said sea serpent venom would kill you immediately, others said it turned you into one of them, cursing you to haunt the waters with them as penance. As soon as the head was cut, Laios carried you away from the water, and the last thing you heard was Marcille cursing him out before you were rendered unconscious. 

You were woken up – hours, maybe days later – by a drop of water hitting your face every few seconds. Lifting your head from the makeshift tunic pillow, you took in your surroundings. You were at the entrance of floor 5, in a damp corner of cobblestone, while water dripped down onto the floor every so often. There was a moist bandage covering your side where the serpent’s fang had cut into you, part of your tunic ripped to shreds. Hunger boiled in your stomach, making you groan and rub your head. Laios was sitting just a few feet away, a small fire in front of him to keep warm. Marcille had to have helped him with that; there was no way to craft a fire in an area this damp.

“Am I dead?” You asked softly. 

Laios immediately turned in your direction, his mouth lifting in a smile. “Of course not.”

Your stomach did flip flops as you took in his smile, hunger consuming you. You needed something to eat – bad. Your body felt hot and sweaty, and you wondered if it was just from the humidity, even though Laios didn’t look affected. Sitting up, you informed him, “Well, that was one of two options my father said would happen from a sea serpent bite. Which means …” You lifted the bandage up, noticing the gills that started to form on the healing wound. A turquoise hue surrounded the gills, almost like a bruise. “Oh, fuck,” you muttered.

Laios stood, looming over you while asking, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the other option,” you replied, too hungry to cry. “The bite is –”

“– Turning you into a sea serpent,” Laios finished. “Honestly, I thought that was just a myth. But when the bite didn’t kill you …” His mouth twitched, tongue darting out to wet the corners of his lips. “We have to suck the venom out. That has to stop the mutation.”

Your head snapped up. “Huh?” 

But as soon as your eyes met his, you started to wondered if what you were experiencing was hunger after all. Perhaps … a different kind of hunger. Laios stared down at you, the sparkling gold replaced by a dark hazel. It was just you two in this little corner of the dungeon, but you suddenly felt exposed, so naked, under his gaze. Your body was hot all over, sweat sticking to uncomfortable places. And your thighs … a burning need emerged between them, soaking the thin linen of your undergarments. This had to be a symptom of the bite, but it suddenly didn’t matter anymore. Your worry had been replaced by an ache that only he could fix.

No – absolutely not. You couldn’t. You shouldn’t. You were turning into a sea serpent.

But the need between your legs still throbbed.

“It’s like when a snake bites you on the surface,” Laios said, crouching down to your eye level. His closeness made your heart rate pick up. You realized then that he had shed his armor, kneeling in front of you in just his gambeson, which clung to his muscles and wide frame. “A sea serpent is part snake. Sucking out the venom should stop the mutation. You’ll probably experience symptoms from the bite for a few more hours, but they’ll stop eventually.” 

He started to peel back the bandage, taking a look at the gills forming on your hip when you gripped his wrist. Immediately, his skin burned, making you even more hot. You ripped your hand away from him, and with sweat trickling down the side of your face, you said, “Don’t you think this is … weird? Maybe Marcille should do it.”

“Marcille and the others just went back to another part of the level to find dinner. They won’t return for an hour, at least. This can’t wait.” He inspected the turquoise gills with concern, before his eyes snapped back to yours, noticing the way your black pupils filled almost the entire iris. “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you. It’s just …” What exactly was the reason again? Oh, yes, it was pulsating hunger dripping between your legs from the bite, and you were terrified how you’d react the second his lips wrapped around your wound. The symptoms would just get worse. But he was right – this was the only way. Fuck, this had to be the most embarrassing thing you’d ever experienced. 

“Fine,” you finally relented, lying back down on the cobblestone. You did your best to get comfortable, but the makeshift pillow hardly provided much cushion between you and the floor.  “What should I do?”

“Nothing, just lay back and let me take care of it.” Laios lifted your tunic a smidge, and just the tenor of his voice made your ache even worse. “We’re just gonna … get this out of the way. And then …” His fingers hooked on the waistband of your pants, and you immediately clutched his collar. If you touched his skin again, you were sure to moan.

Laios looked from where your hand was gripping him and back to your eyes. “Your pants need to be off so I can have better access to the mutation. It’s on your hip.” You swallowed hard, knowing he was right, and your hand started to slip off his collar. “We’re friends, right?” He asked.

You nodded weakly.

“Good,” he smiled again, and you struggled to hold back a plea for him to touch you. He pulled down your pants, tossing them to the side. For a moment, he paused, taking in your soaked underwear and running his fingers over the mutation on your hip. He licked his lips again, and then said in a rather blunt tone, “You’re so –”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in, snapping your eyes shut to prevent further embarrassment.  Though you had never minded Laois’ occasional lack of social cues, this was one of those moments you needed anything but. “Just get the venom out.”

Laios tugged your underwear down a little to see if the mutation had spread. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he informed you, lowering his head to your hip. “I’ve read that these bites can have a multitude of internal symptoms. Nightmares ... sweating … fever …” He ran his tongue over the gills, making your breath hitch instantly. “… And especially, arousal. Neat, huh?” He chuckled, and just his warm breath on the gills made you even more wet. “Don’t worry, I got you,” he assured before finally wrapping his mouth on the wound.

Your body burned even hotter than before as soon as his lips touched your skin. He sucked the venom out of you, spitting out blue globs every other second. His hands gripped your side, digging into your flesh and leaving crescent shapes from his nails. As you felt the gills start to close up, you couldn’t help but moan and arch into nothing. This felt better than any time you masturbated … any time you imagined your party leader above you … Fuck, who would’ve thought sucking sea serpent venom out of you would feel this good? Thank the gods the rest of their party was off catching dinner. You couldn’t deal with them possibly hearing this.

It surprised you when your orgasm flooded through you like a crashing wave. As Laios finished sucking out the last of the venom and the mutation closed, your arousal came to a definite peak and you let out a whine. You grabbed his arm, cumming from absolutely no stimulation.

Laios didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he was mostly preoccupied with inspecting the area. You opened your eyes, your cheeks tinged pink, and saw the globs of venom to the left dissipate to nothing but water. You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I’m sorry, I –”

“The mutation closed. I was right!” Laios looked down at you, a big grin covering his face. “How do you feel?”

“Well, I definitely don’t feel a second set of lungs on my hip anymore.” You lifted your hand when you noticed a trickle of blue staining his lip, wiping it away with your thumb. “But I … my body is still …” The ache inside you had simmered slightly, but it was still there, lingering underneath the surface. 

This was genuinely humiliating. Maybe you should’ve just decided to turn into a sea serpent after all.

Laios grabbed your wrist before you could pull away from his face. He leaned into your palm, running his long nose down to your inner wrist. “Your skin is so warm. I can still smell how aroused you are from the serpent bite.” His eyes burned into yours, keeping your hand close to his face. “I can help. Do you need another release?”

Your cheeks got even more red when he acknowledged your orgasm. Shaking your head, you said, “I couldn’t ask you to do that. I can just –”

“I’d be honored to,” he replied, quite gruffly and persistent. His fingers tugged your underwear down with precision and ease, despite the damp fabric clinging to you. He spread your legs wide and placed them on his shoulders. Lowering himself down, he inhaled the scent of your climax and hooked his arms around your inner thighs. He smiled up at you – your pretty face red with embarrassment – all dopey-eyed and grateful. “You lot like to call me the devourer of monsters. Perhaps I should devour the last bit of monster out of you.”

He inhaled again, groaning like he typically did when he was hungry. His hot breath against your achingly wet pussy made you whimper with desperation. “You smell so good down here,” he whispered. “I’d wager you taste even better.”

You gasped as soon as he dove between your legs, licking a stripe through your folds, tasting your recent orgasm. He flicked his tongue over your clit before sucking on it with feverish excitement. Slick gathered on his tongue and he whined, needing more. So much more. You were the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted. Better than any monster, better than anything on the surface. 

“So good,” he muttered into your pussy, lapping against your clit, doing anything that would get him more of your arousal. “You taste so, so good.”

You whimpered out his name and attempted to close your legs, but he held them opened with all his strength. His arms wrapped around your thighs went tight, bruising the sensitive flesh. Your jaw went slack while your own hands scrambled for purchase, eventually landing in his cropped hair. You tugged, hips bucking against his face, making him groan even more. This allowed him to hold your hips a little higher, and his tongue finally dipped into your leaking entrance. You heard him grunt the second he plunged his tongue deeper, his nose nuzzling your clit. 

He devoured you like a starved man. He devoured you like you were a boiled scorpion, or roast basilisk, or – even better – like sweet, delicious homemade cheesecake. 

“Laios,” you whined, feeling your fever dissolve with each lap of his tongue. “Laios, it’s … fuck – it’s okay, I feel –”

“Need more,” he muttered, his voice low and laced with need. He was practically humping the stone floor as he buried his tongue as far as it could go inside you. Your hips couldn’t stop bucking forward, riding his face as you felt your orgasm building at the base of your stomach. Laios was completely transfixed. He wanted to be here, nestled between your thighs, for every meal. He’d take you away from the rest of the group before dinner, lapping away to the sounds of your pleas and whimpers, so help him gods. He’d do this every day, every night, whenever you wanted, for as long as he was alive. Fuck monsters. He could survive off the taste of you for the rest of his life.

Slipping his tongue out of your hole, he went back to sucking on your throbbing clit and feeling your legs start to tremble. You had to be close to another release, and he was desperate to taste it. He paid all his attention on your clit, snaking one hand up and sinking two fingers knuckle-deep into your entrance in tandem. “Fuck,” you moaned, tugging on his hair once again, “fuck – gods, Laios. I – I’m s-so close –”

“Please,” he begged, smearing your slick all over his mouth. “Please, you’re so good. Need to see how you taste when you release on my tongue.” His own hips continued to buck against the floor.

You choked on a cry when you finally came all over his tongue. He groaned, loud and drawn out, when he finally got a taste of your sweet climax, knowing that it was him that brought you to this point. The orgasm felt long, like the ocean bringing you in and out, and your whole body trembled. He continued lapping at your clit as it pulsed under his tongue, his fingers curling inside you through your orgasm. When you finally breathed out and started to come down from the high of it all, Laios stayed between your thighs, allowing his tongue to gently swirl your clit. Maybe if he continued, he could taste a little more of you …

You found your voice, hoarse from overstimulation. “Laios, please, you have to stop,” you begged, yanking his head up from between your legs. His mouth was covered in your slick, and then he was giving you that dopey expression again, making your heart clench. Your body was no longer hot and sweaty. Laios had completely cured you of the sea serpent bite with that expert mouth of his. He unwound his arms from your thighs, bringing his fingers that were still covered with your wetness to his mouth, tasting the last of your orgasm. You watched him, eyes wide and cheeks blushing, until he was looking at you again with those golden doe eyes.

“That was amazing,” he said, like he was in a haze. When your eyes flickered down, you realized he was hard in his pants, but it wasn’t like he even noticed himself with the way he was staring at you. “We should do that again sometime.”

He stood up, and you scrambled to pull your clothes back on before the group came back. You stammered, “It’s okay, uh – we don’t have to. Especially if you don’t want to. We could just –”

“I want to,” he cut in, a determined look in his eyes. “What are friends for, right?” 

[darkmatilda]

𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: each of you—especially spencer—knew that the words let's split up never ended well. yet, they still escaped his lips, something he would regret for the rest of his days. now, held captive, you must decide whether to place your hope in being rescued by the team or to start a psychological game with the unsub and escape on your own.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x bau!female reader, kidnapping, psychological and physical torture, captivity, bloodletting, reader attempting to commit s (to end their suffering), split narrative, performing a ritual, mention of sexual abuse, everything being broadcasted live by the unsub, incestous relationship, sad but not tragic ending

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

𝐚/𝐧: i admit, there’s not much romance in this, and yep, probably the freakiest shit i've written so far. a slightly modified request from an anon—really hope you like it. i hate how i described this investigation. please overlook the absolute lack of logic at times (especially in the beginning) (in my defense i've never kidnapped anyone lol). oh, almost forgot, happy valentine's day (to those who celebrate) <

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

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/ˌmetəˈmɔːfəsɪs/ a change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one

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You took a step back when your friend threw herself at you with a joyful squeal, wrapping her arms around your neck.

"Happy, happy birthday, my dearest!" Penelope exclaimed.

"My dearest?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow. A wide smile stretched across your face as you remained in her firm embrace, breathing in the pleasant scent of her sweet perfume. "Wait till Morgan hears that..."

"I heard," a deep voice sounded behind you. "But just for today, I'll let it slide. Happy birthday, kid."

Turning around, you spotted Morgan and Prentiss stepping out of the office elevator, each holding an identical cup of coffee. Both had smiles on their faces, and both pulled you into tight hugs while Garcia and Rossi were providing a cappella, completely off-key performance of Happy Birthday 

In seconds your hands were full—two gift bags and a box, and you hadn’t even managed to take off your coat yet. You thanked everyone with genuine warmth and gratitude but didn’t want to drag out the moment too long. It was still morning before work officially started, and you were already running later than usual. JJ had practically begged you to stop by first thing because your godson, Henry, simply couldn’t wait to give you his gift and wish you a happy birthday.

Either way, you had already been hugged by everyone—except…

“Come back in five minutes,” Hotch instructed the two of you, nodding at the rest of the team. “We need to get started on the case.”

And just like that, you and Reid were left alone—a surprisingly thoughtful decision from your boss. You were just friends, of course. Just like the rest of the team…okay, maybe a little closer than that.

“Here, let me help,” he offered, watching with a soft smile as Garcia’s massive gift nearly slipped from your grasp. True to his word, he carefully took it from you and placed it on your desk with the kind of caution usually reserved for handling evidence.

“Are you doing this because you’re an altruist,” you teased, “or because you’re afraid Pen would murder you if her present got damaged on your watch?”

“Why do you assume she’d only murder me?”

“Because I have a birthday,” you said matter-of-factly. “It’s weird to hurt someone on their birthday, don’t you think? Pretty sure even savoir vivre has something to say about that.”

Reid let out a short laugh, but whatever he was about to say next seemed to get caught in his throat. Under different circumstances, he probably would have kept talking, but time wasn’t on your side. In five minutes, you’d both have to return to a world filled with kidnappings, murders, and violence.

“So…” he started, briefly glancing down at his shoes before slowly reaching into the pocket of his blazer. “Oh—first and foremost, happy birthday. I know you’ve already heard that about a hundred times today, but…”

“But not from you.”

“Happy birthday,” he exhaled, almost nervously.

You frowned slightly, wondering why he seemed so worked up over this.

“Sorry, I just…I spent a lot of time trying to figure out if you’d like this gift, and I really wanted to see your reaction. So much so that I kind of forgot to actually say happy birthday.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Anyway, I hope that…”

He stopped short at the look on your face.

For a moment, you just stared at what he was holding, lips slightly parted, completely silent. Then, slowly, a delighted smile spread across your face.

“You hope I’ll like it?” you repeated, shaking your head in disbelief. “Tickets to Heathers? Spence, of course I love it! You know how much I love musicals, and oh my god, I wanted to see this so badly…”

You opened your arms to hug him—but then hesitated.

You knew he was one of those people who tended to avoid physical contact, and his comfort had always been your priority. Even after all these years of friendship, you had only truly hugged a handful of times. And by truly, you meant something more than the brief, passing embraces that came with birthdays or other celebrations.

Spencer caught your gaze, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something. But instead, he simply gave a small nod—and wrapped his arms around you. The corners of your lips lifted again—though, honestly, you weren’t sure they’d ever really dropped. Not that he could see it, not with your hands resting against the fabric of his sweater and his chin lightly hovering over your shoulder.

You let out a soft sigh as you pulled away, reluctant but aware that time was chasing you both. Besides, you had something to show him.

There was a quiet tension in the air as you slowly stepped back, just barely out of his arms. Spencer watched intently as you reached into your coat pocket.

“Henry gave me this this morning,” you said, handing him the homemade card your godson had made. A small, knowing smile tugged at Spencer’s lips even before he took it, his gaze dropping to the stick figure that was supposed to be you. “He said I’m his favorite aunt in the whole world,” you added, a playful lilt in your voice. “But I’m not supposed to tell Uncle Spence because it might make him sad.”

He placed a dramatic hand on his chest, his eyes flickering between the card and you, back and forth.

"That would have really hurt my feelings," he began, "if he hadn't told me the exact same thing on my birthday."

You burst into laughter. With a small nod, you gestured that you should head back to the rest of the team. Walking side by side, you made your way in the right direction.

"Should we tell JJ that there's a little liar growing up under her roof?" you asked along the way.

"Well, the lying phase is actually a natural stage of child development," he mused. "A lack of distinction between fantasy and reality, a desire to please adults—there are various reasons. So I think we can spare her that particular worry. At least he's empathetic."

You had already reached the door to the briefing room, but before either of you could grab the handle, Spencer stepped forward slightly, stopping you in your tracks. You looked at him, a bit surprised by the gesture.

"And by the way..." he began, his tone drastically different from the one you'd been using just moments ago. You saw him swallow, carefully choosing his words. "Are...are you okay? The case we're working on...it seems to be affecting you a lot. You have dark circles under your eyes."

You had the urge to scoff defensively and sarcastically thank him for the compliment. You probably would have with anyone else—but with him, you never felt the need to hide your worries. It was easier to admit to them. Easier, but not easy.

You took a deep breath, lowering your gaze as you nodded.

"I just really want to catch these people," you admitted quietly, truthfully. "It's been going on for too long. They've hurt too many girls..." You clenched your eyes shut, avoiding his gaze, which was filled with concern. You nodded toward the door in front of you. "Come on."

He watched you for a brief moment before sighing and stepping aside to let you go first.

Soon all of you were seated around the long table, noses buried in the case files. Penelope was briefing you on a new discovery related to the case you were working on—the one that, as Reid had noted, had been keeping you up at night. She kept her gaze averted from the image on the screen, never able to handle such sights well. And the body of a young woman, drained of every last drop of blood, was particularly disturbing.

"Just like in the previous cases, abandoned seven days after the abduction," she announced, clasping her hands at stomach level. "I’ve been tracking them—I mean, really staring at my screen for hours, even more than usual—but our twins haven’t streamed a single broadcast since then."

"We've entered the transition phase," Hotch said quietly, though his rough voice, as always, carried enough weight to reach even you and Reid, seated farthest from him. "Their ritual failed. They disposed of the body and now need time to prepare for the next one. Restocking supplies, medications, medical equipment."

"This is when we should strike," Prentiss said, leaning both elbows on the table. "They're out of their hideout, likely making transactions, meeting with suppliers. It's all illegal, of course, but the underground market, or at least part of it is under our surveillance…"

This case was difficult.

Usually, you followed a certain pattern. First, there was the crime. Then, piece by piece, you uncovered the missing fragments of a complex puzzle, eventually identifying the unsub. Or unsubs, as in this case. When dealing with an abduction, the final step was typically locating the victim’s holding site.

And that was exactly where you were stuck—on this fucking last step—for yet another week.

In the meantime, one of the unsubs had launched a career as a streamer, broadcasting their actions—at least fragments of them—on the dark web. The streams started at irregular hours, lasted for inconsistent amounts of time, and seemed almost spontaneous. He had to believe that he would attract psychos like himself and his sister—people who would be fascinated by the process.

As strange as it sounded, moving the crime online had actually filled you with a twisted sense of hope.

You thought it would make everything simple. Garcia would trace their location, or maybe, by watching the streams, you’d catch some clue that would lead you right to them.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

He only ever showed you that one room—a space resembling a hospital ward that could have been anywhere. It could have been hidden in the basement of any house in the country, inside some abandoned warehouse, on a remote farm miles away from civilization. Anywhere.

The only thing that had changed was that now you could see the victims' faces. You could watch the hope drain from their eyes as they realized no one was coming to save them.

And that thought drove you to madness.

How you even uncovered their identities and names was an even more complicated story. It all started with an offhand theory Reid had muttered under his breath—one that no one had paid much attention to at first, but which later escalated into the truth.

You had already known there were two unsubs. Their names were Lavinia and Leon Schuyler—thirty-three-year-old twins. Well, technically, triplets.

Piecing together fragments of their lives, you discovered they had another sister, Lydia. The three of them had spent their childhood deeply bonded, drifting from one dysfunctional foster home to another. Since the third sibling wasn’t involved in their crimes, you concluded she had recently died. That theory was reinforced by the fact that their victims all resembled her—and that during the streams, Leon addressed them by one name Lydia.

And, once again, through analysis, you realized what all of this was leading to.

The twins believed they could bring their sister back to life.

You had all of this. But until you had their location, it was as if you had nothing at all.

"Prentiss is right," Derek announced, his hand tightening around his coffee cup. "Our best chance is to track them now, while they’re searching for their next victim. Because we all agree there will be another, right?"

He wasn’t looking for confirmation—everyone knew cases like this didn’t just end.

Hotch nodded thoughtfully. "That’s our job for today," he began. "Not just today—we keep looking until we find them. We need to reach out to our informants, track down their supplier for drugs and medical equipment. And we need to pinpoint the location where the transaction might take place."

With a quiet sigh, you rubbed your forehead, fully aware that the next few hours would be pure informational chaos. But you were completely prepared to dive into it—anything to finally bring this case, the one that had been keeping you up at night, to an end.

In a perfect scenario, that would happen before another victim was taken.

♊︎

"Guess this isn’t how you planned to spend your birthday evening?" Reid asked.

With your hands resting on the steering wheel, you gave a small shrug. He might not have even seen the gesture in the dimly lit car, the empty road ahead reflecting the brief flashes of headlights cutting through the night.

"I wasn't in the mood to celebrate anyway," you admitted.

Under different circumstances, you might have let your teammates drag you to a bar or invited them over, picking up a cheap cake from the first bakery you passed on the way home. But from the moment you came across the information about a human blood sale taking place that night in an abandoned ruin—once a shopping mall—you all knew there would be no chance to catch your breath anytime soon.

You were almost certain that the twins would be one of the parties involved in the transaction.

At first, it filled you with doubt. Human blood? Why would they need to buy it when they were kidnapping all these women for that very purpose? Every body had been drained of it—whatever ritual they believed they were performing revolved entirely around blood.

"Maybe it's a form of experimentation," Reid had tried to explain a few hours earlier at the office, his furrowed gaze fixed on the board cluttered with all the data you'd been compiling. He paused, thinking. "Our unsubs are deeply delusional. They believe their actions will bring their sister back to life. So far, they've tried twice and failed. But instead of admitting that what they're doing is utterly irrational and illogical—because, of course, a blood transfusion into a dead body won't resurrect it—they'd rather blame the process itself, look for errors in their methods. Buying blood allows them to practice, to refine their approach without wasting what they truly desire—the blood of their victims."

"Actually, the fact that I'll finally get to see Heathers soon totally makes up for having to do... this on my birthday," you added after a moment of silence, gesturing toward your bulletproof vest.

Spencer didn’t respond—he was listening intently to Hotch’s voice coming through the car radio. A brief summary of what was unfolding at the ambush site.

You had your doubts about it, ones you kept to yourself. This was your best shot; you had to believe it would work. There hadn’t been enough time to prepare. You didn’t even have up-to-date blueprints of the place.

The abandoned building was in such a state of decay that most people driving past probably had no idea it had once been a shopping mall. The floor was coated in dust and shards of shattered storefront glass. Water from a leaking roof had seeped into the walls, leaving behind dark stains. Plastic tables from the long-defunct food court lay overturned and filthy. From what you’d managed to gather, a lot of people from the local underworld—mostly dealers—had passed through here at least once in their careers.

You didn’t feel that you were properly prepared, nor did you like your role in all of this. Your job was to circle the area in an unmarked car, providing backup in case your unsub somehow managed to slip away. That meant you had no direct view of the ambush and had to rely entirely on the descriptions and updates from your teammates. So far, though, no one had shown up.

"Hm, Spence?" you suddenly said into the space between you, a little uncertain. You kept your eyes on the road as you drove, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head questioningly. You fell silent for a moment, trying to keep your tone casual. "I got two tickets from you…and, you know, I was wondering if maybe you’d want to, well…see it with me?"

You had no idea why you suddenly felt so tense. After all, you were friends, and friends went places together sometimes. Just the two of them.

"Are you sure?" Reid asked, making you shift in surprise. Was he going to say no? He quickly added, "I mean, I don’t want you to think I expected you to invite me just because I gave you the tickets…It’s a gift, and if you’d rather take someone else, a friend or…"

"I want to take you," you interrupted, shifting your gaze to him.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the glint of your eyes visible in the dark car. Spencer gave a small, gentle smile.

"She's here. Alone. We're waiting in position until she goes inside," Morgan's voice informed you.

You both straightened up, as if brought back down to earth. The sense of satisfaction, even excitement, that had grown within you after he agreed suddenly took a backseat. You remained silent, listening for further instructions. Sitting there in the car, you felt utterly useless. She’s here. Just Lavinia? What about her brother? Did she come alone? Had they suspected something was off and decided not to risk being caught together? Your breath caught in your chest for several long minutes, stretching into a quarter of an hour.

“Fuck” 

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Fuck! She got away. She was alone, and she still managed to slip through…there must be a hidden exit in the warehouse…”

Reid brought the radio to his lips.

“We’re nearby—we might be able to catch her. Did she come on foot? If so, her car could be parked somewhere close, maybe with her brother waiting. She’s probably heading straight there.” A faint crease formed between his brows, the mark of complete focus. “Garcia, you got me? Check the maps. Find anywhere they might have stopped…”

“How the fuck did she slip through?” you hissed under your breath, your heart hammering against your bulletproof vest.

You weren’t there—you had no right to judge. But for god’s sake, it was one woman against a trained FBI team!

“Guys, I think I’ve got something!” Penelope’s tense whisper crackled through the radio. “An abandoned parking lot, I’ll guide you there…”

You shoved your anger and confusion aside for the moment, yanking the wheel sharply as you turned toward the location Garcia had given. Cracks in the concrete had been overtaken by tufts of grass, something you noticed the moment you stepped out of the car, the door slamming shut behind you. It was nighttime, and darkness sprawled between the trees ahead, swallowing up what little visibility you had. The entire area was unlit, making it hard to see much—except for the single parked car standing out in the gloom.

You and Reid didn’t need to discuss your next move. A brief exchange of glances was enough—a silent reminder to stay cautious. Weapons drawn, you approached the vehicle from opposite sides, moving in sync without a word. You expected to see the face of the man you had been staring at endlessly over the past few days of the investigation. You hoped to find him in the driver’s seat, to yank him out with a firm pull, slam him against the hood, and cuff his wrists as his face met the cold metal.

But the car’s interior was empty.

“Damn it,” you muttered, lowering your gun. “Is this even their car? Maybe we came here for nothing…”

“Let’s find out,” Reid murmured, scanning the area cautiously before tugging on the surprisingly unlocked front door. His brows lifted—he seemed just as surprised as you.

You circled around the vehicle to join him on the same side, resting a hand on the open door as you watched him pull on a pair of gloves. He reached for the glove compartment, likely expecting to find some documents inside.

“Nothing,” he sighed after a long moment, disappointment lacing his voice.

He turned his face toward you, his tense jaw easing as he parted his lips to say something else. 

Then everything was drowned out by the sharp crack of gunfire. One shot. Then another. Bullets slammed into the hood of the car with a metallic clang.

It all happened too fast.

You spun around, your flashlight beam cutting through the darkness—and landing on her. Blonde hair wild around her face, cheeks flushed from a desperate sprint.

Her gun was raised. Her finger tight on the trigger.

And you.

Most of your body shielded behind the open car door.

Most of it.

But not your head.

Then—Reid’s hands gripping your waist. Yanking you down.

The bullet shattered the window, glass exploding around you. Instinctively, you both ducked, heads low as sharp fragments rained down.

Curled up together, arms tangled, you locked eyes—both of you breathing hard, lips parted in shock. It had only been seconds, but in his gaze, that raw flash of fear stretched endlessly.

Your fingers dug into the fabric of his vest, gripping onto the solid warmth of his body as the world tilted. The ringing in your ears was deafening, the gunshot echoing in your skull, stretching time unbearably—like a warning of the next shot to come.

But it didn’t.

And when another second passed. Then another—

You moved.

Ignoring Reid’s sharp inhale, his hand reaching to hold you back, you pushed up onto your feet. The flashlight beam managed to catch Lavinia for a brief moment before she disappeared entirely into the stretch of trees between you. You couldn't let her escape and make it back to their hideout, the one you had been struggling to locate for so long.

Following her trail, you shot across the parking lot like an arrow. Reid was a fraction slower to react, but he wasn’t about to let you go after her alone. You could hear his footsteps behind you as you ran forward with determination, nearly tripping more than once over scattered rocks and branches along the forest path. You knew the flashlight was giving away your position, but you kept it on, scanning the surroundings for one of the unsubs.

It was as if she had vanished into thin air. As if the trees had swallowed her whole, even though the narrow, mostly overgrown path led only forward. You stopped, desperately looking around. You had no idea how far you had run, but your breath had become uneven, despite your excellent physical condition as an FBI agent.  You couldn't accept the fact that she had slipped away from you twice, that she would soon meet up with her brother and together start planning the abduction of another victim…

Reid's hands reached for yours to turn off the flashlight you were clutching. In one moment, his face was right in front of yours, perfectly lit with squinted eyes, and in the next, it disappeared. You could still sense his presence just in front of you, his heavy breathing when he spoke.

"We have to..." he started in a slightly hoarse, quiet voice.

"We have to catch her," you interrupted through clenched teeth. You pulled away, moving forward again, but then he grabbed your wrist tightly.

"This is pointless," he replied, to which you immediately snorted in response. You wanted to argue, but then his finger landed on your lips, stopping you from speaking. "It's pointless for both of us to chase her like this," he explained, finally calming his breath. "Give me the flashlight, I'll go on alone. You head back to the car and take the other route. The forest is small; she'll have to come out on the other side soon. And above all, notify the team about everything."

His hand pulled back only after he finished explaining the plan. At that point, you no longer had the desire to protest. Everything he said made sense, even though something deep inside you screamed that you shouldn’t split up. You ignored it and forced yourself to nod. You handed him your flashlight and, after a last exchange of glances, you jogged back.

“Spence,” you turned suddenly after taking only a couple of steps. He also looked at you, clearly surprised. “Be careful.”

 Reid nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured you. “Be careful too. We’ll meet up in a bit.”

It was only when you were running back to the car that you realized just how far your pursuit had gone. Anxiety clung to your back and didn’t let go, even as you emerged from between the gnarly trees. You gripped your gun tightly and tucked it back into your waistband as you sat behind the wheel of your car, not even pausing to catch your breath. Without hesitation, you leaned over to the radio, but before you could get a word out, something flashed in the corner of your eye.

You froze at the sight of the gun aimed at the driver’s side window.

You didn’t even fully turn to the side, you didn’t wait. You knew what was expected of you. With slow, almost rigid movements, you opened the door and stepped outside. You dragged out the process, analyzing the stance of the man, the second of your unsub suspects. He wasn’t a tall man, and after reviewing his history, you knew he had no significant experience with weapons or combat skills you had mastered long ago.

You almost smiled when you managed to use the element of surprise, grabbing his hand and redirecting the gun to the side. The shot rang out.

Leon Schuyler hissed with satisfaction, as if he had expected it all along. Then, before you could slam your knee into his groin, another sound escaped his lips. It was possible you had misheard it, but it sounded very much like a goodnight.

And after that, a sharp needle of a syringe pierced your neck with precision.

♊︎

It wasn’t until morning that Spencer began to grasp what had actually happened.

And even then, not fully. He felt as if he were blankly staring at the script of a play—one whose plot and themes filled him with such deep discomfort that he wanted nothing more than to leave the theater without so much as murmuring an apology to the people he passed. Yet at the same time, his entire body was nailed to that rough seat, his head immobilized, unable to look away. He wanted to run onto the stage and shout, enough, to put an end to it all—but he had no such power.

Who did?

The ambush for the twins had been set around midnight. About an hour later, they had both taken off after the fleeing woman. Then they had split up.

He didn’t remember much after that—not until five in the morning, when the entire team finally stopped scouring the area, clinging to the desperate hope that they might stumble upon the unsub by sheer accident. For the first time, Spencer felt so detached from the passage of time that even when he looked at his watch, the position of the hands made no real sense to him.

Hotch had announced that they needed to return to the office. To regroup. To think carefully about their next move.

They were the first to arrive—Spencer trailing behind Hotch more like a shadow than an actual participant in events. Others followed, one by one. Shaken. Furious. Devastated. But most of all, still bewildered, still unable to accept what had happened.

The sun had begun to rise, but even that seemed slower than usual, reluctant to banish the wretched darkness still clinging to these walls.

Spencer realized he was staring blankly out the window instead of using his so-called genius to find a solution. His mind felt empty, and the shame of it hit him like a physical blow, followed by something even more tangible.

A pair of hands shoved against his chest, forcing him backward.

“JJ…”

Derek was between them in an instant, stepping in to hold her back.

She froze, staring at her own hands as if surprised by what they had just done. Then she clenched them tightly across her chest, her gaze locked onto Spencer, raw and overflowing with emotion.

“How could you…how could you even suggest splitting up?” Her voice trembled, her head shaking in disbelief. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. She had been the last to arrive, the one who stayed out searching the longest—desperate, frantic, chasing down any possible lead that could tell her where they had taken her best friend, the godmother of her son. “You know this never ends well, Spencer. You know that. You should have known that…”

"Enough" Emily appeared beside them, gently wrapping her arms around JJ’s shoulders.

JJ slumped, a single tear glistening in her eye for the first time.

"This isn’t helping," Emily said softly. "We need to focus on finding her as quickly as possible. They… they don’t kill their victims. Not right away. We still have a chance…"

"They don’t kill their victims," JJ repeated blankly, wiping her eye with a stiff movement. She didn’t look at any of them. "They just keep them locked up for days, drain their blood, and throw them away like garbage."

She took a breath.

"I need to see Penelope."

She tore herself from Emily’s grasp and walked away without looking back.

Her words lingered, filling the space, stretching the silence into something unbearable.

Spencer felt like he might throw up if he even tried to swallow

By accident, his gaze met Emily’s. Her brown eyes were surprisingly gentle.

He looked away.

Facing JJ’s fury had been easier—it was just a fraction of the hatred he felt toward himself. But he couldn’t stand any attempt to soften just how badly he had fucked up. He opened his mouth, maybe to apologize, before realizing just how meaningless it would be. What would his apology change? The only thing he could do at that moment was pull himself together and find her.

“I need to focus,” he said, his throat so dry the words barely made it out. He wanted to leave the room, to be back among the case files, to lose himself in analysis and overlapping thought patterns, to check everything—literally everything.

But then Penelope appeared in the doorway, the color drained completely from her face.

“Guys, you need to see this…” she choked out.

For a second, everyone froze—until, led by Spencer, they rushed toward her office.

"Just like in the previous cases, I can’t trace this transmission," Penelope explained frantically, nearly running beside him on her high heels. They burst into the dimly lit room full of screens, where JJ was already inside—motionless. She was biting her thumb, staring at one of the monitors in a trance. "They’re using satellite internet, masking the signal, and constantly jumping between servers..."

Behind them, Prentiss let out a strangled sound.

The whole thing was being streamed via a handheld camera, mostly fixed on one point—the face of their teammate. It seemed to be set down on something, maybe a table, because if someone were holding it, the frame would be shaking.

Hotch stepped in as close as possible, his eyes shutting for a brief moment. He was reliving it all over again. Once more, one of them had been taken, and the rest were forced to watch, helpless.

But if Tobias Hankel had left behind anything remotely useful, it was that they knew how to handle this.

Silently, painfully, they all gathered around Garcia, absorbing the footage—no, the live feed.

"Is recording this really fucking necessary?" a woman's voice snapped—it belonged to Lavinia.

Spencer's mind flickered with the image of her face—those empty green eyes staring down the barrel of a gun aimed directly at them. Her brow furrowed. She had no visible injuries on her face. She was lying on a stark white bed, the kind that looked like it belonged in a hospital, covered by an equally white blanket up to her waist. She wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest anymore—just a loose nightgown that ended at her elbows. Her eyes were half-lidded, blinking slowly—probably just waking up.

"We already talked about this. It is," her brother replied. "What are you doing?"

Lavinia stepped into the frame. They weren’t wearing masks, weren’t bothering to hide their identities—fully aware that law enforcement already knew their names.

One of her hands clamped down on the captive’s, pulling it toward her with little care before pricking the tip of one finger.

Confusion rippled through everyone watching. Spencer might have rushed to explain if not for the fact that he couldn’t force a single word out. He couldn’t even look away.

"I'm checking her blood type, what else?" she scoffed. "You kidnapped her without running it by me, and you should know that if this bitch has the wrong blood type, I’m not wasting our time on her."

"Pay attention to the way they speak to each other," Hotch started, bracing a hand against the desk. "There's tension—some kind of conflict…"

"Hotch," Spencer cut in, his eyes shut tightly. Nausea churned in his stomach. Keeping his eyes closed was the only way to stay on his feet.

Lavinia's words pounded against his skull on repeat. If this bitch has the wrong blood type, I’m not wasting our time on her.

"…That's a good thing. It means they're less coordinated, and it's more likely they'll make a mistake..."

"Hotch," he tried again.

This time, it was almost a plea.

"…We should—"

"She’s AB Rh+."

Hotch finally turned to look at him. So did the rest.

They froze—silent, motionless—not because they didn’t understand what it meant, but because they refused to accept it.

AB Rh+, a blood type that could only be transfused to someone with the same.

All the previous victims had type A blood.

I’m not wasting our time on her.

Prentiss sank into the nearest chair, as if her knees had simply given out beneath her.

So this was how it was going to end?

Before they could do anything to help her? Before he could even come up with a single idea on how to save her?

A single tear slipped down Penelope’s cheek. She didn’t even try to wipe it away.

“Let me check,” Leon, the male unsub, suddenly offered. “Go turn the heat up. Even I’m cold, and I’ve got a jacket on.”

His sister hesitated for a moment before she agreed.

Spencer finally opened his eyes—not to torture himself with the helplessness on his colleagues’ faces, but to force his gaze onto the screen. He fixed his eyes on her half-conscious face, searching for any sign of understanding. Did she get it? Had she already connected the dots?

Breathing started to hurt.

He wanted so badly to apologize. It wouldn’t fix anything, but maybe—maybe—it would dull the ache.

Him. Spencer Reid. And his stupid idea to split up.

He had sent her back to the car.

He had sent her to die.

That thought was dangerous, but maybe it was a good thing that the end was so close. That she wouldn’t have to endure days of suffering, uncertainty, and fear. He knew that feeling. He knew it all too well—praying for his own death when the pain became unbearable when fear and exhaustion drained the last of his strength. He didn’t want her to go through that.

He didn’t want her to go through any of this.

But that…that especially.

"And?" Lavinia returned to the room after a long moment.

"Well, what can I say? I’ve got a good eye," her brother said lightly. "O Rh-, a universal donor. We couldn’t have asked for a better match. You know what this means? That this time, we might finally succeed."

Everyone exchanged glances, utterly confused.

“Spencer…” JJ looked at him for the first time since their argument. “You said…you yourself said that she—”

“Because she is,” he interrupted. “He lied.”

Prentiss snapped her head up, a spark of hope flickering in her eyes. Spencer didn’t share her optimism. He did feel some relief, that much was true. But he was painfully aware that this wasn’t over. The nightmare was only beginning, and it was up to them to end it—before it was too late.

♊︎

You were afraid to be afraid. 

Absurd—you were well aware of that. But ever since you woke up in that hospital-like room, hooked up to an EEG and an IV, with a pulse oximeter clipped to your finger, your thoughts had focused solely on one thing. Not panicking. Calmness gave you a sense of control. Of course, you had none whatsoever—you were entirely at the mercy of two lunatics who believed they could bring someone back to life. But if they could be delusional, then so could you.

You knew this room from the recordings. For the longest time, you couldn’t determine where exactly it might be located. Was it a repurposed basement? A cabin in the middle of nowhere? Even now, being here in person, you couldn’t say for sure.

The moment you were left alone, you seized the opportunity to unhook yourself from all the machines and pressed your ear against the wall.

Once, your team had found a victim’s location by identifying the sound of a plane taking off in the background of a ransom call. You hoped for something similar to happen now. But you quickly realized the grey walls were lined with  soundproofing foam. The floor, covered in rubber, absorbed footsteps completely. You didn’t even hear anyone approaching until a flat palm struck you across the face so hard that you collapsed back onto the bed.

Lavinia was ridiculously strong.

“If you get up without permission again, I’ll cuff you to the damn bed,” she said, tossing a bottle of water onto the mattress beside you. “Drink. You’ll get food when you do something for me.” 

"As if I have anywhere to run," you muttered under your breath, reluctantly reaching for the water. "What do you want me to do? What time is it?"

Every time one of the twins visited you, you asked for the time. You needed to know how long you had been there. But with the constant doses of sedatives they were giving you, you couldn’t even estimate it.

Deep inside, you felt like it had been no more than a day.

The others had been kept for seven days before…

You shook your head. You couldn’t think about the others if you wanted to hold on to what was left of your sanity.

“Good night,” Lavinia muttered, messing with the IV drip.

“But you said I had to do something…” You frowned in confusion.

The blonde shrugged. She was wearing a green coat with fur on the hood. Both she and her brother always came to see you dressed warmly, even though the temperature in your little prison was relatively comfortable.

They had changed you into a thin nightgown that ended just above your knees and at your elbows, but curled up under the blanket, you were relatively warm.

That led you to one conclusion—wherever you were, the rest of the building wasn’t as well-heated. It was cold enough that they needed extra layers.

Whatever was in the IV worked.

You woke up on the floor. And freezing. Oh God, it was so cold. Your entire body immediately started shaking.

When you tried to push yourself up at your own sluggish pace, someone simply yanked you upright, like pulling a vegetable from the ground. You hissed in pain, instinctively trying to push the woman away, but all that did was earn you another hit.

Lavinia didn’t hold back.

The previous victims hadn’t been beaten this badly, so you assumed she particularly disliked the fact that her brother had chosen to kidnap you.

Leon, unlike her, didn’t hit you.

He just kept shoving the camera in your face.

Honestly, you preferred a busted lip and bruises over the fact that your team was seeing what was happening to you.

That awareness hurt a thousand times more than any torture ever could.

You managed to take a look around this new room before you were shoved toward the bed.

Unlike yours, it didn’t look like a mad doctor’s operating room but rather an ordinary, slightly old-fashioned bedroom. Dark wooden floors, a wardrobe with ornate handles in the corner, no windows—just like your room. Bottle-green walls.

Your gaze finally fell on the bed, and you barely managed to choke back a scream.

Suddenly, you understood why it was so unbearably cold in the room.

In front of you lay the body of a woman, her eyes closed, but her face was so unnaturally blue that you could never have believed she was merely sleeping. If not for the fact that she had been dead for—what you estimated to be—several weeks, she would have been identical to Lavinia.

Only after the initial shock of the sight wore off did her name come back to you.

Lydia.

The last of the triplets. The one who had died. The one they were trying to bring back with their…ritual.

As an FBI agent and profiler, you were accustomed to seeing dead bodies—but this one unsettled you in a way you couldn’t quite rationalize.

Lavinia approached the corpse and smiled down at it with an affection so genuine, so reverent, that it sent a shiver down your spine. It was the kind of smile only mothers gave their children. Then, without hesitation, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to Lydia’s cold, gray cheek.

The dead woman’s short blonde hair fanned out across the pillow like a halo. Her hands were folded neatly atop the blanket, eerily reminiscent of someone in prayer. You were shaking, and it probably wasn’t just because of the cold.

"From now on, you will take care of our sister twice a day," Lavinia began, opening the drawer of the bedside table. She took out a hair comb, a bottle of some liquid, and a silk cloth. "Brush her hair and wipe her body."

As she spoke, she demonstratively rolled up one of Lydia’s sleeves. She was dressed in a nightgown similar to yours, but with lace at the collar and long sleeves reaching down to her wrists. You couldn’t suppress a shudder at the sight of her exposed skin. You were trembling too much from the cold for Lavinia to notice.

Lydia’s veins were dark. The blood transfusions into her lifeless body had caused it to clot. Small lumps had formed where the blood had thickened, and her arms were covered in scars and puncture marks.

“W-why do I have to do this?” you asked, clenching your teeth to stop them from chattering.

Lavinia shrugged as she wiped her sister’s skin with the cloth.

“Someone has to take care of her,” she said. “By doing this, you’re building a bond with her. Here, try it. Just be gentle.”

For a moment, you just stared at her. You were now certain—absolutely certain—that both Lavinia and Leon had crossed the threshold of madness and were living in a world where logic held no place.

Her gaze hardened as she shoved the cloth into your hands. It almost slipped from your trembling fingers.

You looked down at the body and hesitantly wiped its surface…a violent gag reflex hit you so hard that you staggered.

You heard a contemptuous scoff.

“If you throw up on her, you have no idea what I’ll do to you,” she warned.

This was sick. Sick, sick, sick.

Your breath caught in your chest—you couldn’t look at Lydia, laid out in bed as if merely asleep. Taking care of her as if she were alive. But another warning glance and the flash of a weapon beneath Lavinia’s coat forced you to keep going. You started wiping down each of her limbs, one by one.

She was a small woman, barely any weight to her, and yet it felt like the task stretched into eternity.

Sick, sick, sick.

When you were done, a comb was shoved into your hand. Its teeth were wide-set, meant to avoid damaging the delicate hair of a corpse. Lavinia kept hissing softer through gritted teeth every few seconds.

Sick.

You forced yourself to set the comb down calmly instead of flinging it away like it burned you. Following instructions, you reached for Lydia’s hands, gently folding them back into the same position as before. As you did, your gaze lingered on her wrists for a long, drawn-out moment. The deep, jagged wounds. So that’s how she died? Suicide?

Lavinia stabbed you with a syringe.

♊︎

You lay in bed, your body still trembling.

You weren’t cold anymore, yet you curled up under the blanket. Just as Lavinia had warned, she forced you to do it again a few hours later. Taking care of Lydia’s body now dictated when morning came and when night fell. Not once had you fallen asleep on your own—there were always the drugs, injected mostly when they needed to move you to another room. You wondered why you couldn’t just walk there yourself.

Not that you would have been able to sleep anyway. You made sure not to close your eyes. When you did, your mind conjured sick visions—of the corpse lying right beside you, feeding off your blood, slowly consuming you the way mold devours fresh fruit.

You were afraid to be afraid, yet fear was beginning to take hold of you.

You were still searching for a way out of all this… You knew the team was looking for you too, doing everything they could, but you couldn’t just sit and wait. You had to find a way to gain some sort of advantage over the unsubs. There was no use trying with Lavinia, but Leon…

He was the weaker link in this duo.

He had lied about your blood type, which meant he wanted to keep you here.

You heard him enter the room. They usually took turns coming to see you, rarely together. His arrival was always preceded by the small wheeled table carrying all the electronic equipment and streaming cables. If only Garcia could trace it…

“How are you feeling?” Leon asked, sitting on the edge of your bed, keeping his distance, the camera aimed directly at your face. You tried to turn your head so the bruise under your eye—courtesy of his sister—was out of view. A poor attempt. Your lip was swollen too. “You look weak. My sister told me to bring you something to eat, but… you know, Lydia is smaller than you.”

You raised your eyebrows. So what, was he planning to starve you until you resembled his sister’s corpse? You didn’t even try to understand it anymore. It wasn’t worth the effort for your exhausted mind. You didn’t answer, unsure of what you even should say. But you wanted to keep the conversation going.

“Why…why are you even recording all of this?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing directly into the camera. It was impossible that the whole team was watching the stream. You hoped as few of them as possible were seeing you like this. Especially not Penelope—she wasn’t built for this. Not JJ, your best friend. And definitely not Spencer.

On second thought, you didn’t want any of them to be watching.

Leon cleared his throat.

“Well, we’re doing something incredible. People want to see it. They’re curious if we’ll succeed.”

You’re doing something sick. Freaks want to watch it. They’re fascinated by it, you corrected him in your head.

“So, I have fans?” You tried to sound playful, friendly.

Leon was surprised by the warmth in your voice. Pleasantly surprised. His pale face, green eyes brightened slightly.

“Yes. I guess you do,” he admitted. He almost seemed shy, as if he hadn’t kidnapped you. “Can I…can I talk to you? Maybe they’d like to know something about you. The previous ones…the previous ones didn’t really want to say much. Mostly, they just screamed.”

You used all your strength not to flinch.

“Sure,” you replied, forcing a soft smile. It was just a game, a mask. You tried to observe the conversation from the outside, detached, clear-headed—while pretending you didn’t hate him. “What do you want to know?”

He didn’t move closer, but he shifted slightly to make sure the camera captured as much of you as possible.

“I know you’re a fed,” he began. “I even looked you up. I know your name. How old you are. But nowhere did it say what you like. You know, what you do. In your free time.”

You hesitated for a moment. You were kidnapped. If it were someone else in your position, you’d tell them to be as human as possible—honest, even. Make your captor see you as a person with feelings, desires, dreams.

So you took a breath and tried to answer truthfully, even though it hurt.

“I love musicals,” you finally said.

You thought about the two tickets—Spencer’s gift.

It hurt unbelievably much.

You prayed he wasn’t watching. That he wouldn’t hear this.

You told Leon a little about the last musical you had seen. It had been a long time—your job left you no time for such things. You looked him straight in the eyes as you spoke, because the sheer disgust you felt toward him was the only thing keeping your tears from spilling over. You felt so fragile, talking about something you loved to a man who, in just a few days, planned to drain you of blood.

You didn’t want to die like this. You refused to.

“Do you want kids?” he asked suddenly.

The question was so unexpected that you didn’t even have time to think.

"I guess…I guess so," you said.

But your surprised mind quickly sharpened, pulling up information from their biography. You knew that the twins' mother had died in childbirth. You didn't know what was driving him to ask this question, but you preferred to be cautious.

"I mean, no. I don’t know, actually. Maybe. To continue the species."

Or to have a loving family, but of course, you weren’t about to say something so personal out loud.

Leon remained still for a moment, then suddenly laughed. You pretended to laugh along, but you couldn’t stop the sharp flinch when he suddenly moved closer, touching your cheek with his hand. He lowered the camera—it was now pointing at the floor.

"You're so funny," he said with strange tenderness. "Just like Lydia. She…she was the same way."

For the first time, he referred to her in the past tense instead of the present. Was he starting to realize that she was gone?

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Another question.

"No."

"Have you ever loved someone?"

"What…what really happened to Lydia?"

The team had never found that out. But you had seen the wounds on her wrists and figured it out yourself. Still, you wanted to hear what he had to say about it. Because by now, you were starting to suspect.

"She passed away because of an illness," he said shortly, enigmatically, cutting off any further questions. Then, he repeated himself. "Have you ever loved?"

"In what way? Romantically, like a sibling, like family…?"

"It doesn’t matter."

Your posture became more alert, analytical. Leon withdrew his hand from your face, but he didn’t point the camera back at you, as if he had forgotten he was even holding it.

"Of course, I’ve loved," you said quietly. "And I still do. And you loved Lydia, right?"

The man nodded, a certain longing filling his green eyes.

"It’s late," he announced after a moment of silence. "I should go."

But before he even moved to stand, he leaned in. His lips brushed the top of your head, hesitant. You fought the urge to push him away. You had to keep up the act, continue this game. Wrap him around your finger, so that the very thought of hurting you would terrify him.

"Goodnight, Lydia."

♊︎

A certain force kept him bound to that chair, watching each broadcast over and over again.

He believed that, eventually, he would spot some previously overlooked detail—one that would immediately allow him to pinpoint the location. But in part, he also wanted to punish himself. Because what could hurt more than watching the face of one of the most important women in his life grow paler and more bruised with each passing moment?

A woman he himself had condemned to this fate.

But he didn’t stay in the office for another night just to drown in his own guilt. He was capable of multitasking, so while the weight of it pressed down on him, he poured everything that came to mind onto paper.

He noted the exact moments the streams began, measured their precise duration, wrote down every single word spoken, and searched for any hidden meaning.

Maybe, somewhere in one of those conversations, she had hidden a message meant for their team—a clue to help them find her.

Three days had passed. Logically, it made sense to assume they were following the same pattern as in previous cases. And that meant nearly half of their time was already gone.

Spencer kept thinking about Leon’s cryptic words—that his sister had supposedly died of an illness. He wondered if that was true or if the twins had chosen to live in denial. Maybe it was easier for them to accept that fate, a cruel and indifferent universe, had taken her—rather than the possibility that she had done it to herself.

He rubbed his tired eyes and let out a heavy sigh when he realized he was getting nowhere.

Garcia had allowed him to stay in her office alone—something that, under any other circumstances, would have gotten him killed. She hated when anyone touched her keyboard.

But time was relentlessly moving forward, and they all had to sleep at some point. Usually, only one or two of them were assigned to monitoring the broadcasts at a time, while the rest focused on other search efforts. They worked nonstop.

They had already experienced a moment of sheer terror at the very start, forced to confront the brutal reality that she could die. And they were determined not to let that happen.

Especially Spencer.

Not just because he owed it to her. It wasn’t only about guilt—the fact that he had been the one to suggest they split up. Even if he had nothing to do with her current situation, he would still be glued to this chair in the dimly lit room, illuminated only by the glow of the screens, a single desk lamp, and the rhythmic ticking of the clock.

Because she was his friend. Because she was an inseparable part of his life.

Because she was someone he could say, without a doubt, that he loved.

Whether that love was purely platonic or something more didn’t matter right now.

The only thing that mattered was the silent promise in his mind—that he would make sure they watched that musical together.

Hundreds of them, if she wanted.

He drank surprisingly little coffee. What kept him on his feet and his mind sharp weren’t the stimulants but the occasional glances at the drawing Henry had made—a gift she had left in the office, intending to take it home after work. To pin it to her fridge with a cat-shaped magnet. Of course, Henry had no idea what had happened to the best aunt in the world. 

He drifted off in thought for a moment, only to be pulled back by movement on the screen.

The stream was starting.

Spencer immediately straightened in his seat, giving his cheek a light slap to wake himself up, to force himself into absolute focus.

Like every time, something clenched painfully in his chest.

He barely recognized her, even though the light in her room was on.

Several details hit him all at once.

First, the wound on her cheek—one that hadn’t been there before. Second, her hair. It had been cut to the exact same length Lydia’s had been in the photos he’d seen of her. The association filled his mind in an instant, vivid and unshakable. Third… the bandages wrapped around her wrists. Both of them. His hand shot toward his phone to alert the team, to wake everyone up. Or maybe someone else had already done it—he wasn’t entirely present in his own body.

But before he could move, before he could do anything at all, his breath caught in his throat. A thought began to scroll across his mind like a news ticker.

Metamorphosis had already begun.

♊︎

When Leon cut your hair, you took advantage of his momentary distraction—his mind entirely consumed by memories of his sister—and stole the scissors, slipping them under your pillow.

You wished you could say it was part of some greater plan. But in reality, you were exhausted, your strength fading more and more—not just physically, but mentally too. If your calculations were right, at least three days had passed. Twice a day, they drugged you and moved you to a room so cold that you lost all feeling in your limbs for hours, forced to care for a dead body. Staring into Lydia’s empty eyes, at the bluish veins beneath her lifeless skin, you couldn’t stop imagining yourself the same way—discarded by the roadside, drained of every last drop of blood.

You didn’t want to go like that. You wanted to go on your own terms.

You seized your chance that evening, when they left you alone without sedatives. You hesitated. But what if the team had finally tracked you down? What if they were already on their way? Wait or don’t wait? They would understand. You knew that. You were relieved that the camera hadn’t been on you 24/7. You had at least spared them from witnessing this, the desperation and terror slipping from your wrists along with your blood.

It was Leon who found you. He collapsed to his knees beside you, consumed by sheer panic, screaming Lydia’s name over and over, begging her not to leave him again. His cries alerted Lavinia. You had hoped that despite her medical experience as a nurse, she wouldn’t reach you in time.

You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting their faces to be the last thing you saw before death. With the last remnants of your strength, you struggled against their grasp as they tried to lift you from the floor.

Then, everything faded away.

"Leon, this is a waste of time."

The blurred words drifted into your consciousness, floating there like debris on the surface of water. You observed them with closed eyelids, seeing nothing, feeling little, barely understanding anything.

"She…maybe we should just get rid of her. Find a new one."

"We can’t," her brother responded firmly. You had never heard him speak in such a commanding tone before. "We can’t take that risk. They’re on our tail. Police…FBI. If we try again…this is our last chance. She is our last chance, and this time, it will work. I can feel it"

He paused.

"She’s just like Lydia."

His twin remained silent for a moment before letting out a weary, resigned sigh.

"I guess you're right," she finally replied. "I'll go refill the boat's fuel. Keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. And when she wakes up, take her to Lydia. They need to…they need to bond. A stronger bond. Right now, she's too weak."

"Be careful," her brother warned her gently.

You opened your eyes only after Lavinia left the room. The light stabbed at them painfully. For a moment, the helplessness consuming you was utterly devastating. You wanted to scream, to wail—it took everything in you not to beg the man to put you to sleep again. If even death couldn’t save you from this fate, then what could? 

Leon didn’t say a word to you. After a while, he simply helped you up, touching your body as if it were made of fragile porcelain, then guided you into the hallway, offering light support. You were weak, horribly weak, but the moment you left your room, a flicker of strength began to return.

For the first time, they allowed you to walk to Lydia on your own instead of carrying you there unconscious. That gave you a chance to take in your surroundings more clearly. You were so surprised by this newfound freedom that, for a moment, you forgot how unsteady your legs were.

You stepped into what seemed like a corridor. Instead of soundproof foam, the walls were lined with metal, rust creeping along some of the panels. The air carried a certain chill—not the biting cold of Lydia’s room, but something more natural, like a draft seeping through an imperfect structure. And then there was another sound, layered beneath the whisper of wind slipping through the cracks—a faint, steady noise.

Rushing water.

Leon kept leading you forward. You crossed a threshold, and that was when you saw it—an old window at the end of the corridor. Something inside you surged forward, an instinctual pull. You wanted—needed—to press yourself against the glass, to look outside, to at least see where you were. The unfamiliar sounds and the stark change in environment stirred something deep within you.

The will to survive.

You thought it had died back there, on the floor, when you miraculously lived. But it hadn’t. It had only been waiting.

Leon pulled you along more forcefully. For the first time, you thought about hurting him. He wasn’t as strong as his sister—if you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck at just the right angle…You were alone there, Lavnia had gone… You tried to recall her blurred words. Refill the fuel in the boat? A boat? So your intuition had been right—you were somewhere on the water.

You had done this so many times that he didn’t need to hand you the cloth or the comb; you already knew where to find them. As you opened the drawer, you could feel Leon’s gaze on your back. You moved slowly, hoping to find something sharp. Anything. Even the comb would do…

You turned around and saw Leon sitting on the table by the bed, his forehead resting on his sister’s lifeless hands.

A perfect opportunity. Perfect circumstances. He was distracted, not paying attention to you.

Unfortunately, you weren’t fully focused either. His sobbing…

"My beautiful Lydia," he wept softly into his sister’s body, burying his face in it as if hoping she would embrace him, stroke his head. "My dear Lydia. I loved her, you know. I love her."

You didn’t move, clutching the comb in your hands. You barely felt the cold, even though your body registered it perfectly, making you shiver. And although rage filled you—a wild, feral madness—you wanted to lunge at him. Yet somehow, you found a sense of calm, a sliver of reason.

You remembered your previous strategy. Leon, the weakest link.

Leaning in, you gently ran your fingers through his blond hair.

“I love you too,” you replied with difficulty.

The man stopped sobbing, remaining still for a moment. With a slow inhale, he straightened up, his wide-open eyes locking onto your face. A slight shiver ran down your spine.

It was possible that you had just made the worst mistake imaginable.

But there was no turning back now. You held his gaze, refusing to look away. You couldn’t tell what emotions were flickering behind his stare. Was it shock? Suddenly, he stood up abruptly. Instinctively, you flinched, raising your hands to shield yourself, bracing for the kind of blow his twin sister had delivered so many times before.

But it never came.

Instead, without a word, he simply turned on his heel and left. He didn’t call for you to follow. He didn’t say anything at all.  For a moment, you stood motionless before slowly setting the comb back onto the table. Your feet barely lifted off the ground as you moved toward the door, only to freeze once you reached it. Seconds passed. Then minutes.

You pushed it. And it opened.

A strange wave rolled through your chest.You were alone at the threshold of an open door. Alone on your own feet, not tethered to anything that could put you to sleep at a moment’s notice. You didn’t think long.

You ran.

The world spun violently from the sudden movement, your weak body barely managing to stop in time to avoid crashing into the window. Your heart pounded furiously, drowning out your thoughts.

You would regret it. In fact, you already did a second later.

Your gaze had barely locked onto the space outside the window when strong arms seized your clothes, yanking you back and slamming you to the ground. You landed hard on your elbow, too disoriented to even feel the pain. Lavinia stood over you, clad in a jacket, her hands clenched into fists. But before she could take a step toward you, her brother moved between you, shaking his head.

"Don't hurt her," he pleaded.

He reached out to touch her, but she slapped his hand away, redirecting her fury toward him instead.

"Don't hurt her?" she echoed mockingly. "And how else is she supposed to learn that she can't just go running off? Why did you even let her?"

"Sorry, it's my fault. I forgot to lock the door," he said.

You didn’t even care whether he was telling the truth. Your mind was spinning too much, especially as you tried to push yourself up.

"But she's our sister, and you can't keep hitting her."

At those words, both you and Lavinia froze.

You looked at her face—pure shock, trembling lips. You were surprised too, but… the corners of your mouth twitched. You masked it quickly, pretending there wasn’t even a trace of satisfaction in you. That your plan wasn’t starting to fall into place.

“Get her out of my sight,” Lavinia said coldly, her voice devoid of emotion.

You watched as Leon slowly stepped toward you, helping you to your feet. As he led you back to your room, you caught a glimpse of Lavinia hiding her face in her hands. You stayed silent for a long time, watching him carefully. It hit you—this was the first time you were with him when he didn’t have his camera.

Slowly, you sat down on the bed, waiting to see if he would sit next to you. And he did.

You swallowed. You couldn’t let yourself feel too confident yet—you still had to be careful, still had to watch every step you took.

“You defended me,” you noted gently.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked just as bewildered as you felt. You hoped he wasn’t starting to regret calling you that. You hoped his own delusions were wreaking havoc in his mind—to your advantage.

“Thank you,” you added.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. He straightened up, turning his head toward you. There was a strange devotion in his green eyes. “You’re my sister. Of course, I have to protect you.”

You nodded gently.

"I am your sister," you repeated clearly, locking eyes with him, willing these words to sink deep into his very core. "I am already your sister, Leon. Lydia. But… our other sister wants to hurt me."

As you spoke, you reached out your bandaged hand, lightly touching his arm. He stiffened under your touch, staring at you with growing astonishment. In fact, he looked almost in awe. As if you had just descended from the heavens. You took that as a good sign.

"You know what she wants to do to me. To drain my blood. How many days do I have left?"

His breathing grew heavier.

"Tomorrow," he answered. "Tomorrow at midnight."

"Tomorrow…" you trailed off, shaking your head. You forced panic to take hold of you. You must have been unconscious longer than you'd thought. "But I am already her. Can't you see?" You ran your fingers through your hair, smiling brightly. "We’re together again. We love each other again. And she wants to tear us apart."

You saw hesitation creeping onto his face, the subtle furrow of his brow betraying his uncertainty. You had forgotten—Lavinia was his sister too. He loved her as well. Turning him against her wouldn’t be that simple.

Swallowing your nerves, you spoke again.

"We have to convince her that I have truly become Lydia. But for that to happen…you know, there’s something still holding me back. An anchor. Two anchors, actually. They keep me from letting go of who I used to be."

He gazed at you with growing intrigue. A metaphor like that had to be especially stimulating for his deranged mind.

"What are these anchors?" he asked, a readiness in his voice, as if he was already prepared to rid you of them.

"One of them," you began slowly, carefully choosing your words—mostly because you hadn't fully thought this through yet. "One of them is…I need to say goodbye. One last farewell that will sever all ties to my previous life. I wish I could let go without it, but…Leon, I’m afraid it’s necessary. It’s holding me back against my will."

You could see him absorbing everything you were saying.

"Say goodbye…to whom?"

There were many names you could have given him. But you chose the one that would strike straight at his orphaned heart.

"To Mom. I don’t need to see her. Just…just a short phone call would be enough."

The silence between you was so heavy, you genuinely feared he might hear your heartbeat. And it was raging in your chest, pounding so fiercely that your limbs trembled. You waited. Everything depended on his answer.

Leon averted his gaze, staring blankly into the distance. You prayed you had reached him. That his desire to have Lydia back was strong enough.

"Tomorrow, I will bring you a phone. One that can't be traced," he finally said.

Okay, that was not part of the plan.

"But tomorrow, Lavinia will…"

"She won't," he cut you off. "I won’t let her… We’ll get rid of the anchor, and she’ll understand that you’re already here."

You could have argued, but you were too afraid of accidentally undoing everything you had achieved so far. So, you agreed. Even an untraceable call was better than nothing. Especially since, in that brief moment you had stood by the window, an idea had begun to form in your mind.

Leaning in, you pressed a grateful kiss to Leon’s cheek. He allowed himself a brief smile.

"And what is the second anchor?"

You told him.

♊︎

When you woke up, you knew it was morning.

Lavinia had dragged you to Lydia’s room the old way—while you were unconscious. At the same time, she had announced that this was the last time and that you had better start getting it right. So, you wiped the woman’s body with as much care as possible. For the first time, you were able to look directly into her eyes.

This was going to end soon.

She would finally end up in a grave, those two would be in prison, and you…

You tried not to fantasize too much. You had to stay focused.

You slowly combed through Lydia’s short hair. Time passed, but Lavinia did not return. You had grown somewhat accustomed to the fridge-like cold, but you had never stayed here longer than fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. You waited for someone to come, but when the chill became unbearable, you approached the door and started pounding on it. Your frozen hands didn’t even register the pain.

"I’m still here!" you shouted.

Had they forgotten about you?

"And that’s where you’ll stay," Lavinia’s voice answered from the other side.

You frowned, hugging your trembling body.

"You’ll stay there until the ritual. I’ll come for you before midnight."

"But it’s morning!" you screamed.

No response.

You slammed your fists against the door again. Harder. Again and again, until blood coated your knuckles and your lungs burned from breathing in the freezing air. One moment, you had everything—a plan to keep yourself alive. The next, you doubted you’d survive the next few hours in this cold.

Had the previous victims gone through the same? Or were you the exception because Lavinia wanted to make sure you never made it out?

You paced around the room, hoping that movement would warm you up. Meanwhile, thoughts of hypothermia and its fatal consequences circled in your mind. You wavered between determination to survive and pure despair, convinced that you wouldn’t make it. You had no idea how many minutes had passed before your gaze landed on the wardrobe that had been standing in the corner of the room the entire time.

With almost blissful relief, you layered on piece after piece of clothing found inside. You knew you would make it until nightfall. 

What came next remained uncertain.

♊︎

Leon found you curled up inside the wardrobe, so accustomed to trembling that it felt like a natural state for your body.

“Come on, we have to hurry,” he said, offering his hand to help you out.

You clung to him tightly, as your legs refused to support you.

“What…where…Lavinia…the phone…” you mumbled, your frozen body unable to form coherent sentences.

“I have the phone, but we need to move fast. I got here just before her to give it to you. Come on.”

He led you out of the room. You turned your head toward Lydia lying on the bed, wondering if this was the last time you would see her.

When you were back in your own room, you wrapped yourself tightly in the blanket, leaving only your head and hand exposed—the hand in which Leon pressed the phone. Your body slowly began returning to its optimal temperature. You couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Leon crossed his arms over his chest. He had no intention of leaving you alone with the phone—he was going to listen to the call. But you were prepared for that possibility.

Instead of frantically dialing, you looked at him. He didn’t have his camera with him.

“Don’t you want to show… this moment to your fans?” Your voice still trembled slightly, your tongue struggling to cooperate. He frowned, not seeming to understand what you meant. You had always avoided the camera before. “Well, you k-know…the final moment before my complete metamorphosis. They’ve followed you for so long…I’d think they…they’d want to see it.”

"You're right. Absolutely right. Wait here."

Not that you had anywhere to go.

He returned, as always, pushing his small table along and clutching his camera in his hand. His fingers trembled slightly. Acting behind his sister’s back must have been stressing him out, but his desire to get Lydia back was too strong. At that moment, you were certain he would do whatever you told him to. With stiff fingers, you dialed the number twice before getting it right. You were calling your mother to say goodbye. That was the official version.

There weren’t many numbers you knew by heart, but Spencer’s was one of them.

Under Leon's watchful eye, you pressed the phone tightly against your ear to make sure he wouldn't hear a male voice—one that was definitely not maternal. The camera was aimed straight at your face, and you stared into it without blinking, as if challenging it to a contest of who would break first.

If the team wasn’t watching this, you might as well smash the phone against the floor.

"Hi, Mom," you said the moment the call connected.

You didn’t breathe. The fear of ruining everything made your throat tighten, and you swallowed hard against the lump. For a moment, there was only silence on the other end.

You didn’t look away from the camera, your senses sharpening from the sheer intensity of your focus. The adrenaline burning through you kept you warm.

Still, no response.

"Hi, sweetheart," a woman’s voice finally said—JJ’s voice.

Tears stung at your eyes, and you worried they would give you away in front of Leon. You made a mistake while blinking and you bit down hard on your tongue as punishment.

JJ was pretending to be your mother.

"I don't have much time, Mom," you began. "I'm just calling... just to ask how you're doing. Is everything okay?"

"Garcia, can you trace where this call is coming from?"

Spencer’s voice.

Another mistake.

Your next breath felt like choking, and you had to steady yourself. You needed to do one more thing—just in case this didn’t work.

"That's great," you threw in a random half-sentence to make the conversation sound real for Leon. "Uh-huh...I'm glad everything's fine. Yes, I'm okay too, don’t worry"

You fell silent for a second, too long. Leon raised an eyebrow. You were supposed to be saying goodbye.

"I...I...Mom, do you remember my favorite mug? The one you accidentally broke last time?"

You swallowed hard, never breaking eye contact with the camera. You couldn't come up with any other cover story besides the mug, so it had to be enough.

"I...I kinda yelled at you back then. Sorry. It was my favorite, but now I...I know it wasn’t your fault."

Your voice grew weaker as you spoke.

Don't cry, you warned yourself.

"It wasn’t your fault, Mom. Not your fault, S—Mom."

Terrified, you glanced at Leon, hoping he hadn't caught it. But he only waved his hand impatiently, urging you to hurry.

You swallowed hard, and before anyone on the team could say anything else, you spoke your final words.

"I love you. Goodbye."

Then you hung up.

For a moment, you stared at each other without moving, until he turned off the camera and you handed the phone back to him. Hearing their voices—possibly for the last time—tightened something in your chest, a pressure you struggled to release.

"Thank you, brother," you said softly. You nodded slightly, grounding yourself, pulling yourself back to the plan. You had to act, to keep moving before Lavinia returned. "You know what we have to do now, right?"

Leon nodded.

♊︎

“What was that about the mug?” Prentiss asked as the call ended.

JJ closed her eyes for a long moment. The rest of the team, gathered around the computer where the stream had played just moments ago, looked utterly confused.

“You think she was trying to send a message? A hidden clue?”

“Garcia, can you play it from the beginning?” Spencer cut in, leaning toward the screen.

The first time he watched it, emotions had taken control, clouding his focus. He had been stupid, so incredibly stupid. Most of his attention had latched onto the repeated words it’s not your fault which only deepened the devastation in his mind. But a small part of him had registered the way her eyes moved.

“Sure, just a sec…” Penelope’s fingers flew over the keyboard, and soon the footage played again.

“Do you understand what she was trying to say?” Rossi asked.

Spencer shook his head. A rush of adrenaline, almost intoxicating, coursed through him.

“She didn’t hide a message in her words,” he explained, straightening up. His gaze darted around Garcia’s desk, searching for something to write with. He grabbed a notebook with a pink, glittery cover and a pencil topped with a fluffy pom-pom. “Look at the way she’s blinking. It’s Morse code.”

Everyone fixed their eyes on the screen, trying to see it for themselves.

Everyone except JJ.

She was looking at Spencer, no trace of anger in her expression—just hope.

Reid wrote down the message she had sent.

Oil rig.

♊︎

The cold was almost liberating.

You stood with Leon at the edge of the oil rig. Ever since you managed to reach the window, you'd been trying to figure out where they had kept you. The realization had come to you slowly. The sound of water surrounded you both, and the wind played with your freshly cut hair. It felt so good that, for a brief moment, you closed your eyes.

But only for a moment.

You couldn't celebrate victory when you hadn't won yet.

Your gaze shifted to the man beside you, then to Lydia’s body, wrapped in a bedsheet and lying just a few steps away. This was the last anchor—the one you had convinced him needed to go.

Lavinia would be back any second. It had to happen now.

Of course, it was never really about anchors. The whole story about your mother had been nothing more than a way to send a message—one you hoped your team had understood and was already acting on. And the one about Lydia? That was just to bring Leon to the edge of the oil rig. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” he said, nodding slightly and exhaling as his eyes lingered on his sister’s body.

You pushed him.

When you planned this, you hadn’t accounted for how weak you would be.

Leon staggered, yes—but he didn’t disappear beneath the waves. Instead, his hand caught the thin fabric of your nightgown, and with a short, startled yell, he yanked you both down onto the floor. 

You groaned as your body slammed against the hard surface.

“You… bitch,” he said, almost in despair, realizing you had been lying to him all along.

You kicked him in the face with your bare foot and pushed yourself up onto your elbows. He let out a sharp gasp of pain—you heard the crunch of his nose breaking—and for a fleeting second, you thought you were on the fast track to escape.

But then his hand clamped around your ankle, yanking you down again.

You let out a frustrated sound as his knee pinned you to the ground. You struggled to shove him off. He wasn’t like Lavinia, but he also wasn’t as weak as a starved woman who had spent nearly an entire day in a freezer.

Right. He wasn’t like her.

He was fucked up, but not enough. Not enough madness in him.

Your nails clawed blindly at his skin while your other hand fumbled against the surface, searching for anything. You felt like you could kill him with a feather if you had to. But you found something far more practical than a feather. 

A brick.

Leon collapsed when it struck his temple. But that wasn’t enough. With a pained breath, you pushed yourself up over him and swung again. You kept swinging, not caring that your fingers were sticky with blood and the brick was beginning to slip from your grip. You kept striking longer than necessary.

Leon had been dead for a while.

You threw the brick aside, gasping for air. Everything felt so unreal, so distant. For a moment, you closed your eyes, still kneeling over his motionless body. When you opened them, ready to face the sight before you, your gaze accidentally met someone else's.

Lavinia stood a few steps away, disbelief and slowly growing fury in her eyes.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, neither of you fully grasping what had just happened.

Then it hit her—you had killed her brother.

And it hit you—that you were absolutely screwed.

Well, that thought only truly settled in once she tackled you to the ground. Punch after punch rained down on your face, so relentless that you couldn’t think, couldn’t come up with an escape plan. Was there even one? Your hands fell limply to your sides, no longer attempting to fight back. The ends of her blonde hair mixed with yours, strands stained red from the blood streaming down your face.

When she stopped, for a brief moment, you thought you were dead.

You had always imagined death as a very quiet experience. Peaceful.

But instead, you could hear her ragged, frantic breathing, a sound almost like a sob, and barely intelligible words cutting through the air.

"I’ll finish this."

During your entire time in that place, she had always moved you from one location to another by knocking you out with sedatives first. But this time, it wasn’t necessary. Your body was so battered that all she had to do was grab you by the leg and drag you along, not caring that your skin scraped against the rough surface.

When your vision finally sharpened and you realized you were back in that same cursed room where it had all begun, for a moment, you thought the recent events had been nothing more than a dream.

But then—

One glance at your bloodstained hands.

One glance to the side, at the neighboring bed and the lifeless body of Lydia resting upon it.

One glance at the IV lines piercing the crooks of your elbows, the slow, steady flow of liquid passing through them.

Your blood.

The only thing that brought you solace was the slowly creeping realization that, at the very least, you had managed to say goodbye to those closest to you. They had seen your face, the raw pain and love in your eyes as you whispered your final goodbye. At least you had assured Spencer that none of this was his fault. You could only hope that, in time, he would start to believe it. At least partially.

You had long drifted off when the door to the room burst open with a bang. 

♊︎

She was saved by the fact that she was a universal recipient.

Still, by the time they found her—after Garcia had finally tracked down the illegally sold oil rig through a bankrupt extraction company—she was already weak. Very weak. So much so that the following hours were filled with even greater fear than the past few days.

She couldn’t slip away from them now that she had been rescued. Or rather, now that she had rescued herself. Spencer had no intention of taking credit—nor letting anyone else take credit—for her brilliant moves and meticulous plan.

He sat in the hospital corridor, while JJ rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand. Her leg trembled, and with it, her entire body. Emily held her other hand tightly.

"Spence," she finally said. Her gaze had been fixed on the floor, and it took effort to lift it to him. But it was necessary for what she was about to say. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. For how I reacted, for how I treated you these past few days."

He wasn’t quite sure what to say, so he just gave a small nod.

“She’s your friend. It’s normal that—”

“She’s your friend too. Ours. We should have been supporting each other this whole time instead of yelling at one another.”

“You were the one yelling.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. JJ opened her mouth but said nothing.He hadn’t meant to throw it in her face—he didn’t even feel angry. Back then, he had only cared about one thing. One person. But before he could add, retract, or clarify his words, a nurse approached them, informing them that someone could go inside. The entire team stirred in their seats, but only two people were allowed in at a time.

Spencer sat back down, nodding toward JJ and Emily.

Emily raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Reid. Of course, it has to be you.”

Although he had been ready to step aside, a faint, grateful smile crossed his lips.

He followed JJ into the hospital room, his steps slowing as they approached her bed. Unpleasant flashbacks flooded his mind—seeing her like this on a screen, the helplessness that had gripped him then. It took him a moment to shake off the feeling, to ground himself in the realization that he was here now. That she was right in front of him.

A sudden chill of panic ran down his spine. What was he supposed to say to her? Was he even capable of opening his mouth without turning into a pathetic, guilt-ridden mess, mumbling endless apologies and self-deprecating confessions? JJ spoke first, sparing him from his spiraling thoughts. She started with something simple—a quiet whisper of her name.

She said it again, and slowly, her eyelids fluttered open. Spencer felt something tighten in his chest. A relief so immense it almost hurt.

She murmured something weakly.

Both he and JJ stepped closer, and this time, he was the one to say her name.

“Don’t call me that,” she rasped. Her eyes shut again, and she turned her head to the side, as if refusing to look at them. Shutting them out. “That’s not my name,” she whispered.

“I’m Lydia.”

post-reading author’s note:

if you survived reading such a long fic—CONGRATULATIONS and THANK YOU and also im SORRY. i know there wasn’t much reid not much of the team and honestly it had very little to do with canon—it was mostly just a product of my imagination. i hope you’re not disappointed.

if any topic in this fic triggered you, i apologize. i tried to include everything in the tw but i might have missed something.

[justnatoka]

Detective chronicles

David x GN! Reader

A/n: Not gonna lie, I'm an absolute sucker for those kinds of fics where the characters find out that one of them has been secretly in a relationship the whole time with the reader. So of course I've been doing a lot of thinking about how could I implement this with the boys, given that they do everything together and also have their vampire mental link and stuff. This is what I came up with.

Word count: 2.4k

Warning: this is really stupid and extremely unserious

Summary: There's something going on with David. Paul's not sure what it is, but he's determined to find out, roping in Marko and Dwayne as accomplices into his investigative shenanigans.

Something was wrong with David.

Or at least Paul thought so, but he also couldn't be sure it wasn't just the copious amount of weed making him imagine things.

David has been acting different lately. He has been going off on his own more than he used to, sometimes even without telling the boys. More than once in the recent days did they notice that he was just gone one second while they were hanging out on the boardwalk. Paul even caught him sneaking out of the cave one night when they were lounging around. And when he got back, he would be smiling to himself, quickly changing his expression back to neutral before the others realized that he was doing it.

But Paul noticed, yes he did. Many people have written him off as an airhead who's so high all the time he wouldn't even know if fish started falling out of the sky. In reality, he was surprisingly perceptive, even if he usually chose the least appropriate moments to voice his findings.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Marko asked.

He has been watching Paul watching David for a while. Their leader was sitting at the other side of the cave, wrapped up deep in his thoughts. He would have usually barked at Paul for staring by now, and he felt like the fact that he didn't was another sign that he was right.

"Something's fishy," he replied, eyes narrowed, face scrunched up from thinking so hard about this.

Marko peered at David.

"What do you mean?"

"Did you notice anything weird about him?"

Marko glanced at David again.

"I don't know man. Should I?"

At that moment David suddenly stood up, and marched out of the cave without a word. Paul let out a long, wondering hum.

"He's been doing that a lot. And he's always doing these faces when he comes back."

"What faces?" Marko asked, growing more doubtful by the second.

"I don't know man, but it's creepy! He's smiling and shit."

"It's not like he doesn't smile at all," Marko countered, now seriously skeptical of his friend's sanity.

Paul threw his hands in the air in frustration. "But not like this! It looks like he just ripped someone's spine out and enjoyed every second of it," he shuddered.

"I mean that sounds like a good time," Marko grinned.

"I noticed it too," Dwayne chimed up, and they both turned their heads to him.

"Ha, you see?!" Paul hollered, a vindictive little smirk on his face.

"So what do you think is going on, Paulie?" Marko inquired, suddenly growing curious.

He was deep in thought for a second before offering, "Do you think he's going feeding without us?"

Marko looked positively appalled. "He wouldn't dare."

"Do you have a better idea?"

They didn't. The idea that David would go off to have fun killing humans without them was disturbing to think about. It was also really insulting. Weren't they brothers, partners in crime? Why would he just leave them behind like that?

"There's only one thing to do," Paul started, feeling extremely important with all the attention turned to him. "We're gonna catch him red handed."

Marko snorted. "Literally."

Dwayne wasn't sure about this plan.

Of course, he's been wondering about what was going on with David as well. He has been acting out of character, not by much, but enough that it was noticeable. He was clearly hiding something, and that in and of itself was strange. They shared everything, knew everything about each other. They were a team, a family, a pack, they didn't keep secrets.

Or at least he thought they didn't.

But even though he wanted to know, he wasn't sure that this was the right way to go about it.

Currently, they were following David on the boardwalk, weaving through the crowd, bringing more attention to themselves than they should. All thanks to those stupid disguises.

Paul insisted that this would work, that David wouldn't notice them if they wore them, and Marko was fast to agree. The two idiots. The hat and sunglasses were one thing, but where the hell they found the fake mustaches, Dwayne had no idea. Paul presented these items to them before they left the cave, saying that he 'did some research' and that 'every cool detective used these in the movies'. Dwayne had no idea what movies Paul talked about, but he was sure it wouldn't work. When he was offered to try them on, he refused.

And he was right. Here he was, trailing after the terror twins, watching them make a fool of themselves. They were getting suspicious looks, people were pointing and whispering behind their backs, some even snickering. Even among the varied and colorful crowd of the boardwalk, they stuck out like a sore thumb. It was a miracle that David hadn't noticed them yet.

"What's wrong, dude? Not feeling the thrill of the chase?" Marko turned to him, sensing his apprehension.

"This is not a chase, this is a joke."

"Hey!" Paul protested. "Are you making fun of my detective skills?"

Dwayne sighed, knowing that this situation was quickly going sideways. If he didn't appease Paul now, he will have to listen to him complaining all night.

"No, but you attract too much attention wearing that stupid costume. And there's no way David wouldn't recognize you if he saw you."

Paul looked himself over. Aside from the disguises covering his face, he was wearing his usual outfit, and there was nothing he could do about his long hair spilling out from under his hat.

All the while, Marko was looking through the crowd, only now noticing how many eyes were trained on them. He snapped his teeth at a pair of teenage girls, and they quickly hurried along, leaving him snickering under his fake mustache.

"Then what do you want us to do, man?" Paul asked Dwayne.

"First of all, ditch the costume," he said, ignoring Paul's grumbling. "Then we can continue following David."

"Speaking of David," Marko chimed up, "where did he go?"

Looking around, they realized that they lost him. While they were busy quarreling, the crowd swallowed him up without a trace. No matter how much they searched, they couldn't spot that familiar beach blond mullet anywhere.

Paul just facepalmed. Hard.

After the catastrophic failure that was their first attempt to find out where David was disappearing to, the boys decided to go back to the cave and find a new strategy. While they were discussing what to do next, they suddenly heard the telltale crunch of gravel outside. The next second, David walked in, a now somewhat familiar little smile on his face that quickly melted when he realized they were staring at him.

"What?"

"What's up, man? Where've you been?" Dwayne asked casually, being the most level headed at the moment among the three of them.

"Evening stroll," he replied without hesitation.

"Seen anything interesting?" Paul quipped up.

David narrowed his eyes, looking at them for a moment before replying a simple "No."

"Did you feed?" Marko asked, earning a few warning glances from the others.

A teasing smirk appeared on David's face. "What are you my mother?"

Marko quickly shut up. David took this as his que that the conversation was over and made his way to his chair, plopping down and lighting a cigarette. As he went, the others shared a quick glance, communicating without words that this was their chance to try something else.

They reached out with their minds, carefully digging into David's, feeling around tentatively in the hopes of finding something, anything that might give them a clue. It wasn't long until they crashed into a wall. There was a block preventing them from burying further.

They stared at each other, stunned.

"Did he just-?"

"He did."

"What the fuck?"

They didn't want to believe it. It was one thing that he was hiding things from them verbally. It was a whole another that he cut them off from a part of his mind. Their mental connection was something sacred, and the fact that he was shutting them out felt like a betrayal.

Having no other option, they decided to try and follow him again on foot. The next night, not long after David departed from the cave, they gave chase – this time without the disguises. Funnily enough, even though they were a group of vampires and all, they blended in with the crowd a lot easier when they didn't try so hard to hide themselves.

They've successfully tailed him through the boardwalk, keeping a safe distance, stepping into shadows when necessary. They were getting close to the key to the mystery, they could feel it. When David finally stopped, they quickly hid behind a vendor's stall, peering out to see what he was doing.

Their eyes almost fell out of their heads.

There you stood, this pretty thing with twinkling eyes and a gorgeous smile, leaning against the counter of the colorful stand selling all kinds of sweets. Your whole face lit up when you saw David. You greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, and the look he gave you in return was nothing short of enamored.

There was a crack. That's when Dwayne noticed that he was gripping the back wall of their hiding place so hard it snapped the wood.

It was all downhill from there.

The boys felt themselves fill up with jealousy as they watched you burst out laughing at something David said, your whole body radiating joy, and David was laughing with you. Marko almost choked at how lovesick his expression was. Your hand came up to play with your hair while listening to him talk, drinking in his every word. At that moment, you were the most attractive person they've ever seen. Even from where they stood, the boys could clearly see the attraction between you two, they could feel it.

They were so focused on you, they only noticed the cotton candy in David's hand when he took some and fed it to you, and you were giggling, snapping at his fingers playfully. Then you did the same and when the boys saw David, I-don't-like-my-food-sweet David, eat cotton candy from your hand, they about lost their shit.

Marko almost jumped up and ran over to shake him and ask him who he is and where the real David was. It was only thanks to Dwayne's sharp reflexes that they avoided that disaster. His other hand was slapped over Paul's mouth to prevent him from shrieking.

Marko turned around to look at him with wild eyes.

"What do we do, man? What the fuck is going on?"

"That's so not fair! Why is it always him who gets the hottest babes?" Paul whined, somewhat muffled under Dwayne's palm.

"Everyone calm down," Dwayne started, even though he himself was everything but calm. Seeing their leader be putty in someone's hands shook him to his core.

"I can't watch this anymore! It's too cheesy and sweet and I want to be him so bad!" Paul cried, vehemently shaking his head.

"Let's go back home for now," Dwayne suggested. "Then we can find out what to do."

"And we can question him," Marko added, already flexing his fingers like he was ready for a fight. Dwayne had little doubt that he was. Paul was nodding enthusiastically.

They waited up all night for David. He returned about an hour before the first rays of sunlight peaked over the horizon. He was smiling to himself that stupid little smile that they now knew wasn't due to bloodlust, it was because he was hopelessly in love.

He immediately noticed the boys waiting for him, his expression turning back into his natural one.

"What's going on?" he ran his gaze over them as all three stared at him in silence.

Paul pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"You know, that's really not cool, Davey."

"Not cool, man, not cool," Marko parroted, shaking his head like a disappointed parent.

Even Dwayne let out a sigh that was definitely longer than it should have been.

David looked at them skeptically.

"What's gotten into you lot?"

"What's gotten into us? What's gotten into you? We're dying of jealousy, dude!" Paul screeched. "Hiding such a babe from us. We thought better of you, man."

Marko was nodding along, humming.

Dwayne let out another sigh.

David scoffed. "You guys are ridiculous."

"You know what's ridiculous? You melting into your seat as your sweetheart feeds you candy. Now that's ridiculous!" Marko countered, and David's ears turned red.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he deflected, trying to walk away, but Dwayne's heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him. There was no escape.

"We saw it with our own two eyes, right boys?" Marko continued, the other two nodding along.

"You were practically purring when they batted their eyelashes at you!" Paul joined the teasing, now having a shit eating grin stretched across his face.

"We didn't think you were such a big softie, dude," Marko added fuel to the fire.

"Are you gonna bark if they call you good boy?" Paul cackled.

David was sending them death stares, which weren't very effective with his face growing more red by the second.

"Didn't know you could turn this shade," he heard from behind him, the smile evident in Dwayne's voice.

He groaned. "Not you too."

Dwayne just chuckled, then in a calmer voice asked,

"Why did you hide this from us?"

The other two paused their hollering at that.

David stared at them for a second before he replied, "Didn't want you guys to scare them off."

"Bullshit," Paul waved. "If you didn't scare them off all on your own, I think we would be just fine."

And that was that. The tension further dissolved as Marko and Dwayne snickered, and even David's mouth turned upward into a small smirk. They were still brothers, it took more than a nice piece of ass – cause of course later they all agreed that you indeed had a really nice ass – to turn them against each other.

David knew that now he had no choice but to introduce you to the boys. He also knew that they would tease him relentlessly about how tooth-rottingly sweet he was with you. They would not let him live down what they witnessed that night. But there was nothing he could do about that, he was really hopelessly in love with you.

Tags: @stinkydove @pandemoniavenus @000-colby @lunarwhitewolf7 @notalwaysa @binightowl @darlingnikkisixxxx @skrimblo-blumpkgo @wpdarlingpan @gibzzsworld @thelostboysforeva @vxncevis @thelostsimp @sireanmagne @acotar-lover @unwhollywater @fanofgunsnroses

Leave a comment on this post if you want to be added to my taglist!

[hiskillingjar]

What kind of reactions do you think Btd characters might have to a period, crying Mc who is writhing in pain?

Today I got my period unprepared and without pills and pads I suffered indescribable pain for a long hour… (Man I don't want to go through this again 😢)

and it made me think about it. Would they be surprisingly kind and help, or would they take advantage of it for their own benefit?

urghhh i hate being unprepared for my period, i'm so sorry to hear that :( hope this cheers you up!

ren 🦊

ren would definitely panic if he found you in a lot of pain

he'd ask a lot of questions to try to understand what was up before you just told him you were on your period

"oh...OH! okay! okayokay, i'll go get you what you need! do you want pads, tampons, painkillers...um, something else?"

he'd be a good boyfriend for like ten minutes and get you everything you need and then some

any sorts of pads or tampons, chocolate, your favourite food, a heat pad, all sorts. he'd be very well stocked so you weren't caught off guard again

as soon as you were slightly more comfortable, though, he'd be hovering at your side like "so...um...i've heard some things are really good to settle period pain...heh..."

he was horny the second you told him lol

he'd be DESPERATE to fuck you and, especially, to eat you out while you were on your period

he'd bug you every single day, just full on pathetic begging

"please please please please can i eat you out please it'll make you feel better pleaseeeeeee"

and of course he'd asking to be nice. if you said no, he'd just do it anyway...and spill a little more blood if he needed to

he's a fox. what do you expect <3

(i've also written this (for fox) if you wanna see it in action lol)

lawrence 🥀

law would probably be pretty shocked too

like they come back from work and you're hunched up on their bed moaning in pain. it's not like you can get out to sort out the issue yourself after all :(

you tell them and they get sort of flustered

"um...alright, i guess i'll get something for you. what do you need?"

if you give them a list, they'll do what they can. but they need a list. they would NOT know what to get otherwise

they'd also be pretty nice about it though

maybe run you a bath and make a batch of tea to settle your stomach. it would work a little too well lol

they wouldn't be too desperate to fuck you (they never really are lol) but if you asked, they might do it in the shower or something

they rent the place and don't want to do more laundry than they need to

strade 🔨

*knowing look*

what do you expect from strade, the sole boyfriend who's exclusively horny for violence?

yeah he'd be all over you the second he figured it out lmao

your discomfort and pain is like. His Thing so he would not care at all about you bleeding

he might even like that a little more, and the opportunity to make fun of you as you bled all over his lap and stained his trousers and thighs, and see you even more uncomfortable and put off by how much he wants you

"aw look at you, you're so embarrassed! why, you're never usually this flushed when you're bleeding for me <3"

i read a fanfic once where strade ate the mc out while they were on their period and like. pulled their tampon out lmaoooo he'd totally do that too xux

lay you down in the basement, or even soak his bed sheets, and take you even when you tried to shy away or pull back

that's more in just taking advantage of you when you're in pain

barring the horny stuff, strade kind of doesn't care about getting you tampons or pads or anything. ask him and he'll do it

that doesn't mean he wouldn't tease you a little first cus he totally would

that's just cus he likes to see you squirm though :)

[goldenshrikecomic]

"Every time I write their interactions I'm noticing he's becoming [...]" as someone who has zero creativity, especially when it comes to creating stories, it's always so crazy to me when writers say stuff like "The characters are actually alive in our minds, sometimes they make their own decisions and we just write them down and we're just as perplexed as you all are while doing so. 🤷" like I can't even *fathom* how that's possible but I've seen it multiple times so it's definitely a thing. XD Do you have other examples of this happening?

Well sure! In the beginning I can plan that "hmm, Nero won't like Kasko in the beginning", but tons of nuance and new revelations happen only after I actually get to write the two characters together.

This is also what happens with scenes in general. I know what i want to portray in it, but it's bare bones until I script it, and only during that phase I get to see how it'll actually work out. Some scenes need more thinking, some just happen.

I've been dropping these new friends in the group with a vague idea of how they would work together, but it comes together only after I've actually written scenes with them. I didn't expect Boneslav and Kasko to get along so well, but that might be because Kasko is showing himself to be able to handle surprisingly different people - something I didn't plan to this degree. Right now, Usma is new in the group. I'll be frank, I have all kind of ideas and expections how things will go, but in the end it's up to them. I already have fun scenes with her, but I'm still waiting to dive deep and SEE. But my stories, GS especially, I want these relationships to ebb and flow throughout the story until the end. It won't be a nice 'click' and then merry going without a hitch. We have a lot of time for everyone.

I've said it before, that writing a script, for me, is to put my characters in a space and give them a subject to talk about. Someone is first to pipe up, another counters, maybe they argue. I know what the scene is about and what needs to be said to forward the plot, but it feels like they're in charge of how it's said. Then I of course have to clean up things a lot to summarize that mess so it can fit in the comic.

[princessmaybank]

Ride The Cowboy

Pairings: JJ x BestFriend!Fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, riding, creampie

Summary: JJ got a new cowboy hat and reader has no idea about the rule.

Authors Note: I had a smut written for a request. It was JJ and reader with the cowboy hat rule but it got deleted! It was anonymous so I hope whoever requested this sees it and enjoys!!!

(Edit: I changed the gif bc he's got a cowboy hat on 🤭 idk who these belong to but they aren't mine so credit to whoever made these!)

JJ found this random black cowboy hat at one of our shops in town. I didn't think he was serious when he said he wanted to buy it because it's not even his style.

Anyway he's been wearing it for a fucking week, trying to act all country and it's so fucking annoying. He has started using a country accent trying to be funny, but it was just so, so lame.

We were at the boneyard having the time of our lives. JJ and I were dancing together, giggling and having some normal fun, until he started talking like he was from Texas.

I was so fed up. I reached for his hat and threw it onto my head. "Look at me, I'm JJ, all I ever do is talk with an accent and twirl around in my cowboy hat!!" I said, very annoyed with a terrible attempt at a country accent.

JJ was staring at me in awe, which got the attention of our friend Pope, whose jaw went slack as well. Pope walked over and rested his arm on JJ's shoulder. "She doesn't know does she?" Pope looked at JJ with the most dead serious look I've ever seen. What the hell was he talking about???

"I don't think she does." He grinned and started laughing. His cheeks flushed red as he looked at his feet then back to Pope. "What are you talking about?!" I asked frantically. "Have fun cowboy." Pope said patting JJ's back while walking away. I give JJ a questioning look.

He got extremely close to my body, yet he was still towering over me. Damn this boy was tall. JJ took my hands in his. "You don't know the cowboy hat rule?" He asked smirking down at me. "These things have fucking rules too???" He giggled. "Yes but this one is probably the most important." Somehow he got closer, which was surprisingly not as uncomfortable as I thought. "What is it??" I asked getting annoyed because he was playing games at this point.

"Wear the hat, ride the cowboy."

His face never changed from that smug little smirk, but my eyes got wide. I hit his chest, he was my best friend. "No way Maybank, that's probably something you made up to get you laid." He grinned. "It's not I swear, if you don't believe me look it up."

Unfortunately I did, and he was right. It was some kind of sick joke. "Well I didn't know so it doesn't count!" I crossed my arms. "Hey, rules are rules baby." He was holding my hips now. Why were butterflies filling my stomach? I've never thought of JJ this way. It would be so wrong. "So is no pogue on pogue macking!" I say trying my hardest to find a way out of this, but of course he's ready for whatever I say. "First of all, John B and Sarah are right over there, basically eating each other's faces. Second of all, it's not macking, it's riding baby." He smiled to himself because he knew he won.

JJ walked us to the Twinkie, where we wouldn't be bothered. "You just want an excuse to fuck your best friend!" I say fighting the best I could. "I could say the same about you! I didn't tell you to steal my hat! And you're still wearing it!" He laughs so hard after he gets his sentence out. I was blushing when I quickly took his hat off and threw it at him.

I was hovering over him, very anxious. He had a huge grip on my hips. "We do not have to do this if you don't want to." He says while holding me up. "JJ, I'm already naked. Plus you said it, rules are rules." Before I could change his mind or my own, I started easing myself down onto his dick. JJ let out a slight hissing sound as I went lower. Not gonna lie, I did need to get fucked. It was probably why I found him so annoying this week.

JJ helped me move at a pace that made us both feel good. "Come here." He pulled me in with a motion of his finger. "Might as well break a rule while we're at it." He smirked before attaching his lips to mine. JJ sat up and put his back against the seat, never pulling out. I pulled his hands away from my hips and to my tits, making him squeeze them as I bounced on his dick all by myself. I couldn't believe I was riding my best friend.

"Fuck Y/N/N don't stop." Woah. JJ called me by my nickname while I was bouncing on his huge cock. How fucking hot. Can't believe I'm saying this but I think I'm catching feelings in the middle of all of this. "Fuck I'm cumming!" I yell as my body starts spasming, I feel his dick shoot his hot liquid into me after I was done. JJ pushed my hips up and down, helping us ride out our orgasms.

He started spooning me after I put my clothes back on and laid down. "JJ I don't wan-" Before I could finish he interrupted me. "Y/N, I can't handle it anymore. I need to be with you, especially now. Now that I've had a little taste of you, I don't think I could let you go and just continue being just your best friend." He was hovering over me now. "I was thinking the same thing." That made us both smile.

We popped up when we heard the side door slam open. "I'm assuming she followed the rules?" Pope giggled staring at JJ, making him giggle as well. They high fived as I rolled over to hide in JJ's chest.

[yuri-is-online]

i’ve got this picture of Yutu being kind of artsy from your description. besides, being an outcast probably means a lot of solo hobbies from no friends. maybe a bonding method for Yutus with a father that is more artistic 👉👈

You have such a good point about being an outcast driving people towards solo hobbies σ(￣、￣=) certain Yutus are more outgoing than others but that does only get you so far.  Of the ones I have written about, Floyd! and Cater! Yutu both had friend circles before coming to Twisted Wonderland, while Ace!, Azul!, and Riddle! Yutu were certifiably friendless.  Bonding between Yutu and a more artistic dad hmmmmm let's see...

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is part of my fyuuture kid au, you can find an explanation of it here and here, or look at my masterlist for all of the posts.

Vil! Yutu

... really likes to paint and draw, when I first wrote about him his unique magic involved temporarily bringing his paintings to life.  My brother used to dig through old fashion mags when he was teaching himself to draw and I can see Yutu doing the same.  So when he finally gets to see a not tortured version of his father and finds out he is a model on top of being an actor?  He's so eager to learn about all of it, and Vil has got to be thrilled to share.  You know between him and his own dad Vil has got to have a nice collection of vintage designer items he's willing to let Yutu have a look at.  Yutu has drawn his dad a lot, receiving a drawing someone has made for you is already beyond flattering, but when it's from a family member?  Forget the fridge, Vil is getting this framed.  I can also see him maybe commissioning Yutu because he wants to make sure he never under sells his work.  He is a member of the Schoenheit family, he is allowed, nay required to have a great deal of pride in himself.

Cater! Yutu

... likes playing guitar and he loves playing with his dad.  He's not really interested in playing with the other pop music club members, Yutu is a bit shy around his dad's friends.  When he's stressed he likes to play a few songs and sing, something I could see working for Cater too.  While I'm talking about Cater, I don't think he'd make a bunch of magicam posts about his family, just in general.  He uses magicam as a way of maintaining his false happy facade, his want to date Vil comes at least partially from his presence on magicam, some of his real self is on display there sure but a lot of it is exaggerated and fake.  When he has something real he wants to keep it away from the rest of the world, so while his followers absolutely are told he's #taken #blessed they don't know about the details of his relationship.  At least not if it's a healthy one.

Jade! Yutu

... is someone I haven't written about before but he is also very into music, just not jazz music.  Not that he hates jazz, he's just stuck in that teenage phase of refusing to admit the things his dad likes are cool, something Jade reasonably “sniffles” about but that's not to say music isn't a bonding point for them.  He also plays bass, just an electric not an upright one, and Jade enjoys listening to Yutu play.  He's very supportive and surprisingly soft in his praise for someone who just got done listening to his kid scream out a punk rock song.  As long as Yutu is willing to do some hiking with him (which he is) then he has no real problem with what his kid likes, if anything I can see Jade enjoying their differences.  Life is boring if everyone is the same.

Rook! Yutu

I've been thinking about Rook, just as a character recently and one of those things that's been stuck in my mind is that he was very shy as a child.  To keep this from becoming just general information about Rook! Yutu, unlike his father Yutu never got over his shyness, so a lot of their bonding revolves around Rook encouraging Yutu to see the beauty in himself.  He books tickets to shows, symphonies, and ballets in advance so he can make sure Yutu knows when they are going out and can prepare himself to be seen in public.  They plan their outfits together in advance, look up information about the company and what they are going to see so they can appreciate the art just that much more.  On the day of Rook makes sure to kiss Yuu goodbye,  and promises to come home safe.  But not to worry, he always has Yutu help him pick out a bouquet of flowers to bring back for you.  (Unless you're allergic to pollen in which case he'll bring home something else.)

[fae-morrigan]

Lock in, JayNia fans, I'm about to cornplate in ways hereto unseen by humanity.

Something that caught my eye while reading Secret Six issue 2 was Jay's prison uniform. It has white sleeves.

(Disclaimer: Yeah yeah I know probably none of this is intentional at all. Segovia probably just thought sleeves looked cool. Walk with me anyways because I can make anything insane.)

I've talked before how Jay is a surprisingly modest character. We've seen him in short sleeves exactly one time and it was during a pride special not written by any of his main authors. Most of the time, he's almost completely covered, including (especially) in his current costume.

Jay's prison garb in Bendix's prison was essentially a medical gown. You ever worn one of those you know they're uncomfortable, revealing, drafty, and leave you feeling uncomfortable.

The prison uniform Jay got under Nia's watch had an undershirt.

Knowing Nia was the one primarily keeping watch over him, bringing him food and what not, it begs the question- Did she bring him that? Did she recognize he'd be more comfortable like that, and go out of her way for it?

The idea of Nia observing Jay's a very modest person and hates revealing clothing and going out of her way to make his PRISON UNIFORM more comfortable for him. THE SYMBOLISM OF THAT. To Nia it's a little act of resistance, a way to try and help her friend in what she views as an impossible situation, since as we saw the page before, she's been in that spot! But to Jay it's what, a fucking taunt? Making him 'comfortable' does not change Jay's material circumstances as a prisoner of an imperialist state, even as its Nia showing effort. One of them thinks there can be kindness here, but the other knows even the act of imprisonment makes any kindness devoid.

Read this way, its representative of their entire relationship.

[batlovebites]

Hi, if it's not a bother I'd like to request timekeeper x reader headcanons

If you find this complicated because it's an Ovenbreak cookie, you can skip this request, thanks!

-⭐Anon

Forgive if its a bit OOC! This'll be the first non-Kingdom cookie I've written for. Unrelated but I've not read through all of her dialogue (as of writing this part of the post) and if she never has a line doing the classic time-traveler 'not where- when!' line I'll be so sad.

Timekeeper Cookie x Reader [Headcanons]

They've seen things eons into the past and future alike, traveled through hundreds of thousands of timelines- and yet, something about you caught her eye. Other versions of you have caught her attention as well, across many timelines- but you. This version of you. There's something special there. They don't know what, not yet. But she's determined to figure it out; That's how things start with you two.

While Timekeeper will sometimes look at alternate versions of yourself's future, they never look at what yours is. They've never been much for living in the moment, but with you, she wants what comes next to be a surprise even to her. Though if things were to go wrong in anyway, she'll absolutely use her powers to undo it and alter the path your timeline's on.

Hopefully she won't have to do this much, or at all, though- the more she messes with time, the more distant she become. Its hard to stay attached to when they remember there's no real consequences for anything; Not when it can all be brought back to zero with nothing more than a snap.

Best not to ask her questions you don't really want the answer to because she has a terrible filter and will just tell you if its something she knows, and she's very likely to know.

The gifts she gives you are one of a kind- literally, they're the only instances of them that exist either in your timeline or in this specific point in time. Extinct plants or animals, alternate versions of music or games that simply don't exist in the timeline you came from, or even gifts from the far-off future of things which don't exist yet and you having now will probably have some effect on the timeline but they say its fine and you should just not worry about it.

CEO of pet names. You will never beat her at variety or frequency of use of pet names. These pet names range from common, to slightly unusual, to completely bizarre. If you ask her about the bizarre ones she'll tell you all about how its actually quite common, just in a different timeline or time, and then go on to ramble about that place in time or branching timeline. Sometimes you're pretty sure she's making things up to see how far she can push it before you call her out, but its surprisingly really hard to tell.

Will happily bring you along to any point in time you'd like to see. Timekeeper's long grown desensitized to it all, but if you can enjoy it, then its well worth the visit. Perhaps you'll even be able to show her something new she hadn't noticed before.

Not very physical affectionate, but does like to hold your hand as often as possible. Won't really initiate any other physical affection, but won't deny it either. If something excites them, though, I think they're the type to do the picks-you-up-and-spins-you hug. You know the one. Which Timekeeper can do pretty easily- she's stronger than she looks!

Timekeeper doesn't sleep. They will stay in bed with you until you fall asleep if you ask, and she'll pop back up as soon as you wake up, but she'll be off doing something else to sate their boredom while you're asleep. Sometimes, though, she'll linger for a bit after you've fallen asleep and just... watch you. It makes her feel happy she thinks, or at least something in the same vein, to see you sleeping peacefully. You being happy and safe- that's how things should be, and she doesn't want to see it change.

[warmhorizonss]

May I humbly ask for bee carrying bulkheads sparklings? He’d be so cute all big

Look, anon, I've not had time to draw much Bulkbee at all because of college but I've got something. Lemme just dust off the cobwebs off of this, anon.

The fic I wrote these plotlines for is still brewing in development hell because of how similar I think it is to Kintsugi. I haven't written much besides a few one shots. I do think this fic would make for a good contrast against Kintsugi though. I feel like it reflects Bumblebee in a different manner than Kintsugi would. I'm not too sure what to call this AU either. I think Biomorphism would be a nice title because it's art related like Kintsugi and it means life form.

So, onto the juicy bits:

After a ill-advised hook up after they defeat Megatron, Bumblebee finds out that he's pregnant with Bulkhead's child. He loses his shit and he has a panic attack over telling Bulkhead. He goes to Prowl for help, and the ninjabot is the one who sets him straight. Bumblebee tells Bulkhead, who is nervous. He's pretty insecure, after all. Bumblebee reassures him that he'll be a great sire because of how kind and caring - yet stern and patient he is.

Everything seems to be okay at first. Living in Detroit, Bumblebee joins a support group for pregnant people. The group is surprisingly accepting of him as a pregnant male-presenting robot alien. He also makes some online friends who are also having their kids around the time of his due date. He has a blog where he documents his thoughts and feelings.

Yet, Bumblebee and Bulkhead seem to keep dancing on the edge of being in a committed relationship and just being friends.

While getting together and shacking up seems so obvious to most everyone, Bumblebee and Bulkhead just don't know what to make of their relationship. While Bumblebee and Bulkhead are intimate with each other on a deep emotional level, Bumblebee doesn't want to hold back Bulkhead from achieving his goals. He knows he's been a bad friend in the past. The tension between them builds on and on as Bumblebee's carrying cycle progresses onward until it all comes tumbling down.

Everything comes to a head when Bulkhead reveals that he turned down a job offer with the City of Iacon to stay on Earth with Bumblebee and their child. Bumblebee feels like he's tying Bulkhead down, and the guilt overwhelms him. He decides to tell Bulkhead that he wants a break from everything until he can figure out everything with the sparkling.

(that's all I've got)

Anyway, PLOT BUNNIES!

Sari throws a baby shower for Bumblebee and Bulkhead. Team Magnus attends and Sentinel Prime takes a moment with Jazz to talk about how much times have changed.

Only a few weeks away from the arrival of their sparkling, Bumblebee and Bulkhead have a nice picnic date together awyay from the world.

Towards the end of his carrying cycle, Bumblebee begins nesting. He becomes sort of a neat freak. He ends up over-exerting himself cleaning. Prowl and Bulkhead help him relax and clean the base before the sparkling arrives.

Bulkhead paints a very pregnant Bumblebee's stomach as practice. Their growing sparkling kicks around as Bulkhead works, interupting Bulkhead's workflow. Bumblebee is very amused.

Bumblebee, suffering from the effects of carrier coding, begins to have crying episodes. Bulkhead has to comfort him and help him cheer up.

[dirtyoldmanhole]

i'm going to be musing about one of gunter's most controversial lines here just because i've been idly thinking about it while drawing.

heads up for dead dove shit.

context: the JP version of Fates:Conquest had a region-locked minigame ("skinship" where you basically pet the character with your stylus lol) where you the player could interact more with a married gunter if you went that route - it also had several JP-only lines which you can read here.

generally they aren't that much different in tone than the EN ones though fun to read (especially since the minigame is lowkey sexual in nature; all the cast's lines were more strongly sexual not just his), but there was one line that uh. raised some eyebrows in the EN fandom when the fan-translators found it, shall we say.

in bold; (i've added some of the others for helpful context; i don't believe all of them are said one after the other, as it's whenever you choose to enter the minigame one is said).

By no means did I think these feelings would develop… Close your eyes for a moment. I apologize… I thought just touching you would be fine… When you touch me like that… Don’t tease me too much… or even someone like me won’t be able to endure it. (TL: He uses the verb “tawamureru” which means to play, joke, or flirt but I decided to liberally change it to tease) You’ve returned. We mustn’t… Oh no… I thought of you as a child but… I love you. Haha… is something the matter? Is it fine for me to touch you too? This side of you… don’t show it to anyone else. My wife… does cute things… I love you. I might have regarded you with special feelings ever since you were young. (A RANK:) Thank you very much for being kind to me to this extent. For as long as you wish it… I promise never to leave your side. (S RANK:) I thought I would always live alone. But you… lit a flame once more in my heart which I had locked away. This time I won’t let you go. I love you more than anyone else.

(... once again touched at how surprisingly romantic he can be)

anyway! oh yes, That Line.

tsk tsk.

given his position of power with essentially raising corrin, you can imagine how some people who already disliked the ship tended to leap on that line as "proof" of him sexually abusing corrin as a child to put it bluntly.

thoughts are still rotating, but roughly in order of:

instinctively (and the most boring position just to get it out of the way) on the first level i don't like how often this line is immediately whipped out to dissuade gunter/corrin shippers specifically but also shippers in general from engaging with taboo sexual concepts. especially when it's just as boringly... crudely blunt as "pedo". (slightly adjacent to gunter fans in general since there's sometimes an uneasy feeling that as long as you don't ship him that way with a 40-year age gap/parental figure/etc there's an exception carved out as "one of the good shippers" as long as you ship him with less of a power differential (eg gunter/shura. note i dig that ship, this is just an example.); though i think this sentiment has thankfully died down as of late versus the early years of fates fandom.)

god that is such a fustratingly common and boring way to engage with media. moving on.

on the second level down, i also instinctively dislike the feeling that it's whipped out to flatten the potential of gunter being romantically/sexually written as either binary concepts of "good" and "bad-touch", with the latter being often pointed out with an accusatory finger. personally i like reading bad-touch gunter for the lulz sometimes. also for the nuance given how sadly complex child abuse/grooming/pedophilia is in real life, and how it impacts the victim in so many ways beyond the obvious. and shocker - i like reading predatory-gunter sometimes even for cranking-the-hog-material! (predatory-gunter is kinda hot, man.) sometimes all of the above at the same time. i think all of these readings is just as applicable and interesting and needful as redemptive-gunter stories. (it's a very similar reason to why i fucking love possessed!gunter noncon what-if setups.)

and the above point doesn't even go into the nuance of can-you-even-have-redemption with the above if you want it. how would that work. how would that work in rev-verse vs conquest (different flavors of anankos possession going on in both. it's so much more complex than your usual grooming story if you frame it that way because his own agency is literally a question mark the entire time, which is endlessly fascinating to me with the horror potential as being a double victim in some ways. is this actually anankos' influence more than anything? how would everyone feel about that? especially anankos being corrin's bio-dad?)

going back to the quote itself there's even several other ways to interpret it that's not a crude (and imo annoying) distraction of moralizing.

like i always found it interesting that for a guy who deliberately self-censors 95% of the time, that he kinda blurts that out in a weak moment (which is already one interpretation, that it's semi accidental). why would he say that to corrin?

seriously, why would he?

i don't think he's trying to scare her off (like he does with some lines when he's a little insecure about his age).

what if he's genuinely fond of and loves corrin with a nuanced blend of fatherly love at the begining but yeah it did turn sexual towards the end (plus fatherly love) and either he doesn't want to exactly interrogate himself when that changed (because i personally think he holds a lot of understandable guilt over these feelings in general), or he isn't thinking about that at the moment and like. how the hell do you relay something like that without caveat-ing yourself to hell.

i think it's one of the few times here he's actually trying to be emotionally honest and vulnerable about how shits' complicated to him too. (and keep in mind he is not in general..... as emotionally aware as the tumblr crowd lol. he's an old man.)

there's a funny line in my head right now of "schrodinger's daddy dom" where society right now is a-okay with a daddy kink from the little's side but metatextually we've created a situation where it's impossible to create a three-dimensional daddy dom that is somehow free of sin and yet has honest to god sexual desires of his own especially in a messy situation like this.

especially in an evolving situation like this when it was very clear by the S-support he wasn't ever anticipating corrin to reciprocate his feelings, and he was dealing with his budding feelings by essentially just keeping it to himself. (canonically, he wanted to do the least-messy thing by not involving himself with corrin. it's only if corrin/you pursue him that he even gets this far.)

the extra funny thing:

all of this is dependent on the translation. culturally, through this whole game of telephone, the line itself may have some other JP specific connotations that we aren't aware of. christ what i wouldn't give to pay a fluent JP translator who didn't mind engaging with dead dove concepts to go through his support chain + these lines and give notes there.

....

and that's probably not even all of my thoughts but it's an essay as-is. :P

[caesariawritesstuff]

I WOULD LIKE A SINGLE ROSE 🌹 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE RIDDLER GETTING PEGGED 🛐🛐🛐FOR THE FIRST TIME 💋 and mayhaps a whiny side?👀

but yeah him getting pegged by the detective💕💕

Also you're my favorite author💕💕😊 keep slaying in your work💅✨️

And i hope you'll have a wonderful valentines 💕💕💐✨️🍓⭐️🍷‼️‼️❗️‼️❗️

Role Reversal

Summary: Edward and you decide to try something new.

Word Count: 3.7k

Content Warning: Pegging, fucking, cock sucking, NSFW

A/N: Ahh anon, I really hope you enjoy this and thank you for your kind words! I've ever written a pegging scene before, so this is a little out of my comfort zone, but I hope you enjoy!

“Are you sure about this?” you asked.

Edward stared at you for a long moment. The question was one you’d been asking consistently for weeks now – ever since the idea passed between you two one night while lying in bed together. You’d been scrolling through your phone, looking up ways to spice things up in the bedroom (not that there was anything lacking, Edward knew, but it never hurt to try new things to add variety to one’s life) when you came across the idea of pegging.

At first, Edward hadn’t thought much about it when you read it off the list of ways to spice things up in the bedroom, but something about the concept had made him…curious. He soon found himself looking into the sexual act on his own time, doing research, where he soon discovered that it could be a highly pleasurable act for the male participant, as well as a way to be quite vulnerable with one’s partner. Not that Edward particualry liked being vulnerable, but with you, well…he had found himself letting his walls down more often than not. Especially since you had allowed him the honor of having anal sex with you, Edward couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like for him – which lead to him spiraling into watching several porn videos featuring the subject, which he, surprisingly, found himself quite turned on about. The very idea of surrendering control to another person, to allowing himself to be so open…it was a highly terrifying concept to him, but with you…well, he supposed there would be no other person he would allow such an intimate and vulnerable act with him.

And so, Edward had approached you with the idea one night over dinner. You’d stared at him like a deer in the headlights for a long moment, as if uncertain of what he was asking, before you shrugged and said, “I’ve never done it to someone before. But if you want to try, we can.”

He’d smirked at that, and soon found himself buying all the necessary equipment: lube, a harness for you, a strap on which he picked out: one that was beginner friendly and made of a silicone green color (because of course he had to go for green). He found a harness which would provide clitoral stimulation for you, as well, as he wanted to make sure this was just as pleasurable for you as it would be him. Edward wasn’t particularly worried; after all, his attraction for both men and women was there, even if he hadn’t leaned either way until he met you. But he’d made sure to pick out a strap on that was aesthetically pleasing to both your eyes, and you’d helped pick out one you thought the both of you would like. Edward couldn’t help but notice that you seemed particularly nervous about the whole thing, your eyes going downcast and a flush appearing on your cheeks whenever the two of you discussed how this would go. He knew you were quite open with your sexuality, but seeing you act so shy around doing this was fascinating to him – even if it meant he asked you the same question just as often.

“Are you sure, my dear?” he asked, staring at you from across the bed.

You looked down at the bed: at the array of new equipment that had arrived in the mail yesterday, laid out and on display for the both of you to inspect. Edward knew you’d done your own research, but still, he wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to.

Finally, you met his gaze again. “Yes, I’m sure. Are you?”

He nodded, smirking. “Quite sure, my dear.” His cock twitched, standing at attention in front of him, already leaking precum from the tip. His balls tightened against his skin, warm, veins throbbing along his shaft.

You glanced down at his hard on and smirked. The heavy swell of your breasts swayed as you moved around the bed, your nipples pert and at attention. Edward took in every inch of you: the dips and curves, the gentle sway to your hips as you walked towards him, the seductive look in your heavy-lidded eyes. The breath caught in his throat; he’d seen you naked a million times already, the image burned into his corneas, and yet it seemed he could never get enough of you. Every time he saw you naked, it was like the first time all over again. Excitement rumbled in his belly, his cock twitching again, as you neared him. Your hands snaked out, gently brushing against his forearms. He leaned down, capturing your lips in his own, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You tasted sweet, and a shiver ran down his spine. His cock pressed against your thigh, and his hands settled themselves on your waist, gripping tightly, digging his nails in as if he would never let you go again.

You sighed into his mouth as you tilted your head back, letting him continuing to glide his tongue against your own. He shuddered and ran his hands from your hips down to the slope of your ass, feeling the smooth skin on his fingertips. You shuddered against him, and Edward smirked, a delicious tingle creeping up his spine. His other hand came back around to tweak at your left nipple, pinching and pulling it, testing the heavy weight of you breast in his hand. You moaned lightly, arching your back further into him, before your own hands ran down his shoulders – down, down, down, until they reached his own hips. Edward held his breath as your long fingernails grazed against his sensitive skin, but soon, your hands were trailing along his backside, gently raking against his ass, and he shuddered at the sensation.

His smirk grew, his heart hammering against his ribcage, beating in time with your own as he kissed you deeper. His cock continued to pulsate with a furious need – but it wasn’t long before you dropped to your knees in front of him, taking his cock into your mouth. He groaned at the sensation of your smooth lips wrapping around his shaft, your tongue massaging along the head and glands of his penis. He tilted his head back, a soft gasp escaping his lips. Heat prickled along his skin and excitement pooled in his belly. Edward’s hands tangled themselves in your hair, twisting and pulling on the strands, as you swallowed him from base to tip; his cockhead hit the back of your throat and he groaned louder, a deep rumbling in his chest. But as you did, continuing to massage him with your tongue and mouth – he felt one of your hands snake behind him to his ass again, gently probing between his ass cheeks to probe at his tight entrance. Edward gasped at the sensation, at how sensitive his tight sphincter was, the sudden pleasurable sensation that traveled through his backside and down his thighs. You pulled away, saliva dripping from your mouth, as you snatched some lube off the side of the bed, opened it, and squirted some onto your finger. The clear substance coated your first few fingers, before you glanced up at him again, smirking, as your mouth swallowed him once more.

Edward groaned, his eyes fluttering closed, as he lost himself to the feeling of you working his cock with your mouth like magic. Your hand circled back around to his ass, and with one lubed-up finger, you probed at his back entrance. In the last few weeks, you’d done this a few times to help prepare him for this moment – and Edward sucked in a breath, helping himself relax, as you pushed one finger inside him. He hissed between his teeth at the pressure as your finger slowly slid in with ease. Within seconds, the pain began to subside, making room for the pleasure as you slowly slid your finger in and out of him. Pleasure surged through him as you stimulated his sensitive glands, and he groaned, his breath coming out in shallower pants. The combined pleasure of your mouth on his cock and finger in his ass was overwhelming, making him tremble, and his fingers tightened in your hair.

“…fuck,” he whispered, as stars danced behind his eyes.

Slowly, he felt a second finger at his tight entrance, and he gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw tight as you worked a second finger into him. He groaned at the sensation of his ass being stretched and filled – but the way your fingers moved inside of him quickly helped some of the tense, searing pain subside within moments. With two of your fingers inside of him now, he only felt another wave of intense pleasure bundle inside of him, different from the way your mouth sucked him off or how it felt when he was inside of you, but good, nonetheless.

Finally, after several minutes of working him with your mouth and fingers, you pulled away, gazing up at him with glistening eyes. Your cheeks were flushed, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth. He whined slightly as you pulled your fingers from his ass, and at the absence of your wonderfully pretty mouth sucking him off.

“Are you ready?” you asked him.

Edward hesitated; the question held so many implications. He trusted you, yes, of course he did – but this level of intimacy and vulnerability was one so far out of his own territory, that he found himself just a tad worried about how this was going to go. But he refused to show weakness, to back down from the challenge he had presented to you, and he smirked as he nodded, brushing his thumb along you mouth to wipe away a bit of the spittle on your lips.

“Of course, my dear,” he said.

You nodded and stood up, turning back to the bed. You snatched up the harness and quickly slipped into it, fastening it around yourself tightly in a way that was comfortable for you, and then secured the strap on to the base. Edward’s eyes dropped to the green dildo, a few inches long in length, with veins running throughout the shaft. His cock twitched at the sight, and excitement and nerves melded together in his belly. Seeing you standing there with a strap on hooked around yourself was quite a sight to behold, but he couldn’t help but notice the flush to your cheeks, the shyness in your gaze as you studied yourself with curiosity. Edward smirked, reaching down to give his cock a few strokes in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“Well?” you said, turning to face him, gesturing to the bed.

Edward nodded, carefully laying down onto his stomach, on his hands and knees. He heard the squirting of lube again as you prepared yourself – but instead, he felt your fingers once more probing at his tight entrance. The first finger slid in with more ease this time, before you inserted a second finger. Edward hissed slightly at the pressure, gritting his teeth. But within seconds, pleasure replaced the pain. He arched his back slightly, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He grunted in response, his forehead falling onto the mattress. You inserted a second finger into his ass, curling them inside of him, and he groaned at the sensation. His cock brushed against the bed, but he refrained from touching himself. A moment later, he you probe his tight sphincter with a third finger, and he hissed again as he felt his asshole stretch open. The combined pressure and pleasure of your three fingers in his ass made him tense, made his insides bundle with pleasure and excitement. His cock throbbed, leaking precum, and he grinded his hips into the bed for some sense of relief.

“Ah-ah,” you said, and he could practically hear the smile in your voice. “Can’t control yourself, can you, Mr. Nigma?”’

“Be quiet,” he muttered, a rush of anger surging through his veins. Here he was, ass up, your fingers massaging his sensitive prostate, curling inside of him and making him squirm.

You laughed lightly, but after several more minutes, you pulled your fingers from him. “What’s wrong, Edward? Does it feel better than you expected?”

He was quiet for a moment while he considered your question. “Of course I knew it would feel good. You should be thrilled that I’m allowing you this honor.”

“Uh-huh,” you laughed again, but he glanced over his shoulder at you as he watched you grab the bottle of lube again. You squirted some onto your hand and rubbed it along the strap on until it was dripping. Using a little more, you slid your fingers back in between his ass cheeks and lubed him up. Edward shuddered, sucking in a breath, nerves tightening in his belly – until he felt the head of the strap on pressing against his ass.

“Are you ready?” you asked him.

“Just do it,” he muttered, unable to help the flush crawling up his throat.

And then, you pushed in. Edward clenched his jaw tight, his hands fisting around the bed sheets, the breath catching in his throat. The cockhead of the strap on was smooth and silken, and as you pushed, he felt his tight sphincter open slightly, enough to begin accepting the head – but it was bigger than your fingers, and a slight, searing pain trickled along his opening. He gritted his teeth and whined slightly at the intrusion.

You stopped your movements. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay,” he muttered again, refusing to back down. “I can take it.”

“I don’t think you can,” you said, and he swore he pictured your sneaky smile.

He scoffed out a laugh. “I think you’re treading on treacherous water, my dear.”

“Am I?” you asked – and you pushed in a little more.

He gasped again, feeling the head push farther into him. His knuckles turned white as he gripped tighter onto the bedsheets. “Fuck,” he whispered as another low whine escaped his lips.

You laughed again, one of your hands stroking his ass, fingernails raking against his skin. “Something wrong, Mr. Nigma? Or is this too much for you?”

Edward ground down on his teeth. “Nothing is ever “too much” for me. I can—”

You pushed in a little more, cutting him off. Edward gasped. His head slumped forward as sweat beaded on his brow, his insides aching at the continued intrusion, yet somehow giving way to a pleasure he’d never experienced before.

“You were saying?” you asked, your voice laced with a strange, authoritative tone.

Edward quirked a brow, sucking in a breath at the way your voice changed. “Are you enjoying this, my dear?” he asked.

“Are you?” you asked, pushing in even more, this time a little harder.

That elicited a low, strangle whine from his lips. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, and he cursed under his breath. The pressure was intense, and yet pleasurable, in a strange way he hadn’t predicted. He felt his tight sphincter open, stretching around the smooth, silken strap on. Your hands placed themselves on his waist, digging your nails in.

“…you little minx,” he whispered, a low laugh escaping his lips. “I think you are enjoying this. Enjoying that a man like me, the Riddler, is surrendering control to you—”

At that, you pushed in more, a little harder this time, cutting him off as another whine, a cry of surprise, escaped his lips. There was something about being in this position, so vulnerable and open and letting you have the control, was completely foreign to him. Sweat beaded across his skin, shimmering in the light, and he swallowed down another whine.

“…I think you like letting me have the control,” you whispered.

That made him laugh again. “As if,” he muttered. “You should be grateful you’re getting this honor of fucking me like this.”

“Oh, like this? you asked, and pushed even farther in.

Edward gasped, jerking back slightly at the even further intrusion, as the cockhead of the dildo hit a particualry sensitive spot inside of him. He shuddered at the sensation and his sweaty forehead fell onto the bed, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

“What was that?” you asked, thrusting your hips slightly.

He whined again. The pain and pleasure melded into a delicious sensation he’d never experienced before. The stretch of his asshole, combined with the way the fake cock stroked against his walls, made him see stars. The way it slicked in and out of his tight hole made another low groan escape his lips.

“You know exactly how this feels,” he whispered.

“Feel good, Mr. Nigma?” you asked.

“Y – yes,” he whispered, lower and more needy than he intended.

“You’re going to have to be louder than that, sir,” you said again – as you pushed in even more, a little harder this time, and he swore his eyes rolled back in his head. It was taking all his effort to keep himself propped up on his trembling hands and knees.

“…you should keep that pretty mouth of yours shut,” he whispered.

You laughed again, and he felt you the cock slide out of him – before sliding back in again, a little harder this time. The cockhead hit another spot, one that made his back arch further and he whined even louder. His cheeks flushed as an embarrassed heat crawled across his skin. Here you were, impaling his ass with a fake cock, laughing at him – and he was not only embarrassed but beyond aroused, too. His cock throbbed harder, desperate for relief.

“I’m all the way in,” you said after a moment. “Do you want me to fuck you, Edward?”

Your question made his skin tingle and a shiver creep down his spine. “Y-yes,” he whispered again, his voice low and needy.

“What was that?” you asked. As you spoke, you rocked your hips slightly. The fake cock brushed once more against his most sensitive spot, and he groaned.

“Yes!” he grumbled, whining. “Yes, please…”

“Please what?” you whispered now, your voice taking on a husky tone.

“Please…please fuck me, detective,” he gasped out, pressing his hips backwards.

“Good boy,” you said – and those two little words almost made him cum instantly. Your praise sent lighting through his skin. You’d never praised him like this before, and something about it ignited something deep and hidden within him.

He shuddered as you pulled back – and then entered him again. The sensation of the fake cock brushing against his move sensitive spot made another low, quiet whine escape his lips. White spots danced between his eyes, his hands tightening around the bedsheets – but you pulled back and thrust into him once again. First with shallow thrusts, each one making a soft gasp escape his lips. The pleasure was like nothing he’d ever experienced before, nothing he’d felt, and heat prickled along his skin. Soft gasps left his mouth with each thrust as you pulled back and entered him, over and over again. He gritted his teeth and grunted each time you entered him, your hands digging into his hips, nails biting into his flesh.

“Fuck…fuck,” he whispered, unable to stop the curses from slipping from his mouth. His cock continued to pulse with furious need, desperate for stimulation. It brushed against the blankets, and the combined sensation of you fucking his ass and the rubbing made him groan.

Your thrusts were shallow at first, more gentle, and he could hear your own steadied breaths with each time you thrust into him. Edward’s head tilted backwards as his eyes squeezed shut, and stars danced behind his eyelids. Pleasure continued to flicker and burst inside of him, each stroke of yours growing bolder, more desperate, as if you were enjoying this just as much. Being this vulnerable, letting you have such control over him…he couldn’t describe it, couldn’t explain how it felt to just let go and lose himself to the sensations.

“…fuck, detective,” he whispered again.

“You like this, Edward?” you asked, thrusting a little harder and deeper into him – eliciting a strangled cry of pleasure from him.

His cock pulsed again. Each thrust only made more whines and curses spill from his lips. His knuckles fisted tighter into the bed, turning white – but he couldn’t control himself anymore. The bundle of nerves continued inside of him, each time the fake cock stroked against his prostate, another low whine escaped him, trembling as he shook and sweat rolled down his back. The pleasure was intense and yet overwhelming, and it continued to grow inside of him, like a balloon swelling with water.

“Gonna cum, Edward?” you asked.

“Uh-huh…” he moaned, low and whiny, deep in his throat.

“Touch yourself,” you whispered. “Cum for me, Edward.”

That was just the permission he needed. He reached in between his legs and grabbed his cock, wrapping his long fingers around the shaft, and he stroked rapidly, desperately – but all he needed was just a few strokes before that balloon of pleasure inside of him popped – and he came with a strangled cry. His cock pulsed as cum burst from the tip, soaking the bed sheets underneath him, his whole body quaking as you thrust even faster into him, helping him ride out his orgasm. His entire body tensed as he saw fireworks, and another curse escaped his lips – before his body collapsed onto the bed, sticky cum coating his stomach, pooled underneath him.

Your thrusts slowed, before coming to a stop entirely. Edward remained quiet as his body continued to pulse with pleasurable warmth, before you pulled out of him. The sudden emptiness of his asshole made him shudder, even though he felt the slick lube in between his ass cheeks. He sucked in breaths, trying to control himself, but he felt your hands on his back, nails stroking against him as you leaned over his body, your lips grazing the back of his neck.

“Good boy, Edward,” you whispered, kissing his cheek. “You did so well.”

“You be quiet,” he muttered again. “It’s an honor you get to see me like this.”

“Like what?” you laughed lightly. “Thoroughly fucked?”

He smirked, staring at you with heavy lidded eyes. “You know I’m going to pay you back for this, don’t you, my dear?”

You smirked back. “I’m counting on it.” And you pressed your lips to his.

[tswaney17]

Happy New Year Tay! You are one of my favorite writers in this fandom. I wanted to ask you a few questions about your writing process:

What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

How do you find new fic to read?

Who do you read?

How do you decide what to write?

Are there any tropes you dislike?

What's your favorite AU that you've written?

What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it involve?

If you wrote a spin-off of [insert fic], what would it involve?

If you wrote a prequel to [insert fic], what would it involve?

f you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be?

What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write?

Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

How long did it take to write [insert fic]? Describe the process.

Does anyone read your fics before you post them? If so, who?

Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life?

Do you visualize what you read/write?

Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful?

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

Link a fic that made you think, "Wow, I want to write like that."

Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

What's something you've improved on since you started writing fic?

Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write?

What's the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Aww, nonnie. 🥲 Thank you so much! And Happy New Year to you too!! 🥂 I hope I answered these okay. LOL.

What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?) Oh man, that's hard. I'd say Secret Sessions for canon-related, and IDBTWY or Accidental Chemistry for modern.

What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics? Probably slow burn. And pregnancy AU. I know it's not everyone's favorite, but I always end up writing Elriel pregnant. LMAO.

How do you find new fic to read? Frankly, since I've stopped writing, I've been devouring fanfic. I hit up AO3 nearly every day to see if there's anything new. And I have this logic that if I subscribe to a crap ton of fics, I'll hopefully get an update to at least one of them weekly. It's not a flawless system but I get the most out of it.

Who do you read? I honestly read everybody as long as I am confident that Elriel is endgame. I will side-eye anything that as El*cien or Gw*nriel as a potential pairing and will skim first to ensure I'll be able to make it through the story. But I have my go-to's like @nikethestatue and @dottielovegood (amongst many others), and I've found some newbies (or new to me) on AO3 and have been devouring their fics. A few that come to mind are @jasmineandcedar and @merakimoonglade but there are many more.

How do you decide what to write? Through utter chaos that is my brain. Sometimes I'll see little things on Insta or Pinterest that'll spark ideas while others will just kind of hit me out of nowhere. Kind of like this feral Az/Elriel miscarriage that's been floating around in my brain for weeks.

Are there any tropes you dislike? I am over the girlboss warrior trope. There's so much of that written that it's just boring to me. I also hate the cheating trope. I just can't read those.

What's your favorite AU that you've written? Honestly, that's hard. IDBTWY has a very special place in my heart, but Secret Sessions might be the best writing I've ever done. I'm also a sucker for Accidental Chemistry too.

What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it? Probably that feral Az/Elriel miscarriage I mentioned above. It'd be very angsty and heartbreaking but so delicious. Oh! I also have this Archeron-witch AU that's been wracking my brain forever that's based on The Originals. I have a few scenes of it written but just couldn't get into the right headspace to bust it out completely.

If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it involve? Hmm. Secret Sessions deserves an epilogue and I did start to write one a long time ago. But the idea sputtered out and I never got more than a page written. Also, my fic Queen of Monsters would definitely benefit from a sequel but I'm just going to leave that one alone.

If you wrote a spin-off of [insert fic], what would it involve? I could see writing a spin-off for IDBTWY for each of the other siblings tbh. I have no idea what those stories would include, but I think it's the best setup for any sort of spin-off. Or maybe a next-gen for IDBTWY. I have thought of things for the kids if that ever came to pass.

If you wrote a prequel to [insert fic], what would it involve? Frenemies would probably benefit from a prequel. You very much jump right into the mess but elaborating on how Elain and Az worked together before they fucked would've been interesting.

If you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be? Lucien realizing the bond is broken in Secret Sessions. I had so many people ask about what he felt and if the bond was gone and I just left it up to interpretation.

What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write? I honestly don't use a lot of resources when I write. I Google things when I need to do some research and I have Grammarly to assist with the grammar side of things (which is far from perfect), but other than that, I really don't have much else. Big fics get inspo boards on Pinterest though.

Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue? No dialogue. There are some really amazing writers in this fandom that can invoke such an intense emotional response from readers simply by describing the scene without having the characters speak at all. I feel like both @dottielovegood and @violetasteracademic are exceptional at this. I would love to be able to do this as well as them.

How long did it take to write [insert fic]? Describe the process. IDBTWY took four years and it was chaos. I didn't really have an outline that went further than chapter 7 until I was well into the 20s and finally outlined the remaining 15 chapters. Do not recommend at all. I'm honestly surprised how much I was able to loop back in later on in the fic despite my unorganization of it. @nikethestatue can tell you I often went to her and asked if something occurred in my fic because I couldn't even remember. LOL.

Does anyone read your fics before you post them? If so, who? No, I don't have a beta reader and I probably should. I do give out snippets to friends though, but mostly to be a tease.

Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter? LMAO. Unholy (my Azriel priest fic) was so far outside my comfort zone. Not just because I'm not religious and likely wrote phrases and scenes that didn't make sense to the setting, but just the idea of having Azriel as a priest fuck Elain on the goddamn altar of the church. Good lord, I blushed writing it and I blushed reading it even to this day. I honestly haven't written anything since this, but I think it helped me to push through my mental barriers of writing something so outrageous.

What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life? I know I've said this a few times, but Accidental Chemistry is loosely based on my best friend. Some of the things Elain experienced happened with her and the fic honestly hit home because of the close, personal ties. Also, Elain's obsession with creamer in every fic is my self-insert and you can't take that away from me. LOL.

Do you visualize what you read/write? Always. I often think of scenes when I'm laying in bed trying to sleep at night. I don't know if it helps put me to sleep or keeps me up because I'm constantly turning things over in my mind.

Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it? Who's Afraid of Little Old Me, my Tangled Retelling fic. I absolutely loved writing this one and doing the role reversal swap on Elain and Az was such an interesting story to write. It barely got any traction in comparison to others and I was honestly surprised by it.

Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful? IDBTWY became fairly popular tbh, likely because the fandom was wildly engaged at the time when I first started writing it. But A Surprise Bun got more popularity than I thought it would. Enough so that I wrote two extra parts for it (technically three since it was originally intended to be a one-shot). I loved writing the dynamic between Elriel and Cassian.

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person? I'm a heavy rereader. I will go back and reread specific scenes, entire series, etc. Don't threaten me with a good time.

Link a fic that made you think, "Wow, I want to write like that." There are so many creative writers out there and I know that I'm missing a lot, but @impossiblescissorspeachpaper, @merakimoonglade, and @violetasteracademic have incredible prose and dialect in their writing. I am envious of their talent. Truly.

Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason? I've received such amazing comments from readers and I treasure every single one. But there's been a handful of times where somebody has said that my fic was the first they read in the acotar fandom, or that it's their favorite ever, or that they were so invested in it even though they don't ship Elain and Azriel...and just reading those comments makes me feel so valued. To say that about my writing is such an honor.

What's something you've improved on since you started writing fic? I think my style of writing has definitely improved since I started. If you compare the first part of Across the Hallway (my very first fic) to my most recent ones, especially ones like Wildest Dreams or even my A Hundred Lifetimes, A Hundred Worlds, I'd Choose You series, you can definitely see the difference in my writing.

Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write? I'm a laptop writer. If I write on my phone, I'll note it because it will likely have more errors. I've only written two fics on my phone tbh. My "fast phone fics."

What's the last fic you read? Do you recommend it? I read Wonderstruck by @mirrorballpages and it is phenomenal. Highly, highly recommend it.

What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it! Oh man. I've got wips for Accidental Chemistry, this Italy-based heartbreaker that will likely never be published. I've got pieces of a post-acosf fic that will never see the light of day. Random scenes for that witch AU. I haven't been writing fic since Elriel Month, tbh. I've been more focused on my IDBTWY rewrite for publishing. But... I suppose if I do end up writing fic again, it'll be Accidental Chemistry. So here's an unedited snippet of it.

It was something he noticed the other night when he cradled the boy to his chest, promptly getting him to finally settle enough to fall asleep. He wasn’t sure if it was the sound of his heartbeat or the warmth of his skin or the deep sound of his voice as he softly sang a lullaby his mother used to hum to him or a combination thereof, but Oliver always seemed content in his arms.

[goatcheesecak3]

Dating Adam headcanons

Context: this takes place after he escapes the bathroom (which definitely happened and is 1000% canon)

I've never written for Adam before, so I hope I did our bbygirl justice

He really doesn't like bathrooms anymore, for obvious reasons. He'll only shower if you sit outside talking or singing to him the whole time. When he gets out, you dry his hair for him all while telling him how proud you are and how brave he is.

He doesn't really keep on top of general chores, so you regularly do his laundry for him or come by to help clean his apartment. With any other guy you might find this irritating, but Adam's got enough on his plate, you're just glad he's letting you take care of him.

This man is CLINGY, if you're not with him he's constantly texting and calling you to make sure nothing bad has happened. When you are with him, he's pretty much always touching you in some way, it could be cuddling, having his arm over your shoulder or just resting his hand on your leg. He says he just finds physical touch comforting, and after all he's been through, you can see why.

Absolutely no one makes you laugh like Adam does, it's what attracted you to him in the first place. He's got such a clever dry wit, it seems as though he's been blessed with the ability to speak in perfect one liners 24/7. He constantly has you either cracking up, or rolling your eyes playfully.

He's incredibly cheeky, even though he's been your boyfriend for a while, he still flirts with you as if he's trying to pick you up at a bar or something. You find the amount of effort he puts into wooing you very cute.

He has a lot of trouble with sleeping. Sometimes his nightmares get so bad that he gets too scared to go to sleep, other times he wakes up in a panic, thinking he's waking up back in that awful room. You've discovered that sleeping with a small lamp on helps with this, so that when he wakes up he can immediately tell where he is, and playing gentle music while he goes to bed seems to calm him. But the most effective thing you've found, is warmth. Back in the bathroom it was freezing cold and damp, so to give him the opposite effect, you buy him a hot water bottle to cuddle at night (as well as cuddling him yourself).

He's pretty broke, so he can't really afford to take you out on fancy dates, but you don't care about that at all. Sometimes he'll take you for an evening walk in the park, which the two of you really enjoy. For special occasions though, he scrapes together whatever money he can to give you a nice night. He'll usually splurge on a steak and some wine and cook you a fancy meal from home, which you eat in his little apartment by candlelight.

Adam has a real sweet tooth, when you come to stay with him you always make a stop in a corner store on the way and pick him up some chocolate or a bag of skittles or something (and a pack of smokes ofc), and every time without fail it surprises him.

Surprisingly, arguments aren't actually that common between the two of you. Don't get me wrong, sometimes Adam can be a bit of an ass, he can be snippy and quick to anger, but you never let it escalate. You understand that he's got good reason to be a little unpredictable emotionally, so you're patient and kind to him, even when he's out of line. You manage to calm him enough to talk through whatever the issue is, and resolve things fairly quickly.

When he talks about you to other people he doesn't ever say "my girlfriend/boyfriend," it's always "my girl/ my boy". Hearing him introduce you to others like "this is my girl/boy, y/n" just makes your heart flutter.

A/n I've never written for Adam before, so pls let me know if you want more!

Check my pinned post for request details and my masterlist!

Replies and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[doumadono]

Hello. Your comforting stories have been incredibly helpful to me and they are so well-written. I'm wondering if it would be possible to request a piece (emergency request) that deals with anxiety and panic attacks. If this topic isn't suitable for you, please feel free to ignore this request. I'm looking for a scenario involving either Midoriya or Kirishima or Bakugou or Hawks providing support to their significant other during a panic attack caused by a triggering friend. Lately, there have been numerous triggers around me, especially from people I care about, which has led me to have anxious breakdowns. I'm really in need of some support. Could you write a piece that's heartwarmingly sweet and focuses on distracting the significant other from negative thoughts? Thank you in advance. You dedicate so much of your time to us readers, always displaying incredible kindness. I'd love to be your friend

A/N: I'm truly sorry to hear that you've been facing such challenging times lately. Dealing with triggers, especially from people you care about, can be incredibly tough and overwhelming. Remember that you're not alone in this. Be kind to yourself and take things one step at a time. You're resilient, and brighter days are ahead. Also, feel free to reach out to me - I'm so willing to make new friends!

MASTERLIST

Kirishima

You were having a panic attack triggered by an encounter with a friend who reminded you of a traumatic event. Amidst the turmoil of your panic attack, a strong yet gentle arm slipped around your shoulders. Kirishima's familiar presence was comforting, and his voice held a reassuring warmth. "Hey, you're not alone in this struggle. I've got your back, just like we've always had each other's. Don't pay too much attention to that encounter." His words carried a sense of camaraderie that only someone like Kirishima could provide.

"I-I can't do this, Eijiro…" You whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks.

As you clung to him, he squeezed your shoulder gently. "Remember that time we pushed through during training? We took on tough challenges, faced our fears, and came out even stronger. This is no different. We'll face it together." His eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of determination and empathy shining within them. "Instead of letting those negative thoughts control you, let's focus on something positive. How about we plan our next fun outing? Maybe ice cream and a movie marathon?"

His suggestion was genuine, and you couldn't help but smile through the residual unease. His unwavering support was a lifeline, grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. With Kirishima by your side, you felt stronger, just like when you faced challenges together as friends and partners.

Bakugo

You experienced a panic attack due to a triggering encounter with an old friend who was very unkind to you, saying a lot of wry words. In the midst of your anxious breakdown, a fiery presence seemed to engulf you. Bakugo, surprisingly, knelt down in front of you. His usually intense gaze softened, revealing a concern you hadn't expected.

"I-I can't breathe, Katsuki…" You whined, choking on your own tears.

"Tch, don't let that damn idiot mess with your head. You're stronger than that crap." His hand cupped your cheek, his touch both unexpected and oddly comforting. "Think of a time when you kicked ass. Remind yourself who you are — someone who won't back down."

His voice, though still intense, held an unexpected gentleness. "I've seen you push through tough situations. You're resilient as hell." He leaned in slightly, his brows furrowed. "Now, let's do something to distract your mind. How about watching some sweet, stupid videos online? You like them. They won't be as spectacular as my explosions, obviously, but they might help get your mind off those thoughts for a while, nerd. Oh, and say just a word and I'll fucking blow them up. Understood?"

It wasn't the comfort you were used to, but it was genuine and uniquely Bakugo. He might not show it like others, but he cared. And in his own way, he was trying to help you weather this storm of anxiety.

Hawks

You were in the middle of a panic attack triggered by an unsettling conversation with an old friend of yours. As your panic attack gripped you, a calming presence settled beside you. Hawks knelt down, his wings spreading slightly as if to shield you from the outside world. His eyes held an empathetic understanding, a silent assurance that he was here for you.

"I can't think straight, Hawks…" You admitted.

"You know, you've got wings too," he said suddenly, his fingers brushing your hair back gently. "Not the literal ones, but the strength to rise above this situation."

His soothing voice carried a sense of calm, and his touch was comforting in its gentleness. "Let's focus on something else. Imagine we're soaring above the clouds, leaving those negative thoughts far behind." Hawks' wings unfurled gently, their red feathers cascading like a protective cocoon. With a tender and understanding expression, he moved closer, his wings slowly enveloping you in their warmth. The soft rustling of feathers created a soothing rhythm, and the delicate touch of his feathers against your skin brought a sense of comfort.

Amidst the chaos, he offered a moment of serenity, reminding you that you were not alone in this battle.

Midoriya

You were caught in a panic attack after a distressing interaction with a triggering friend that hurt you previously. While you were enveloped by your anxious breakdown, a gentle smile greeted you as Midoriya sat down in front of you. His kind eyes held an understanding that only someone who had battled their inner demons could offer.

"I-I feel so useless, Izuku," you whispered.

"I know how it feels to battle your own mind and unpleasant situations," he said softly, his voice holding the same compassion he showed during his hero acts. "But remember, you're not alone."

His hand found yours, his touch warm and reassuring. "Instead of letting those negative thoughts consume you, let's reminisce about the times we've laughed till our sides hurt. Those are the moments worth fighting for, right?"

He wasn't just offering comfort; he was sharing a piece of his own resilience and reminding you that you possessed the strength to overcome these challenges.