#that's the (working but probably final) title btw

[avirael]

This Home of Mine

How had it come to this?, Aviloh asked himself as the argument around him began to get louder. Somehow he had known it would all end horribly one day. He just had hoped it would take a little longer. He only had himself to blame for this, he thought as his eyes fearfully scanned the crowd that was slowly gathering around them.

There at the sidelines stood U‘khaya with a gleeful expression on her face. She knew this would happen, he realised. But A’viloh wasn’t the kind of person to blame her for what happened…

U‘khuba‘s twin sister had always been following the boys around even when they all had still been kids. She had been a brave and stubborn little girl, maybe a little mean sometimes but not more so than her brother. A‘viloh had always thought she was following them because of Khuba - twins being inseparable or something. Never had he imagined the reason would be Laqa instead.

Of course he could have guessed it. Everyone loved Laqa! Apparently Khaya wasn’t an exception in this matter.

That evening - before the argument - A‘viloh had waited for quite some while by the pond. They had always used to hide there when they still had been kids, every time the other boys had stirred trouble or teased the girls.

By now it was one of the spots Laqa and him sometimes used as meeting points when they sneaked out of the settlement together. But today the other Miqo’te had arrived so late, A‘viloh had already started to wonder if something had happened.

“There you are!”, Aviloh said relieved as Laqa finally appeared just when he was about to go searching for him. “I was already worried. Did something happen?”

The blonde Miqo’te made an annoyed face. “Just Khaya happened…”

A’viloh didn’t understand. “Khaya? What’s wrong with her?”

“Everything apparently!”, Laqa exclaimed disgruntled, which made A‘viloh even more confused.

Laqa sighed.

“She waylaid me on my way outside.”, he explained but couldn’t help to look a little angry still. “Started talking some nonsense about how impressed she was about the quarry from our last hunt and how it is a shame that it isn’t me leading the tribe instead of father.”

A’viloh furrowed his brows, still not quite connecting the dots. Laqa grimaced. “Then she threw herself at me and tried to kiss me.”

“She what?”, A‘viloh exclaimed a little louder than intended, with a mix of shock and disbelief on his face.

Laqa raised his hands in a calming manner. “Don’t worry! I of course told her that I am not interested. Like I ever would be anyway! We may be almost the same age but she is still my mother’s sister. What was she even thinking, Vi?”

A‘vi shrugged but couldn’t help to remember something one of Laqa’s sisters had once told him. “Lamana mentioned that Khaya didn’t agree with some of U‘odh‘s opinions. She thought her and Khuba were still mad with him because of their father…”

“That makes no sense! They have no reason for that! It’s not like father threw them all out!”, Laqa said annoyed. “Alone because of mom he wouldn’t have! Anyway, grandpa had been old already, if not father then someone else would sooner or later have challenged him. All of them were always treated equally. Why would they be mad?”

A’viloh gave another shrug and smiled weakly. “Maybe it’s none of that and she really just is a little in love with you… I can’t blame her…”

Laqa lightly glared at him, as if he wanted to say “this isn’t funny”, but couldn’t help to grin himself.

“It’s still absurd!”, he said while shaking his head.

“You think?”, A‘viloh asked and chuckled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if half the village was secretly in love with you.”

Laqa made a sound somewhere between an annoyed huff and a suppressed laugh. Then he stretched out a hand for A‘viloh to take. As A‘viloh did so Laqa pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him. “Too bad for them that the only one I will ever love is you.”

All too willingly - too carelessly! - A’viloh melted into the other Miqo’te’s embrace. Laqa saying things like this never failed to give him a warm and fuzzy feeling. Just as much as Laqa kissing him always made his heart skip a beat and his mind go silent.

Gently A‘viloh wrapped his arms around the taller Miqo’te’s neck, like an invitation to pull him even closer and deepen their kiss, when suddenly a sound appeared nearby. Their ears, currently slightly drooped, attentively shot up and both Miqo’te instinctively turned to see where the unexpected sound had come from.

Without doubt, there by one of the larger rocks nearby, eyes wide and mouth agape in disbelief, stood a Miqo’te girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes.

Khaya!

This was the exact moment A‘viloh knew he was in trouble.

“Khaya…”, Laqa was the first one to find his voice again. He sounded almost as if he wanted to reassure a shy animal, but it only made the girl unfreeze, whirl around and run away. “No! Khaya, wait!”, Laqa called and ran after her. He probably wanted to explain, wanted to beg her to stay silent, but A‘viloh knew it was too late already.

With his heart hammering against his chest and his thoughts racing he stood there and just watched them go. For a second he wondered what he should do now. But he had nowhere else to go, probably no one else who would defend him apart from Laqa. So slowly he followed them back to the settlement, wishing he could just vanish into thin air.

***

“Tell me this isn’t the thruth.”, U‘odh demanded from his son. His voice was still relatively calm but there already was a tone in it, a kind of threatening sound that also reflected on his face.

For a moment the thought crossed A’viloh’s mind, that Laqa could simply have lied. That he simply could have denied everything. Maybe, just maybe, his father would have believed him.

But that wasn’t like Laqa.

“It’s true!”, Laqa admitted and turned his face a little bit to look at A‘viloh, who so far had stood a few steps behind him, trying to stay out of U’odh’s attention. “A‘vi and I are a couple.”

A murmur went through the crowd and somehow even A‘viloh felt surprised to hear him say this so bluntly for everyone to hear. U‘odh laughed, but it lacked any humor. A’viloh already looked very uncomfortable but when the nunh’s sharp eyes landed on him, he almost flinched away and cast his eyes down to the ground.

“That weak little welp?!”, U’odh spat out, speaking to his son but still looking and pointing at A’viloh. “What do you want with him?! He’s good for nothing!”

A’viloh had never quite understood this either. There were so many better people than him and still Laqa had chosen him instead. Carefully A‘viloh glimpsed up at Laqa and could see his whole body tense up against the nunh’s insulting words. Stubbornly Laqa stared into his father’s eyes and growled.

“Don’t you dare to speak of him like that! I don’t care if he can fight or not, he is kind and wonderful and I love him!”

But U‘odh simply shook his head and laughed condescendingly.

“Love?! Don’t be foolish now… you know nothing about love.”

That had been too much for Laqa.

Usually no one dared to speak up against U‘odh no matter how harsh his words sometimes were. But Laqa, in a way just like his father and in another just like his mother, never had known how to back down. The anger about the situation and also about his father didn’t help, so his next words sounded especially blunt and sharp, more so than he probably truly thought.

“More than you! You wouldn’t recognise love if it stood right in front of you! Because you are just a bitter resentful man who doesn’t know how to love!”

Shocked gasps sounded from the crowd and everybody stared at either Laqa or his father, waiting for a reaction. For a few long seconds both remained silent. But while Laqa just stared at the older Miqo’te with a stubborn, unyielding face, the nunh‘s face changed slowly but entirely. All the mockery faded from his face and instead his expression turned to an angry snarl.

A‘viloh knew he would only end up in the crossfire but if he didn’t do something now, they would certainly fight and that was the last thing any of them could want. He didn’t really know what to say but scraped up all his bravery and stepped forward a bit. Trying to divert their attention from each other he spoke up, still quiet but clearly audible against this deadly silence.

“Please stop, I don’t —“

But U’odh wasn’t going to listen to whatever he had to say. Furiously he whirled towards him and stepped closer with wild rage in his eyes.

“No one allowed YOU to speak, you pathetic little weakling! Get out of my sight, you are none of my kin and I never want to see your whiny face again! You are nothing but a parasite and I have suffered your presence here for long enough! Begone! You are no longer welcome here!”

Of course. A‘viloh had expected this but it still hurt to hear these words out loud. He tried not to cry but already looked quite miserable already, even without tears. U’odh however wasn’t done with him yet.

“Oh, how I regret the day I allowed you to stay here! I wish you had just died with the rest of your miserable family!”, the nunh hissed and looked as if he was about to attack A‘viloh with more than just hurtful words.

With tears in his eyes A‘viloh shivered in fear and flinched away. He had never seen U’odh so furious before. But before the man could loose his self-control entirely and really tried to strike at him, Laqa stepped between them and protectively wrapped his arms around A‘viloh.

Instantly everything went silent again. Everyone seemed shocked by what had happened or what U’odh had just said. Even the nunh himself seemed stunned when he saw his son’s disgusted face, staring at him. But U‘odh was not the kind of man to give in or admit his failures. Instead he quietly but sharply said, “Don’t look at me so. My word is final. He is none of our family and I want him gone by tomorrow.”

With a strange mixture of defiance and sadness Laqa looked at his father for a moment, before he spoke.

“In that case I don’t consider you my family any longer either. A place where A‘vi isn’t welcome I cannot call my home. If you send him away, I will go with him!”

Briefly a shadow crossed his face but then U’odh looked entirely unfazed again.

“Where would you even go?”, he asked and shook his head dismissively.

“Anywhere but here...”, Laqa replied coldly and turned to A’viloh. “Let’s go and pack our things.”

All of this had happened so suddenly A’viloh still could not quite believe it. No matter what U’odh had said, for him this place was still his home and the people here the closest thing he had to a family. He didn’t want to leave.

“What? Now?”, he asked and pleadingly looked to Laqa, hoping that there was some way to make everything right after all.

“Yes! I’m sure we can stay with the Flames for one night and tomorrow morning we leave.”

His decision seemed to be final, just as U’odh’s. What was A’viloh supposed to do against that?

Laqa made a point of taking A‘viloh’s hand so everyone could see it and knew to whom his loyalty belonged. Slowly he let his gaze wander over the crowd of curious faces giving them one last chance to speak up but they all remained silent.

With a last disappointed look at his father he turned around and walked away, unconcerned that they all stared at them as they left.

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

Promo time!!!

Oop I can already see drama from the hovering over the video for just a second 😭

Okay let's do this xD

AAAAHHAUGH he should've 😭

But also I mean he does have a right to be mad xd

Hmm it's not really BECAUSE of him though

True though not an apology, especially since he probably came to him with it as an apology xd

AAAHHH NEW PEOPLE!!

SLFKGDLSJS "I'm about to pee myself" "Please do not" girl fr xD mood lol. And please don't, but also she seems sweet :D she's so excited to meet him :)

Heard there would be another autistic doctor looking up to Shawn and this is really cool!!

Hope it goes well :D

Writing wise mostly lol

I mean all med students do lol

Is that xD? I figured it's from a different conversation than that topic but eh maybe not! Either way she seems cool :)

Bro looks annoyed before the how we learn bit btw lol xD the bit before the wave

Oope 😳 o.o contaminateddd

Hmm well yeah bestie that is how it works sometimes

Sorry xD I know you're/she's probably just trying to be clear lol not necessarily in shock but honestly that's also valid

Just not time for that in an OR necessarily lol

Oop "Leave. Now" o.o

Gosh I hope this goes well xD

Anyway!! I'm so excited :DD

That's the last of my last thoughts on the promo, so now it's time for the. . .

REVIEW

I loved this episode!! I thought it was a really good premiere and having it be all about babies was fun :D. Obviously with other stuff going on but given that that was one of the big/biggest events from last season (two of the biggest, if we include Eden), specifically the end of last season, so it makes sense to have the episode kind of centered around that :)). But in a thematic way so it's not just one or two babies :), if that makes sense? Yeah, sure, it does :D. Anyway, I really liked it :)). And I'm SO glad they all survived lol xD 😅.

Now! Onto personal bits :))

They'll be short because I actually did decide to do this tonight lol

Missing Danny <33 glad he's doing well though, and that he and Jordan are still in contact and on okay terms :)). I hope he comes back one day but with just one season left, for character arc reasons I hope he doesn't xd. Unless there's a flash forward, which would be rude because I deserve to see him come back lol. Anyway!

Marcus just screwing off is amazing xD. Yk what, after everything he's done (like worked hard I mean and been through some stuff), he deserves it xD. And I'm happy he and Dalisay are happy and good :DD. Good for them :)). Ik the actor quit to focus on his political career but I do hope he comes back for the end :). Just like Antonia and a ghost vision of Melendez lol xDD.

Lim and Glassman fighting over the President position - but in an opposite way xD? - was great lol xD. I love these two idiots. Plus, like I said, the serious mixed with joking tone was fun lol. Anyway, they slayed 😌

The Asher Jordan bestieism :D. But I really hope we actually get more of that in the future :((. I love Asher and Jerome (I would say as much as the next person but I love them way more than that xD, I absolutely adore them lol) but I feel bad for Jordan :(, and I need me that bestieism time <3. Related and separate concerns lol. Anyway, while I hope he spends more time with Jordan in the future I do get it and I don't really blame him much lol. But yeah, he slays, I'm sure Jerome was slaying too, they slayed <3.

I'm glad Jordan has Kalu back now :)). Honestly I was not thinking that would be his avoidance reason but it's interesting! A good reason writing wise but I am glad they made up a bit :D :) also that takeout bit at the end was so cute 🥰 them <3

Y'all I was stressed about Park and Morgan this episode 😭😭 xd. I didn't think that after all this "work" like put into the storyline they would kill Eden but gosh was I scared xd. I'm so happy he and Jack survived though :'D :')). And I loved the bond they formed as parents <33. Also hallelujah that the parent issues didn't last for another episode, I was scared it would but I'm so glad Morgan took at least a step into accepting Park into that more <33. Bc he was so valid for wanting her to acknowledge his love and effort more, and I'm glad she did :'). I love them both so much :D <333 :) 🥰. Anyway, I'm so glad everyone's okay <33

Once again I just really feel for Jordan 😭. It sucks to feel like others are leaving you behind and I just really hope/want the best for her <33. It's such an isolating feeling so I hope it goes away for her soon, at least mostly. I'm glad she has Kalu now too :').

Shaun and Lea once again just out here doing their best :')). Like I said, I like that their small disagreement didn't last too long. Not that the small ones necessarily always do on the show, I'm just saying this one was small. I just like that Shaun noticed it and talked through it without needing any- prompting, I guess :). Like neither of them had to have a big moment where they knew they had to bring into, they just lived, tried, and adjusted :))). I really loved that :D <33. Also, stop, they're just so cute <333. Anyway, Steve is adorable :D, and I love them all so much :) <3. Also the bit with Glassman at the end is just aaOUGH still going so insane over that dynamic and always will (be). It's just so interesting that even when they're not really speaking, Shaun will still confide when he's at a low point, even almost can't help it, and Glassman will still be there for him and take care of the baby <3. Y'all I love them so much 😭😭❤️. Ill over them <33. Also the ending scene was just so real (literally, was so just. . . idk yeah, real xD. I can't personally relate.to that exactly but it was just really tangible, you could really feel that, and I ADORED that about it, just loved it) and good. AUOGHH!! Loved it <33.

Overall, I really enjoyed this episode!! I thought it was super great and I loved the theme, plus there were just so much good scenes that felt so real and raw. Also let us not ignore the amazing emotions and acting from the pair of parents for Jack and Morgan and Park, wow, knocked it out of the part :'o (yes, my brain- zoned out while I was saying that and don't know what I was meaning, but you get the vibe - it was amazing, lol). Everything felt so charged and so great :D. Just loved it!!

Soo, yeah! I really enjoyed this episode, I thought it was great. It was a really good transition from last season and I like that :)). The next episode looks super interesting!

This has been my review of. . .

The Good Doctor, Season 7, Episode 1: Baby, Baby, Baby

I loved it! I'm really excited for the next episode! I think it's going to be an interesting storyline and I hope it goes in a cool direction :D.

I'll be back next week with my review of. . .

The Good Doctor, Season 7, Episode 2: Skin in the Game

See you then!!

[bitteriekitten]

regular things that get them horny.

synopsis — what the title says <3

warnings — implied nsfw content mdni please or i will steal ur kneecaps, afab!reader, teasing... i might've missed smt lmk if i did !

featuring — xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, & caleb (separate fics)

notes — i was not expecting the flurry of notes i received in my first ever written post ... thank u sm for the likes and reblogs they're much appreciated ily all sm <3333 this is still unedited because i'm tired :p - feedback is much appreciated btw !

Xavier gets incredibly turned on whenever he sees you stretch. Thanks to all the reports you need to fulfill after missions, he often spots you at your desk with your arms up and your back arched. You would let out a little groan after stretching, which doesn’t help his running imagination. Your uniform, which you often unbutton while doing paperwork, lifts up with your arms, giving Xavier a peek of the skin underneath your clothes. He could barely look away, let alone tell himself to calm down before he embarrasses himself. Your eyes would meet his, and Xavier gulps when he sees you smirk. “Enjoying yourself, partner?” you teased. Xavier doesn’t respond, instead deciding to adjust how he sits at his desk, hoping his bulge would calm down eventually.

Zayne can never control himself when he sees you wearing his clothes. Whether it’s a t-shirt, a button-up, a jacket, it never fails to drive him up a wall with how intimate it is for him to be sharing something that's his. The material is always too big on you, hanging a few inches above your knees - and you know that he knows you rarely ever wear anything underneath either. He loves seeing you walk around the house, to which he pulls you onto his lap with a deep kiss. “I had been looking for this shirt for a while now.” he said against your lips, his tongue darting out to lick at your neck. You shivered, “Well, it’s mine now. Unless you try to get it back.” Zayne smirked, taking on your little challenge as his hands slid under your (his) shirt.

Rafayel gets excited whenever you wear glasses. While you looked pretty much the same with your wire-framed glasses, he swears up and down that you looked like a completely transformed person. “I’ve never seen you this serious, cutie.” he said, staring at you from across the table with his cheek resting against his palm. You ignored his comment, probably because you were too engrossed in your work and you didn’t hear him, or you were purposely ignoring him to stay focused at your work. Either way, he bit his bottom lip to prevent a moan from erupting out of his mouth - the concentrated look on your face was like the cherry on top.

Sylus can’t help himself whenever you touch him casually. Your relationship had come a long way, and it clearly took great effort on your part to finally be able to feel him without flinching. It could be as simple as holding hands under the table, or your head resting on his shoulder, it would be more than enough to have him breathing in heavy sighs. “Keep doing that, sweetie.” he gently demands you as you trail your hands over his shoulders and over the expanse of his wide chest. You bit your lip as you settled more comfortably on his lap, allowing your hands to travel more over his body. “You like that?” you asked, your fingers grazing over his cheek. Sylus takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it firmly; that was his answer.

Caleb can’t help but get turned on when you cook. It’s something about the domesticity of it all, and the intimacy of you making a meal with him in mind. You rarely ever get the chance to cook something for him, because he loves being the chef in the relationship. Caleb wraps his arms around you from behind, breathing in the scent of your hair as well as the scent of the braised beef you were preparing on the stove. “Smells pretty good, Pipsqueak.” he murmured against your head. His hands slowly travel south, and he can’t help the grin on his lips when he feels you squirming under his touch. “C-Caleb, you have to eat…” you sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder. Caleb hummed and began placing kisses over your exposed neck, “Mmm, I think I want to taste something else first…” he whispered.

[quantum1mmortality]

Captain Curly; marriage hcs <3

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Chat I know I mentioned getting back into writing for twst but the current hyperfixation is too strong rn so just bare with me I NEED to write for mouthwashing

!this is written with an AU in mind; curly still works for pony express, but there's no ship. Just a normal job. Also J***y doesn't exist.!

Tw/cw; afab!reader, mentions of pregnancy and having said baby, MANHANDLING!!!!, teasing, use of pet names, uhhh I can't think of any else

Not proofread

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Sfw

I think Curly would definitely be a family oriented person. The further you'd get into your relationship, the more he'd ask about your opinion on kids and if you'd want any in the future.

I also think Curly would be on the traditional side, too. If you said yes to having kids, he'd take that as an opportunity to show you how good of a provider he can be, and how willing he is to become a father.

When you do eventually have children, he'd be more than willing to take off work to help around the house. You just gave birth, he knows it's hard for you, so he'd make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for all three of you.

Sidenote; Curly would definitely be a good cook. He probably took culinary in highschool

If he knew Anya at the time, he'd have her babysit your children so he could take you out on dates. This happens quite often, too; probably around once or twice a month. He just wants to show how much he appreciates you and everything you've done for him and your relationship <3

He'd take you to the most expensive restaurants and tell you to order whatever you wanted, and if you're done breastfeeding, he'd order a bottle of champagne for you both.

He'd be one of those "I love my wife" husbands. Everyone at his job is so sick of hearing him talk so highly of you. It'll be someone's birthday, they'll bring a cake, and he just won't eat it. Why? "My wife could make a better cake."

After you guys got married, he couldn't stop calling you his wife. That name felt so surreal to him; like the woman of his dreams is finally his? And there's a title for that?? Of course he's going to use it constantly.

He probably also took Anya out to help him pick out a ring. And thank god he did btw because he would've gotten you a ring with the biggest diamond they had 😭😭 (sorry to all the big ring lovers in chat rn they're just not it for me)

Nsfw

Curly is a romantic. He'd want to take things slow, cherish you as much as possible, especially if it's your first time.

He wouldn't think of it as sex, he'd think of it as lovemaking; showing you his worth and how much he cares about you.

He rarely gets rough, you have to ask him to be because he just won't do it. But, he's a suck up for you, so if you want something, it's yours.

So, he'd get rough. He'd go faster than he usually does, maybe put his hand around your neck and squeeze ever so gently. But afterwards, he'd feel awful; like he was hurting you or something.

He'd apologize profusely, say he's never gonna do it again, but does it a few days later. It's like going through the five stages of grief but skipping the first four and consistently being at acceptance

He's a hand holder. Since he's an intimate person, his preferred position is missionary. He likes this position for a few reasons; he gets to see your expression if you're enjoying it or uncomfortable, he gets to kiss you, and he can hold your hand. It's one of his favorite things to do, not only because he finds it much more romantic, but he also loves how you squeeze his hand when you're getting close.

Teasing is one of the things he does best. But verbal teasing, not physical. You can hear him giggle anytime he's inside you, practically taunting you when he knows you're close. He'd say something dumb like, "aw, is princess gonna cum?" And then have a shit eating grin on his face.

Pet names are another thing he uses often. Like I said previously, he'd call you princess, but there's also other names he'd call you during the act. Love, darling, and angel are the ones he uses for you most commonly, aside from princess of course.

I saw someone else say this on here and their hcs were actually what made me want to write (I swear on my SOUL I am NOT trying to copy them 🙏🙏🙏🙏 sorry if it comes off like that) but they said Curly would be buff and I completely agree. He would be HUGE, I'm thinking 6'3-6'5, easily over 220lbs.

The manhandling would go CRAZY, you don't like a position? No issue, he'll just pick you up and put you in a different one. Can't keep your legs open while he's being a munch? As much as he enjoys the feeling of suffocating between your thighs, which believe me, he does, he can't exactly pleasure you if he's unconscious from the lack of airflow. Not a big issue, a firm hand on each leg will do the trick.

Another comment on his body alone to wrap this up; he'd definitely be muscular in his legs and especially his arms. I think his stomach would be toned, not a six pack, but toned. Maybe even a little pudge and a v line 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

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A/N: hi guys pls send requests for curly fics plasplsplspslsplsplslsplspls I'm so thirsty for this man oh ky god I'm crynng

[venusbyline]

Lying between them (2/2)

previous chapter

— summary: It was no news to the brothers how many times they woke up from wet dreams, their white linen pants stained with the consequences of their desires. And yet... Neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys ever imagined that they would really be in that situation, with you actually considering starting to take off the nightgown, fingers playing with its ties as the seconds passed.

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x sister!reader x Lucerys Velaryon

— type: smut, dark

— word count: 8.4k

— tags/warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, female!reader, dark!Jacaerys, dark!Lucerys, Targcest (older brother/younger sister & twin brother/twin sister), threesome FMM (female/male/male), dubcon, loss of virginity, rough vaginal sex, virginity kink, underage sex (no specific mention of reader, Jacaerys or Lucerys' ages tho), past non-con somnophilia, dry humping, threats of rape, missionary position, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), squirting, overstimulation, handjob (male receiving/male giving), nipple playing, gaslighting, dacryphilia, creampie, degradation, light subspace, aftercare, sadism, minor Jacaerys Velaryon/Lucerys Velaryon BUT NOT SO MUCH, minor older brother/younger brother incest BUT NOT SO MUCH, fluffy ending, dom!Jacaerys, sub!reader, switch!Lucerys, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons). no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

— author's notes¹: I'M FINALLY POSTING THAT 2ND PART 🔥🔥 I was sooo busy with my final exams, but I think I'll have a little more free time now (even though my college semester only ends at the beginning of July). Tysm to those who asked for a sequel, because I wasn't planning on actually writing it before, but I loved it. Btw, yeah I officially turned it into a twoshot with a title, and I'mma post a masterlist later. ♥️♥️

— author's notes²: This is just my second work about dark!Lucerys (I wrote a scenario based of my horny thoughts stuffs a few months ago). I love write for dark!Jacaerys, but until now I never had really focused on a darker version of Luke. But I was sooo good, I'll probably write more about that, cuz I really like OOC and dark versions of HOTD characters.

— high valyrian words used: Idaña (twin), Kostilus (please).

— crossposting: AO3

❥ Jacaerys masterlist • Lucerys masterlist • HOTD masterlist

❥ Lying Between Them masterlist

❥ about me • main masterlist

"You were taking advantage of me!"

Lucerys flinched as your angry scream reverberated through the suddenly silent chambers — neither of the two brothers had the courage to say anything during those previous minutes, both of them with the colors draining from their faces, both of them worried about what would happen next.

The younger boy's mind was a mess, not knowing what to say or do. The realization of how serious that situation was only hit him when you tried to sit up on the bed, preparing to get out of it — letting out a weak little cry when Jacaerys needed to grab your waist and stop you from moving away.

"It is not exactly that." Your older brother started to explain, but you pushed his hand away, making him mumble something and grab you again, his grip kind of tighter this time. "Hey, hey now. You are overreacting."

Lucerys narrowed his eyes at his brother's indifferent words. Even if he had agreed to participate in that problematic act, at least he knew what they were doing was wrong, and he would never blame you for being scared and wanting to stay physically distant at that moment.

"Jace..." Your twin brother began to say when Jacaerys turned you into the previous position, pressing his own bulge against your ass.

The older prince glared at Lucerys, not wanting the boy to intervene in the plan — even more so when Lucerys had already participated with him so willingly. "Do not interrupt me."

You were incredulous at the rude way Jacaerys was talking to him, and that incredulity increased when you felt Jacaerys grinding against your bare ass. Even with his underwear right there, it was impossible not to feel it with every movement... how hard it was.

Sexual experiences had never been something that happened to you, at least not consensually. Any touching that was more daring had only been caused by your own fingers a few times — although you tried to feel pleasure during a random morning, using one of your brothers' pillows because they left your chambers and one of them forgot to take it back to their own bed.

Yet, you did not expected them to have such audacity to do something like that, so unexpectedly.

"You took off your nightgown of your own free will. You consented to it."

Well... Perhaps not so unexpectedly.

"W-What? I... I did not imagine you would abuse me." Not even you seemed to believe the defense you said against Jacaerys' words.

Unlike his brother, who kept his sly smile after the sentences he heard, Lucerys' guilt grew. He could hear the uncertainty in his twin sister's voice, as if your were going over all the last events.

He knew what Jacaerys was doing, wanting to mess with your mind to put the whole blame on you. So that you would start to feel responsible for what had happened. As if you had really made it seem like it was all consensual.

Lucerys moved an arm forward, lowering it when he saw his twin sister flinching away from his touch and being accidentally pressed against Jace. "F-Fuck... That is it." The firstborn groaned close to your ear, his heavy breathing giving you involuntary goosebumps.

One of Jacaerys' hands moved down to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh there hard and ignoring the whimper of pain he received in return. You felt so warm against him, so fucking gorgeous... Perky nipples begging to be touched.

Before you could even say anything to deny it, Jacaerys had already run the other palm over your breasts, alternating between grabbing each one of them as he increased the way he rolled his hips.

"This is what you always wanted. Is not it, little sister? Your two brothers taking you, taking your maidenhead like you were just our personal whore..." Those crude words were painful to hear, vanishing any defense you could claim.

You were the one who had taken off the nightgown, you were the one who had allowed your brothers to see you like that, to stay there on the bed...

You had allowed Jacaerys and Lucerys to touch you. Allowed them to do whatever they wanted.

"That is not true..." Whimpering, the resistance starting to wane and the shame aching inside your heart. Lucerys noticed how you seemed to writhe against Jace's grip, how your eyes filled with unshed tears. Tears that showed how those words were really having an effect.

Jacaerys brought his palm to your breasts to pinch one of your nipples. "Oh, both of us know it is true. Did you think I would never find out about the morning you rubbed yourself on my pillow like a bitch in heat?"

Both your and your twin brother's eyes widened — your shock was due to the fact that Jacaerys had found out about that some time ago and had never told you until now. Lucerys' shock was because he was in disbelief at what Jacaerys just confessed, a wave of jealousy burning in his veins, not understanding why the hells you would do something so perverted on the other brother's pillow instead of his.

"Why did you do that on his pillow?"

Lucerys' irritation caught you off guard, your face paling with sudden fear when you saw his expression. An expression never seen before, showing the mix of feelings inside him.

"I did not know it was his!"

Nothing changed about Lucerys' look, the anger simply intensified. How dare you grind on Jace's pillow? Even if you did not even know it was your older brother's... It should have been his. He should have been the one to smell your cunt on the fabric during the night. He should have been the one to jerk off thinking about how you had cum there...

Lucerys' gaze at his older brother was enough for Jacaerys to realize his jealousy and that there would be no more moral resistance to whatever happened from then on.

"Let us make a fair deal, little sister..." Jacaerys began to speak, his voice husky and mocking, one hand going down and down... Until it found what he wanted most. "You let us fuck that pretty cunt, and in return we will nof say anything to Mother about how you have been letting us sleep in your bed for months..."

To your disbelief, Lucerys added, "Or about how you stood naked between us, rubbing yourself and begging for dirty things."

That was the cruelest sentence Lucerys had ever said in all his years of existence. As his twin sister, it never crossed your mind that Lucerys would not only agree with that type of situation, but also actively participate in it and make threats.

Gods, he was your twin brother. Jace doing all that was absurd in itself... And now Luke? This was a nightmare.

"Wow, it seems my little brother is finally getting more into this."

With a frown of disgust, you tried to pull away from Jacaerys' touch once more and his grip tightened, a strangled whimper escaping at the pain of having his fingers digging into your soft breast, nail marks appearing on the skin almost immediately.

Without warning, Jace lifted you by the arm, forcing you to sit on the mattress, his hands firmly around the bone, not caring about the possibility of hurting his own younger sister, not caring about the fear he was causing.

As soon as the three siblings were seated, Lucerys moved a little closer, breathing deeply as he smelled you. He had rubbed his hand on your breast while you slept and had even ground himself a few minutes before — however, it was such a huge satisfaction to know that he was about to finally get what he wanted for years.

The pang of guilt that burned against his will began to increase, and he quickly put it aside when he remembered the jealousy he felt when he found out about the pillow incident — it was something silly. Something silly that left him mad.

"And if I say no, regardless of what you are going to tell Mother?"

Jacaerys and Lucerys narrowed their eyes at your question, noticing the hint of defiance. The two brothers stared at each other, as if they were sharing their thoughts, understanding what they should do next, how to deal with the possibility that their sister was actually considering getting rid of this unfair situation with them.

Jace's hand touched your dark hair, the inevitable goosebumps across your naked body while he tucked a few strands behind your ear.

His smile was so sweet, sweet to the point of being kind of creepy, something that could make anyone feel sick. "I do not think you really want to know, darling."

His soft threat made your stomach churn with despair and agony, a few tears spilling out as the last bit of defiance dissipated. Lucerys knew the statement was not true, just a way to lessen any potential denial. None of them would have the nerve to actually abuse you like they were saying, but you had to believe they would.

This might be their only chance.

To the princes’ relief, there were no more grumbles. The silent nod you gave was enough for them to sigh and start doing what needed to be done. “Good girl.”

You did not respond directly to Lucerys’s sudden praise, or empathize with the fact that his voice sounded shaky. All you did was let Jacaerys gently cup your chin, turning you closer to him. Sharing a brief stare, the eldest prince placed his lips against yours, letting out a low sigh when he felt your tension at the new contact.

His lips were full and smooth, with a slight taste of the lemon cake he had eaten before coming to the chambers. Despite the few kisses you had already exchanged with one or two guards, nothing compared to the one you were sharing with your brother. It was not gentle, his tongue invaded your mouth without permission, a soft moan sounding muffled when he squeezed one of your breasts.

As soon as he released your chin and moved his face away a little, Lucerys' finger touched it, a softer touch. Already knowing what was going to happen, you kept your eyes closed, afraid of what it would be like to kiss your own twin, that kind and sweet boy who had disappeared since that night began.

However, the fear in your heart lightened when Lucerys brought the caress to your cheek. Your eyes opened and filled with tears again, looking at those dilated pupils. "Stop crying..."

His request was no longer spoken with a harsh tone. It sounded almost pleading, trembling... Begging you to stop staring at him in fear, staring at him as if you would never forgive him for this.

Kissing Lucerys was sweet, your stomach churning with a delight you should not feel. You had thought about what it would be like, thought about what it would be like to kiss him if Rhaenyra decided to betroth the two of you. Kissing him was like making you feel complete again.

And he felt that way too, you could tell. His hands continued to caress your cheek, enjoying the taste of your mouth, enjoying how you were starting to get used to it and melt with the kiss they exchanged. He never experienced kissing a girl, he saved his first kiss for you, hoping that an opportunity would come one day. Lucerys never considered wanting anyone else — something Jace had done before, even though you were his muse, the only one he truly loved and yearned to possess. The other ladies were a temporary distraction.

But for Lucerys? You were the only one in the entire world. Born together with him. Made for him. He would rather quit the title of the heir of Corlys Velaryon and then become an Archmaester — just as Vaegon Targaryen, King Jaehaerys’ son and great-uncle of your grandfather Viserys, had become on his fifth name day—. He would rather do anything but marry a woman other than you.

The kiss was broken when Jacaerys tugged at your nipple, smirking when you whined at the sharp pain. “That is enough, little brother.” He scolded Lucerys for lasting too long on a simple kiss, unable to help but feel too jealous.

He sighed frustrated, nodding with a frown. The next few minutes were based on having to be shared between the boys. Every time one of them could have your lips, the other one would move his mouth down your neck, licking and sucking the skin there, leaving love bites that would certainly be impossible to hide in the morning.

Both of them kept on lick your neck and you moaned, feeling each one on one side. Your hands went to each other's hair, stroking them out of reflex.

You should not like that. It was dirty, they were forcing you...

"Fuck, you like that." Jacaerys chuckled amused against the back of your neck, watching you shivering. "I bet your pretty cunt is all wet right now..."

To prove his point, Jacaerys pushed you back down on the mattress, spreading your legs abruptly, a smug smile at the sight of your glistening folds, the arousal wetting the insides of your thighs.

With flushed cheeks, you tried to close the legs, pouting when he stopped you. Jacaerys was burning with so much lust, that sight adding more fuel to the fire.

"Pretty wet." Running his index finger through your folds and bringing it to his mouth. The taste made him roll his eyes in pleasure, swiping it through there once more to bring it to Lucerys.

The younger one let the older one put his finger inside his mouth, licking it with a look of surprise. It was a divine taste, something he never imagined before. A thousand times better than how it was in his dirty dreams.

Jacaerys stared at Lucerys afterwards, not exactly asking if he liked it, since the answer would be obvious to everyone. Instead, Jacaerys smirked. "Do you want me to teach you how to lick a cunt?"

Lucerys' cheeks turned red and he stuttered several times, alternating between "yeah" and "of course". He knew about the existence of oral sex, for sure, he had seen things like it embroidered on random tapestries of the Dragonstone or of the Red Keep. He knew that a woman could put a man's member inside her mouth just as a man could lick a woman's core — Lucerys was also well aware that men could stick their fingers inside cunts and women could massage men's cocks.

His confused stammers amused Jacaerys, who patted his little brother on the back to encourage him. "Come here..."

Extremely excited about what he was about to do, Lucerys knelt closer to your spread legs. The sight was better than anything that had ever crossed his mind, no imagination could compare to what was in front of him. You were soaking wet, the moisture glistening and looking extremely sticky.

"Shit..." He whispered more to himself than to anyone else in the chambers, the bulge becoming more evident through the linen pants he was wearing.

"It is so fucking beautiful, is not it? Pretty and plump..." Jace grinned at his brother, ignoring your presence and talking about that as if you were not even there. "I admit it is the most beautiful cunny I have ever seen." Since your older brother never told you about sexual experiences with girls, you glared angry at him. "Oh, darling... Do not be like that. You know no other woman in the world could compare to you." He teased, playing with your cheek.

When you turned your face away, clearly hurt by his confession about not being a virgin, Jace clenched his jaw. He hated feeling guilty and at the same time he hated that you were denying his touches.

There was not much he could do for now. He had already told Luke that he would teach him how eat a girl out, and he should keep his promise. He wanted his brother to really learn what should be done to please his future wife or sister-in-law.

Wasting no time, your twin lay down between your legs, moaning while he smelled the scent that emanated from there. "I assume you have seen an illustration of cunt in some book." The other prince's words made his cheeks heated. He spent enough time in the library to know about the "flowers" that girls had — not enough time to know how to pleasure them, though.

Wanting to avoid you misunderstanding him and thinking he was already experienced just like Jace, Luke added: "Well... Actually I have only seen it in books." Sighing in relief, one less weight off your shoulders. Your older brother having fucked other girls before you was already disappointing... You would hate it if your own twin had also succumbed to random lust with some lady.

"Right. So this bud—"

"Clit." Lucerys regretted explaining in a more theoretical way when you chuckled and Jace rolled his eyes, quite annoyed. "I just tried to say—"

"I know what you meant. Now focus, brother." The other scolded him, pointing again at the little bud. "This part of her is what will give her the main pleasure. If you want her to make your face all wet and moan like a whore, that is where you need to focus the tongue."

Heart racing, the younger boy lifted his head to look at his brother. Damn, that was much harder than he had thought. "And what do I do with my tongue?"

"Lick it. Not too hard, but not too gentle, so you do not look like a stupid puppy."

Lucerys nodded hesitantly and turned his attention back to you — to your face, more specifically. The way you refused to look back at him broke his heart. The jealousy was still there, for sure; he still thought you had rubbed yourself against Jace's pillow for a purpose. However, seeing you so embarrassed by the act he was about to start worried and saddened him. It did not have to be like this. "Look at me..."

When there was no verbal response or obedience, only your legs trembling with hesitation, Lucerys pleaded before Jace intervened with that typical lack of patience. "Idaña..." The way he called you in High Valyrian caught you and Jace off guard, because he did not do it often. "Kostilus, idaña..."

Feeling your heart tighten a little, you finally gave in and returned the eye contact. Despite your embarrassment about being so open and vulnerable to your brothers, the sight of Lucerys with blushing cheeks and waiting for your consent to start was... intriguing, to say the least. Because it did not need to look for confirmations anymore, you had already agreed to all of that against your will after Jace's threats.

And yet your brother seemed hesitant to do you any harm. He could not bear to live with the possibility of you hating him when it was over.

Your silent nod was all Lucerys needed, letting out a relieved sigh and then lowering his face. The smell of your cunt was intoxicating... During his entire life, he had never felt anything so good. His fingers wandered through your wetness, smiling and watching you take a deep breath and try to close your legs out of reflex.

Jacaerys raised an eyebrow and you mentally counted until ten.

Did you want that? Were you craving more touches? Did you expect him to be rougher? There were so many questions running through your mind.

Questions that were not answered when Lucerys rubbed your clit with his thumb.

"L-Luke..." It was so much better than humping a fucking pillow. He also could tell that by the way your eyes widened, looking down at him.

Jacaerys chuckled, witnessing how you seemed to want to say something, how your mouth parted and your moans got louder as Lucerys rubbed that same spot.

He moved closer to your face, letting Luke caress your clit on his own. The boy seemed to understand that the same movement he would do with his tongue could be done with his finger too. "Is our brother doing a good job, little sister?"

Affirming, you closed the eyelids due to the change in Lucerys' movements, stopping rubbing his thumb up and down and now moving it in circles. "Keep it up, she liked it more now." Jacaerys warned the younger as soon as he noticed how you squirmed and the way you threw your head back.

"She is so fucking wet, brother..."

Jacaerys laughed at the younger Velaryon's words. "I bet she is. I can hear the sounds from here." He scoffed, then cupped your cheeks so he could get a better look at your face. "Beg Luke to give you what you want, little sister."

You shook the head, feeling shy and imagining how humiliating it would be to ask for something like that. Before, you had denied doing this to your brothers over and over again, you had cried and felt angry when they threatened you. So why did not you act so scared anymore? Why did not you feel your heart broken anymore, but instead a desperation to give yourself to them? "I... I cannot. P-Please, brother... Please, do not make me say that."

There was no sincere empathy in any of their faces. In fact, Jacaerys had a dark smile, thinking of all the possible degradations he could say to you. Meanwhile, Lucerys seemed a little frustrated at having to stop what he was doing. He wanted to simply dive himself into your center again, lick it until there was no drop left.

However, instead of cursing you, Jacaerys shrugged and turned to his brother. "Luke, get up."

The confusion was clear on Lucerys' face, raising an eyebrow and lifting his upper body until he was close to Jace. The eldest prince's dark smile widened, looking at his brother's thumb, all glistened with your juices. Without warning, he grabbed Luke's hand, running his tongue over his finger.

Lucerys' eyes darkened as he felt his older brother's mouth begin to suck on his skin, eyelids closed while he savored your taste as if he were eating the most delicious candy of the Seven Kingdoms.

Unable to even hold himself back, Luke whimpered at the sensation of Jacaerys licking his thumb. "O-Oh, shit..." He whined as he let go of his hand. He did not want to admit that his cock had gotten harder from the simple act of his older brother's tongue on him —although the other boy noticed anyway.

There was a moment of awkward silence between the three of you, feeling horny at the scene in front of you. There was something erotic there, it was not difficult to notice. Luke's whimper, Jace's mocking gaze... Gods, your core was definitely wetter than before, probably already dripping onto the sheets.

Turning his attention back to you, Jacaerys was entertained by the tension building in the room. "You taste divine, sister. Luke will love eating you out." Tracing your leg with his fingertips and watching you shiver, he added, "Just ask. Beg him and let him taste a cunny for the first time."

Breathing fast and chest heaving, you bit your lower lip to focus on thinking about the pros and cons of both choices.

On one hand, if you asked so easily for this, you would be going against your hurt for what they were doing. That would be like agreeing to let them continue, being hypocrite and acting according to what they wanted. Like agreeing with their actions.

But on the other hand, you could not wait any longer. You could not deny how much you desired this... How much you needed your twin's tongue to pleasure you. How much you needed your older brother to guide the two of you to an incredible first time.

“Please, Luke…” You begged in a low, soft mewl, full of uncertainty.

“Please what?” There was a teasing tone to his voice, and you flinched. “Tell me, idaña.”

Knowing it would be stupid to keep pretending, you sighed. “Please eat me out.”

Lucerys did not wait a second longer than Jace’s quick nod. He crouched between your thighs again, burying his face there like a starving man. His instincts spoke louder than his lack of experience, understanding your surprised cry with encouragement. Perhaps he was about to do this right…

He groaned against your cunt, sending a tingle through your clit that made you arch your neck back again. Jacaerys watched in silence for a few seconds, and then moved closer, sitting next to you and laying your head on his thigh. The change of the position forced Lucerys to be pulled back a few inches. He whimpered, so frustrated, shifting forward in a good position and wrapping his arms under your thighs, reconnecting his mouth to your center.

His saliva was slightly cold, that soft tongue passing through every part of your folds and licking the juices that ran down his chin. His lack of practical knowledge — and not so much theoretical knowledge too — made him look like a desperate little boy, performing sloppy oral sex that would be a joke if it were done on an experienced woman — fortunately for him, you were not one of them. You were his twin sister. A maiden. Your body would soon belong to him and Jacaerys.

"G-Gods... It feels so good..." Your moans echoed through the chambers, and Jacaerys had to turn his head to look at the door, having to make sure no guards were passing by in the hallway. He would hate to have to stop what the three of you were doing and have to put up with his mother's disappointment and lectures.

He would hate to have to stop such an obscene act; you with your legs spread like a whore, cheeks flushed and nipples perked from the new and intense pleasure; his little brother with that damn pretty, inexperienced mouth, all eager to make his twin feel good, to make his big brother proud.

Luke wanted Jace to see him as a big boy. He wanted to be seen as a real grown-up man, regardless of his young age. It was not hard to see that when he alternated between looking at your face and then looking at Jace, eyes wide and brow furrowed in an expression of happiness too cute for the older man to handle. “Tongue up to her bud.”

The order was well received, and Lucerys finally focused his efforts on your clit. His tongue moved up and down with a pace that felt painfully good. You bit the lip, giving a small, confused giggle at the intense pleasure you felt. Your folds were soaked, obscene wet noises echoing through the room as if it were some private part of a brothel.

With each moan you let out, Jacaerys stroked your dark hair, almost too tender for someone who had been basically threatening to rape you just moments ago. You did not care anymore, though. All you wanted was more and more. More pleasure, more pain... anything the two Velaryon boys could give you.

In all those years, you never imagined that you would enjoy your brothers treating you so much like a goddess to be worshipped and at the same time like a whore to be dominated.

"I could eat your little cunt out all day..."

You breathing quickened, listening to those explicit word said by your twin. The one who was a sweet and innocent person most of the time — until that night —. However, you did not have time to react properly, because Jacaerys reached out an arm and grabbed his brother's hair, pressing him against your core with rough.

A strangled sound came from Lucerys' lips, who stared at his brother with confusion and a slight fright. "Shsh, do not stop licking. She is going to cum in your mouth soon." Jace reassured him and he slowly calmed down, nodding weakly and resuming the sloppy licks.

Eyes rolled back, a completely unfamiliar sensation taking over your body. Fingers or pillows... No masturbation could compare to what you were feeling there, head resting on Jacaerys' leg while you rolled your hips against your twin brother's face, his delicate, small nose brushing your swollen clit accidentally as he moved his head up and down to follow the movements of your hips with his cute, pink tongue sticking out, so beautiful like a confused kitten.

"S-So good, Luke... So f-fucking good." You whined, squirming and turning the gaze at Jacaerys. Your older brother's smile contained a mix of perversion and affection, placing his thumb on your lower lip and encouraging you to lick it as if it were a cock — which you had never done and did not know how to do, so you kept sucking with a way that made him chuckle.

Lucerys was already humping on the bedsheets, his bulge aching inside his linen pants, begging for some real touch. He moved against the sheets as if he were fucking a cunt — even though he had never seen a naked woman before — the white fabric of his nightwear becoming stained with the pre-cum that slowly dripped out in the time that he was enjoying those sweet juices.

"Jace... Please."

There was no need to beg Jacaerys about it, but you did. Wide eyes, full of tears that streamed down your flushed cheeks. Tears showing the need to cum as soon as possible, your high becoming impossible to deny.

Jacaerys' expression darkened, not hesitating another minute before purring, "Cum for us, little sister. Cum for your brothers like the little slut we know you are."

Those dirty words coupled with the feeling of Lucerys' lips closing around your swollen clit and sucking it slowly was everything you needed to fall over the edge, your older brother's palm covering your mouth, realizing you were going to cry out in pleasure.

All you could see was white, your body seemed to be practically convulsing every second. Nothing had ever felt this good, nothing had ever made you feel in the Heavens and in the Hells at the same time.

Your eyes were still closed when Luke started to rub his fingers on your clit after a silent command from Jace. The post-orgasm stimulation hurt, your bud throbbing with each movement of your twin's two fingers rubbing it until more tears ran down the face.

Panic began to consume your mind, feeling something strange in your stomach. You immediately kept your eyes wide open, arching the head back like a silent plea to Jace. That sensation felt familiar, but also it was completely different from anything you had experienced before.

Yet, they ignored your struggle to distance yourself from them. Jace pressed your mouth tighter, whispering words that you could no longer understand. All you could do was cry and writhe, Lucerys' fingers keeping moving...

Keeping moving, without any implied mention of stopping.

Until a clear liquid squirted from your cunt, making your twin's face soaked and in pure shock.

Jacaerys laughed in disbelief, admiring that incredible scene and softening the grip of his hand on your mouth as he noticed how your tremors diminished, turning you into a whiny mess.

"She... She pissed on me?"

"What? No, you idiot!" Jace laughed more at his brother's question, realizing that he would not be disgusted if that was what had happened. Despite the urge to tease him about a possible unusual kink, Jace focused on his sister's tears. "It is okay... Shsh, you have been so good to us. Has not she, Luke?

Lucerys nodded readily, climbing on top of you to kiss your lips. You grimaced in disgust at the bittersweet taste of your own arousal. Allowing your brother to delve his tongue into your mouth as he squeezed one of your soft breasts, you placed a hand on his waist, your body yearning for more touch despite the exhaustion.

Your clit was still throbbing a little, and as soon as Luke got off of you, Jacaerys took the opportunity to position you better on the bed, the head resting on the pillow and the cheeks flushed while you watched your brothers finish undressing.

The shyness was clear on your flushed cheeks, chest heaving due to the intense recent climax and also due to the view in front of you. There was no denying the arousal you were experiencing anymore. You never imagined that you would see your brothers naked, at least not before your probable future marriage with one of them — which would mean that you would only see one of them naked, not both at the same time.

Without even realizing, you rubbed your thighs together, your gaze alternating between your two brothers. Jacaerys was a little stronger than Luke, with a more defined chest, more muscular thighs... And a big cock, you could swear it measured at least 16,5 centimeters, slightly arched upwards, the color of the shaft similar to his skin's, just a little darker, besides the pink tip. It was not thick, but it made up for its size.

Unlike Jace, your twin brother did not have a big cock, perhaps 13,5 centimeters, you assumed. He made up for it in thickness, though. It was so much thicker than his older brother’s, the pinkish color of the shaft perfectly matching the tip.

Plus, Jacaerys had a bit more pubic hair on his groin and they were a lighter shade of brown than Lucerys’.

Both of them looked fucking hot. You could not deny how wet you were getting again, your sensitive core not even caring how sore it was. You needed them, needed to feel some of them inside you. Fuck, you did not even care about how dangerous it would be if the Realm found out about your loss of maidenhead before the wedding, you did not even care about the rumors that might arise or about the possibility of the Moon Tea not having the necessary effect.

“Do you like what you see, little sister?” The older Velaryon's voice caught you off guard, face heating up and realizing you had been staring at their naked bodies for longer than you should have. With a low chuckle, Jace teased, "Now it is time for me to deflower you..."

Lucerys' eyes darted to the other prince "What? Why are you going to be the one to take her maidenhead?"

Jacaerys shrugged, not at all alarmed by his brother's sudden anger. "I am the firstborn, Luke, so it is only fair that I am the one who makes her a woman."

"Yeah, and I am her twin!"

You almost felt bad for his frustration, watching them with caution and hesitation. "She will be exhausted during my turn..."

Noticing the younger prince's disappointing, Jacaerys snorted and turned his gaze back to you. However, his thoughts went further. He loved you so much and longed to be the one to fuck you for the first time, to feel you bleeding around his cock as he stretched you...

But at the same time, Jacaerys could not stand Lucerys' expression. The poor boy looked like a kicked puppy, that damned frown and those damned hands clenched into fists, too childish for his age.

"Fine..." Jacaerys muttered, not at all pleased by that decision. He hated being so weak when it came to Lucerys' dramatic personality.

Lucerys could barely be sure he was hearing correctly, his heart skipping a beat. He wanted to ask if his brother was being serious or if it was some kind of mean joke, then Jace made a brief gesture for him to come closer to their sister.

Now kneeling between your spread legs, Luke panicked. He was really about to take your maidenhead. He was about to fuck you like he had always dreamed. And this was starting to turn him insecure, stuttering a few meaningless words to his brother, too nervous to be able to utter a normal sentence.

It did not take much effort for Jace to know what he wanted help with. Spitting on his own palm, he brought it to the boy's thick cock, smirking and admiring him whimpering and writhing due to the cold saliva. As much as he wanted to keep teasing him, Jacaerys just placed it in front of your entrance, bending down a little so he could spit on your clit too — even though he did not need to, you were soaked from the climax and squirt anyway.

"You are going to push inside her. It might be uncomfortable at first, because her maidenhead is intact, so you might feel overstimulated by her cunt walls." He kept his hand on Lucerys' shaft, who was now with a panting breath, trying not to moan like a pathetic little boy at his brother's touch. "Do not go all in at once, but do not be too gentle either. She will take the pain like the good girl she is for us."

After receiving the instructions and absorbing them into his brain, Lucerys agreed. It was enough for Jacaerys to pull away, the tip pressed against your entrance.

"You are so gorgeous, sister..."

He did not wait for a response to the compliment. He took a deep breath and thrust hard, your cry of pain muffled by your own palm. "O-Oh, holy shit!" He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and feeling your virgin cunt crushing his cock. A sensation so warm and tight that he considered pulling it out to control himself.

Which he did not, thank the Gods. Lucerys ignored your tears, ignored Jace’s previous advice and also ignored the voice in his head that told him to be gentler. Everything he did was thrust even harder this time, his fat cock practically tearing you apart and deflowering you too rough. “F-Fuck, I am so sorry, sister… I just… Fuck, it feels so f-fucking g-good!” His trembling curses did little to comfort you, his hands gripping your waist when he stood there for a while, but not long enough for you to get used to it.

“L-Luke, it hurts…”

“Tsk, tsk. Do not you dare.” Jacaerys’ hands grabbed yours, holding them behind your head before you could try to push them against Lucerys’ chest. You had not noticed when he sat on your side of the bed, his cock so close you could even see the pre-cum dripping from it.

He silenced your pleas with an intense kiss, not wanting Lucerys to realize that you were really in pain. Well, he had told him to go slow at first... But that scene increased his arousal.

With his hips starting to slam harder, Lucerys held one of your legs and pulled it up, needing to spread them to get deeper into you, needing to fuck you to the hilt. "I am not going to last... O-Oh, fuck..." He whimpered, his cute face and his moans not doing justice to the rough movements inside you.

He had been craving this for so many years. It was a desire he had been feeding in his needy and greedy mind. So much time picturing, wanting, needing... And now you were finally his. He was your first man. The first to stick his cock inside you. The first to cum inside you...

"Cum out."

Lucerys almost recoiled at the sentence his brother had uttered. He could not be serious, could he? He could not really be wanting him to have the self-control to pull out before he came.

The severity of Jacaerys' stare unfortunately was living proof that it was not a playful request. It was an order — despite the fact that he was actually loving seeing his little brother turn into a pathetic mess as he fucked a cunt for the first time. It was delightful to watch you cry with each deep thrust, barely able to handle something so thick inside you.

Reluctantly, Lucerys whispered an irritated "okay," and then went back to fucking you. His pace turned more intense, the sound of his cock moving in and out was like music to Jacaerys' ears.

"O-Oh, Seven Hells! I am cumming..." Lucerys cried suddenly, hot tears streaming down the pretty face while he arched the head back with the terrifying intensity of the high. With his eyes rolling back, he just remembered to pull his cock out of cunt after he had already cum a large amount inside your hole, his hands shaking and spilling the rest at your belly.

Lucerys' body practically collapsed on top of yours, sobbing softly into your neck and grabbing your waist. "T-That was so good, so fucking good, sister..." His lips left several wet kisses on your collarbone.

The boy moved his kisses up to his sister's throat, receiving a strong slap on the shoulder right after. "You idiot, you came inside her!"

Lucerys could not say anything to defend himself about Jace's complaint, he just gave an embarrassed smile and kept his eyes closed.

"Damn it, now I am going to have to feel your cum while I fuck her..." His older brother grumbled, standing up to take Lucerys' place when he threw himself to the side, one arm remaining on your waist.

Running his fingers through your cum-and-blood-soaked entrance, Jace grumbled something else and taking some of those warm fluids, shoving his fingers inside Lucerys' mouth without asking for permission.

Perhaps it was because post-orgasm fatigue, or perhaps it was because another implicit kink... He sucked his brother's fingers, not even complaining, enjoying his own salty taste along with your sweet juices and the metallic blood. It was a mess of different flavors and Lucerys did not mind, licking it all clean again.

"Hmm, such a good boy."

You shook your head at Jacaerys, so tired and silently begging for some rest. The overstimulation felt like it was going to make you explode at any moment, your bones ached and your vision blurred due to the headache and the tears that insisted on flowing.

You had consented to that by threat and then genuinely consented when things flowed... And regret was slowly making itself present.

All you wanted was just a brief peace.

"Do not worry, darling... I will be as gentle as possible." There was a clear mockery in Jacaerys' tone, also that smirk and the way he pulled both of your legs up.

Unlike Luke, he did not fuck you with your legs spread. Jacaerys wanted to fuck you rougher, he wanted to make up for the fact that he had not been the one to deflower you. So he thrust in all at once, your mouth opening in a silent scream as you felt another cock inside you in such a short period of time.

Your cunt clenched around him, although he was not as thick as Luke, Jace was bigger and he hit you deep without any care or mercy. The other Velaryon boy's seed served as a lubricant for the new thrusts, making it easier for him to put it in and pull it out quickly but violently.

"F-Fuck, little sister..." Jace growled,, placing your feet against his chest so he could lower himself until he was closer to your face. "Even full of cum, your cunny still feels so fucking tight."

The new position was much more intimate than the previous one... You could see his facial expressions, his mouth half open and his brow furrowed, the force of pleasure consuming every inch of him. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass was humiliating, causing loud, wet noises you could all hear when he moved his hips back and thrust forward, pushing himself back into you.

Luke did not mind being so physically close to Jacaerys during that intimate moment. He watched the two of you with a tired smile, wondrously not feeling as jealous as he thought he would. His hands stroked your hair, giving his brother a mocking smirk for the first time that night. "How does my seed feel inside her, wetting your cock?"

Luke's unexpected tease surprised both of you and making you turn to him. Meanwhile you widened the eyes in shock at him, Jacaerys growled again, starting to fuck you so hard that it made your tits bounce like a cheap whore.

He had hated being teased by his younger brother, although he admitted to himself that there was a hot and different atmosphere about it. "It is sticky, warm..." His hips were now moving in an uncoordinated rhythm, rough thrusts that indicated that his orgasm would not be long in coming. "Fuck, I could fuck that cunny until you pass out. Feeling you milking my cock. You like that, do not you, little sister? Do you like your big brother's fat cock stretching that tight little cunt of yours?"

You whimpered a low agreement, Lucerys' lips suddenly sucking on one of your tits, getting aroused by the way they bounced during the fuck.

It was not a good enough answer yet, and Jacaerys slapped your clit with one hand, the other arm taking charge of supporting your legs on one side of his neck, a position that made you tighter. "Say it right!" He ordered, hitting the same spot, not giving you a chance to breathe with each slap.

When the fifth slap hit you and your bud began to throb with pain instead of pleasure, you cried out: "I-I like it! I like it! I love your... Y-Your big cock inside my cunt!"

Jacaerys could not help but smile at your words, looking like a child receiving the best gift on his name day. The serious and sadistic look returned soon after, his fingers now rubbing your cunt and tearing sobs of pain and pleasure from you. "I-I can't..." You whimpered, your hand gripping Luke's hair to keep him there, sucking on your breast like a baby.

You wanted to stop. You wanted to keep going. You wanted nothing. You wanted everything.

You needed to cum.

"Cum for me, little sister." Jace demanded, his balls already heavy and his pace becoming confusing even to him, showing the strong desperate desire. "Cum on your big brother's cock."

The sound of your trembling moans and the way your walls clenched around him pushed him over the edge. He thrust himself deep inside you, his eyes rolling back and groaning your name hoarsely.

His seed filled you completely, dripping down your ass before he pulled out and laid on the other side, his chest flushing and panting.

Your cunt clenched around the void and a few drops of clear liquid squirted out — just a small amount this time, nothing like the absurd amount that had splashed onto Lucerys.

"Wow... I think you have a natural gift." You grimaced at Jace's provocative whisper and he chuckled then, hugging your waist.

The three of you were sweaty, panting so bad. One brother was hugging your waist while the other rested his chin on your shoulder, smelling your hair. Silence reigned in the chambers for long minutes, everyone needing to recover from that act. An act so... Hot.

There was no other word to better describe what had happened on that bed. Everything there was hot, a desire that burned in your souls, a darkness that burned the veins. You never imagined that you would deal with something like that, so raw, so... Sick. It was scary. It was hot.

Neither of the Velaryon princes really thought about it when they lay down on your bed and encouraged you to take off your nightgown. Neither of them really thought they would need to manipulate you in order to fuck you.

"You know... You know we love you so much, right?" Lucerys asked with that typical worried look, his innocence returning as always. "I know we were cruel and rough tonight, but... We did it because we love you, sister."

Jacaerys, however, was not so sentimental, stopping his caressing of your waist to be able to hold your chin, a firm but not painful grip. "You took us so well, little sister. We are proud of you."

You said nothing, the tiredness too strong to resist anymore. In addition to your body, your mind also needed a rest, a time for you to assimilate the changes of your lives after that.

Jacaerys noticed this right away, kissing your lips slowly and enjoying the little whimper you let out. Lucerys followed, turning your face to his side and moaning softly with a more demanding and needy kiss. He deserved this, since he had always been so patient.

"Do not go away..."

The two boys were shocked by the vulnerable plea. They thought you would ask them to leave, to go back to their own beds like they always did when mornings approached. It was already the hour of the nightingale, the sun's rays would start to rise very soon, everyone in the castle would wake up and do their duties.

Deep down, Jacaerys suspected that Rhaenyra would be informed about all of that. Those moans and cries had been impossible not to be heard by the guards and servants. The guards would tell her about it, perhaps they had even called her to make sure that those sounds inside the princess's chambers were not caused by some male traitor.

The servants would start rumors very soon. So Rhaenyra would have to force one of her sons to marry her daughter in a hurry to try to quell the rumors, which certainly would not do much good. You could only marry one of them, and the future rumors would be that you might be pregnant with the other brother. Or perhaps both, if you had twins that were not physically identical.

Either way, there was no point in sneaking away.

They did not want to sneak away.

They needed you and you needed them too.

"We are not going anywhere. Not tonight and not ever." You sighed with relief at Luke's words, waiting for the two of them to snuggle up against you again, each of them breathing on either side of your neck.

More words were not necessary. They did not need to say anything to prove the love and desire they felt for you, they had proven that. You did not need to say anything to prove the love and submission you were capable of showing them, you had proven that.

[yanderedrabbles]

So I've been rereading the wild west gang cause I'm a degenerate who also lives in a bumfuck nowhere developing country who has nothing to do. So I've been thinking, it was established that if we would favorite one of the outlaws, it might be dangerous for the both of us. But what if we un-favorite one of them, if that makes sense. Like, what if only really struggled and cried when with the gunslingers, and obviously much less so with the others. Or even funnier, if instead of the gunslingers, it would be the pale guy (is that his name?).

Sorry for that brainfart. Keep doing the lord's work

P.S. I would also turn patriotic and join the army to protect your brilliant mind xx

oooh this is such a great question. I had to think about it for a while but I think not liking someone is a whole different dynamic.

Showing one of them more favour than the other's is a recipe for disaster. You're giving one man what all the others want, what they feel entitled to. It's going to bring about all sorts of ugly jealousy, even in a band as tight knitted as this one.

But if you don't like someone? If you show time and again that this person in particular has the touch most abhorrent to you? To them, that's just less competition. If anything, it makes them feel smug that it isn't them getting on your bad side. I can see a lot of mocking between them, a lot of smug insults traded when they drink too much.

How each outlaw reacts to being that person is entirely different though:

I think the boss will be calm about it. It's not surprising that you don't want him to touch you. He's a lot older, his hands are too hard with labour. Little thing like you probably spent her whole life dreaming of a lover soft and sweet, only to end up trapped by a bastard like him. He understands. And as the leader, I don't think he gets insecure about it either. He's already the top dog, he can afford to let the others enjoy your kindness. But it won't stop him from using you. Won't stop him from holding you down and taking what you don't willingly offer.

The gunslingers take it poorly. Manly, rough, mean. To them it's an insult that you're being more submissive or sweet with the other men. Are they not fucking you well enough? Are they not making you come hard enough? It's a slight against their masculinity.

They aren't the type to sit and reflect. They won't realise that maybe the reason you're so difficult is because they're just too rough with you. Hell, the thought won't even cross their minds. Their solution is to double down. To take it out on you with teeth and nails and cock shoved in when you're not nearly ready. If they can't make you love them, the least they can do is make you hate them the most. At least hate is passion of some sort.

The wrangler is hurt by it, but he won't show it. He's patient, gentle. A lot more insightful than people realise. He's spent years taming horses. He knows it's only a matter of time before you give in and accept his touch. He can wait.

(Btw, I don't think he'll actually end up being the guy you hate the most. If anything, he's the one in danger of your favour).

As for the boy, well, you feel pity more than anything else. Even when he's holding you down and eating you out, all you can think is that he never would have ended up like this if it weren't for the others. You don't blame him. You don't hate him. You just hope that one day he'll be free of this life.

I realise I didn't actually give the last guy a proper title, but he's actually the second in command. He also doesn't take it well.

Logically, he knows that you have the most reason to hate him. He's the one who planned this, he's the one who chose you. All your pain can be blamed on him.

He knows. He understands. But that doesn't stop him from hating it. He's the one who wants your love the most, he's the one who's longed for you the longest. It's so awful to finally have you and you won't even look at him. You hiss and fight and snarl when he takes you, even though he knows the others haven't had as much trouble.

His solution is also to just double down, but in a different way to the gunslingers. Instead of just getting angry, he'll try everything he can to be gentle. To win your forgiveness. He'll be so sweet when he fucks you, so slow and loving, even though he desperately wants to go faster. He'll kiss you every time he sees you, he'll hold you down and focus entirely on your pleasure, he'll bring you wildflowers and cook your favourite foods. He doesn't care how long it takes - he'll crawl on his knees for years if it means you'll forgive him. He'll do anything, anything at all. Please just look at me little dove, qīn’ài de, please.

He'll do anything in the world to win your forgiveness. Anything but let you go.

[reiding-writing]

hi author your writing is great btw i just wanted to see when you would post part 2 of copycat??

copycat [ s.r ] | 2 |

The replication of a disturbing 2004 serial murder case calls for the BAU to get involved with the assistance of none other than the original killer themself. And whilst Spencer didn't work the original case, he was eager to learn every detail about it, including its offender.

WARNINGS: relationship between spencer and reader is not inherently romantic, sociopathic reader, graphic details of murder, graphic eye descriptions, mentions of spencer’s addiction and overdose, morgan and reader really don’t like each other, child abuse, childhood addiction, death by overdose, suicide

s3!spencer/gn!unsub!reader || mystery || 14.3k || masterlist!!

part one !! , part two !!

unsub!reader masterlist!!

a/n: after a whole 22 days of writing this, it’s finally finished 😭 sorry for making you all wait for so long this one was a nightmare to finish-

taglist (slashed blogs couldn’t be tagged): @devilsadvcte @marvellover98 @evvy96 @arlovesper @h3rt8k @pathologicalreid @sideshow-b0b @sunflowersndpeaches @mera3luna @madameparkerreid @fandom-mania @melaninsugababy @meyaareads

“Let’s go Doctor. I’m ready to get out of this beige abomination.”

You push yourself off the table and leave out of the same door that Morgan had, Spencer following closely behind you.

He was oddly grateful about your decency to respect his title, and it only made him want to read you like a book even more.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The coroner's office, whilst not as bland and beige as the police station was still extremely muted, with light grey walls and a smooth tiled floor that was so shiny you're sure you could see your face in it if you focused enough.

“The second I see a change in your features I am booting you out of the mortuary understood?” Morgan’s tone held nothing but contempt for you as he walked step in step with you like you’d disappear if he looked away for more than a second.

“You keep speaking to me like that and I’ll shove the next rose I get down your throat.”

“Did you just threaten me?” Morgan’s contempt fizzled into a rising frustration, his eyebrows knitted into a tight line and his arms crossed tightly over his chest as if trying to puff himself out like a peacock to look more intimidating.

“Threats hold no value,”

“We should go inside now,” Spencer’s voice was much less confident than either yours or Morgan’s, but it held enough volume to be heard over your argument.

He was seriously beginning to question whether inviting you to come along was a good idea. He knew Morgan despised you, and yet he’d asked you to come along anyway out of his own selfish want to crack open your brain like a book and read your neuron pathways like pages.

He just hoped you’d actually find something valuable in the victim’s autopsy so that all of your arguing with Morgan wasn’t in vain.

“Ah, you must be the agents working on the case, I’m Dr. Toth,” The doctor introduced herself politely as Spencer opened the mortuary door, and Spencer gave her a small nod of recognition as the three of you entered.

“That’s right, thank you for allowing us here,”

“Of course,” The doctor walked her way around the autopsy table, where you assumed the body of the most recent victim was lying, covered by a blue sheet from head to toe and leaving only the silhouette in its place. “I should warn you in advance, due to the damage caused to the eyes whilst removing the rose stems, we had to excise them from the body during the autopsy,”

“Do you still have them?” Your question seems to strike a nerve with Morgan, probably thinking that you want to see the victim’s eyes as a part of a sick fantasy running through your mind, but he bites his tongue to keep his mouth shut so that he doesn’t accidentally air the fact that they’d brought a serial killer into a coroner’s office and freak out the pathologist they’re talking to.

“We do yes, they were professionally removed and placed in hypothermic storage, I can retrieve them for you if you’d like,”

“That won’t be necessary for now,” Morgan’s interjection elicits a roll of your eyes. You weren’t interested in seeing them because it would get you off or whatever, you wanted to see what kind of damage they went through to the point where they had to be fully removed from the victim’s body.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, but if you need my assistance please don’t hesitate to ask,”

“Thank you,” Spencer, the peacekeeper that he is, gives the doctor a polite smile as he picks up a pair of latex gloves and pulls them over his hands, and you and Morgan follow suit after him as he takes place at the end of the autopsy table.

“You’re looking for differences, not entertainment.”

“Yes yes, I get it, Jesus Christ.” You scoff at Morgan’s tone, tugging the sheet down from the victim’s head until it was halfway down his torso.

“His name was Alexander Youlier, age 22, died of blood loss with the roses believed to be inserted post-mortem,” Spencer read through the autopsy file as you examined the boy’s face.

He was pale, much too pale for a normal person, but you suppose that’s what happens when you barely have any blood in your body, and the blood that he did have completely lacked oxygen. His cheeks were sunken, his lips almost blue from the lack of oxygen, and of course, in place of where his eyes would be, there were instead two holes lined with a dark reddish pink muscle that made it look like the cavity was much deeper than physically possible.

The minute you looked at his face you felt like you were going to throw up. So much for being ‘entertained’.

“Oi.” Morgan’s voice ripped you from your state of disassociation. “What did I just say, you’re here to identify the differences not get off to the victim’s body in your head.” He turned his attention towards Spencer with a disapproving look. “I told you we shouldn’t’ve brought them here,”

You didn’t respond to Morgan’s chastising with anything more than a tiny twitch of your eyebrows as you tore your eyes away from Youlier’s face.

“Are you okay?” Spencer’s voice was considerably softer than Morgan's, his eyes big and round, glistening with worry underneath the overhead light in the room, and his eyebrows furrowed in concern at the way you’d suddenly shut down.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” The end of your sentence is marked by you tearing the gloves from your hands and leaving them in balls on the floor as you retreat to the door of the room.

“What do you think you’re doing? You’re not allowed to just leave. You wanted to be here. You chose to be here. So you’ll do your goddamn job.” Morgan’s anger falls unrecognised as you open the door and slam it behind you after you leave, and he begins to follow after you only to be stopped by Spencer at the door.

“I’ve got it,”

Morgan’s glance is unconvinced, and Spencer reiterates himself once more. “I’ve got it, I promise, they’re less likely to get angry if it’s me and not you,”

Morgan doesn’t get the chance to argue before Spencer runs off down the hallway to catch up to you, leaving him alone in the mortuary to continue his analysis of the autopsy by himself.

“Hey!” Spencer calls out to you as he jogs in your direction, catching you right as you open the door to leave the coroner’s office. “Wait up a second-” You don’t stop at his callings, but he can tell that you’re also not trying to deliberately get away from him, your pace slow and even as you leave the coroner’s office with him hot on your tail.

He’s very clearly out of breath by the time he reaches your side, but he pays no attention to his lungs’ cry for him to take a second to breathe and supply them with more oxygen as he begins questioning you. “Are you okay?”

“I‘m fine,”

He’s not at all convinced by your statement despite your tone conveying genuity. You looked paler than usual, any natural flush was gone from your cheeks and your lips, and you were absentmindedly picking at the nail bed of your thumb with your middle finger, something he assumes is a self-soothing act for you.

People getting disturbed at the sight of a freshly dead body wasn’t exactly something for Spencer to be astounded at. It was a natural human reaction to the incomprehensible knowledge of death that your brain desperately tried to work out with no results.

But you didn’t exactly fit the definition of ‘normal’. You were a sociopath. So for you to be put off by the sight of a dead body was something for Spencer to be astounded at.

Sure he was aware that sociopaths could still feel things like dread and fear of the unknown, but you weren’t just a sociopath. You were a sociopath who killed eighteen people.

You’d seen your fair share of dead people, manic episode or not. So why was this body making you react like you were?

He supposes it’s just another layer he’ll have to peel from your mind like the skin of an onion.

“Did you know that sociopaths have heightened emotional pathways? Every emotion sociopaths experience is allegedly 3 times stronger in intensity than that of someone without it,” He didn’t exactly know what to say to you considering you’d shut down any attempt to talk about how you were doing emotionally, and so he fell back on what he always did, niche facts and statistics.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Your hardened expression didn’t falter, nor did the underlying monotony in your tone, but you did finally look him in the eye.

“I always feel more at ease when I fully understand whatever I’m dealing with,” Spencer smiles at you softly with a shrug of his shoulders, attempting to empathise with you the best he could.

“I already knew that fact,” You take a seat on the small half-wall lining the outside of the coroner’s office, gripping the edge of the brick with your hands. “And it doesn’t make me feel any different,”

“Well…” Spencer purses his lips slightly as he takes a seat next to you, running through things in his head that might hold some sort of value to you. “Did you know that roses symbolise different things based off of their colour?”

He was definitely grasping at straws now, but he didn’t want to end your conversation yet. He wanted to know what had you so perturbed that you felt the need to leave the minute you got a close look at the victim’s body.

If anything he’d expected you to follow Morgan’s accusation about getting some sick gratification from the body, not actually feeling sick because of it.

“Why do you think I used white roses? I’m not stupid you know,”

He’d never thought of that. “You used white roses for a specific reason?”

You shrug, swinging your legs back and forth over the edge of the wall. “When I was younger we had a dog, and when it died my parents planted a white rose bush over where they buried it,”

Your tone is rather emotionally removed as you divulge this little snippet of your past to him, like you were recounting something you’d read from a fictional story rather than an event that most children would find extremely distressing. “Mom said that the roses were white because they symbolised mourning and new beginnings, something about how it would help him pass over into heaven or whatever, and I guess even in my episode I held that knowledge subconsciously,”

“You don’t believe in heaven?” Spencer’s eyes scanned your face as he tried to decipher your micro-expressions, noting the small softening of your eyes once you brought up your parents. Looks like you did indeed still have some humanity.

“Do you believe in heaven Dr. Reid?”

No. Maybe? He knew that once your brain functions stopped working your consciousness was permanently ended and that was it. “I thought I saw the other side once,” His admission shocked himself more than it shocked you. Great, he was spilling his traumas to a sociopath he’d known for less than a week. What a riveting social life he had.

He could see the flicker of intrigue in your eyes at his sentence, and he pursed his lips into a line before deciding to continue. “I uh- 11 months ago I was kidnapped and forcefully injected with Dilaudid, and I- was overdosed…”

He could see the cogs turning in your head as you connected the fragments of earlier conversations with him in your mind to form a cohesive story, and you nodded at him as if encouraging him to continue with his story.

“I blacked out first, but it felt… warm? and I could see the beginnings of a light and I honestly still don’t know what to think of it,” He could feel himself squirming from the recollection. He was a man of science. Someone who only believed in what he could physically see and test. But that brief moment where he was sure that he’d died and was experiencing an afterlife that he didn’t think existed had carved a hole into his brain and settled itself into the back of his mind.

“I hope there’s an afterlife,” Your tone continues to carry that same monotonous drawl, but he can see the genuity in your eyes and the way your hands clench around the edge of the brick wall.

“Me too…”

It’d be easy for Spencer to forget you were a serial killer in moments like this. Sure you were still extremely emotionally stunted, but you felt human. And he’s sure that that’s the real difference between a sociopath and a psychopath.

Psychopaths were born without human ‘defects’. Sociopaths were made.

“Were your parents good to you?” Spencer’s question was full of hesitation. He didn’t want to assume anything, after all, your parents were the one topic you seemed to treat with genuine care in your words, but he knew something had to have happened. Something had to have made you the way that you are.

“My parents were perfect.” Your eyebrows knit into a small line, as if defensive at the fact that Spencer would suggest your parents were anything other than the perfect model of what two caregivers should be.

“What about your biological parents?” He could feel himself retreating back into his own mind the further he pressed for answers out of you, his conscience begging him to just stop talking before he accidentally crossed a line and ruined any branch of communication he’d formed.

“I don’t remember them,” You shrug lightly and your expression cements your nonchalance.

“You’ve never wanted to… seek them out?” It wasn’t entirely surprising that you don’t remember your biological parents. Most children who get adopted really young don’t.

“They’re dead.”

Oh.

Right.

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly at the revelation.

By this point, he’s completely forgotten about the fact that he’s supposed to be convincing you to go back into the mortuary to continue looking at the victim.

You had a great adoptive family and a pair of dead biological parents. Was that what broke you? Was them dying what caused your mental state to shatter and rebuild itself as a fragmented version of its previous state?

Maybe that’s why you didn’t remember them. Maybe your brain had built a wall in your memories to protect you from your own trauma of losing your parents. But he wasn’t sure it was enough for you to have a mental break like you did. There had to be something more.

“I can do some digging on them if you want,” He airs the suggestion like he’s not going to do it even if you say no.

“I have no interest in learning about them,”

Oh well. He’d get Garcia to do it anyway. Maybe you’d find more interest in the topic once there was actually something for you to learn.

“Are you- feeling alright now?” Spencer knew he was going to have to bring up the topic eventually. They couldn’t stay out here for too long both for the sake of the investigation and because if they did Morgan would probably jump to the conclusion that you’d killed Spencer and run off somewhere.

“I told you I was fine,”

“I don’t think I believe you,” Spencer could see the small shift in your expression at his hesitant accusation. But it wasn’t anger this time, it was something else. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Something caused you discomfort, and in order for you to be able to help us we need you to be relaxed,”

You turned your face away from Spencer as he spoke, eyes fixed on a bird flying overhead and then on the cloud that was behind it.

“What was it that caused you to feel like you didn’t want to be there anymore?” There was clear caution in Spencer’s tone as he questioned you, although that had essentially become a staple of every conversation you had with him by this point. “We can fix it,”

Spencer’s compassion for you left you feeling a little confused. You were a spree murderer. He was supposed to dislike you for that. That’s how the human mind works is it not? People are supposed to have a distaste for those who break the moral codes of society, and you did it 18 times over.

“I… don’t know,” It felt like every second you allowed yourself to be confused the feeling multiplied tenfold until you weren’t even sure that you could remember your own name if somebody asked you for it.

Your emotions were written all over your face, not like you really had the capacity to hide them even if you wanted to, but it was clear as day just how internally confused you were with your own feelings about the situation at hand.

“Let me help you figure it out then,” Spencer’s tone continued to carry that gentle compassion in it and it wasn’t helping you sort out your thoughts.

“I don’t need your help, I can figure it out on my own,” You knew enough about Psychology to be able to figure out your own thinking processes. At least you thought so. You didn’t go through three laborious years at university wishing during every hour of it to be doing something else to not even get anything useful out of it at the end.

Spencer took that as a direct invitation to shut his mouth and just let you think to yourself, although his eyes continued to scan your expression and your body language as he waited for you to come to your own conclusion on how you were currently feeling and what exactly made you feel that way.

“Will you stop staring at me?” Despite your gaze focused downwards towards the pavement your frustration at his lingering gaze made it sound like he was making direct eye contact with you.

“Sorry,” Spencer averted his eyes from you immediately after your order, flickering them around the parking lot of the coroner’s office and absentmindedly reading all of the number plates he could see from a distance so that he didn’t frustrate you anymore than he already had.

You gave up psychoanalysing your own mind after a few minutes, partly because it was an effort you didn’t want to expend and partly because it felt safer for you to just lock your emotions behind a wall of glass and leave them for another day.

Instead, you turned your gaze back to the doctor sitting next to you and watched him as he watched his surroundings.

“Your eyes are very alive,”

It’s an odd thing to say Spencer thinks. The concept of his eyes being ‘alive’. Of course, he’d heard the term ‘dead eyes’ before in reference to the lack of emotion shown on someone's face. He’d consider you to have rather dead eyes if he was thinking about it. Although he’s not sure if you’re referring to his eyes in terms of expressiveness or genuinely being ‘alive’ in a physical sense.

“Alive?”

You give him a short nod. “They have a lot of life in them,”

“Thank you?” He chooses to take your odd statement as a sort of compliment. Surely having ‘alive eyes’ couldn’t be a negative thing, right?

Now that he’s thinking about it you really did seem to have some sort of fixation on people's eyes. You constantly chased eye contact with the people you spoke to. You apparently had a habit of studying people’s eyes and how ‘alive’ they were. You pierced roses into the eyes of your victims.

Spencer’s gaze focused on you as he came to the conclusion in his head. You’d become uncomfortable in the mortuary because you couldn’t see the victim’s eyes. Because instead of being able to judge him based off of the look in his eyes you were instead greeted with a blank slate where they were supposed to be.

But why? Why was your judgement of somebody based off of what you could see in their eyes? Something had to have caused it.

“Why did you put roses in your victims’ eyes?” He could see the flicker of intrigue in your expression at his question, although he was unsure whether it was conscious or not.

From the way you’d spoken earlier about your discomfort, it seemed that your apparent fixation was unknown to even you, a subconscious thought process that even you were unaware of for whatever reason.

“I told you this already, I held subconscious knowledge about what they represented.” You furrow your eyebrows at his question, one that you’d answered a little over five minutes ago. Why was he asking you again? “I thought you had an eidetic memory.”

“I do-” Spencer’s not sure whether to be surprised that you remembered that small snippet of information or not. “I mean, why did you put them… you know, in their eyes specifically?”

A small amount of discomfort seeped into Spencer’s tone as he asked the question. As much as he’d become desensitised to the gruesomeness of what his job held, actively thinking about having somebody’s eyes being physically pierced with a blunt object was something that anyone with two functioning eyeballs would feel uncomfortable about.

“I don’t know, I just did,”

So it was subconscious. Something that the dark void in the back of your mind was aware of but wouldn’t let your conscious self have any knowledge of.

“Would you like to help me analyse the victim’s eyes? The pathologist said they were still being stored,” Your eyebrows turn from furrowed to raised, clearly confused by Spencer’s sudden fixation on eye-related things.

“They could be a useful asset to the investigation,” Spencer shrugged softly, lips pressed into a line, an awkward smile present on his face as if his suggestion was completely unrelated to the conversation.

You found yourself agreeing to Spencer’s suggestion despite that lingering discomfort in the back of your mind, and as the two of you stood up to re-enter the coroner’s office, Spencer pulled out his phone to send an email to Morgan.

‘Cover the victim’s face.’

Morgan had clearly read the message before the two of you arrived back at the mortuary, shooting Spencer a glance of confusion as you entered the room ahead of him, eyes already locked on Youlier’s body as if you were drawn to it by some unexplainable force.

Of course, with the blue sheet now placed back over the victim’s head, you couldn’t actually see anything, but you still had the image of his face in your head, causing a sense of unease to remain in your stomach, although not as bad as when you were originally presented with it.

Spencer gave Morgan a small shake of his head as if to shut down this conversation for later, leaving your side to seek out the pathologist so she could retrieve Youlier’s eyes from storage.

He returned not two minutes later, freshly gloved with a glass jar in hand, two vaguely spherical shaped objects floating inside it.

Morgan saw them before you did, his expression widening and then furrowing at the sight of just how ripped up these eyes seemed to be. “How on earth did they end up like that?”

Morgan’s question is enough to pique your curiosity and rip your gaze away from the victim's covered-up face, walking up behind Spencer to look at the jar over his shoulder.

“Dr Toth said the damage was from the thorns on the roses,”

You examine the jar as Spencer explains how they ended up in the state they were in, and you had to agree that Morgan’s bewilderment was right.

They barely even looked like a pair of eyes anymore. They were more ovular than spherical, with two gaping holes where the pupil and iris should be, and countless tear lines all over the scleras, presumably where the killer had struggled to push the stems through the eyes from the resistance of the thorns. Although, you couldn’t deny that seeing them somehow ailed any lingering discomfort in your stomach.

“Well that’s just stupid,”

Spencer jumped from your statement like he hadn’t even realised you were standing behind him, almost fumbling the jar out of his hands in the process.

“…maybe you’re just stupid…” Morgan’s muttering doesn’t go unnoticed, and you shoot a glare in his direction that he mirrors right back at you with just as much venom.

“What’s stupid?” It takes Spencer a second to regain his bearings, but once he does he turns his attention to you with round eyes and a slightly tilted head, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly.

He watches as your focus shifts back and forth between the eyes in the jar and his own as if you were trying to visualise what he’d look like with the ripped-up excuse for a pair of eyes instead of the ones he currently had.

“Obviously you should de-thorn the roses first,” Your tone carried your phrase like you were telling him that you shouldn’t put metal in a microwave rather than de-thorning a rose before piercing someone’s eye with it. “This guy’s on what, their fifth victim? You would’ve thought they’d figured that out by now,”

You take the jar from Spencer’s hand to get a closer look at the remnants of the victim’s eyes from a better vantage point.

“I mean come on, I figured it out after my first try,” You’re edging into a rant about the intricacies of how to most productively pierce somebodies eyes with rose stems now, and it was beginning to remind Spencer that you had in fact actually done all of these things and it wasn’t just hypothetical. “It literally takes like ten seconds per rose if you know what you’re doing and then saves you five minutes of effort,”

Morgan takes the jar from you like you’re a child with a bottle of bleach, a scowl still etched on his face as you give him an incredulous look.

“I’m not going to like eat them or whatever, god-”

“Knowing your track record I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” Morgan places the jar down on the small table by where the victim is lying.

“One, that’s disgusting, two, what the fuck?” Spencer finds your bewilderment at Morgan’s suggestion that you might eat the victim’s eyes quite amusing on a surface level, your response sounding like something a high schooler would say rather than a prolific serial killer.

“What? You’re the type of sick bastard that would probably get off on that sort of thing,” Morgan shrugs his shoulders as he turns back around to face you once more.

“I was experiencing a manic episode, I’m not some weird sadist who has a fetish for eyeballs,”

‘Not a fetish, but something,’ Spencer chooses to keep to himself during your squabble this time, walking over to the autopsy table to hike up the blue cover sheet and check for other injuries lower down on the body.

There’s nothing truly substantial, with no defence wounds courtesy of the blow to the back of his head before the attack, another staple of your spree to keep your victims complacent. The only thing of note was the two gashes across each wrist, severing both radial arteries, the source of the bleeding-out portion of his death.

He had to give you props on that part. The average time it took somebody to bleed out was only 3 and a half minutes, meaning it was a pretty effective way to kill somebody with minimal effort and ensure they were completely dead before any first responders might have time to arrive even if they were called immediately after the gashes were made.

It was very controlled, much more of an execution than a murder if he was to really think about it, especially considering all of your victims were unconscious when it happened and therefore probably didn’t even feel anything aside from the original blow to the head.

For a serial killer, it was actually very humane. Even if you did go out of your way to desecrate their eyes afterwards. But was the real harm in that, they were already dead anyway, it’s not like they felt it.

It ruled out any sort of sadism from your spree, one of the reasons he thinks your story of a manic episode was so easily accepted in court. You weren’t killing people for the fun of it. You didn’t drag it out or make it unnecessarily painful. It was like you were just following the steps of how to kill somebody with as minimal effort as possible to satisfy whatever violent urges you had in your head at the time and then fulfilling the apparent subconscious fixation you had with eyes by covering them with roses.

“Wow, this guy really has no idea what he’s doing-” You again cause Spencer to almost jump out of his skin as you appear behind him once more, looking at the gashes over his shoulder.

You reach out to touch one of them, stopped by a harsh hand on your wrist from Morgan, who continues to glare at you like you’d set his house on fire. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Checking out the shitty incision work from this stupid ass copycat?”

“Put some gloves on you idiot,” Morgan drops your wrist with a scoff, walking across the room to pull out a pair of latex gloves from one of the boxes and shoving them into your palms.

You roll your eyes at his attitude but tug on the gloves anyway, making a show of raising your hands up in his face once you had them on. “Happy now?”

With a swat of your wrist away from his face Morgan concedes to stop antagonising you for now and let you focus on whatever you were originally doing, which you turn to do immediately like you’d completely forgotten about Morgan’s existence as soon as he exited your peripheral vision.

“What is it?” Spencer’s eyes follow yours down to the victim’s left wrist, and he watches as you prod at the gash with your gloved fingers as if trying to pry it back open.

“This is probably the shittiest attempt at bleeding someone out I’ve ever seen,” You bend down with narrowed eyes as you examine the wound. “It’d probably take like 20 minutes from a cut this shallow,”

Spencer can’t help but agree with your assessment. The cut was extremely shallow, so much so he’s sure that this victim probably could’ve survived it if he’d gotten immediate medical attention. He checks the other wrist just to be sure, and he’s granted with the same sight, an extremely shallow cut for somebody actively trying to kill people.

“So, what? He just sat around for twenty minutes whilst Youlier bled out so he could put the roses in his eyes?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows at the revelation. “What sense does that make?”

Can they be sure that they were inserted post-mortem?

Spencer walked around the table towards the autopsy report to re-read the file in case he’d somehow missed that detail whilst reading it the first time.

Alexander Youlier. Age 22. Died of blood loss with the roses believed to be inserted post-mortem.

He hadn’t missed anything. But then that didn’t make sense. There was no way that the killer would just wait around for almost half an hour for somebody to bleed themselves dry, especially considering that Youlier was found under an open gazebo in a dog park. That would just be reckless. For it to work the roses would have had to be inserted whilst he was still alive.

“Having an epiphany over there or something?” Spencer turns his eyes upwards at your comment, leaving the report on the side table as he walks into Dr Toth’s side office without giving you an answer.

You and Morgan share a glance at his sudden departure, probably the most civil interaction the two of you had ever had, fuelled by the joined want to know what was running through Spencer’s mind.

The door of the office opened less than a minute later, Dr. Toth leaving her office with Spencer hot on her trail. “-reports from the main office so that you can cross-reference them all,”

You only catch the end of their conversation as they enter back into the mortuary, and Dr Toth leaves the room to assumedly go and gather whatever ‘reports’ she was on about from the main office, leaving you and Morgan blankly staring in Spencer’s direction with confused expressions.

“I think that our unsub might be inserting the roses into the victim’s eyes whilst they’re still alive,”

The revelation that the unsub was purposefully dragging out the death of their victims made the team have to rebuild the profile from the bottom up.

Spencer took the opportunity to do some digging. Or more accurately have Garcia do some digging.

He had her pull everything humanly possible regarding your biological parents, their life, their death, and most importantly, how they treated you.

They were 29 and 32 when they died, you having been born when your mother was only 23. They both had a history of substance abuse, and according to their autopsies, both of them had lethal levels of diazepam in their bloodstreams at their time of death.

What was interesting about their deaths though was that they were dead for three days before they were found, rotting in their own house with a six-year-old left living with them. Now that was something that could cause a mental break. A six-year-old, left for three days with the corpses of their dead parents and only found when the neighbours complained about the smell.

The file Garcia had faxed over also happened to have images from the scene when the bodies were recovered, and they were just as disgusting as he’d imagined they’d be. The two were sat paired on a couch, skin pale and turning slightly grey with the beginning signs of decay, small insects roaming on their skin, and the clothes they were wearing.

But the selling point for Spencer was their eyes. Wide open and staring blankly into open space with clouded pupils and ruptured irises. It freaked him out and he was looking at it through a piece of paper. He couldn’t imagine how it made a six-year-old child who lived with them like that for three days feel.

There was the origin of your eye fixation, and he honestly couldn’t blame you for covering the dead stare of your victims so you wouldn’t have to relive that.

The more he read the more devastating the report seemed to be. When asked why you didn’t call for any help from neighbours or the police you stated that you “just wanted them to sleep for a while,” and that your mother would “give me the sleepy pills when she wanted me to go to sleep, so I did the same for her and daddy,”

In an effort to get your parents to go to sleep so they would stop presumably treating you horribly, you’d unintentionally overdosed them both.

You were in a paediatric rehabilitation centre for almost four months after you were recovered from the house. A six-year-old. Being rehabilitated for an addiction to diazepam because your parents would solve any blip in your behaviour by feeding you sleeping pills instead of treating you like the child you were.

All of a sudden forming an addiction at 25 didn’t seem all that detrimental anymore.

He supposes that’s how you knew right off the bat. Addiction recognises addiction and all that. Although by the look of it, you’d made a full healthy recovery by the time you were adopted into your new family.

You’d been diagnosed with ASD after you were removed from the house, and Spencer is surprised by the fact that the mental impact it had on you only seemed to be acute, although, he’s sure that in hindsight the psychiatrist that diagnosed you would’ve made sure to be more thorough in their examination of your mental state.

Still, what happened had happened, and although Spencer nor anyone else could do anything to change that, he could form a greater understanding of who you were and why you did what you did.

Except he still didn’t really know why, he knew the origins, but what was the trigger that caused you to deteriorate mentally until you were back at your lowest possible point?

That wasn’t important right now.

He needed to focus on the actual case at hand and not the closed case of a serial killer from four years ago. It didn’t matter how much of a fascination he’d formed with your psychology, he needed to focus so that no one else had to die.

It was insane to think about, just how distracted he’d get with uncovering your past like it was a mystery novel that required the reader’s involvement to solve.

But now he really needed to knuckle down and actually put his intelligence forward to help the team find the unsub they were looking for or else earn a chastising from Hotch and up to 13 more victims if they followed your pattern to a T.

Why you though? Why was this unsub following your crimes specifically? Sure some people were mentally deranged enough to want to gain the same notoriety as the killers they replicated, but your case was in a small city and didn’t even make national news. Not only that, it was new. Really new.

Most copycat killers replicated national or even international-level crimes that had decades to form a legacy and settle into the back of people's minds. Your case wasn’t like that. Not to the full extent anyway. The state of California had recognised you as a prolific killer but in any other state your name was unknown.

So why you?

Spencer watched intently as the team scribbled down notes and ideas on the whiteboards taking up most of the room, leaving him sitting at the head of the conference table with his files on your background and you engaging yourself in the pass-time of making origami cranes out of discarded bits of paper to stop yourself from getting bored.

A serial killer replicating your crimes almost step by step. Bleed out the victims, put roses in their eyes, move on. Same victim pattern. Same time frame. But still with distinct differences.

This unsub bled their victims out considerably slower than you did. They used red roses instead of white roses like you did. They left the thorns on the rose stems when you pruned them beforehand.

Why did this unsub not de-thorn the roses first? After five separate murders, why would they not make their process easier by discarding the thorns to stop them from tearing up the victim’s eyes?

‘I figured it out after my first try.’

“Hey uh-” Spencer turns his head up towards you, tapping his pen absentmindedly against the table. “Do you remember what happened to your first victim? After your parents?”

“What?” You furrow and then raise one of your eyebrows at his sudden question, especially because he’d been sitting in his own little cocoon for the last thirty minutes.

It was quite a long shot of a question if you had been experiencing mania at the time, but you seemed to be remembering select details about your spree, so your first victim surely should be present in your mind at least somewhat.

“How did you… You know-” Spencer’s roundabout question was half amusing and half frustrating from your viewpoint, and you take a break from your paper crafts to indulge in it.

“Well…” You drag out the word and you divert your eyes from him to stare upwards towards the ceiling like it’ll aid your memory. “I incapacitated her first, with a… brick I think? It might’ve been a regular rock I’m not sure-”

“Him.” Morgan’s venom seeps into his correction of your account. “You killed eighteen people and you don’t even have the decency to remember the gender of your first victim? Seriously?”

“I do know my own victim pattern thank you very much,” You override Morgan’s correction with just as much ferocity. “ And it was definitely a woman. I chose her specifically because she’d be easy.”

“That’s not what our files say.”

“Then your files are wrong? What do you want me to do about it?”

Spencer runs over your victims in his head. Your first filed victim’s name was John Brandy, found lifeless on a park bench after a woman walking her dog called it in to the police.

He tried to remember any other things he’d read about your case that might indicate that Brandy wasn’t your first victim. Nothing. John Brandy was the only thing he could affiliate with the identity of the first victim from your spree. And most notably, Brandy was very male.

“…What did you do after you incapacitated her?” Spencer slowly edges his way back into a conversation between you and Morgan, mind on full alert as it continues to run through all of the details he knows about you and your case.

“I moved her against the like wall of the street we were down and then did the rest of it,” You shrug your shoulders in mild scepticism of Spencer’s sudden interest in this specific kill of yours. “You know, cut the wrists, wait a few minutes, then stick in the roses. Although I’m pretty sure I got one rose like half in because the thorns were being difficult and I gave up when she started twitching,”

You exhale exasperatedly. ”That’s probably why she’s not ‘in your files’, because the rose I did try and do wasn’t even fully inserted and probably just fell out or something,” You glare pointedly at Morgan, tilting your head back and forth in condescension. “It was my first time alright? Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.”

Sure everyone’s gotta start somewhere. When it comes to working a job or starting a hobby. You don’t usually ‘start somewhere’ when it comes to murdering people.

It’s the fact that you say it so nonchalantly that gets to him, talking about your murder spree of eighteen people like it was you learning how to bake a cake. Nineteen people. You’d actually killed nineteen people in your spree, and your poor first victim probably didn’t even get given the light of day that the rest of your victims did when it came to justice.

“Morgan,” Hotch’s voice proved to pull Spencer out of yet another spiral consisting of endless questions surrounding your psychology, even if not directed at him. “Call Garcia and have her pull up any unsolved murder cases that involved two slit wrists and trauma to the eyes in Malibu during the time they were active as a killer,”

“On it,” Honestly, Morgan would’ve taken any excuse to get out of your presence for a few minutes, feeling the overwhelming urge to punch you square in your face grow stronger with every snippet of information about yourself that you shared out loud without a single care in the world.

Did it have anything significant to catching this copycat? No. But that victim deserved just as much justice as any of your others.

One profiler down, the rest of the team turned back to fleshing out the profile, and you turned back to your half-finished paper crane, muttering to yourself under your breath about something that Spencer couldn’t quite hear.

“Okay, so we’ve ruled out mania as a possible cause of the kills because of how long it took for them to bleed out, we’ve ruled out paranoia because of the victim pattern following the original to a T instead of being random, it could be some form of ASD but that doesn’t really make sense with the rest of the profile-” Emily scans over the notes of the whiteboard as she speaks, picking absentmindedly on the red polish covering her nails and leaving small flakes of it all over the table by where you’re sitting.

“Would you stop doing that?” You make a show of wiping the table with your hand, and Emily doesn’t respond to you with more than a glance as she stuffs her hands in her pockets.

“Alright babygirl thank you,” Morgan sends a kiss through the phone before hanging it up and putting it away in his pocket and you swear you almost gag at the sight of it.

“Nothing,” Morgan shrugs his shoulders half out of resignation and half out of frustration as he takes a seat opposite you on the table. “There are no unsolved murders matching the description you gave us,”

He glares into your eyes like he’s trying to burn them right out of your eye sockets. “So? What is it? You get a kick out of lying or what?”

“Do I look like the type of person who makes the effort to lie? Because news flash, I don’t, it’s not like saying I killed one more person than I actually did benefits me in any way,” You furrow your expression with a scoff, leaning back in your chair to rest your ankles on the table.

“Right, sure, because someone like you totally doesn’t care about how they’re perceived by other people,”

“Why would I want to say I’ve killed more people than I actually have, it just makes me look more crazy than you already think I am-” You weren’t backing down on this. You were adamant that this person was your first victim and that you weren’t lying to him.

“Then why isn’t there any file of her whatsoever?”

“What if she’s still alive?” It’s like all of the puzzle pieces fall into Spencer’s mind at once, and he interrupts your arguing with Morgan yet again, except this time it’s not about keeping the peace.

“You said you gave up because ‘the thorns were being difficult and she started twitching’, was she alive when you tried to put the rose in her eye?” Spencer turns his gaze towards you, a completely different air surrounding his expression than the mildly awkward and apprehensive one you’d gotten used to.

“I don’t know, maybe?” You shrug like his question was absurd, watching as he stands from his seat to look over the whiteboard detailing the autopsies of each of the victims.

“Reid?” Hotch’s raised eyebrow asked a hundred different questions, and Spencer answered every single one of them with a single phrase muttered under his breath.

“…PTSD by proxy-”

He takes a second to study the photos on the board before continuing. “It’s a psychological disorder where victims of PTSD will project their trauma onto others,”

He pulls a few of the images from the board to lay them out on the conference table. “Of those who develop PTSD from traumatic incidents, roughly 2% then go on to try and satiate their trauma by projecting it onto other people,”

“If what you remember about your first victim was true and she survived, then there’s a high chance that the new killer we’re looking for is that first victim,” He arranges the autopsy photos in two groups, with one of the wrist gashes and the other of the eye damage.

“The victims bled out slowly, which in a lot of cases with first-time murder or murder attempts happens unintentionally because the killer doesn’t know how deep a cut like that has to be for it to be fatal,” He points towards the photos on the left first.

“And then the eyes would be pretty self-explanatory,” He turns one of the photos towards where you and Hotch are sitting. “If your first victim was in fact alive when you tried to pierce her eyes then that could explain why these victims were also still alive when the roses were inserted,”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Emily chimes in with her two cents as Spencer gives his explanation. “We’re in a completely different city,”

“And it’s been three years since the original spree,” Rossi swirls the coffee in his mug with a furrowed expression.

“Well Las Flores is only an hour's drive from Malibu,” Spencer moves from the table to go back over to the annotated map on one of the boards, marking an invisible line with his fingers. “Maybe she decided she needed to get away from her trauma, 46% of individuals who experience life-changing trauma do,”

“But why now?”

Spencer’s eyes turn back towards you at Rossi’s question, as if you held all the answers to what the stressor was for this sudden murder spree. Your answer of course was nothing more than a shrug and an expression that asked ‘How am I supposed to know?’, which put a halt to Spencer’s theory.

That, and the fact that they hadn’t even confirmed if this woman was still alive let alone living in Las Flores.

“Alright,” Hotch cut through the team’s conversation with a wave of his hand. “Morgan, ask Garcia to track down women who went into the hospital for ocular injuries three years ago and have moved to Las Flores since then,”

Morgan gives him a determined nod as he leaves the room once more, Hotch then turning his attention towards you.

“What have you done in the last few months that would’ve been told to the public?”

“I don’t know?” You give him an exasperated expression and raise your hands in a defensive manner. “Why would I know that? It’s not like I have someone telling me when I’m on the news,”

Hotch furrowed his eyebrow at your immediate defensiveness, reminding himself to be patient and bear with your short fuse because it technically wasn’t your fault.

Although it didn’t make it any less frustrating either way.

He turned his eyes towards Spencer, gesturing towards the door and then towards you as a silent order for him to speak to you privately outside.

If anyone was going to be able to get a piece of information out of you, consciously or subconsciously, it would be Spencer.

It took him a few seconds to compute Hotch’s message, but as soon as he did he stood from his seat, mug in hand.

“I’m going to make some more coffee, do you want some?” Spencer gives you a small and slightly awkward smile as he looks at you, and you raise an eyebrow in his direction.

“You don’t know how to make my coffee,”

“You can show me,” Spencer raises his eyebrows enthusiastically, lips pressed taut into a line as he silently prays for you to take the bait. And you do.

You don’t respond with more than pushing your chair away from the table to stand, but Spencer follows after you as you leave the meeting room nonetheless, gaining a small nod from Hotch that he returns with one of his own.

In the break room, Spencer watches you prepare your coffee, taking mental notes of the precise amount of creamer and sugar you add. He's careful to keep the conversation casual, asking about your preferences and subtly steering you towards the topic of recent events.

"I got a new therapist a few months ago," you admit, stirring your coffee. "She recommended having me moved into psychiatric care." The implication hangs clearly in the air.

"Psychiatric care?" Spencer echoes, his mind eagerly piecing together the information.

“Mhm,” You give him a small nod and you leave the teaspoon on the counter, taking a sip of your coffee.

Now that was something that might’ve been made public. If you had been recommended by a specialist to be moved out of a high-security prison and into a psychiatric institute the local news was bound to know about it.

"You being moved to a psychiatric facility would definitely make the news," Spencer mutters, drawing your attention back to him. "That could be the trigger point for our unsub,"

“Me going to a hospital? Seriously?” You scoff like that being a motive is pathetic.

“Yes, seriously,” Spencer replies, his expression serious. “It could signify a turning point, a change in your situation that the unsub might interpret as you escaping justice. It could be the catalyst that pushed them into action.”

He abandons his coffee mug on the counter as he ushers you back into the meeting room with the rest of the team, and all it takes is Hotch getting a single glance at Spencer’s expression to know that there was indeed a trigger for this murder spree.

“A few months ago, their therapist recommended moving them to a psychiatric facility," Spencer shares the information as soon as you both re-enter the room, "That could have been publicised, potentially triggering our unsub-”

“We found her,” Morgan interrupts Spencer’s explanation as he hurries into the room, phone still pressed against his ear as he reaches over to scribble down the name and address Garcia had recovered.

Louise Nueves, aged 29 was born and raised in Malibu, never having left the city for more than a week her entire life. That was, until she was hospitalised for three days for a severe ocular injury to her left eye.

She left the city less than a week after she was discharged, and supposedly never returned as she settled down in Las Flores instead.

She settled down, got married, started working in a small bakery, and overall just seemed to have a well-rounded and stable life after the trauma that she had endured back in her home town.

Morgan knocked harshly on the front door of her house, gun held firmly in his hand just in case Nueves deemed the threat of their presence as an incentive to act violently. “Louise Nueves, this is the FBI,”

The silence from the other side of the door seemed only to heighten the adrenaline running through the veins of the team.

It didn’t take long before Morgan was looking for permission to force the door open, and once he gained a nod from Hotch that’s exactly what he did, kicking the door handle loose and forcing the door open as the team filtered into the house to search for their suspect.

You were an exception of course, being confined to the entranceway with Spencer as your personal babysitter in case you managed to get yourself into any trouble or think about running off.

You hear an echo of ‘clear’s from the group as they sweep the house, seemingly completely devoid of any human presence outside of the FBI team. Until…

“You guys might wanna come see this,”

Emily’s voice sounded from upstairs, and she backed out into the stairway as she gestured for the team to join her up the stairs.

You give Spencer a look before walking over to the stairs, and his curiosity overrides his need to try and keep you in the entrance as he follows after you with the rest of the team following closely behind.

“This little bitch-“ The sight you were greeted with would’ve been extremely disturbing under normal circumstances, a corpse of a man - presumably Nueves’ husband - lying in its first stage of decay on the bed of the house’s master bedroom, a red rose resting on his chest.

Instead, your response was more angry at the blatant lack of originality in the way he was killed.

"Copying my kills is one thing," you spat out, your eyes burning with rage. "But having no innovation or creativity of their own? That's just pathetic." You crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze fixed on the lifeless body in front of you.

"Unique or not, it proves our hypothesis of who the copycat is," Morgan retorted, his gaze hardening at your callous words.

You rolled your eyes, huffing in annoyance. "Great."

Ignoring your sarcasm, Hotch spoke up, "We need to find Nueves before she kills again. Morgan, Reid, you're with me. We'll check her workplace. Rossi and JJ I want you to track down some of her friends, maybe they've noticed something off."

As they left, Emily turned to you, her eyes scrutinising. "What about them, Hotch? Do we just leave them at the station?"

"No," Hotch replied without missing a beat. "They’ll stay with you as you monitor the area. Keep an eye on them. We don't know how they might react now that their 'legacy' is being threatened."

With that, they left you in the company of Emily, the silence in the room amplifying the eerie sight of the corpse on the bed.

The tension was still very apparent despite you and Emily having no previous background, and you could tell that she wasn’t exactly thrilled with your company as the two of you left the house just as the authorities arrived, presumably called by Hotch as they left the scene.

“How does it feel to babysit a grown adult instead of doing something important?”

Emily shot you a sideways glance, her lips forming a thin line. "I'd like to think that keeping an eye on a serial killer counts as important, don't you?" she retorted, her voice icy.

“You’re supposed to be finding a serial killer, I haven’t done anything in years, what makes you think that I’m the threat?” You can’t help but scoff at her intonation as she speaks to you, it feeling oddly derogatory considering that you couldn’t even remember what her name was. “That’s some audacity alright,”

Emily narrowed her eyes at you, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features. "You may not think so, but your presence here is still a potential risk," she said, her tone sharp. "And until we know more, I'm not taking any chances."

She quickened her pace, leaving you to catch up as you followed her out of the residential area and into a nearby public park. Emily’s eyes scanned the area like a hawk as she walked, making you roll your eyes. “You really think she’s just going to be hanging around right next to her own house?”

Emily's gaze flickered toward you, her expression unyielding. "We're not looking for Nueves herself. We're looking for any clues, any signs of her recent activity or whereabouts," she explained tersely. "Every detail matters in a case like this."

She continued to lead the way through the park, her pace steady and purposeful. Despite your scepticism, you couldn't deny the intensity in her demeanour, the determination to solve the case weighing heavily in the air between you as you reluctantly tailed her like a toddler on a leash.

As you walked, Emily suddenly halted, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of a lone figure sat on one of the park benches with their back to the two of you.

“Oh come on, it’s the middle of the day, of course there are people in the park.”

“Be quiet.” Emily approached the individual with her words barked out between her teeth. As you drew closer, you could see the figure was a woman, her head bowed and shoulders slumped. Emily called out to her, her voice firm yet cautious. "Excuse me, ma'am. Are you alright?"

The woman looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with tears. "I-I'm fine," she stammered, quickly wiping at her cheeks. "Just... just having a moment." Her eyes seemed to flicker downwards towards Emily’s vest in confusion but she didn’t make any move to mention it.

Emily studied her for a moment longer before nodding, her hand slowly retracting from her weapon. “Alright. Just be careful out here, okay?” she advised before motioning for you to follow as she continued on the path.

You glanced back at the woman, her eyes following you in a mix of her previous sadness and confusion, seemingly unsure of how she should feel at an apparent FBI agent approaching her out of nowhere and then advising her to ‘be careful’.

“It’s you.” The new voice turns both of your heads in its direction.

Standing a few feet away was a woman and her dog, her demeanour tense yet strangely familiar. She looked at you with a mixture of surprise and recognition, her eyes lingering on Emily’s vest for a moment before returning to you.

“Excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow at the bluntness of her recognition of who you were, furrowing your eyebrows dismissively like she didn’t have the right to have recognised you in whatever way she had.

“You don’t know me?” Her tone carried a clear betrayal, as did the furrow in her eyebrows as she took a step towards you, one which Emily retaliated to by forcing you behind her with a heavy grip on your arm, one which you did not appreciate whatsoever as you pulled yourself from her grasp.

“Mrs Nueves?” Emily’s voice held a mix of apprehension and concern as she spoke, and she reached into her back pocket to thrust her phone into your hand before holding her fingers ready over her gun holster.

“You don’t remember me, do you? The woman ignored Emily completely, her voice tinged with bitterness as she stared at you, her features filled with betrayal as she realised you weren’t even looking at her, too preoccupied with trying to figure out why Emily had given you her phone.

“Mrs Nueves, my name’s Emily, I’m with the FBI, I understand that what you’re going through right now is extremely difficult but-”

“Shut up!” Nueves’ voice was harsh and drenched in ice as she spoke, holding her hand up dismissively. “I don’t care about you or your FBI friends-”

You had your back to the two by this point, and after a message had come through from Spencer about Nueves not being at her workplace you figured that the reason Emily as given you the phone was to get backup from the team.

oh. Right.

‘shes in the park by her house’

Of course she was. Because she was continually proving to be one of the stupidest people you’d ever encountered. Who decides to take their dog for a walk in the park two minutes from their house whilst being actively pursued by the police? Stupid people, that’s who. God, couldn’t the person copying your crimes at least be a competent one?

‘We’ll be there in ten minutes. Hold tight.’

“Look at me!” Nueves’ raised voice caused multiple heads to turn from the people wandering the park, including your own, and you turn your eyes away from the phone screen with a furrowed expression of annoyance.

“Do you have any idea what you did to me? How much I suffered because of what you did?” Nueves’ outbreak was very quickly garnering an audience from passersby, and could could practically feel the tension rolling off of Emily in waves as she tried to figure out what to do.

“You lived, get over it,” You were not helping.

The look on Nueves’ face at your words was almost incomprehensible, like she didn’t know what emotion she was supposed to be feeling at your nonchalance about what happened. Like you hadn’t ruined her entire life and caused her eternal suffering.

“Get over it? Look what you did to me!” Nueves barked out her words as she brought her left hand up to her eye, pulling at it until the sclera fell into the palm of her hand, leaving a dark pink void in its wake.

Your eyes immediately widened at the action, eyebrows furrowed in clear distaste for what you’d witnessed and that uncomfortable feeling that you’d experienced in the coroner’s office rising in your stomach the longer you looked at her.

“This is my life now.” She held up the piece of glass in her hand. “This is what I have to live with because of you.”

“Mrs Nueves-” Emily took a small step forward in her direction with both hands raised to appear as not threatening as possible.

“Don’t move-” Nueves dropped her dog’s leash at Emily’s advance to pull a small kitchen knife from her pocket, similar to one that would be used to cut vegetables or peel a potato.

Emily’s shoulders tense at the emergence of the weapon lips pursed into a tight line, and you’re sure that you might’ve been mildly concerned yourself if the knife blade wasn’t smaller than its handle. It didn’t make her look as intimidating as you assume she thinks she is, more like a teenager who carries around a switchblade in an attempt to make themself look tougher than they actually are.

Then again, this woman had actually killed people. Just not very well.

Still, if she thought that was a ‘big’ knife then her husband must’ve not been very satisfactory when it came to the bedroom.

"Put the knife down, Louise," Emily's voice was stern yet calm, her gaze unwavering. "We can talk about this, help you get the help you need. But first, you need to put the knife down."

Nueves seemed to consider this for a moment, her grip on the knife wavering. But then, her expression hardened, her eyes filled with a cold determination. "No," she stated firmly, "I won't."

“Mrs. Nueves,” Emily tried again, her voice laced with a calm authority, “you're not a killer. You're a victim, and we want to help you.”

Nueves let out a bitter laugh at this, her gaze never leaving Emily's. “A victim?” she echoed, her voice filled with scorn. “I stopped being a victim the moment I stopped letting them control my life.” She thrusts her arm forward with the knife in hand to point it in your direction, thankfully too far away for it to actually be anywhere near harming you. “You left me alive and it ruined everything.”

“I had to live with the pain, the nightmares, the constant fear. I had to watch my life fall apart while you just moved on to your next victim and left me without so much as a footnote in your confession." Nueves continued, her voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. "You think I'm the one who needs help? You're the monster, not me!”

“You had a hard time. Boo-hoo. But guess what? You're not the only one who's had to deal with shit. You're not special, Nueves.” You replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Nueves' eyes flashed with anger at your dismissive words. "You don't get to talk to me like that. You don't get to belittle my pain. You don't get to decide how I should react to what you did to me."

"Actually, I do," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm the one who put you in this position. I'm the one who made you who you are today. And you know what? I'm not sorry. Because without me your life would’ve been completely insignificant.”

“Maybe I am a monster. But you, Nueves, are just a sad, pathetic little girl pretending to be a serial killer.” Nueves' face twisted with rage at your words, her grip on the knife tightening. But before she could react, Emily stepped in, her voice calm and authoritative.

“Enough,” she commanded, her gaze fixed on Nueves. “This isn't helping anyone. We're here to bring you in, Louise. To make sure you get the help you need.”

“I don't want your help,” Nueves spat back, her eyes still fixed on you with burning hatred. “I just want them to pay for what they did.”

“They are Louise, they’re paying for their actions every single day in a high-security prison,” Emily stated, her gaze unwavering as she shook her head gently. “They’re getting their punishment, you don’t have to do this, please, just put down the knife…” Emily’s eyes caught the SUV that parked on the side of the road as she talked. Looks like she’d managed to buy enough time for backup to arrive.

For a moment, it looked like Nueves might actually consider following Emily’s suggestion. But then she glanced back at you, her gaze hardening at your stare of indifference. “No,” she said, her voice filled with determination. “I won't let them get away with this. I won’t let them have control of how I live my life anymore.”

Nueves’ ramble deemed her oblivious to the agents approaching her from behind, ushering the few lingering witnesses to a safe distance away so that they could contain the area, and your eyes caught Dr Reid carefully scooping up the leashed dachshund into his arms after it’d scampered away from Nueves in her fit of rage.

“You don’t remember me?” Her eyes turned from seething to desperate in the split second she looked at you, voice raised as she tried to force your attention back onto her from your seeming uninterest in the confrontation. “You will.”

Morgan didn’t even have time to un-holster his gun before Nueves utilised the knife in her hand. Not on Emily, nor on you, but on herself, impaling the blade of the knife directly into her operational eye and forcing it deeper by slamming the palm of her hand into the wooden handle until it was almost completely encapsulated into her eye socket.

The sight was ghastly, blood spurting out of her eye as she fell onto the ground, convulsing from the pain and shock. You watched, a morbid fascination in your eyes as Emily quickly called for medical attention, her gaze flitting between you and the dying woman on the ground.

As the medics rushed to stabilise Nueves, Emily looked at you, her face pale. “You-” She said, her voice barely a whisper, “stay here.” She then hurriedly joined the medics, leaving you behind. You watched as the medics tried to recover her, but it was clear that her chances were slim. The sight of her writhing in pain, the blood pooling around her, was oddly satisfying to watch. A small, twisted part of you felt a sense of triumph at the confrontation's results, if not a little discontented with just how dramatic this woman proved to be.

The rest of the team moved to properly secure the area now that it was officially a crime scene as Emily, still with the medics, was applying pressure to Nueves' wound, her hands smeared with blood.

As you watched the scene unfold, a bizarre sense of calm washed over you. This chaos, this pain, was a result of your actions, your legacy, and despite the horrific circumstances, you couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction.

From a distance, you could see Hotch talking to Emily, his expression unreadable. Emily nodded, her eyes briefly meeting yours before diverting away. She looked shaken, the dark red of Nueves’ quickly oxidising blood on her hands a stark contrast against her pale skin.

You tried to imagine the emotions she was grappling with. After all, she was a part of a team that had sworn to protect innocents from people like you. And now, because of you, she had blood on her hands.

The medics finally lifted Nueves onto a stretcher, rushing her towards the waiting ambulance. Emily stood there for a moment longer, watching as the ambulance sped away, before finally turning her eyes towards you, unfocused on how Morgan was gently trying to usher her towards another pair of EMTs so that she could be checked over.

There was zero chance Nueves was going to make it to the hospital in time.

Emily’s gaze was hard, filled with a mixture of anger, confusion, and something you couldn't quite place. Fear, perhaps? Or maybe disappointment? Regardless, it was clear that the events of the day had left a deep impact on her.

As you watched them walk away, the satisfaction from earlier began to fade, replaced by a strange emptiness. You were alone again, left with nothing but the aftermath of your actions. And as you stared at the spot where Nueves had fallen, the blood still fresh on the grass, you couldn't help but wonder if this was all worth it.

But then, you remembered the look on Nueves’ face, the horror in her expression at her own pain. And you knew, without a doubt, that it was. Maybe she was right, you just might remember her for that stunt she pulled, although most definitely not in a positive light.

“Are you alright?” The ever-calm voice of Spencer Reid pulled you away from mulling over your own feelings, and you give him an animated sway of your head back and forth as a silent communication of you not falling in either emotional direction.

It truly was fascinating how removed you were from everything, and as twisted and convoluted as it might sound, Spencer wasn’t looking forward to your departure from accompanying the team. It meant that he didn’t get to speak to you anymore. Didn’t get to slowly peel away the layers of protection you’d built over your psyche so that he could pry at your inner workings.

And he didn’t exactly mind having you around. But that was something he was going to keep to himself for a multitude of reasons.

“It’s all too over the top for my taste,” You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, stretching your arms above your head. “Here, it’s the one with the ponytail’s,” You hold the cell phone out between your thumb and index finger like it might give you a disease if you hold it properly.

“Why-” Spencer starts his question and is immediately interrupted by your answer. “She gave it to me to message one of you where we were,”

So it was you who’d messaged him then. He thought the punctuation was different.

“Right, that makes sense,” He takes the phone from you with an awkward smile as he puts it away in his back pocket. “Thank you,”

You give him a short hum in reply, crossing your arms over your torso and leaning back and forth on the balls of your feet like you were becoming bored with just standing around. You’d just been a potential hostage at knife point and then watched someone graphically commit suicide specifically to gain your attention and less than five minutes after it was over you were looking for something new to capture your attention.

It utterly fascinated him. You were fascinating.

And you were leaving.

Literally.

You were walking away, obviously having had enough of Spencer’s silence and wandering off to find Hotch and maybe experience something more enticing.

“Hey-” Spencer called out to you as you began to walk away, and you stopped with a glance over your shoulder and a raised eyebrow. “What are you feeling right now?”

You stuff your hands in your pockets at his question, turning 180 degrees to face him once more with a slightly furrowed expression as you tried to figure out the motive behind his question.

“I wonder if she saw the afterlife.”

Spencer’s shoulders drop at your admission, his expression morphing into a mix of understanding and confusion, contradiction written all over his features.

You seemed more objectively curious than humanly concerned, but you still were curious nonetheless.

That was another fascinating part about you, or just about sociopaths in general, he supposes. But he wasn’t speaking to every sociopath in existence, he was speaking to you. So it was less about sociopathy and more about you specifically.

“Do you think she saw the afterlife?”

“Logically, she didn’t have any eyes so she wasn’t ‘seeing’ anything, but metaphorically I’d like to believe so,”

Spencer has to stifle a surprised laugh at your morbid joke about Nueves’ condition, pressing his lips into a tight line with a small nod as he tried to focus on the second part of your statement. “Me too,”

There was a small sense of deja vu surrounding your conversation as the two of you fell into a mutual silence, hastily interrupted by Hotch calling the two of you to gather with the rest of the team now that the case was officially over.

You noticed the distaste in Emily’s gaze immediately, looks like you’ve gained yourself another detractor. She and Morgan stood side by side with matching expressions as the two of you joined them, although neither had time to make any comments as the team loaded up in the SUVs to head back to the station.

It was rather hard to believe it’d only been six days in Las Flores, but dates don’t lie, and by the time you stepped back onto the BAU’s private jet, it felt like you’d only left it for a matter of hours.

Nueves’ face was fading from your mind by now, as was her name, and as you plopped yourself down on the same seat you’d occupied on your flight from Quantico, you’d almost forgotten that she even existed.

Your mind was more preoccupied with what was going to happen next. You were going to fly back to Quantico, be recovered by California state officials, and taken back to the concrete hell of the California Correctional Institution until your appeal to be moved to an inpatient psychiatric care facility was considered and ultimately rejected because they still deemed you ‘too dangerous’ to be around vulnerable individuals despite sharing mental issues with a lot of them.

Spencer gave you an awkward wave as he walked down the aisle of the cabin and stopped at the seat opposite you, hoping the movement would grab your attention.

“Do you-” He half gestures to the seat facing you with his hand, and you dismissively wave him into it as you return your attention to the window. “Thanks…”

You give him a hum at his politeness but otherwise remain uninterested in his presence, fastening the seat belt over your lap as the jet pilots prepare for the five-hour flight back to Quantico.

“What’re you thinking about?” Spencer abandons his original plan to sleep through the entire flight the second he sees the pondering in your expression.

You glanced at Spencer, contemplating whether to confide in him about your concerns. Out of everyone, he was probably the one person you’d met on the team who seemed genuinely interested in your experiences. He was one of the few who could understand the complexities of your situation. With a sigh, you decided to open up a little, "Just thinking about what happens now. Back to the concrete hell of my enclosure I guess.”

“I thought you were appealing the decision? That’s why you agreed to help, isn’t it? So the officials are more likely to accept your appeal?” Spencer tilts his head slightly in your direction, raising an eyebrow in your direction as he curled his legs under him in his chair.

“You really think that it’s actually going to do anything?” Your voice is dripping in sarcasm as you let your head fall back against the seat. “They’re seething enough that I didn’t get the death penalty, there’s no way they’re going to cut my sentence,”

“I don’t see why they shouldn’t,” Spencer blinks at you with a mildly furrowed expression. “You’re not an active threat to anybody, and having the help that you need could greatly improve your quality of life,”

“Yeah well you’re not the person who’s going to be analysing my case, so your opinion doesn’t really matter in the greater span of things does it, Dr. Reid?” Your tone carries no malice in your statement, although it comes off much more rude than he’s sure you mean it to be.

His opinion could matter. He knows that as a part of the evaluation you’ll have to go through Hotch will have to write a report on how you acted during the case. Maybe he could put in a few extra things he’d experienced with you. He’s sure that the psychiatrist assessing whether you were actively violent would benefit from knowing how much you adored your parents, how you wondered if your childhood pet was in the afterlife and how you engaged in a genuine emotional conversation with him despite all of your social stunts from your disorder.

You obviously still had your humanity, so he didn’t see why they wouldn’t allow you to have the facilities to improve your mental state to a point where one day you could possibly be a functioning member of society, or at least be in a position to help researchers understand more about your condition.

“Having optimism about an upcoming situation has proved to actually affect the outcome of said situation, with 36% of people who had been optimistic about negative situations physically affecting the outcome of those situations based on their outlook alone,” Spencer presses his lips into a line, another one of those awkward smiles that you’d become used to over your time with him.

“I prefer realism, but I suppose I’ll take that into account,”

“That’s all I can ask,” Spencer gives a soft exhale at your inadvertent agreement to take his advice, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’ll visit you once your appeal has gone through,” The statement fell out of his mouth without any real thought behind it, simply a reflection of his brain deciding he wasn’t quite done with your company yet despite the case officially being over.

“Of course you will,”

Spencer gives a short laugh of mild embarrassment. “Of course I will.”

[numy-numnum]

Some Beast x Ancient headcanons (CW potential dead dove/nsfw)

Been thinking about this for a while and noticed some people took interest in my personal ship headcanons so I thought I'd indulge, starting out w best x ancient (initially was just gonna be a Burnincheese post but decided to extent it to the other beasts for the funsies)

Oh btw No White Lily and Silent Salt, I like to infer my headcanons based off... yknow canon. So when they get added I will gladly update this post or make a new one featuring them.

Despite this some of these might be extremily canon non compliant, apologies LMAO

Some very important disclaimers first of all, title warning is important, there will be discussions of abuse, racey topics, complicated and messy relationships and other potentially touchy subjects, if this is difficult to read please step away from this post

I am a romance repulsed individual somewhere on the aromantic spectrum I believe (no labels), I have 0 interest in traditional sugary sweet romance (infact it revolts me) and that part of me hugely infers how I approach shipping characters, these are weird little writing experiments to me to see how bizarre and weird the human brain is and to explore those darker, uncomfortable avenues in a 100% safe enviroment. So again if you're expecting thing such as villain redemptions or totally healthy typical cute relationships ,again, probably best to leave lol

And lastly, apologies for typos, will fix as many as possible if I spot them lol

Without further ado, enjoy my ramblings about pastries who smooch each other

ShadowVanilla

Ah yes, t4t (twink4twink/j)

As I see it, ShadowVanilla is a mostly one sided thing. The mutual feelings are there but not in the way either of these two WANT them to be.

We've seen what SM has done to PV , but honestly my personal hot take is PV has some unhealthy beliefs himself.

PV is entirely too selfless for his own good, in the face of someone who has tried to break him down, tried changing him to fit this fucked up mold of what he should be in the eyes of SM, put him through metaphorical Hell for a cause that would bring the world to its downfall... And his response was a resonding "I understand you, we can still be friends." (poorly paraphrased)

As I see it, PV wants SM to reform, to join him, be a pair without others' lives being at stake, but SM fundamentally cannot change.

The two are in a constant dance of desiring each other, needing each other but constantly hurting each other whenever they get too close.

SM because he refuses to let go of his cause and to admit that his idealized version of PV just isn't him, a thing he cannot ever have.

And PV because his insistance on redeeming SM constantly gets him rejected and yelled at.

It's a viscious cycle of yearning, needing and destruction, neither of them are ever truly happy... yet those few moments where there is no fighting, there is no manipulation, there is no unrealistic expectations... It feels like bliss.

Each of them cling onto those moments for dear life and it's what partially keeps them afloat despite their relationship (the other reason being literally each other's halves) Because those few moments are the best thing, ever.

Need, intimacy, love, lust. It all blends together to make a concoction of pure bliss that motivates them to keep going, that perhaps the next time it'll work, and it will be what finally tips them into finding a mutual understanding.

There is no such thing for them, that is. Because they are blind to the thing that keeps them in this vicious cycle, and thus they'll never realize what they do to each other isn't truly love.

But they don't mind, they'll do it all over again if it means they get to try at least... And perhaps it's also because the two have started to enjoy their little dubious, exhausting routine but simply refuse to acknowledge it.

MysticCacao

Sorry to the avid shippers of these two but in my head, 100% one sided.

At the cost of doing Dark Cacao a disservice, he is 110% hellbent on "fixing" that woman... Only for her to walk him around like a dog (metaphorically... mostly).

He tries his best to get to her but it all fails. Sometimes MF is willing to entertain his charade mostly for her (internal) amusement and to study that man like a zoologist studies an animal in the wild.

She's scary, scarier than anything he's ever seen and he LOVES IT. DC doesn't say it out loud but it's definetely why he keeps trying to hit that.

I also like to think that perhaps, in a twisted sense,he thinks she could fix parts of him too, namely how much of a failure of a father he is. Despite her personality, MF is an extremely good caretaker and very loving to Cloud Haetae (although she doesn't show it) and I like to think that DC sees that and in a sense sees an alternative version of himself in MF... One where he and his son didn't have a fallout.

MF is aware of this and much like with everything else she is apathetic to it, if anything she likes leading him on so Peach Blossom can oggle the old man and make moves on him (she's a great wingman)

EternalBerry

TOXIC YURIIII 🎇🎇🎇

EternalBerry is a fun one for me bc HB kinda just... Takes what's thrown her way and shrugs it off, to the absolute dismay of ES

HB is willing to keep a queerplatonic relationship with ES but obviously, ES wants more which leads to awkward arguments and breakdowns.

HB comforts ES through those but in the end nothing gets ever truly resolved and HB doesn't feel like she's equiped to handle something like this.

Outside of her obsessiveness, posessiveness and codependance ES is also quite volatile towards anyone around HB. Not in the Yandere way but she's definetely the type of woman to go "who's this "dad" character in your contacts?" She'll go as far as to mimic aspects of people HB favors in an attempt to get to stay with her, a flip flopping that confuses our local herbo and solidifies her stance that she really just... can't handle all of ES.

ES will go on tirades about how monstrous HB is for leaving her, gaslighting her, yelling at her, minimizing her actions once things blow over, victimize herself when HB bites back, partialy because she wants HB to stay with her forever in eternal happiness but also because she enjoys the moments where she gets to feel small and vulnerable (in the freaky way).

HB tries her hardest to be patient with ES but at times it gets difficult, even with their agreed queerplatonic relationship, she's understanding and caring and will try to protect ES from other evils but unlike PV who feels he can truly change their respective beast, HB just does it because she feels like it's the right decent thing to do. She has no drive to try and change ES's mind and that's because to her their different views clash to the point of her being unable to hold a much more serious relationship.

HB likes to fool around with other friends and even invites ES as well (under the condition she behaves) but ES tends to usually be wholy uninterested in seeing other individuals with HB, the few times she does agree she tends to put up these demands and boundaries where HB focuses on her primarily.

This point is here bc I'm a big fan of HollybberxTarte TatinxPitaya DragonxRoyal Margarine LOL.

BurningCheese

My personal favorite and the one I have the most to ramble about I think

I love love love love love LOVEEE relationships where people hate each other so much they end up desiring each other carnally.

"I hate you. your deft handling of your unfortunate circumstances, your uniqueness, your ability to surpass me — all these irritate me. you're the one person I refuse to lose to" is the EMBODIMENT of how I see their dynamic.

The two are a... Special bunch.

Like HB and ES they have struck a mutual understanding but theirs has 0 good terms attached. "I'll destroy everything you love" "And I'll always bee there to stop you." basically

She wants to kick his ass, he wants to kick her ass and get his ass kicked and that's what they agree to... Usually.

In a twisted sense of irony the two eventually develop a sort of fucked up admiration for one another. BS sees how radiant and confident GC is post her awakening and it infuriates him, it angers him how much he's spurred on by her and how unaffected she is by him. he doesn't understand why it happens, is it her beauty? Her strength? He has no damn clue what about this woman allures him. He knows he loves how she's the only one that can crumble him.

His thoughts are a mess of wanting to put her in her place, crumble her like many others she has taken down and wantig to embrace her, to worship her body like the goddess she is, to taste her to feel her... To sink his teeth into her flesh and taste her blood on his lips, for her to take control and treat him like a weakling, for her to press her heel down on his neck until it gives in and damn it if the feeling isn't mutual between the two.

Out of all of them they're the most secretive about their relationship, mostly because of the nature of it but also because they feel like no one must know of what they get up to. It's the only part of their agreement they swear by mutually.

When they get time for themselves outside of their "sparring" sessions they don't enjoy the typical dates or plain vanilla power inbalance sex, they make shit weird.

Obsessed with constantly testing each other's nerves and reminding each other of just how capable they are of killing each other. GC specially loves to toy with BS and his feelings, she knows he's utterly smitten with her and that he's willing to degrade himself for her sake because he loooves it, he craves it like a famished man craves a fine meal.

And he loves the times where he's given some control and can show off how vicious he can truly be.

Their age gap is definetely part of it also, BS loves the idea of putting this young naive fool in her place and GS loves making this grumpy old man be reduced to a whimpering begging mess.

Despite the many markers of a generic power inbalance dynamic they stray as far away from it as possible though, it just isn't exciting for one of them to always be in control of the other, there's no fun in comformity it gets boring when all there is to their fun times is "small young woman get topped by big evil old man" they need their own spice.

As such they take many risks, and are often extremely reckless, often having to hide bite marks, bruises etc from their subordinates to prevent them from finding out, and if you're wondering yes they've had close calls before, many of them in fact but they're too stubborn to learn, if anything the risk makes it all the more fun for them to be like this.

They're tied to the hip yet they downright refuse to take things further with their relationship, their sparing sessions and sex is all there is to it.

HOWEVERRR, BS does secretly want GC to finish him off once and for all, end their charade at the hands of the only woman in the world strong enough to crumble him. GC is extremely against this but it hasn't stopped BS from attempting this multiple times.

if either of them get close to fataly injuring each other they'll take each other to safety and tend to their wounds immediatly. GC because she can't find it in herself to kill him and BS because he wants the only person who can crumble him to stay alive so he can be entertained for all eternity until the right time comes and he gets to crumble once and for all. It's yet another cycle these cookie weirdos get themselves into and there's not much one can do about it.

At least these two enjoy themselves... in more ways than one.

WOAAAAAAAAAAHH

ok that's it, it's currently past 3 am as I write this, enjoy my insane, honestly horny ramblings+edits and errr idk yell at me in the comments for being dumb or something idk lol

[knight-of-flowerss]

Thinking about Trucker Cregan scraping together money and taking longer shifts as a suprise to take the kids to disney because his baby girl wants to be a princess 🙂‍↕️ like you know that’s their only expensive vacation…and its still not overseas but they tried

OH YESSS 😭 DEFINITELY

Btw guys small stuff like this won't get a _x_ title unless I want to and it won’t be getting borders so I haven't like forgotten I just cba 😭

MASTERLIST

Like, he'd be staying longer for works, doing overtime, picking up extra shifts. His babies miss him but he HAS to do this for them 'cause they'd been watching more and more Disney movies and acting them out.

After a good while, he'd finally gathered enough and borrowed a trailer from Karstark, their neighbour a few miles down.

It took a while, but they finally got there in the end. Gilly was ecstatic. I mean, jumping up and down, squeezing her daddy like he was the last thing on earth to cling to.

Gilly was obsessed with the princesses, making her family sit through every parade and princess dinner.

Rickon shyly guided his mother to the Star Wars section, getting probably thousands of pictures of him standing next to Chewie, trying to impersonate him, he was truly in his element.

Ned wanted to go to the MARVEL section, to no one's surprise. Doing the Spider-Man pose and holding his hand out to Iron Man, he loved being the hero (even though he was more like the villain).

And finally, Denny was just happy to be there. He was a baby, all he could do was go on the teacups and pose with the actors.

It took Cregan a while but he was proud, proud that he could do this for his family. So when they're asleep at night, he stays up and looks at the videos they took, the drawings they draw of their time at Disney and in the corner of his front window of his truck, a picture of all six of you is snuck there.

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @cryinonthefloor553 @visenyablackwood @velaryyon

[worldly-fluster]

Imma post something, only cause my cat put her paw on my phone screen while I was reading about Sylus and she hit the little blue circle in the corner. She the love of my life ❤️

Anyway...time to write some ANGST angst.

Like... WARNING THIS MIGHT TRIGGER SOMEONE.

LADS boys when...they find your 'Diary'

--Sylus-- Part 1 of 4

(I don't have the mental energy to put all of them on one lol I'll try getting Xavier's out tonight-no promises)

Yeah um, going off some personal stuff here so it's probably gonna be a mess. MC has an emotionally abusive family. It's 'Diary' but I call mine a different name.

You have been warned btw.

Sylus-

•He knew your life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, even living in Linkon he knew there were shadows everywhere. Hell, when he met you, you would flinch at everything and hardly spoke so he knew something had happened to you at some point.

•He just didn't expect it to be...this bad.

•You both were having a normal day, you were smiling and laughing. Finally feeling safe enough around him to open up more. He was so excited to have seen your eyes light up that nothing else mattered in this moment.

•When it happened.

•Your eyes, still bright and happy, looked around the Mall you both were in when they fell on two people staring from across the walkway.

•He saw you freeze and your eyes glaze over slightly making his eyes snap to whatever was making you react like this.

•He saw an older couple, almost glaring in your direction.

•He acted fast as he moved to block yours and their view. He stood in front of you, gently lifting your chin to look at him.

•Your eyes were still glazed over with an unknown emotion to him.

•He gave you a soft worried smile and took your hand and led you away.

•But not before hearing some words from the couple as you walked.

•"I see she's whoring herself out." "I wonder if she has a kid yet?" "She'd make for a useless mother if so." "She's probably living under a bridge in a tent she can't afford while sleeping with crack heads." "I bet that's her pimp with her now."

•Sylus' eye shined red as he heard the exchange, his blood boiling in red hot anger.

•Who were these people to talk about you like that?? Especially while he was in earshot.

•The rest of the day he spent just trying, trying his hardest, to make you feel better. To bring you back to laughing and smiling again.

•But all you said was, "Can I go home please?" In the small voice you used to talk in.

•He obliged, not wanting to overwhelm or overstep.

•When he dropped you off at your apartment, he... didn't want to leave you alone.

•He didn't worry about finding the couple from earlier, he already had Mephisto on them the moment they left the Mall. He was more worried about the look in your eyes.

•And more than pissed that those people made you shut yourself away from life- from him- again. After he worked so hard to get you to feel safe.

•You barely registered his presence in your apartment before you locked yourself in your bedroom, wanting to be alone.

•He understood and sat in your living room to wait for you to feel at least a little better.

•In his waiting he saw your book shelf and decided to read something of yours.

•The Book Thief...no, The Hobbit series...no, oh what's this? A notebook?

•He opened the book in curiosity only to be met with pages and pages of words, emotions, and... things he wishes weren't true. He thought this was a diary of some sort, he felt he shouldn't be reading this but something inside him wanted answers to why you act the way you do.

•The more he read the more an uncomfortable weight started settling in his chest. How have you been through so much...

•He put it together that those people might be your Mother and Stepdad. He could feel the red hot coals of anger towards them as he read what they did.

•He flipped through the notebook to the front and saw the title you gave it. 'My Death Book'.

•...

•Before he can think about it anymore, he takes quick, long strides towards your closed bedroom door.

•He knocked on the door softly, not waiting for an answer as he opened the door slightly to peek in.

•You were laying, curled up in the bed asleep.

•He walked over to check on you, to make sure the words in that book weren't going to come true. Ever.

•He wants to make sure you have a chance to forget, and never be reminded of any of it.

•He was going to make sure that you would never have to write something like that again, that you'll never feel like that again.

•One way to make sure you never ran into them again...was to take care of the problem at the cause.

•He texted Luke and Kieran a few details, just a screenshot of Mephisto's surveillance of the older couple and an order to 'take care of it.'

•He immediately got replies, '🫡' 'On it boss!'

•They didn't even question it, used to how he works by now.

•Now with that taken care of he sat down on the end of your bed. He reached over to play with a strand of your hair, a soft, protective look in his eyes.

•He just wants to lay with you, cuddle you, shower you in his love and kisses, but you aren't that close yet. He doesn't want to overstep more than he already does.

•He just wishes that he could have been there from the beginning, to make sure you kept your adorable shine.

•No one messes with his Sweetie and gets away with it.

**IT HAS BEEN UPDATED lol just a few things here and there to pull it together and make some things make more sense. Sorry lol**

[lcvesjj]

David 'Deacon' Kay with wife reader. Their kids want to give their parents a surprise after the hard days the couple had. You decide how it goes. Fluff and sweet . Thanks!! :))

Title : Bad days, kids & surprises 

Summary : After a few too many bad days at SWAT HQ, yours and Deacon’s kids decided to throw you both a surprise. But it didn’t work out like expected, since it led to a mini disaster. 

Warnings : none I think? Just pure fluff  & comfort, might be slightly OOC :)

A/n : ahh I love this idea sm! Anon you are amazing for this!!!! I genuinely enjoyed writing this. If anyone has any ideas/requests then my ask box is open :) BTW Annie doesn’t exist in this fic, so Deacon and Y/n have kids of their own, if that makes sense. Sorry for how short this is but I genuinely don’t have the energy to write anything longer atm 😕🥲

Word count : 638

masterlist

The last few days at SWAT HQ were chaotic to say the least. With many suspects to catch and missions to complete, you and Deacon barely got to spend time with each other and with your kids.

Noticing how busy you both were, your kids decided to throw you a tiny celebration, since they recently overheard that Hicks was going to give everyone on 20 Squad a few days off to relax and spend time with their families.

It was around 7pm when the both of you finally got home. The kids were already supposed to be sound asleep, but to both of yours and Deacon’s surprise the lights in the house were still on. Deacon wrapped an arm around your shoulders, leading you towards the front door. “Let’s see what the little rascals are up to now.” He smiled while trying to find his keys. 

But before he could even open the door one of your kids - Lila. Appeared with a massive grin on her face. “C'mon we made you both something!” She exclaimed while grabbing Deacon’s and yours hands and tugging you both towards the kitchen.

Deacon shared a worried look with you. That sparkle in Lila’s eyes meant that they were probably up to no good while they were alone. The kitchen was dark until Matthew and Samuel jumped up from behind the kitchen island yelling. “SURPRISE!” While gesturing to a small cake on the table. 

The cake looked delicious and it had pink icing on it with white letters saying “WE LOVE YOU MOM & DAD!” Lila then said that she was the one who picked out the frosting colour while the boys wrote the lettering on the top. Seeing the cake and the excited looks on your kids faces, you could feel your heart melt at their sweet gesture.

Looking around the kitchen you finally saw the mess… They hadn’t had the time to clean up so the kitchen looked like a tornado went through it, with dishes and baking pans and pink frosting on the counter tops & walls. How was that possible? You didn’t truły know, but you figured it would be best if you didn’t know how. 

“Thank you, you're all so amazing and sweet.” Deacon smiled while crouching down to Lila's height and hugging her tightly, while holding out his other arm so the boys could join the hug. Samuel tugged on your T-shirt so that you’d also join the hug. You kissed all of your kids foreheads with a grateful smile. You and Deacon shared a small look over their heads that said “What did we do to deserve these amazing kids?”

Lila soon pulled away and so did Matthew. “C’mon let’s try the cake! It took us so many tries to get it right.” He said excitedly, Lila and Samuel agreed and Lila even jumped up and down excitedly. Standing up straight Deacon said “Kids, go wash your hands first and then we can have some cake!” While looking over at you with a grin. 

You truly didn’t deserve such sweet kids, they knew that work was hard recently so they decided to make you both a cake. Eying the state the kitchen was currently in you shook your head fondly with a small smile. You’d deal with the mess later but for now, you just decided to enjoy some time with your husband & kids after the recent week. 

Deacon reached over and grabbed your waist pulling you into a hug before kissing you on the lips while muttering “What did we do to deserve such sweet and amazing kids?” Pulling away you whispered “I don’t know honestly,  but we are so lucky to have three amazing angels. And I’m so lucky to have such an amazing and supportive husband.” You smiled at him, while Deacon kissed you again.

[not-xpr-art]

Curled tight as a question mark...

(01/2025)

Ok so I've been super obsessed with the AMAZING Trolley Problem AU fics by @silverview & @unreesonable (where Drew is the 22 year old Blake abuses instead of Ellie) for literally ages so it was only a matter of time before I'd end up doing some art based on it pfft...

Links to the fics below btw (also gonna ramble about this piece a bit since, as usual, I put way too much thought into it pfft)!!!

a better son / daughter

special arrangements

and all I'll do is kiss him (btw title of this piece actually taken from a line in this one which I really loved!!!)

spaces between

Highly recommend all of them btw, they're so GOOD!!!!!

~~~

Ok, so I immediately wanted to do a sorta twisted version of Klimt's 'The Kiss' but the concept kinda got away from me as I was painting it... Plus I couldn't get the vibrant gold colour to work with the general colouring of the figures so the background became like vaguely vaginal curtains that I could probably spin some kinda symbolic link to Drew's mother if I wanted to lol...

(think I made a joke on bsky that I'm in my Georgia O'Keeffe era and NO one laughed smhsmh...)

I've also been wanting to do something based on the iconic The Fallen Angel painting by Alexandre Cabanel but never really had a particular subject in mind... until NOW! (ofc the emotion is different but idk I think the reference still works... Drew's tears are more desperate, hopeless, resigned, and perhaps less angry than Lucifer's?)

I wanted the piece to feel like Drew is trapped. Trapped by his turbulent relationship with his mother and father, trapped by his status and position in life, trapped by his sexuality, trapped by the drugs... And ultimately trapped by Blake, who was supposed to offer him a paternal embrace, a comforting hand on his shoulder, to properly help guide him out of the hole he's stuck in but all he did was take advantage of his vulnerability and drag him further into that pit...

Also, kinda funny story, but I tried doing a cute romantic in9 art before I started this but my brain and hand were having none of it lol... NO adorable yaoi for you manipulative toxic yaoi ONLY !!!!!!!

Stylistically I wanted to try and make this look sorta traditionally painted, which involved me using a combo of my regular program alongside ms paint since I like the texture of some of the brushes on there tbh (plus those brushes are really great for painting body hair which I had so much fun drawing a lot of here lol)! Overlaid with a vaguely canvas-y texture lol

Oh, and also I put the diamond pattern of the jumper Drew wears in the episode on his underwear here both because it was going to get covered if I put it on his t-shirt and because it's sorta a fun way to reflect how this is an AU lol

Also have some close ups since tumblr has completely destroyed the quality of this lol:

(final close up is actually of a version of the painting without the texture overlay btw which is why the colours are slightly different, but I thought it might be interesting to share so u can see the brushwork texture a little better??)

uh anyway... that's all folks lol!

[poisonedprose]

hi hi saw you’re taking requests so i have this one that i can’t stop thinking about-

re4r!leon as best friend finding out the reader is a cam girl and then just something happens and they’ll make a video of them fucking together with a title “my best friend made me cum twice” or something lmao

btw love ur work ur amazing ughhh keep it up love you !

₊˚✧ you owe me — in which views are low so you do what you have to do

best friend!leon kennedy x camgirl!afab!reader

warnings: 1.8k words, smut, pet names (babe, sweet angel, angel), curse words, porn videos/streams, mentions of creampie, lil bit of sexual coercion, reverse cowgirl, clit play, fingering, (unprotected) p in v, praise, cream pie

masterlists

Views were down, which meant money wasn't coming in as regularly. Much to your dismay, your rent was due in a few weeks, and you barely had enough to pay for it. You couldn't really blame people for clicking off your streams, they all looked the same. The same setup, the same 3 lingeries in rotation, it was all the same. People wanted something new. You knew you had to do something, but everything was out of your budget. 

You sat at your computer, watching other cam girls to get ideas of how to spice up your streams. You clicked through countless streams until one caught your attention, 'My best friend makes me cum!'. You knew it was wrong but you had fantasized of your best friend doing the same to you. Maybe with the excuse of needing money, your dreams could finally come true. 

Clicking out of the stream and grabbing your phone, you call Leon. Butterflies in your stomach made you nervous, almost considering hanging up and pretending like you called him by accident but before you could move the phone away from your ear his groggy voice rang through the speaker. "Fuck, what is it? It's late y'know." He groaned. This probably could've waited until the morning. 

"Sorry, I just need some help..." Your voice wasn't confident, if anything it was shaky. You had guts to ask him for help with this, and for all you know it could blow up in your face and he'd never speak to you again. "Help with what?" He sounded more concerned like he was ready to help you if you were in danger. "It's nothing serious." You start, trying to work up the courage to ask him the burning hot question. "Okay, so what is it?" He asks in the silence.

You take a deep breath. "You know how I'm a camgirl? Well, it's not going so well and I'm kinda tight with money..." You say, unable to bring yourself to actually tell him what you need help with. "So, what? You need money?" He sounds genuine, and you knew he was. You knew if you asked, he'd give you as much money as you needed. He was always selfless like that.

"No, no." You sigh, you were far too prideful to take his money. You were independent, you could make your own money. Were you really independent if you were asking for his help though? "I need help with... Shit, how do I even ask this?" You mumble mostly to yourself. "Just say it." He encourages. "I need you to be in a stream with me." You say quickly like you were ripping a bandaid off. Leon was silent on the other side of the line. 

"Like... for moral support?" He chuckles nervously. You cringe at yourself, regretting ever even asking him. "You know what I mean, Leon..." You bite your lip, eagerly anticipating his next words. When silence hangs over the call you decide to say something. "I'll give you 30 percent of the earnings." You bargain. "I probably make more than that in an hour." He retorts but you can hear the smile on his face. "But, I'd be happy to help. Can't have you living on the streets now, hm?" He chuckles.

Part of you feels prideful. Proud of yourself for convincing your best friend to fuck you in front of hundreds, if not, thousands of people. "Be over in 20?" You ask sweetly, concealing your smile with a hand even though he couldn't see you through the phone. "Yeah, sure." And with that, the phone line went dead. 

You immediately start getting ready. Fixing your hair, putting deodorant on even though you did this morning, unadmittedly shaving anywhere you could, setting up the webcam you use to make such alluring streams, and picking out and putting on a pretty lingerie set. It worked so well with your skin tone, complimenting you like no other piece of clothing.

And almost on cue, Leon knocks on your door, you answer it quickly. Your heart pounded in your chest with excitement and nervousness. "I got work in the morning, let's not take all night. Not that I couldn't go all night if I wanted." He smirks, leaning against the door frame. His smirk falters and is replaced by a look of shock when he sees the oh-so-revealing outfit that's hugging your body perfectly. "Holy shit." He whispers under his breath.

"Short and sweet. Got it." You smile, gesturing for him to come inside. After a second of staring and he finally comes back to his senses he walks in, waiting for you to show him where the magic happens. You lead him to your bedroom, your webcam set up Infront of your bed, cute little stuffed animals shoved in the corner, against the wall. He sits on the bed carefully as you adjust the camera to make sure it's perfect. 

"Ready?" You ask, typing on your laptop, naming the stream. 'Letting my best friend creampie me!' "Oh, we're just going right into it? Yeah, sure." He scratches the back of his neck nervously. You give him a reassuring smile and start the stream, sitting next to him on the bed. You greet the people who initially join, recognizing a few of the names but seeing that the title has already drawn in some new customers.

Leon really doesn't know what to do, but he has a sudden wave of confidence. He puts his hands on your waist and pulls you into his lap. "Let's get started. The viewers are already getting antsy, they must be just as excited as I am~" Your voice was more seductive than when you were talking to Leon alone just moments ago. Leon knew you put on this act to appease the horny and lonely men, and he couldn't deny that he was one of them. 

With you sitting on Leon's lap, you spread your legs. Leon watched on your computer, the stream open and playing on mute. He was entranced by the way you so effortlessly turned him on just by opening your legs. You teased your viewers, rubbing your clit over your panties. You grabbed Leon's hand and placed it over your warm cunt, encouraging him to do the same. This felt like a dream come true to him, he nearly moaned just from the contact.

He rubbed his thumb gently over your clothed clit, you moaned quietly and he couldn't tell if it was just an act or if his light touch really made you feel good. "Don't be afraid to be rough." You whisper to him with a reassuring smile on your face. Oh, god, how he wanted to kiss your face. That gorgeous, perfect face.

He takes your advice, pulling your panties to the side with no warning. Your cunt fluttered when the cold breeze of the night touched your bare skin. He rubbed small circles on your clit, rougher than before. You let out a real moan this time, throwing your head back to lean on his shoulder. You held your panties to the side for him as you read the comments. 

'Fuck, so hot!' 'Wish my best friend did things like this for me.' 'Wanna see him finger that pussy!' 'Do you think he's really her best friend?' The chat was moving too fast to even read all of the comments. It hadn't been this way for months. "Chat, of course, he's really my best friend. Called him 20 minutes ago begging him to fuck me. I just had to stream it for you guys~" Leon grew hard upon hearing your words and you could feel it under your ass. It made pride swell in your chest. 

Leon runs his middle finger and ring finger through your folds before thrusting them into your weeping entrance. You whined softly. You'd imagined what it would feel like to have his fingers inside of you but nothing compared to the real thing. You bucked your hips slightly and Leon chucked. He fucked you with his fingers your cunt making lewd noises from how wet you were.

A ton of gifts started popping up on the screen. People were donating, and it was a lot more than usual. Knowing that people liked watching you get fucked by your best friend, made you like getting fucked even more. "Need your cock. Please." You pleaded to Leon, looking up at him but his eyes were trained on your swollen pussy. "Patience, babe." He taunted, a sly look on his face. He liked hearing the sound of you begging for his cock to fill you up.

You whined, not having any patience whatsoever. "Fine, fine. If you're gonna whine about it." He chuckled and pulled his fingers away from your delicious pussy, a thin string of your arousal sticking to his fingers before breaking when he reaches the waistband of his sweatpants. You only just realize that he's probably in his pajamas which, for some reason, makes this all the hotter.

He pulls his hardened cock out of his pants, resting the waistband under his balls. He strokes himself a few times and you're so eager to ride him until you’re hazed by his cock. You slip out of your panties and look at him, waiting for the okay to fuck him. He nods and brings you closer. He runs the tip of his cock along your folds before letting you sink down and take him fully. Whimpers leave your mouth, amusing everyone watching the stream.

You hadn't even realized how big he was, too focused on just getting what you've longed for, for so long. you might be hazed by his cock sooner than you originally thought. He brought his fingers down to your clit, rubbing tight circles while you got adjusted to his whole length. "Bigger than you thought, huh?" He laughed with a small shake of his head. 

You rolled your hips, making you both moan. You gave him no warning as you started riding him, letting his cock slide in and out of you so preciously. Both of your moans mixed in harmony. The chat went even more wild than it already was. You could only imagine how much money you were making. His fingers continued to work your clit, his other hand holding onto your hip like his life depended on it. You would be surprised if he didn't leave a bruise for you to find tomorrow.

"Could fuck you for hours. sweet angel. This pussy's t'die for." He groans in your ear, matching the pace of your bounces and thrusting into you perfectly. His praise makes you clench around him. A whine coming from your throat and a moan coming from his. Leon was embarrassed at how fast he was approaching his orgasm but it felt too good to resist.

His hot ropes of cum coat your warm walls. You can't even believe that Leon came inside of you. "Shit, sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to, ah~ fuck, sorry." He mumbles as he rides out his orgasm. "Do it again." You beg and he feels like he just entered heaven. "Anything you want, angel." Yeah, you definitely weren't going to have any money troubles any time soon at this rate. Maybe you can even convince Leon to do this with you full-time. 

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎┊ㅤㅤ💋 ㅤㅤ ﾟㅤㅤ ┊‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

[thetinyadventurer]

So I did some thinking last night and I finally understood something: I think I understand why Helga would’ve come back for revenge in the proposed sequel to Atlantis: The Lost Empire.

I’d be royally pissed too! First of all that betrayal from Rourke would hurt like hell! She spent 13 years with the guy, enduring life-threatening situations, overcoming obstacles and she believed he had her back! In the comic they released titled “The Secret of the Shepherd’s Journal” Milo’s grandpa expresses concern for Helga’s safety when she goes to scout out an ancient temple on her own. He warns Rourke and Helga that the place is likely guarded and heavily trapped. Rourke assures Milo’s Grandpa that she’s “been through far worse than this”. And he’s right if you look into her dossier file. To me, this shows two things. One, Rourke’s worked with Helga long enough that he knows her strengths and what she’s capable of. He knows that she’s tough as nails and is competent enough to not only carry out his orders but to succeed as well. In short HE TRUSTS HER! Two, Helga would have the same trust in Rourke in return. You don’t just go out and fulfill your C.O.’s orders without question unless you are a) absolutely loyal to them or b) trust them completely. Again, those two have been through a lot and I imagine that they’ve come through for each other time after time.

Sidebar: Now that I think on it this explains why Helga stuck with Rourke to the very end during the expedition to Atlantis. Even though she was clearly uncomfortable at some points. (Seriously just look at her expressions during the Heart of Atlantis Scene. Girly is NOT okay!) But she pushed past her own feelings to fulfill her end of the bargain because, again, SHE TRUSTS HIM! They’ve been through harder situations in the past and Rourke’s come through before so why SHOULDN’T she trust him?! Also, at that point, once they’d taken The Heart of Atlantis there was no going back. They’d taken an artifact that is sacred and vital to the Atlantean people, they committed regicide— They can’t undo their actions with a simple “sorry” so they had to commit! Plus if they gave it up at that point they would’ve been met with retribution.

Anyway! Rourke’s betrayal would have hurt so damn bad! I kinda have an idea of what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you trusted and I imagine the feeling was 10x worse for Helga. She’d be feeling anger, disbelief, confusion and a myriad of other emotions. Of course she gets her revenge when she shoots the balloon thus dooming Rourke to his fate.

HOWEVER, now that we have confirmation that she would’ve survived via Rourke’s shattered crystal remains we can infer that her suffering wouldn’t have stopped there. For one thing, her injuries would’ve been extensive and painful as hell. If Helga came back as a cyborg we can infer that the shards from Rourke didn’t heal her completely. Otherwise she’d have no need for replacement parts. So this chick, once she SOMEHOW managed to survive the intense volcanic eruption, would’ve had to crawl her way out of that place. Probably still injured and in extreme pain. I asked my husband (who has incredible pain tolerance btw) what it feels like to break a bone and he explained to me that it does more than “just knock the wind out of you”. You hear the crack and then you feel it. REALLY feel it. It’s a pain that’s so intense that it can immobilize you and put you into shock depending on the injury. So… Helga trying to move with numerous broken (maybe even shattered) bones would be the worst experience ever! And let’s not forget the damaged, possibly ruptured, organs that she’d be dealing with. I imagine that she probably would’ve spent days in utter agony and she couldn’t die because the crystal shards would’ve kept her alive.

Even worse, there’s no one coming to help her. Everyone thinks she’s dead (obviously) so she’s on her own. She’d only have her own thoughts for company and I imagine that the anger and resentment would grow with each passing moment. And who’s to say that Rourke’s own rage didn’t somehow transfer over to her via the shards and add fuel to the fire. She’d probably be blaming everyone for her predicament at that point and thus the seed of vengeance is planted.

Anyway, she makes it to the surface somehow and is probably rescued by some people. Some wounds might’ve gotten infected at the time resulting in amputations and such. And by the time she’s somewhere safe her life has changed forever. She’s lost limbs and who-knows what else, everyone thinks she’s dead. She can’t go back to Mr.Whitmore for work because of what she did (she’d probably get imprisoned) and it’s not like she could go home to her family. The world is in chaos being plunged into WWI and who knows what her family dynamic is like so… She’ll have to adapt. She’d probably obtain the cybernetic limbs and would spend a significant amount of time recovering. Next she’d gather resources and would obtain a crew. This would also take a long time… And that entire time her friends are reaping the rewards of their trip to Atlantis. They got the money she believed she was owed.

After all, SHE’D made the difficult choices! SHE was the one who was willing to get her hands dirty— To go against her conscience and leave an entire civilization to die out! She was willing to risk it all and would hope it’d be worth it— Only to get stabbed in the back and forgotten while her friends get rich! AND THEY DIDN’T EVEN LOSE ANYTHING!

So yeah, of course she’d be pissed!

Though I doubt she’d be willing to take personal responsibility for any of it. From personal experience, trauma and the emotions that come with it can really screw up your brain! Rational thought (at least for me) wasn’t exactly in the cards and I think it’d probably be the same for Helga, too. To Helga she’d be a victim in all of this and knowing her she wouldn’t take that sitting down. Going back to Atlantis and getting revenge for her would be cathartic (and less expensive than therapy). It wouldn’t take her suffering away but it would make it all worth it!

TLDR: I overanalyzed about Helga again and I made an essay. Basically, I can see why Helga would come back for revenge. I’d be pissed off too if I’d been betrayed, mortally wounded, mutilated and forgotten about, too.

Anyway! Enjoy your day people! Here’s a Helga gif!

[jeun-bug]

Brainrotting anon again (I’m avoiding my actual thoughts and reality because this is much more fun!): when I first started the game, I didn’t know that Fico was a title or something, so I thought it was like a preferred name or nickname and Kaito was just being kinda a dick about it because he wanted Romeo to stay away from him. It took like a few chapters to realize it 😅😅😅

Anywyas, so imagine the PC tweeting that. “When I first got here, I was so mentally exhausted/traumatized that I didn’t realize Fico was a title and just thought no one was using Romeo’s preferred nickname, so I made it a point to use it and be kind about it. That’s why Romeo tolerates me”

Everyone clowning on them

PC/reader: “I am an Ally first, a threat to Darkwick security second, and a human third.”

Kaito: “why is human so low?”

PC/Reader: “because my curse is rapidly taking that status from me. Now go search for missions relating to parasitic or floral anomalies as penance for forgetting that”

———

Romeo, in DMs probably: “tell anyone that I tolerate you again and I’ll put you in the cage”

PC/Reader: “will I still have my clothes?”

Romeo: “you get cold too easily and I’m not having you sneezing or coughing in a room with me.”

PC/Reader: “I love you too, Fico 💜 the forms you wanted should be waiting for you in the drop off location on your desk”

Mc: “my status as a human is actively being threatened right now i fear.”

kaito: “😰 right”

romeo instantly getting defensive over the NOTION that he could possibly tolerate the HONOR STUDENT of all people is SO fucking funny too btw, esp since MC has canonically stated, in the smau, that romeo may accidentally be one of their best friends 😭😭

side note while i’m here- IM DONE WITH FINALS!!!! i can finally work on cranking out all of these incredible ideas everyone’s been giving me. i’m so excited lolol

[velvetwyrme]

Flipping Fate! Chapter 13!! it's time for MOVIE NIGHT(?)

Hi. obligatory notes section. Here are some fun facts about this chapter. Go read the chapter first because here be (minor) spoilers.

I've been sitting on the name thing for AGES you don't even know. I've been wanting to make the "Is your name actually Orange?" Joke for SO LONG.

Stretch's nonstop talking is directly inspired by me coming out of the theatre after watching Transformers One- I could not stop talking even if I wanted to lmao.

The movie at the end (about clones) is intentionally not mentioned because you can only drop so many movie titles in one chapter. However, it's probably Multiplicity OR Lilo and Stich 2.

I CAN FINALLY WATCH THE PRINCESS BRIDE 😭😭😭 I ended up watching clips of stuff so I could at least have an idea of what I was talking about but like... FINALLY I CAN KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON.

btw next up is minigolf :]