#some edgar allan poe stories probably show up too

[theoscout]

Working title: That doesn't sound promising

After Dracula Daily is over I feel like writing a mega gothic horror crossover between a bunch of characters, mainly because I want time to plan it out but also because it's super cool. Most of them take place in a similar time frame, so far the stories I've got down are Dracula, Frankenstein, Carmilla, The strange case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, and Phantom of the Opera. So far I want the mood to be scary but also comedic because that's how it goes with improbable crossovers, but everyone remains in character and doesn't make dumb decisions like in horror movies. But they DO goof up in ways that are accurate to their characters or by sheer unluckiness.

Partially inspired because I read a post about theoretically if Jonathan Harker met Adam Frankenstein, he would just believe that Adam's a guy with a genetic disorder and daddy issues and come pretty close to being unphased just because of how often he seemingly ignores red flags in people, and I want to see how far I can stretch this. My personal headcanon is that Jonathan's a pure hearted soul who wants to trust everyone and think the best of them, but is also prone to going into denial when he's frightened and puts off taking action until he's genuinely afraid. The reason why he comes across as being boring (to some people) is that he doesn't want to write about the flaws of others in his diary unless he already dislikes them, so he omits information.

The only thing I can think of at the moment to begin the story is that Jonathan Harker goes to Paris to do more buisness, but this time he carries a mirror with him to check for vampires and as his AMAZING luck would have it, his new client is another vampire probably related to Carmilla (and I'm guessing specifically targeting him after what happened to Dracula). He does the rational thing and flees, jumps down a sewer to escape the vampire, where he wanders for a while before running into Erik and then proves that he's learned nothing aside from checking for a reflection, because even after Erik shows a bunch of red flags Jonathan tries to befriend him anyway and tells him all about vampires regardless of whether or not Erik might use this information for bad purposes.

Jonathan asks why Erik is sensitive about his mask and without waiting for an answer theorises aloud that Erik got stung on the face with the leaf of a Gympie Gympie and the mask is to stop him from external stuff such as wind or water triggering the nerve damage involved, and Erik just goes with his explanation because of course.

The first part of the story is probably Jonathan sitting down to write a very long note calling his Scooby Gang tm back together because they've got a new case on their hands.

Any ideas? Feel free to reblog or comment!

[milla984]

It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions. 

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.” 

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back. 

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant. 

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack. 

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome. 

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words. 

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume. 

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble. 

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment. 

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you. 

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper. 

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task. 

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted. 

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it. 

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close. 

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom. 

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin. 

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive. 

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before. 

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication. 

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots. 

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him. 

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off. 

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”  

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement. 

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!” 

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…” 

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded. 

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected. 

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor. 

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls. 

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

[freakoont]

Before the Summer Ends...

Featured content: Bungo Stray Dogs Characters: Atsushi Nakajima, Osamu Dazai, Ranpo Edogawa, Akiko Yosano, Edgar Allan Poe GN reader

Headcanons of what YOU and your favorite character are doing before the Summer ends...

Atsushi Nakajima

You guys probably did some lively outdoor activities

This can include taking your pet cat weretiger on a walk🥺

I honestly can't help but see you guys going fishing at some point🤔

you guys created a kite together and definitely tried flying! But it failed the first time :(

Don't like going outside? That's okay, you guys would also stay inside and tried making s'mores together!

If it was him deciding the date during the summer, he probably went on Google and looked at those "75 Fun things to do over the Summer" pages

Kyoka definitely joined you guys sometimes, like when y'all are taking walks haha..

Imagine you and Atsushi were together and he suddenly got the confidence to kiss you and then Kyoka shows up💀 SHE WASN'T TRYING TO RUIN IT

Atsushi is the father, you are the mother/second father, and Kyoka is your child

Osamu Dazai

He's definitely the type to wake you up at 4 in the morning to randomly tell you that y'all are going on a road trip💀

NO FURTHER EXPLANATION JUST PACK AND LEAVE

he took you guys to a hill to have a nice picnic and see the scenery

But soon tried to have a double suicide with you there... That bastard😒

OML HE WOULD DEFINITELY TAKE YOU TO A GIANT MUSIC FESTIVAL

I think he'd also take you to explore Yokohama a little more. He definitely knows the city well so he'd know the right places to take you

After all the crazy stuff, he's going to just stay on the couch and not move whether you like it or not. I mean, you can cuddle him of course. He's just too tired to move

Watch a movie/Reading a book/Writing an article/doing whatever while he's laying his head on your lap PLAY WITH HIS FLUFFY HAIR

Oh, let's not forget you guys are doing SUMMER EDITION pranks on Kunikida.

Messing with his schedule SUMMER EDITION.

Ranpo Edogawa

He doesn't want to go anywhere >:(

It took a lot of convincing but you guys went to the beach together

But he's just going to sit under the umbrella eating a Popsicle

OR HES BUILDING A SANDCASTLE

WATER GUN FIGHT.

Watching a movie while he's eating all the snacks and sharing like 10% of it

You guys are watching classic Disney movies. like Nemo, Toy Story, Rapunzel, etc.

Fun board game tournaments he always won in the logic and strategy ones😭

OMG YOU GUYS WENT TO THE AQUARIUM WITH POE😳 threesome when?

If you try taking photos together during the Summer he'll either tell you to hurry up or whine and refuse because he thinks it's boring and a waste of time😒 but he'll do it in the end just for you

Akiko Yosano

GOING SHOPPING TOGETHER❤️

SUMMER FASHION MONTAGE.

Taking walks near the beach while holding hands

You guys went to an art museum together and bought some souvenirs for eachother

Making a summer playlist of eachother

Going on a picnic while watching the sunset/sunrise

You guys tried making homemade ice cream.... It was a flop😭

WINE TASTING EVENT BETWEEN YOU TWO

let's be for real.... Y'all went styling to a casino and had fun

Edgar Allan Poe + Karl

The most obvious would be you two cuddling with maybe Karl joining it took a lot of convincing for Poe to do it.

PLAY WITH HIS FLUFFY HAIR. I REPEAT. PLAY WITH THE FLUFFY HAIR. it makes him feel all warm inside🤭

Since he came from America and doesn't know a lot about Yokohama, you're his free tour guide (or payment is just kisses and cuddles)

He probably doesn't want to do top much outside honestly

Making a romantic dinner together🥺

He's reading you his poetry🙏😳

You guys tried doing dancing together while some music played in the background

He went to grab something from the groceries real quick so you and Karl just partied and did father/mother son activities together in under like 15 minutes

He DEFINITELY had to ask Ranpo for help on what to do. Ranpo is like "idk do whatever ig" WHICH DID NOT HELP😭

[oraclekleo]

Kleo + Anakin Skywalker / Darth Vader - Storyteller Tarot Reading

Hello and welcome to my another experiment trying to find out what’s actually possible with tarot and oracle cards.

This time I have asked myself, what if I became a part of my favourite story and could actually meet my favourite fictional characters? What role would I play in the story? How would the original story change if I were a part of it? What kind of relationship would I have with my favourite fictional character? And how would our story end?

This type of tarot reading is similar to the hypothetical scenario of I, Villain tarot readings I did recently, only it simply portrays a full story and interactions with already existing fictional characters. Obviously I wouldn’t be able to be my true self in the story, I would have to be a fictional character, too, to be able to interact with other fictional characters, so this reading might only include some of my real life traits and some of my qualities have to completely change for the sake of the story.

You would probably think, I will go for Mr. Darcy first, but nope! My Mr. Darcy was Anakin Skywalker / Darth Vader from the Star Wars universe and so I’m here today to show you how my test round went when I asked my cards what it would look like if I were a part of Anakin’s / Vader’s story.

Let me know what you think! Let me know whether you want to become my next test subject!

P.S. Yes, I know I have a mile long to-do request list but you have to understand that my mind never stops and never rests and if I don’t let at least some ideas out, my head will explode. But don’t worry. I work on the requests, too.

P.P.S. Yes, I'm aware I can't do edits. Shut up! 😂

Kleo + Anakin Skywalker / Darth Vader

What would be our story about?

Cards: Alchemist (Archetype Cards), Knight of Swords, Page of Pentacles, Ace of Cups (Dark Wood Tarot), 4 of Swords, Knight of Pentacles, 5 of Wands (Edgar Allan Poe Tarot)

It looks like our story wouldn’t lack some drama. It’s possible that I would clash with Anakin or Darth Vader on intellectual or wit bases. We might struggle to find a common ground, him being the ego driven and fast thinking and acting villain using all his knowledge to assert his dominance and gain more and more power. While I would be the curious one trying to dig through all the smoke and steel and find the real man, probably made of smoky grey steel, underneath. It’s very likely for me to find myself imprisoned and in danger at one point. Anakin / Vader could really consider having me executed in the story, thus those swords hanging over the motionless body. As we would be more or less rivals, but more on the personal level than professional one, arguing and fighting, he might be tempted to just remove me from the picture. On the other hand, the ace of cups suggests I would have something highly desired by him, a holy grail he wants and obsesses about. I can’t really be sure what this ultimate treasure could be - it could be something tangible as a real treasure or something more philosophical as a redemption for his soul through an actual bond with someone. It’s obvious I can see more than he can see, I can read the circumstances with a certain wisdom he’s lacking and might get into trouble due to his short sightedness. 

What relationship would we have?

Cards: Prince (Archetype Cards), 7 of Swords, XVI The Tower, 5 of Swords (Erotic Fantasy Tarot), 10 of Cups (The Slavic Legends Tarot), Mother / Queen of Pentacles, III The Empress (The Wild Unknown Tarot)

Lol! Prince card right from the bet! Anyway! It looks like he would try to hide his romantic feelings slowly building up through the quarrels. You see the prince figure is hiding the flowers behind their back denoting a secret romance, something that’s suppressed. Because this is supposed to describe the relationship from my perspective, it’s possible I’m unaware of his feelings for a long time in the story (especially when he wants to kill me) and I’m trying to get upper hand over him, sneak away, battle him and gain some freedom (the ankle shackles are broken on the 7 of Swords). There’s obviously a breaking point, a plot twist, probably when I think he died and I lost him forever when I realise the true feelings which are far from animosity. The Empress card shows a white tree suddenly blossoming red in the middle of the night, something beautiful emerging from darkness and growing into abundance. Both the Empress and Queen of Pentacles cards suggest connection with nature and healing. It’s possible that the plot twist includes me bringing Anakin / Vader back from death, healing him with my power and ultimately falling in mutual love as depicted in the 10 of Cups (which also show a lot of nature).

What would be the ending of our story?

Cards: Pioneer (Archetype Cards), 7 of Wands, 4 of Shields / Pentacles, 10 of Shields / Pentacles (The Runic Tarot), X The Wheel of Fortune, Page of Swords, 4 of Wands (Tarot of Tales)

Seriously, what are the chances of getting cards which show the higher ground (7 of Wands), flames (4 of Shields) and lava similar to the scene from Star Wars III when Anakin is defeated by Obi-Wan and reduced to like a half of a man, in a tarot reading that’s connected to him? Lol! Okay! Let’s rewrite the Star Wars III ending in this reading. In this story Anakin has me by his side which turns the wheel of fortune to his favour. Obviously. I’m basically a living lucky charm. Anakin’s and mine story ends with us defeating any opposition by working towards goals together, riding the lucky wave and avoiding lava by stepping on the stones and progressing quickly. As the Page of Swords show, together we are more than just a sum of our traits, we are bigger together. Together we can face the thunderstorm and instead of being hit by lightning, utilise its power for our benefit. The end of the story seems to be an open one, though. Actually an opening for more adventures to come.

Okay! This is it.

Thanks for reading this far. Don't be shy to hit my inbox anytime. 😊

Kleo 🦄

[ioannemos]

Do you know where your children are?

A scar does not form on the dying. A scar means I survived. Chris Cleave

day five: scars make us who we are

rating: ??? there's some cursing but idk how british cursing works, could be pg-13? i'm so sorry

words: 900

───────────────────────────

People walking past the room never quite fades into background noise, so when Lucy comes in with deliberate steps she sounds like an elephant. “Hey George, it’s me.”

He turns his head and smiles. “Hi, Luce.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Bored.” He beckons her closer. “How does it look?”

“It’s all under bandages.”

He waits in vain. “What, is that all you’ve got? Bloody hell, Luce, Lockwood would’ve kept going like an Edgar Allan Poe story. Disgusting but fascinating, you know.”

“Well, he’s not here.” Now she sounds annoyed too. “He said he had to prep some type ones for him and me while you’re laid up, to ‘keep in shape.’” He can hear her air quotes. “I told him to sod off.” A chair scrapes across the floor and she drops into it with a huff. “I hate hospitals,” she mutters. “I’d hate to be stuck here with nothing to do. Can’t even watch telly, I’d assume.”

“Nah, too confusing. There was a talk show on earlier, but the subject matter was inane. Celebrity marriage bollocks.” He snorts. “Lockwood would’ve had it on and shushed you for interrupting.”

“Probably. I’d’ve shushed him right back.” She sighs. “You… sound all right,” she ventures after a moment.

“Like I said, I’m just bored. Well, and annoyed, because I can’t sleep: it’s noisy, the nurses keep checking on me, and I’ve no bloody idea what time it is. What time is it, anyway?”

“About two. In the afternoon.”

“Thanks for clarifying.”

“Are you not in pain then?”

He half-shrugs. “Not much. The doctor was surprised too. But my mum said I’ve always been like that. She’s visiting tomorrow,” he adds. “Better make sure Lockwood stays away or she’ll come for him.”

“Maybe she should.”

He shakes his head as firmly as he dares. “Oh, no. You don’t know my mum. She’ll eviscerate him in seconds and leave him to bleed. They’ve only met twice for a few minutes, but she hates him and he hasn’t figured it out yet.”

“Why’s she hate him?” Lucy demands, switching sides so fast it should make her dizzy.

He snorts. “Why not! She’s got a list. He’s posh, arrogant, reckless, a charmer… She thinks he wears suits to convince people that he knows what he’s doing and that he’s exploiting me and that’s why I only come home on holidays.” He sighs. “I tried to explain once that really, I’m exploiting him back, but she didn’t think it was very funny.”

Lucy’s silence feels oddly heavy. “My mum would be proud of me if I said that,” she says finally, voice flat. “I mean, if it was true. She’d be furious if she knew what I could do and that I wasn’t doing anything about it.”

“You can’t say the Bone-” George checks himself. “You can’t say that wasn’t anything.”

“Unless I’m rich as a queen, it doesn’t matter,” Lucy says bitterly. “‘Get’cher money’s worth. Milk it. Squeeze it dry.’ She was always saying things like that. If she could’ve wrung blood from stones she would’ve made the streets run red.”

“Blimey.” He thinks back. “Is that why ‘asset’ made you so upset? I thought you were going to kick him between the legs.”

“Yeah.” She laughs mirthlessly. “I did think about it. But we talked it out. He wants the spotlight so badly he couldn’t think why someone else wouldn’t.”

“Oh god, this hasn’t made the news, has it? If my mum thinks he put me in danger for the spotlight she’ll tear him to pieces.”

“I don’t think so. I mean, no offense George, but it was just an accident, not a visitor. ‘A local psychical investigator fell down a hill and broke a bone at the bottom; making matters worse, a phosphorus grenade fell off his belt and activated.’ The nurse said rest in darkness would be enough for your eyes to recover. Something about the optic nerve…”

George waves it away. “I’m not worried about that. Well, not as such. My mum’s going to want to take me home.”

“And you don’t want to go?”

He snorts. “Not hardly! It’ll be nothing but pointed comments like, Lockwood’s house is a bad place to recover with all those stairs. Isn’t that not at all related to why I’m laid up in the first place?”

“I thought she was already convinced that you wouldn’t give it up.”

He shakes his head. “She’s mostly given up but I just know she won’t be able to keep quiet if I’m a captive audience. I’m clever enough and still young enough to go back to school if I wanted, so on, so forth.”

Lucy’s quiet for another moment. “That sounds sweet, actually. Even if it’s in an annoying way. She cares about your safety, and, well, I assume your siblings are happy being engineers?”

George considers this for a minute, struggling to interpret her actions as sweet instead of smothering, stubborn, and senseless. “I suppose,” he allows grudgingly.

“You should be nicer to her, George. You’ve only got the one mum.” There’s no suggestion of guilt in her tone, only a sort of wistfulness.

Chills creep up his arms as he remembers the vault and her open declaration there. I left my family without looking back. Lockwood’s lost all of his. He reaches in her direction, hoping she doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t. She just takes his hand.

───────────────────────────

@lco-angst-week

no lockwood this time! maybe tomorrow's will just be lockwood and george to keep things fair...

this one also ended up being about mothers but came a lot easier bc neither of theirs are dead. hooray?

[brightbeautifulthings]

Bradbury Stories: 100 of His Most Celebrated Tales by Ray Bradbury

"'So tell this rosary in the dark before dawn, and the rosary is this: you will live forever. You are immortal.'"

Year Read: 2022

Rating: 4/5

Thoughts: Ray Bradbury has been one of my favorite authors since I was assigned to read Dandelion Wine in high school, and I've long wanted to tackle this collection. I struggle with story collections though (investing myself in new worlds and characters every five pages is a demand), so I gave myself the year to read it. There was still some struggling, but that's not the worst thing. Like all collections, some of the stories are hit and miss even if you happen to adore the writing style. Most of my favorites I had already read before, and there were only a couple others I felt in my soul. Altogether, there were 20/100 of stories I'd like to reread v. ones I probably wouldn't, but that seems a little higher than a lot of collections.

My absolute favorite stories were "The Kilimanjaro Device," "The Swan," and "April 2005: Usher II," all of which I'd read multiple times before. The first two are breathtakingly beautiful and sad as they wrangle with "right" deaths and love that comes in all forms regardless of timing. I always cry through them, but there's a kind of rightness in the sadness that only Bradbury can manage. "Usher II" is a delightfully ironic revenge story for book and horror lovers, and I enjoy all the fun cameos of Edgar Allan Poe stories. Some other favorites were "No News, or What Killed the Dog?" (a story that has comforted me in the past when I lost my own beloved pets), "The Finnegan" (a delightfully well-plotted horror story), and "The Pedestrian" (Bradbury's dystopia at its best). In general, I tended to love the horror stories, the small town Dandelion Wine-style stories, and the ones that bring a kind of rightness to otherwise sad life events. (For a more complete list, see under the cut.)

There were plenty more I had to drag myself through though. Occasionally, Bradbury gets fixed on a rather silly concept that doesn't get less silly by digging deeper into it. I found most of the stories that take place in Ireland difficult to get through too. Although there's a palpable sense of place and culture in them, the plots typically end up being a bit ridiculous. There's also a theme of space and Mars-related stories that I enjoyed more but also, mostly, weren't my favorites (sci-fi still isn't really my genre). Another theme is the old Hollywood stories, which are often fun and, again, give an excellent sense of time and place.

Collections like this show a great array of Bradbury's range, interests, and common themes, things that recur over and over again throughout his work. (I did notice a couple well-loved favorites that were missing, such as "There Will Come Soft Rains," "All Summer in a Day," and "A Sound of Thunder.") I highly doubt all the stories would appeal to everyone, but the nice thing about it is that there's likely something in here for everyone. While I found it satisfying to finish, I don't really recommend reading it cover to cover like I did. Instead, I found it more fun to do as I'd been doing when I was younger and choose titles that sounded interesting to me at random, and to skip anything that doesn't catch my interest on the first page. I'm glad I read them all, but I'll probably just return to my favorites in the future.

Favorites (in order they appear in the book) "The Whole Town's Sleeping" "The Rocket" "Lafayette, Farewell" "No News, or What Killed the Dog?" "Colonel Stonesteel's Genuine Home-made Truly Egyptian Mummy" "The Witch Door" "The Watchers" "The Sound of Summer Running" "The Finnegan" "On the Orient, North" "The Kilimanjaro Device" "The Pedestrian" "The Swan" "April 2005: Usher II" "A Far-away Guitar" "Bright Phoenix" "April 2026: The Long Years" "Death and the Maiden" "Last Rites" "All on a Summer's Night"

[spaceorphanssecondbreakfastclub]

SO's Bookclub : The Kidnapping of Christina Lattimore

Title: The Kidnapping of Christina Lattimore Author: Joan Lowery Nixon Genre: YA Mystery

Goodreads Summary: She spots the masked man in the dark, lonely parking lot ‒ but too late. Grabbed and drugged, Christina is kidnapped and held for ransom. When her family pays, she thinks her ordeal is over. But then she realizes that her family thinks she planned the kidnapping! How will Christina prove her innocence?

Review:

So... I'm guessing you've never heard of Joan Lowery Nixon? She was a YA writer most prominently in the 70s and 80s -- and one of the few mystery writers for YA back when I was picking these books up in the early-to-mid 90s. I remember when these thriller-ish books were the rage, and I found these books more interesting than the really terrible RL Stine Fear Street books or the full of questionable content that were authors like Lois Duncan.

I recently dusted off my collection and thought it might be interesting to read through then since I haven't picked one of these things up in probably over twenty years. Look - it only took me an hour and a half to read, so it wasn't like it was a taxing venture.

Was this Edgar Allan Poe Award Winning book any good? No, not really.

For context, I should state that it was written in 1979 -- and the world was a different place over forty years ago. I do think that the people in this world are particularly dumb all the way around, but I think it has more credibility in the late 1970s.

The story focuses around Christina Lattimore -- a 16yo rich girl living in Houston. On the one hand - she lives in this intolerant uber-Christina household where she can't go on a trip to France because they're studying the influence of Catholicism and where the mother is almost like some sort of weird, Stepford Wife. On the other - Christina's characterization is all over the place -- one minute she's freaking out, the other minute she's fine. She's definitely got that whiny teenager mentality going on -- but there's zero nuance to her, and it all feels a bit unjointed.

Christina is kidnapped -- and this is the part I remember as kid. There's something frightening about being captured and not being able to escape. Now - I think this whole book has an interesting premise in general, but I think with better writing, this could have been an even more unsettling thriller. There's something about it that reminds me of all those stories we've all heard about this time period and young women getting locked up for whatever ungodly reason. The book doesn't dive too deeply into the kidnapping portion, which feels like a missed opportunity now.

The second half of the book deals with Christina being blamed for the kidnapping, and her trying to prove she's innocent. Now. Okay. This is where I really just can't. Nearly all of the adults in this book are dumb. Just. So dumb. No one believes Christina -- why? Uh... cause there's no evidence? It couldn't be because her kidnappers forced her to say and do things to make it appear that way. Also - the ransom money was split in half. I mean -- it blows my mind that no one would take this child's side -- with the exception of a college student (who randomly shows up half way through the book) who more or less is exploiting the situation. The fact that Christina's family doubts her story is just kind of crazy to me.

The mystery of who the third person involved and set it all up gets played out - but I don't think it's that much of a reveal. And the book seems to preoccupied with Christina dealing with her feelings than really solving the mystery.

Also - I should note that the book is both overwritten and underwritten. There's almost too much detail at times making the book feel sluggish at times. At the same time - the book kind of rushes through all of its plot points -- as there's just not a lot of plot to do much with.

Overall - it's about what you'd expect from an average YA book from the late-70s. I can't really recommend it -- unless you're wanting to know what books were like during this time period. And - it doesn't have enough outlandishly bad content making it worth reading for entertainment's sake. I remembered enough that it really wasn't one of my favorites back when I was 12-ish and reading these. And now I remember why.

Rating : 2.5 Stars

[n0stalgicv0id]

Hello Angel ! I’m sorry it took so long for me to reply, I just woke up actually 💔🍓 !

I’m not studying German no, I’m studying English actually ! That’s really sweet how curious you are about me, I’m the same towards you really since I’ve rarely heard of someone who was into literature, especially such specific types in the same way I was- It’s refreshing ! And it makes for good conversation!

I’m happy you find comfort in Otello. It’s truly particular but a undeniable masterpiece- What is the book about ? Tell me everything 🍓 A dear friend of mine loves Moomins so I know what it is ! It looks extremely cozy, I should give it a watch / read !

Gothic literature is amazing, one of my favorite genres probably. My favorite book happens to be Wuthering Heights actually, I don’t know if you’ve read it ? 🍓

Don’t apologize for the pics really, I’m already grateful you took the time to show them to me, they’re perfect ! Do you happen to study music ? Or have any plan in doing so ? Please do tell me, if you want to of course !

Mmmh as French artists I listen to I would recommend "Trop beau" by Lomepal and "Je suis Malade" by Lara Fabian, two of my favorite songs 🫶 Do recommend me some music as well, I’m not too well versed into the emo genre haha !

Don’t worry, I was sleeping myself and I just opened my eyes.

When I was younger I didn’t appreciate literature, I started getting more into it after seeing and reading Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. At the time there was this girl in my class who was extremely smart, she was deeply into pink floyd and queen. I clearly remember how hungry she was for black and white movies, her passion towards science and I liked to listen to her. But clearly that at some point the madness won over her. She changed school and in general people misunderstood her, you know how vicious children can be. After that event I decided to improve myself and start reading more. I don’t have a certain reason but maybe to some extent she inspired me to improve.

The book it’s mostly a summary of the life of these two women who live together, it talks about their daily life in Finland. Both of them are eccentric, one is an artist who has tons of ideas/hobbies but never finish anything. And the other one is deeply into movies. All the chapters tell a different story and I found it extremely curious and refreshing, even though I prefer other genres but I like reading all kinds of books.

Of course I know Wuthering heights! I love Emily Brontë, especially her poetry. I always have with me a tiny book with her poems when I need to refresh my mind when I’m in the midst of creating. But my eternal appreciation for Oscar Wilde and Edgar Allan Poe is greater than anything else.

I study music to some extent. I have a vocal coach and I’m taking piano classes. Actually with maestro I was referring to my mother’s fiancé. He’s a well affirmed lyrical singer and I enjoy to talk to him when I feel troubled. As we are both artists in our own way we understand each other. I have a lot of questions and I think he’ll resolve all my current concerns. After I finish my current studies I want to try to enroll in a music conservatory. Maybe I’ll become like the Phantom of the Opera and start living under a theater - obviously a joke, I’m just having fun.

Thanks for your recommendations, I’ll let you know when I listen to them! <3

[jamieroxxartist]

'Some Subconscious Déjà vu mixed with Edgar Allen Poe Cerebal Seepage. And my dream just got weirder and worse.'

So as some of you guys may know I have a Biphasic Sleep Pattern (meaning I sleep some at night and some in the daytime) I have done this for a few years. It is what works best for me. Mainly it allows me to be up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed pretty early, which is typically when I am most creative etc.

Yesterday this had some strange consequences.

Over the last few days, my wife Dani has been watching this Netflix Series called Fall of the House of Usher. I thought it was a remake of the 1960 Vincent Price movie. It was not. But rather an Edgar Allan Poe inspired mini series set in contemporary times.

My wife loved it and was going on about it, I tried to give one of the chapters a watch with her, but that turned out to be a little too much for me. I don't want to spoil anything for anyone who hasn't seen it. But let's just say I think I was not a fan of a particular Rave / Club. Geeze! Anyhow.

So it's my wife's thing, and that's not a big deal. Something she has been watching when I'm asleep or in the studio or something. Now I am not a EAP nut, but I have probably read all of his work at one time or another. So whenever I would walk through the room the past couple of days I would catch a name, a bit of poetry or some reference (and there is a lot in this Mini-Series) and I would automatically in my head run a Poe program and be like Oh, 'The Gold Bug etc etc. (Also I thought that the character Verna anagram scramble from Raven was a pretty easy one. But the whole show seems to have stuff like that) This has been going on all week long.

So yesterday I go to sleep my couple of afternoon / evening hours and I am in our bed and can hear the living room TV and her show as I drift off.

And ole' Edgar would have loved it, because Whoa! Strange dreams were afoot. Now nothing graphic, gross, scary or Easy like that. No much more subtle horror and dread, disturbingly very Edgar Allan Poe'esk. Of course, tailored just for me. Some Subconscious Déjà vu mixed with Edgar Allen Poe Cerebal Seepage.

I'm in this dream, somewhat Lucid. I mean in the dream I'm kind of aware it's a dream. But I'm not directly controlling anything, just aware. AND I guess in my head the Poe Pattern recognition sub-program is still running because every so often, very subtly Poe stuff showing up. And I'm thinking (like in my dream, thoughts like Fortunato... that's one of the guys in "The Cask of Amontillado" etc etc... then the waves of Déjà vu start coming onto the beach.

People who in real life have passed away turn up here and there and conversations are had with them. But weird conversations, like I'm talking to this one person and a leaf-bare tree over to the side of us catches some wind and limbs start shaking, and the person I'm talking to (in the dream) is looking at me in the face, as you do when talking to someone, but her right eye catches the tree limb movement and her right eye moves over toward it... but her left eye does not! And that is disturbing to me. And then there's a door and party full of dream ghosts of people I have known here and there and a woman shows up in a black dress who I don't remember knowing and she suddenly starts taking her dress off.

And I'm lucidly aware to think to myself, 'Oh it's going to turn into one of those dreams... I didn't see it coming, but ok.'

No I was in a EAP-inspired dream, it was not ok. Not at all. Painful-looking throbbing and slightly pulsing Frankenstein (his creature, yes I know) scars are all over her naked torso, that matched mine (long story I had some medical stuff about a decade ago, that I am still pretty sensitive about for anyone to see. I won't get too into it, but a lot of scars.) Anyhow the dream just got weirder and worse.

I finally woke up! Thank God. It was getting pretty bad. Have you ever have one of those dreams that is hard to shake off afterward? Yeah, this was one of those. In true Poe fashion, I didn't want to go to sleep last night, for fear that the dream projector would fire up right where I left off or something.

And also in Poe-fashion. It did not. I didn't dream about anything, at least that I can remember.

But I'm still thinking about the dream. It's residue still is there. So I spent like ½ and hour writing down ideas and sketches for Paintings. I mean it's good fuel and all. But man.

So if Edgar Allan Poe is your particular jam, well you might want to check out the Fall of the House of Usher series on Netflix. My Wife Dani Loved it!

[antisatiric]

send SWOONED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were infatuated with someone !

"He's not into you like that."

The sound of Zelazny's voice doesn't even cause Twain to move, head in his arms as he barely peeks over them to the nearest rows of bookshelves, between which Edgar Allan Poe is presumably gathering inspiration for his novels. Twain has helped him with that before---or tried, anyway, because the two of them have very different preferred genres and general ideas of what constitutes a satisfying story and cast of characters.

It was fun, though. As condescending as Poe had sounded then, the explanations were something Twain had cherished. A part of him had thought it was envy of Poe's ability to connect with the stories he was creating---after all, he was making more than he understood by writing in a world like this, and Twain hadn't ever written anything original.

And some of it was just plain attraction.

"I don't mind bein' the other guy to his detective in Japan," Twain says, a contented smile stretching across his lips. He hears Zelazny shift slightly, but doesn't turn to look at the expression on his face. If it were anyone else, they'd probably be a little worried, but Zelazny's never really the type to show concern. Probably, if he looked, he'd see exasperation. "Don't gimme that look. It'd be fun."

Zelazny drums his fingers once on the table, a silent series of taps that Twain can barely hear. "I didn't take you for a homewrecker."

"I'd have gotten there first. That makes me a cuck."

Twain relishes in the startled cough that comes from Zelazny, smile growing wider. The noise makes Poe look over in their direction, too---Twain lifts one hand at the wrist to wave at him. He waves back, then continues to sort through the books, looking for whatever he's looking for. Twain buries his face in his arms, no longer looking at him.

"Just because he's nice to you---"

"That's not it," Twain insists, cutting Zelazny off. "I mean, he's barely nice to me. But he talks to me an' gives me attention, and he helped me with my ability."

"Just because he gives you attention doesn't mean you should be obsessing over his every move," Zelazny reprimands. "I don't know why you think you stand a chance at being more important to him than his novels."

Twain doesn't know how to explain to Zelazny that there's nothing he wants less than to be more important to Poe than his novels, or than his detective in Japan. He doesn't know how to explain that the unattainability of Poe's complete attention is the best part about having feelings for him. So he just says, "I'm special like that. I could do it."

In the silence that follows, he takes a second to imagine it more, eyes slipping closed from where they had been fixed on the dark wood of the table. He imagines a life together, where there's always something more for Poe to do but he's always around anyway. Where there's intimacy without stakes, the constant assurance of very little real connection over anything, but presence nonetheless.

He's blushing. "Your ears are red," Zelazny says.

"Shut up," Twain replies.

scenarios. / accepting.

[yenkat101]

Bsd Edgar Allan Poe x reader // Happy birthday Poe 🥳🎂

It is Poe's birthday and you want to celebrate it 🥳🥂 happy birthday Poe!

General: fluff and a tiny bit of comfort

Text type: Story book

Warning: a little bit of low self-esteem

Master list

These images are not mine credits go to the owner IMAGE 1 IMAGE 2 IMAGE 3 IMAGE 4 IMAGE 5 IMAGE 6 IMAGE 7

It was cold and frosty morning, It was 19th of January. Your lovers birthday, You were planning this day for a long time. You love your partner immensely. What better way to show your love by being obsess with celebrating the day they gave you the most important and most priceless thing in the world. You still felt like you didn't deserve him, but, you still gave him your love unconditionally. It was currently 5am but you needed to prepare his special day. The only warms came from a big emerald green blanket that covered you and your tall dark voilet haired boyfriend and his pet raccoon Karl not too far sleeping. Your boyfriend Poe was cuddled beside you. He's face was was a few inches away, he had calm closed eyes as he breathes softly as he sleeps next to you. He's long bangs covered the exhausted novel writer's eyes as he let's out warm breaths silently hitting your bear cheek as comfortable heat comes your way. You moved gently his hair revealing his face, he had calm relaxing features with many bags under his eyes from staying up late writing novels. You kissed he's forehead lightly before you left the bed cautiously not wanted. Suddenly, you heard a noise. It was Karl, Poe's pet raccoon that loved him and you. You pick up Karl before he could make any attempt to wake your lover heading to the washroom closing the door behind you. Karl looked directly at you as if he was asking an explanation for your behavior.

You: "Hey, Karl. Today is Poe birthday and I want to surprise him... So... shhh~ don't tell him okay? "

Karl climbed onto your shoulder like how would he do when he wanted to go somewhere with Poe.

You: "You wanna help?"

Karl responded with a happy tone that you took as a yes.

You: "Okay, let's go".

You got ready to go with Karl by your side. It was 6 am when you left because you were rushing as well as being the most quietest as you can. You left a note on the bedroom door, so when he left to go look for you assuming you were in the kitchen he would find the bedroom door closed with a big bright yellow note to the point he wouldn't miss it saying (I need to get some stuff since were running low on food, Karl went with me. We'll be back at noon -Love Y/N). Operation Birthday shopping for Poe! :D, you had 6h hours to complete everything, of course you convinced Ranpo Edogawa to help you since the two of them got along spendedly while having a (friendly)rivalry and he was probably the only other person that he spoke to instead of you. We all know Poe is shy ☺️. So he agreed to have s reason to escape work and aswell being a good friend 👍😊. You and Ranpo decided to rearrange that he would go shopping with you for a little bit then he would take Poe out to distract him while you decorticate and prepare the space. Ranpo tilt his head down lefting he's glasses up a little while opening his piercing green eye showing determination yo play his part right.

Going shopping with Ranpo and Karl was interesting. It seems Karl knows exactly what to do while Ranpo whines but the long trip walking. Ranpo was like a child there, you had to hold his hands for a good while to make sure he didn't run off. If Ranpo tried anything dirty, you wouldn't hesitate to smack him. There was a couple of people who wanted to pet Karl, he wasn't amused by the idea. The only way they could touch Karl was if he was on your lap, afterward he would force you to give him atleast two times the affection strangers offered him. Out of nervousness you let Ranpo chose the shop's at the moment the both of you are sitting deciding which you should go to frist.

You: "Ranpo?"

Ranpo: "Hummm..?

You: " What are you getting for Poe?"

Ranpo: "Why do you wanna know~"

You: "Because I don't want to get the same thing as you"

Ranpo: "Don't worry, you'll never be close to buying what I'll get him"

You: "really?"

Ranpo: "Since when I was ever wrong? 😃, Ohh! Let's go here, come-on!".

Now you were being dragged by Ranpo in a shop that had alot of art supplies as well as books and a little bit of candy. Now this way Poe land, it had alot of things Poe liked such as parchment paper, vintage leather journals, high quality quills, mysteries murder novels, some chocolate you knew Poe loves and many more. You saw Ranpo quickly bought himself some chocolate before saying

Ranpo: "You shop for he's gift here, the gift i want to get isn't here I'll be back in half an hour".

You knew Ranpo not going to come back because of his habit of getting lost. Suddenly Ranpo pulls out a Garmin eTrex GPS and saves the coordinates of the shop then skipped away like it was nothing. "..." "Since when did ge had a GPS..?". You snapped back to reality when Karl started poking at you with a annoyed expression 😑.

There were many things at the store that Poe will absolutely appreciate, so you got many things so he could spear himself going out in the public to buy more so soon. You placed many items in the cart like 500 sheet of parchment paper because you knew he like writing on parchment, 10 vintage leather journals but these were a bit different they were adjustable with no page so Poe can pick his own amount of pages in, 20 high quality quills since it makes it easier to write, mysteries murder novels to give him inspiration and something else to do, a cute bubbly ish journal since at home you hind a little file full of quiet and beautiful places that most don't go to and doesn't know about, some decorations, stickers, basically anything to make a bullet journal and some chocolate from the shop. Afterward, You and Karl waited for Ranpo by time he showed up you properly and comfortably rearrange the bags ao the items sit nicely.

Ranpo: "I'm back~ you done?"

You: "Yup! Hope he likes it"

Ranpo: "If it comes from you he will like it no matter what"

You: "Why's that?"

Ranpo: "He will be happy because you thought about him and it came from the heart... Enough with the mushy stuff I'm hungry"

The both of you went to a fast food that was in the mall with Karl resting half on your shoulder and the other half on your head. When Ranpo was done he went to make sure Poe was distracted since you've realized you've forgotten something. Ranpo distracted Poe while you got Karl to sneak in and retrieve the folder 📂. Now Ranpo was now force to hang with Poe as order of the plan. He texted you to go to the agency to prepare. You were honestly heartwarmed when you saw how considerate they were, they made sure there was a lot of room, that there wasn't an overwhelming amount of decorations, there were quiet places he could easily run over with leaving he's own party 🥳🎉. The agency claims that this is there way of thanking Poe for taking care of you properly and making you the happiest person ever. And many mentions that Poe isn't a bad guy so why not?

Now you and Karl were sitting at a clear desk wrapping the gifts one by one. After you dtarted placing together the small journal with many places he could go that were silent, serene, beautiful and most importantly almost no one go there. Here you are tape ping, clueing, drawing, organizing, writing in the book that was now called Quiet Places. You wrote a destinations as you wrote what the place was know for and what it could help with as well as coordinate that was inputted in a gift for one of the members of the agency, you even wrote little love notes. You found all the gifts were amazingly wrapped and the book was amazing you were so proud of yourself even Kunikida though that you did an amazing job. But, something was missing... Suddenly the idea clip. You pick up Karl and placed his paw in the paint as you imprint his paw print on many of the pages.

Out of the blue Yosano Noami and Kyoka asked you to fellow them in the bathroom. At first you were like what..? Kyoka was calm as normal but looks a bit more innocent than usual, she had fist clench light by her side. She was standing still as a soldier but not at the point it was disturbing. Yosano had mid evil expression like they were planning to cause mischief with pure evil grins. Noami was a little like Kyoka and a bit like Yosano at the same time.

You: "Uhaaam... Do you need anything..?"

Yosano: "Yes we do, if you do not corporate we'll force you"

You: "What..."

Noami: "Now come here~"

You: "Haha... No thanks... Just tell me what you want"

The girls: "..."

You: "..."

Yosano: "We need you to..."

Ranpo was with Poe taking him to the agency for his surprise... The both of them walked in the agency, it was pitch blace. Poe was nervous and went to look at Ranpo only to find no one there. Poe was panicking, suddenly, the lights turned on and now there was the whole agency in front of him with a big banner with (HAPPY BIRTHDAY POE) inprinted on it.

Everyone: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🎉🎂🥳!"

Poe: "Huhawwaa"

Ranpo: "Surprise 😜"

Poe: "Whaa... What is this..."

Ranpo: "It's a Birthday party 😃🎉"

Poe: "..."

Ranpo: "Fellow me, the agency has a gift for you"

Poe: "You... You didn't have to..."

Ranpo: "No,no,no,no you'll like this gift"

Poe: Ranpo please...

Ranpo: "Ta-da 🤗🎉"

Poe: "😳"

Ranpo: "If in 30 minutes you do not come out I'm forcing you. Got it, HAVE FUN 😊"

Poe found you roped done with ribbons 🎀 wearing a raccoon onesie as Karl runs up to Poe going in his arms. He was flustered for many reasons 1. He was accepting anything on his birthday 2. Your in a raccoon onesie 3. He not sure how to react. When he saw you swifting away realizing you were going to fall of off your chair, he rushed and caught you. He decided to take Ranpo's advice, he told him if he always let you deal with everything soon you'll become even more stressed 😥. So he man up and took charge for one ಥ‿ಥ. He pick you up and took you to the couch that was in the room. He started to unwrap you as he trys to not break down out of nervousness, it was surprising that he seems so calm and collective. The deep breath he took the more he calmed down and he did what Ranpo told him to do. Now you were sitting on the couch next to Poe, he had calm soft gray eyes staring at you with a red tint plastered on his face.

Poe: Were you trying to please me..?

Poe: You don't need to...

Poe: I was worried...

You: ...

You: Sorry... I just wanted... to let you know... i-i love you...

You were embarrassed, not only you were forced in a raccoon onesie tied up in ribbon and having forced Poe to realse you, you were now think poe was upset at you since you've never heard or seen this side, he sounds so sad and consern. Now you were tearing up and started crying.

Poe: Why... Are you crying...

You: I-i love you... I-i didn't mean... to make you mad

You: I just wanted... to give something special since i A feel like I'm not giving you enough...

Poe: Baby...

Poe: Do you know what was the best gift I've ever received was..?

You: *shakes head*

Poe: It was You... And receiving you as a gift from the agency your officially mine in their eyes 🙂❤️

Poe: So never say your not enough, because I'm not enough... Im still surprised your still with me... And I'm greatfull to still have you loving me with all of your heart...

You: Poe...

Poe: Yes give me a hug 🤗

You: Your so perfect...

Poe: Your absolutely more than perfect to me...

After that you and Poe went home. Not that Ranpo guessed everything that actually happened in that room was going to happen and betted on it, many people lost their bets to him ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽. Surprisedly Ranpo came along hold all of your stuff since poe was carring you. You had you legs wrapped around Poe's waist laying on his chest with you head resting on Poe's shoulder while Karl was on his other shoulder. When you both went home you guys cuddle on the couch while opening gifts, don't worry Ranpo is long gone eating some sweets at the agency. Poe really liked your gift especially the Quiet Places book you made for him. (Ps. He really liked the facts that you thought about him and took your time in this and that you considered a gift that was not in the catagory of writing novels and inspirations). Afterwards, you and Poe cuddled on the couch under the sheets as he reads a book you bought him to you. No, surprise that the both of you fell asleep cuddling on the couch. Karl went and turned off the lights then made himself comfortable near you guys (つ≧▽≦)つ. The end~

Bonus: Poe wore a raccoon onesie with you and said you looked cute in that onesie

🎊🥳Happy birthday Poe🎂🎉

Hope you guys enjoy.

Requests are open. Have a good day/night ＼(^o^)

[morlock-holmes]

I am the worst kind of thing when it comes to fanfic: a Devil's Advocate.

Because, for the most part (With occasional exceptions) I don't read it, and I don't read it for kind of exactly the reason all the haters would say I'm not supposed to like reading it too much:

Like, if I think about some prose fiction that has really spoken to me, really stayed with me, really "touched my soul" or done whatever elusive, hard to describe thing great art does, I think of like, Edgar Allan Poe's Man of The Crowd, Herman Melville's Bartleby The Scrivener, or Jorge Luis Borges' Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius.

Now, one of the problems with these status games is you always risk someone going, "Edgar Allan Poe? How middlebrow." but I think I'm on solid ground in saying most people would consider those to be extremely important and artistically complex texts.

And I'm skeptical that the kinds of things I get out of those texts are ever going to show up in an amateur Batman story. I mean, you never know, but it seems unlikely.

However,

Criticism of fanfic usually involves smuggling in a bunch of assumptions about what art is for and how it works that I don't agree with.

Gonna repost this because the person whose dash I saw it on doesn't want to talk about it anymore:

"Queer kids shouldn't learn what it means to be queer by reading recycled Disney IP"

I mean, that's probably true (Although... Not actually entirely obvious), but the implication is that kids should "learn what it means to be queer" by reading "legitimate queer stories".

And like, okay, can you make the case that great art can or should teach you "what it means to be queer" without distracting people by throwing brickbats at something popular?

Like, what teaches you more about "what it means to be queer", a great story by a queer author with deeply buried queer subtext, or a mediocre story with explicit queer text?

Does art actually help us learn anything? I think reading Poe is deeply valuable, I'm not exactly sure it has taught me anything, per se. I suppose it has in the sense that every experience teaches you something.

Is there any reason to think that great art is a better teacher than mediocre art? Like, I'm sure James Joyce is stylistically superior to most people who write math word problems, that doesn't mean it would be easier to learn algebra from a textbook that read like Uylesses, dig?

Does attending a showing of The Importance of Being Earnest tell us much about "what it means to be queer"?

Like, I feel like there's hidden assumptions here about why people should consume art and I'm not sure they'd be as easy to defend if they weren't cloaked behind an attack on fiction that lacks certain merits.

[yanderepuck]

YA KNOW WHAT

I love to talk about him and since more ppl are making their own ikevamp ocs, ITS TIME FOR ME TO RELEASE MY FAVE

EDGAR ALLAN POE.

First off, this gay bitch.

The writers Trio turned into the Writers Quartet, and best part, all four of them are alcholics

Arthur: lowkey alcoholic in game Dazai: alcoholic irl and in game Will: alcoholic irl, high tolerance in game Poe: alcoholic irl, low tolerance in game

So if you read Poe’s work, he refers to Shakespeare a lot, and even uses some of his quotes.  SO THIS BOI GOT ONE HELL OF A CRUSH ON WILL.

He doesn’t want Will to read his work because he’s a lil embarrassed by it, sorta like having someone read a fic that’s about them that you wrote.

But little does Poe know, when Will hears about someone new coming he tries to research them, so yes.  He’s already read Poe’s work.

Now you’re probably wondering.  What doe this boi look like.

Goth.

This boy is goth

This is basically what he looks like.  His hair isn’t ass fluffy, but it is indeed a mess.

Of course his pet is a Raven.  The raven will only answer tot he name Edgar because when someone would try to get Poe’s attention, they also go the ravens attention.  Poe also just has a weird bond with ravens tbh.  They flock around him.

Vincent takes Poe to Will’s house and its like he’s meeting a celebrity.  Important note.  Puck doesn’t like Poe.  Many angy thumps.  Puck does like Vincent however so he doesn’t get time to terrorize Poe as much as he would like.

So if you haven’t read my Writers Trio posts. . . . please do.  I love them.  Basically the three get together once a month like a book club but every book they read they hate so it’s more of a bitching club.  But they end up drinking every time.  Arthur insists that Poe joins.  He is a writer after all.

Will and Arthur are arguing so Dazai pulls out the alcohol and he’s like “Shut up, drinking time.” and he asks Poe what he likes and Poe goes: 

I don’t want anything.  Last time I drank I ended up dead in a gutter in another mans clothes

And the three just look at him and Arthur quickly pours a drink and hands it to him and is like “Damn you’re a fun drunk”

Long story short they get him a lil tipsy very quickly and he ends up leaning against Will bc he can’t keep himself up, and Will is very sober.

Basically everyone int he mansion is aware of Poe’s lil crush.  Will is a tad oblivious to it.  He’s basically like “aww he likes my writing uwu”

In summary.  Poe is a goth in love with Will and is good friends with Vincent, can’t hold his alcohol and has a love hate relationship with his raven.

EDIT!!! BC LULU REMINDED MEE

Him and Theo get along because of sweets.  Theo shows him some of the local bakeries  and they go and get sweets together.  Theo insisted on Poe coming tot he pub with him and Arthur.  Arthur doesn’t care too much for Poe, but he can tolerate him.

[bisexualklausmikaelson]

and all the magic we made (12/20)

a/n: well i had another mental breakdown :/ so here's another sporadic update for you all :) thanks for sticking through with this story!

-

Rebekah runs around, from store to store, touching and feeling every item of clothing that catches her eye.

Sparkles, sequins, furs, silks -

Kol quickly realizes how grave of a mistake this shopping trip with his sister has suddenly become.

The length of his stay in his hometown still remain indefinite - last night was a surprise, seeing his niece and not to mention his brother’s infamous Hayley Marshall was certainly something he wasn’t expecting.

If anything, their interactions serve as inspiration for his next move.

Hence the dress shopping, of course.

“So tell me, brother,” Rebekah hums, fingers grasping at a white dress, holding it against her body as she stares at herself in the mirror. “Why are we here anyway? Are we shopping for a special someone? A girl, perhaps?” She stammers on.

“Bekah,” Kol chides. “Such curiosity will bite you in the arse,” he remarks, snatching the dress away from her and placing it back on the shopping rack.

She rolls her eyes, sighing as she follows him down towards the aisle of more colourful textures and fabrics. “Oh c’mon,” she breathes. “You know how starved I am for some hot gossip.”

He doesn’t answer her until she grabs his sleeve and starts whining.

Tell meeeee!!

“Fine-” Kol huffs, shrugging her hand away.

Then suddenly, the perfect dress catches his attention.

It’s a gorgeous purple gown with a mermaid tail flair at the bottom, the sleeves are adorned with pink pearls and with dark lace details.

“It is for a girl,” he confirms, grabbing a hold of the garment. “I like her, I wanna show her how much she means to me, there, satisfied?” He holds the dress up to show it to his sister.

Rebekah smiles, admiring the beauty of the outfit. “Very much,” she nods.

After that, he takes her through even more stores - a purse, jewelry and shoes is a must for a girl so special.

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing a matching set of pearl earrings and a necklace. “Now it’s your turn,” he comments. “You and Marcel, is this thing happening again?”

She takes her time, taking a deep breath before proceeding to offer him an answer. “I don’t know,” Rebekah tells him. “I care for him, deeply, I always have. I’m just not sure he feels the same for me.”

The look on his sister’s face brings him no joy - he’s used to teasing her about her crushes, even embarrassing her about them. But, this time, Kol feels sorry for her, she loved so honestly and so carelessly.

It filled him with both admiration and pity.

“So, you’re looking for closure?” He wonders.

She raises a brow, thinking of his words carefully. “I am not sure,” Rebekah admits. “Maybe,” she whispers softly.

Kol doesn’t say anything else for a bit - he picks out a pair of heels, a small clutch to complete the outfit. His sister approves of his every choice, it comes so easily to him, almost as if he didn’t need her guidance anymore.

“If you ask me,” he finally says. “I always thought you deserved much better than a man who is too afraid to love you.”

His sentence hits deeper than she can ever imagine.

She finds herself asking when exactly did her troublesome little brother decide to become all grown up.

-

Hayley’s weekends are often spent alone with her daughter.

Normally, other girls her age are busy studying for college exams, hitting up a club or party, going on dates -

Being with Hope Marshall beats all of that, she thinks.

Even when she wants to hang out with Klaus Mikaelson.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He smiles widely as he’s at the door - reaching over to pick up his daughter.

“Yep!” Hope cheers.

Now, her weekends are spent with him. Sandalwood scented cologne, old books in the backseat, a picture of his siblings hanging from the rear view mirror of his car -

“So this gallery,” Hayley says, sitting beside him as he begins to drive them towards their destination. Hope is all settled in her car seat, distracted by her toys. “Is this the type of date the old Klaus would take me out on?” Hayley adds on.

Klaus offers her a confused look. “Old Klaus? A date?” He asks.

She doesn’t offer him much - she simply presses her lips together until they become a thin white line. “C’mon,” she shrugs. “Don’t beat around the bush. Old Klaus did that a lot, I wanna know what this new Klaus is like.”

He hasn’t heard this allegory from her before - he supposes that it’s how she’s rationalizing their whole relationship.

You see, in Hayley’s head, there are two Klaus’.

Old Klaus was aloof, a rule-breaker, the type to get high with her on her couch, to cut class on the school rooftop, to leave without a kiss goodbye in the morning.

And then, there’s new Klaus. New Klaus is…different. He’s more determined, more direct about what he wants.

He’s kind - kinder than she last remembers him.

“Well,” at last, he stops the car, arriving at the gallery. “New Klaus likes to keep you on your toes,” he smirks, leading Hope and Hayley inside the paintings section.

“Ah,” she hums, looking around the large room. “So not much has changed,” she realizes, looking back and seeing the strangest smile on his face.

They both follow Hope into another inter-connected room where only one single portrait is hung up on the wall.

It’s a forest of wolves, tall trees, greenery - and a young Hayley Marshall sitting amongst them.

She stares at it awe, Hope freaks out, screaming and jumping up and down.

Mommy! It’s you! You’re in the painting!!

“New Klaus still likes to surprise you,” he reveals, allowing her to take it all in.

-

By the time Kol finishes his shopping, it’s basically evening.

Rebekah had gone home for a rest while he still continued his way down the street.

The trip there is quiet - his head is filled with thoughts, how he’s gunna see the girl of his dreams again, how she’s probably just eagerly waiting for him.

So eager in fact, that she opens the door for him before he can even knock on it.

“You,” Davina releases, with her hair in a messy bun, bunny pyjamas and slippers still on. “Came back,” she completes.

“That I did, darling,” Kol tells her, smiling. “Just as I had promised you, all those years ago,” he offers.

Davina thought she’d be more upset at him.

Their relationship had been a strange one - meeting per chance at the local occult club, unexpected encounters at the music store, catching each other reading Edgar Allan Poe by the marina -

They started dating soon after, and connected on every single level.

For the longest time, their relationship felt like fate.

Until, that is, Kol Mikaelson, along with all the other Mikaelsons, mysteriously left town.

(Although, granted, he did still keep contact with his lover, unlike the rest of his siblings, who were so far deep in self-hatred that they denied themselves of this).

“What do you have there?” Davina asks, noticing the large shopping bag in Kol’s hands.

He pulls out the gorgeous gown he had gotten. “It’s for you,” he informs her. “A present, if you will,” Kol specifies.

She admires the shimmering fabric, in awe of the very romance of this gesture. “It’s beautiful,” Davina releases. “Thank you,” she smiles, grabbing a hold of the garment.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he says, as fireworks go up in the sky.

They spell out the words

Will you have this dance with me?

-

The painting itself displays incredible technique - the composition, the brushstrokes, everything is so crisp and clear. Klaus’s talent has always been undeniable but, Hayley’s opinion of it has been…

“What do you think?”

A mystery.

“I’m guessing,” she starts, once she realizes exactly what she’s looking at. “This was made by old Klaus?” She presumes, looking at the date inscribed at the corner of the painting.

She stares at herself, immersed in the perfect image he had created of her.

“So it seems,” Klaus says. “However, new Klaus is the one who is brave enough to put it up in a gallery,” he informs her, taking a step closer so that he is right next to her.

Hayley looks and looks - passed the greenery of the scene, the tracks of dirt he had carefully painted on her arms and legs, big brown eyes burning a stare into her own.

“I always knew your work would go far,” she finally releases, realizing how carefully he had captured her loneliness in this painting.

And almost immediately, Klaus begins to laugh uncontrollably. “You said it was hideous,” he recalls, shaking his head.

She wonders why he made her look so sad in this piece - as if she had lost everything. And maybe, that’s how he saw it all, his betrayal and departure was written all over her face.

It’s the most honest thing she’s ever seen.

“Except this one,” she notes. “This piece is…”

“Nothing,” he intercepts, bravely placing a hand on her shoulder, catching her off guard. “Nothing, compared to the real thing.”

-

The drive home is quiet.

Hope is fast asleep in the backseat, little snores and soft breaths escaping her lips. Hayley looks back with a caring and loving gaze. Her daughter truly is an angel, she thinks.

“So then,” he whispers. “This new Klaus, is he up to your standards, as of yet?”

She pauses, catching his eye from the corner of hers. “Maybe,” Hayley remarks. “He certainly became a better driver, over the passed years,” she smiles.

He doesn’t push her any further, he knows he can get more out of her if he did but, this smile of hers was enough for now. He can deal with it - he can deal with her taking her time.

“Well, you’re home now,” he tells her, pulling over by her apartment complex.

She reaches over to shake Hope awake, she refuses though, still deep in slumber. “Looks like it,” Hayley shrugs, pulling away from her daughter. She strangely feels safer now, having the chance to speak more intimately with Klaus. “What do you think new Klaus would do if I tried to ask him to come upstairs?”

He thought that this moment would never come and, that, if it ever did - he would be in disbelief.

But oddly enough, Klaus isn’t in shock at all.

This is expected - he is, after all, charming as hell.

“I think he’d say,” he starts, and right then, he notices little Hope in the rear view mirror, opening one eye to sneak a peek. “You’ve got a restless little girl still listening in on our conversation,” he smirks.

Hayley turns to catch her daughter spying on them and pretending to go back sleep. “Hope,” she scolds. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” she sighs, finally exiting the car and taking her daughter into her arms.

Well, no use acting now, Hope thinks.

“Goodnight, little one,” Klaus tells her, ruffling her hair. “And you too, Hayley,” he lets her know, before he begins to drive off.

She watches him disappear into the night - her heart feels heavy and sinking as she notices how much she longs to see him again.

But, she is a mother first, and as much as the old Hayley would leave all her responsibilities behind and run after that speeding car - she’s not that girl anymore. The new Hayley takes her daughter, and all her old love and passion, and she walks back up to their room.

Of course, right before she enters her home, she notices a carefully placed envelope on her door.

It reads the words - Invitation for Hayley and Hope Marshall.

-

[twistedtummies2]

Birthday Belly (LeonaXReader)

I wrote this yesterday for my own birthday. I didn’t really go into this with much of a plan, this story is 99% just me freestyling and whipping out some self-indulgent nonsense involving Leona Kingscholar and his appetite. It came out to about 4000 words, which is relatively short for MY stories on here. XD Hopefully you all will enjoy it.

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Living at the Ramshackle Dorm had, you thought, left you almost impervious to surprises. The 999 Happy Haunts who inhabited the old manor house had tried nearly every trick up their capes to spook you and shock you, and after dealing with so many dark mages for so long – facing demigods and fairy princes along the way – you didn’t think much could startle you. Today, you were going to be proven wrong. You sighed with some relief, removing your obligatory birthday sash and letting it drape over the arm-rest of the sofa as he leaned back and closed your eyes. Back in your homeworld, you had never really been much of a party person. You had never much cared for crowds, even among people you knew well; part of the joy of being one of only two (living) beings who called Ravenswood Manor home was that you were able to find privacy and peace fairly easily. However, despite not being a mage, and despite being so lonely there, your friends and the school itself had gone to a great deal of trouble to provide you with a party. You smiled wearily as you eyed the streamers and other decorations strung about your ground floor rooms. A huge banner reading “Happy Birthday…!” and followed by your name was hung over the fireplace, and piled up next to the spot where you’d installed your television and other such things was a stack of presents you had gotten from all your friends.

Ace had given you a set of playing cards and poker chips, winking as he promised to give you a chance to put them to use. Deuce, meanwhile, had been much more sensible, purchasing some cooking apparel he knew you could put to good use. Riddle Rosehearts, meanwhile, brought you some cherry tarts he and Trey had made together. Cater Diamond also appeared, and had bought a new external drive for your laptop computer. “I would have gotten you a new phone,” Cater had smiled. “But I didn’t think you needed one. Speaking of, BIRTHDAY SELFIE! COME ON OVER HERE…!” Idia hadn’t stayed for the party, but his brother Ortho had been happy to pop in. The two had pitched their cash together to buy you a new game system, along with a new game to play on it. Idia had personally sent a birthday card, as well; according to Ortho, his hands had been shaking so much trying to figure out what to write in it, he thought his brother’s fingers might fall off. All Idia had written in the card was, “Have a nice day,” probably because he had freaked out at the thought of saying anything else. Poor dear. Somebody – you weren’t sure who – had very, VERY wisely remembered to invite Malleus Draconia, who came with Silver. Silver spent most of the party sleeping, but Malleus had been kind enough to bestow a gift of his own, in the form of a leatherbound edition of The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe. Naturally, Kalim had shown up, tugging Jamil along behind him. Each had a different gift to give: Kalim had brought a VERY expensive looking carpet, done in the ornate styling of his homeland. “It’s been in my family for…um…uh…” he had paused to try and count the years on his fingers…and eventually ran out of fingers AND toes to count on. “…A very, very long time! Like…SUPER long! I thought it might look nice in your bedroom or the ballroom or something! It’s, uh…it’s not too much, is it?” Gods bless that Baby Otter. He needed so many hugs. Jamil’s gift had been much more reserved: a mancala game box, which he had presented all while trying not to blush under his black hood. Vil had stopped by for a short while; he’d only stayed briefly, claiming the “decadent atmosphere of your gloomy domicile” would mess up his hairdo. (Go figure.) However, he had kindly brought you a gift in the form of custom-made suit of clothes he had ordered from his own personal tailor: some of the finest and most formal wear you had ever seen in your life. “Now you can actually look halfway presentable, instead of resembling a half-baked potato, next time there’s a big event,” he had smiled, as if he had been doing you a tremendous favor. Well. With clothes like this, you weren’t going to argue or complain. Azul had stopped for a brief “hello and goodbye” visit; he actually wanted to stay longer – Floyd, who had been with him, seemed particularly sad he couldn’t stay and squeeze his favorite “Little Shrimp” half to death all afternoon and evening…and in his case, that phrase was probably literal – but the Mostro Lounge was open that day, and he didn’t want to leave Jade in charge of things alone for TOO long at the office. The octopus man had brought you a bracelet covered in small seashells: simple, but surprisingly sweeter than you had expected. Floyd, meanwhile…he just hugged you. “What’s a better present for Shrimpy than a nice, tight SQUEEZE from their bestest, most favorite eel-person…riiiiiiight?” The safety of your spine and lungs demanded you agree and hug Floyd back. Ruggie and Jack had been among the first to show up. The latter had brought a hastily-wrapped DVD: a movie entitled “The Wolf of Pumpkin Hollow.” “I didn’t get this because I actually care,” he had clarified, looking everywhere but at your face and scratching the back of his white-eared head. “Just…everyone else would have thought it was rude if I didn’t get you something. Not that it matters what they think! Just…didn’t want to have to put up with it.” He was such a puppy. He truly was. Not only was Ruggie one of the first to arrive, he turned out to be THE first to give you your gift: a box of doughnuts. All glazed. “My grandma used to tell me: ‘Ruggie, get people the same kinds of gifts you’d want them to get you.’ Well, I can’t think of much I want more than doughnuts!” he sang out with an innocent smile. “You just wanted to have some to eat yourself, didn’t you?” you couldn’t help but smirk. Ruggie had gasped, seemingly offended…only to eventually ask if he could have some. The four remaining doughnuts – which you had to sneak away while the hyena wasn’t looking – were now on a plate in your fridge. You’d eat them later. Others had come and gone throughout the day; none of them had gifts to bring, but they had been happy to pop in, give well-wishes, and enjoy the party for a while. Now, however, all the guests were gone; even Grim had left, as you had asked him for some alone time that night. He and the gang from Heartslabyul were going to have a sleepover as a result. Despite the smile on your face as you looked over at your gifts, there was a hint of sadness to your expression. The one person whose presence you’d been looking forward to most hadn’t come. You’d asked his dorm-mates if they knew where he was or what he was doing, but none of them told you. Most of them very clearly had no clue…except for Ruggie. You got the feeling he DID know, he just wasn’t telling. Honestly, that didn’t settle your mind much. Your smile faded completely, and you closed your eyes once more, sighing through your nose…this time with a hint of despondency. Had he forgotten it was your birthday? Was he with somebody else right now? Maybe he was sleeping somewhere, like the big, lazy kit he was…some part of you – you couldn’t tell what part – kind of hoped that was all it was. He probably wasn’t hurt or sick…if he had been you’d think Ruggie would have told you… You glanced out the window. Evening was turning into night. You huffed softly through your nostrils, and stretched a bit where you sat. The party had worn you out more than you thought. You shook your head to clear it of your more perturbing thoughts, and began to wonder if you should just get to bed early tonight… A knock came at the door, jolting you to a more attentive state. You stood up from the ouch and headed out through the hall to the foyer. You wondered who it was…had one of the guests left something behind? As you approached the door, you adjusted your pristine white suit – another obligatory item for those celebrating a birthday at Night Raven College – which must have made whoever was on the other side impatient: they knocked again. “One moment, I’m here!” you called out, and opened the door. “Who’s-?” You froze, the word “there” dying before it ever reached your larynx. The first thing your eyes took in was the familiar, dimly-glowing pair of green ones staring back at you, as well as the dark mane and leonine ears and tail that accompanied their owner. A scar was slashed across one of the two eyes. The second thing – and the one that truly made you freeze – was the ENORMOUS, bare belly that was only inches away from you. The skin was tanned and smooth and supple-looking, the organ swollen to the size of a large watermelon, and only slightly less taut. The navel looked like the center of a maelstrom, drawing your attention towards that bloated gut as it let out a deep, burbling rumble…just before a black-clad hand slapped over it, hiding it from sight. At the same time, another hand suddenly scooped itself under your chin…and you found your head being tilted up, your eyes now locking on a pair of perfect-looking, velvety lips…which then parted to reveal a gaping, red mouth, dripping with saliva and framed by two rows of pointed, pearly fangs. You barely had time to take in the view of this glistening, slimy orifice…before your ears rang and your nose crinkled as two words were burped up. Right in your face. “HAAAAPPY…BUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP-DAY!” The belch was followed by a light sigh and a chuckle as Leona Kingscholar patted his stomach proudly. It jiggled at his touch. He smirked as he took in your expression: a loopy, flushed look was on your face. You were swaying so much that if he removed his hand from under your chin at that moment, you might have just toppled over. “Hm-hm-hmmm…did you like that?” he purred, smoothly. You nodded dumbly, still smiling a loopy, dazed smile as the sound reverberated in your ears, and your nose tingled from the lingering odor of the lion’s gut gas: a strong, heady, meaty smell that twined through the pockets of your gray matter, practically putting you in a trance for several long seconds. Finally, you found your voice. “…Where have you been?” “Preparing your present,” Leona said, as if that should have been obvious, and gently nudged you back as he entered the house and swaggered past you. With every step, his hips swung, and you found your blush seemed to be permanent as you watched them rock and sway as he strutted towards the living room. You followed him as if a leash had been tied ‘round your neck, and watched as he flopped onto your couch, gut sloshing with every little motion of his form. He was dressed in his usual clothes, but his gut was so massive it caused his mustard-colored shirt to ride up, exposing his belly to the world. The lion demi growled as he reached down; his waistband was still buttoned up, and clearly it was causing him discomfort. His fingers fumbled for the belt buckle…and he frowned as he couldn’t quite get it to cooperate. “Tch. Figures,” he grumbled. “After that entrance…pain in my ass…” The familiar phrase snapped you out of your stupor, and you chuckled, rolling your eyes. You sat down next to your princely boyfriend, and shooed his hands away. He frowned, growling indignantly, but allowed you to fiddle with his buckle, and finally managed to work it off… POPK! ZZZRRRIIIP! GUHBLORLSH! Leona let out a sound between a sigh and a grunt as – the moment the buckle was released – his trouser button gave up the ghost, popping open as the zipper flew down, the sheer weight and pressure of his belly forcing them open. He sighed as his belly poured into his lap like a mass of mocha-colored dough, wobbling as it noisily burbled. “UUUUUUUURRRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAARRRRRRRP!” he belted out. “Oof…that felt good…” You blushed bright red, helpless to do anything but nod; you were already starting to tremble at so many…APPEALING things happening all at once. Leona smirked anew as he noticed your expression, leaning back a little further against the sofa cushions as his scarred eye flashed with a superior gleam. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” “How much did you eat?” you asked, marveling at the size of his belly as you fingers fidgeted and twitched, looking for something to do. You suddenly felt a little parched… “Mmmmm…not enough,” Leona growled, and grinned wider, revealing his pointed teeth. “I could fit more in there, I’m sure…” He licked his lips in a sultry, almost inviting way. You couldn’t keep yourself from letting out a shaky, shuddering sound as you shivered, a mixture of warmth and cold flickering across your spine. Leona chuckled – his gut bounced with his mirth, and tilted his head back with a sigh. “Ahhhhhh…went to my favorite buffet and helped myself,” he elaborated as he gave his belly a few hearty slaps. “Pure meat, every ounce.” You nodded slowly, dumbly. Leona snorted through his nose, raising an eyebrow as he saw you openly ogle his stomach. “Hmph. Are you just gonna stare at it all night, Herbivore?” he grunted. He waited till you looked up at him before going on: “Go ahead. It’s not gonna rub itself.” Your heartbeat quickened and you smiled widely. Leona grimaced and snarled. “Oi…just rub, don’t gimme those eyes…you look like that brat back home…” You chuckled – it was hard not to giggle, honestly – and gratefully helped yourself to your “present.” Your hands quickly fell over Leona’s bloated gut as he stretched his arms over the back of the couch. You scooted closer, and quivered at the intense warmth of the half-lion’s greedy, globular gut. Your palms and fingers began to lightly run across his girth, stroking his belly, just to get a feel of the texture and temperature. His flesh was silky-smooth, making it so hard to resist just pressing your face against it and nuzzling into his belly… You did resist though. At least for the moment. Instead, your fingers began to knead and massage the belly of your beau, pressing down onto the thick soup you could feel churning away inside his bowels. You prodded experimentally, almost as if trying to distinguish each bit of food from the next…but there was no way you could. Whatever Leona had gobbled up was now little more than a uniform mush being swirled about by his strong stomach muscles. His insides warbled and rumbled, as if in response to your ministrations. Leona sighed, closing his eyes and savoring the way you massaged his distended tanker. In truth, the lazy lion didn’t need much of an excuse to stuff himself…but you didn’t care that much. Whether he did this for himself, or for you, as he claimed, the end result was the same. “Mmmmm…that’s it…keep it up,” he mumbled. “Wasn’t planning on stopping,” you said, more to yourself than him, but he snickered anyway. “Heh heh…good. Prey like you should be happy to have a chance like this,” he said, and playfully patted your cheek, causing your blush to intensify. A spike of ego shot up in you, and you purposefully pressed down harder against his stomach. It let out a HUMONGOUS groan, and Leona’s eyes widened and his cheeks ballooned…before he let out another sloppy, rumbling belch. “BUUUUUUUHHHHHHHUUUUUUUURRRRRRLLLLLLLUUUUUUP! Haaah…oi. Not so rough,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at you, tail lashing and thumping against the sofa cushions. “Sorry,” you smiled innocently. “You had so much hot air in there, it clearly had to be let out.” Leona’s eyes narrowed further. “I could turn you into dust right here and right now,” he said, warningly. “I guess you could,” you said, smoothly, and then traced a finger around the rim of his deep, dark trench of a navel. The effect was instantaneous. Leona tensed up for a second, inhaling sharply through his teeth…then sighed and relaxed, all but melting into his seat, eyes fluttering closed again as he purred louder than ever. You smirked triumphantly, as you stuck your finger into his navel and wiggled it around a bit. “Still want to turn me into dust?” you teased. Leona could only moan. He moaned even louder as you cupped one hand on the underside of his belly: the softest, warmest, most sensitive portion of his abdomen. You gently rubbed your hand against them, and traced your fingers over his sides. You could hear his toes curl in his boots; his tail you could SEE curl into a spiral shape as he bit his lip with pleasure. “I’ll take that as a no,” you observed, a dreamy sort of sigh upon your lips as you were honestly enjoying this just as much as he was, a fact you made clear you when you half-consciously murmured: “You’re so SOFT…” “Mmmm…I’ll be softer once it’s all digested,” Leona mumbled. “Vargas is probably gonna complain…think he’d pester me about that stuff if I ate ‘im?” “I think if you ate Coach Vargas, you’d just get a bellyache,” you said, not wanting to add that someone as egotistical as Leona eating someone as showboating as Vargas probably meant all the weight would to his head… …Cracks like that weren’t funny, and could get you bitten. The second part you didn’t mind as much as one might think, to be fair. …You really needed to see a shrink… Leona just scoffed, unaware of your thoughts as you continued to rub and massage his belly. You gave the side of his belly a few hearty thumps, watching the way his belly shifted and jiggled like a water balloon. His stomach groaned and churned rhythmically, squelches and squeals of liquid being compressed and stirred echoing just beneath the luscious skin of the half-lion prince. It sounded like a huge vat of semi-solid mash being pumped and processed in a factory…a sound some might have considered nauseating, but you just bit your lip, rubbing and kneading more vigorously as you heard pockets of gas being released. As you kneaded and pressed down, Leona would BELCH and BURP periodically. Each was short and low, which only made you rub his gut more vigorously. He gave you a bored sort of look as he realized what you were doing. “Didn’t get enough to drink at your party, did you, you thirsty little Herbivore?” “Not even close,” you responded, without skipping a beat. Leona rolled his eyes, and held up a finger in a “one moment” gesture. He then curled that same finger down, balling that hand into a fist…and pumped his fist against his chest once, twice, thrice…before unleashing a true wall-rattler, which flapped his lips and made him go crosseyed. “GYYYYUUUUUHHHHHEEEEERRRRRWWWOOOOAAAAARRRRRIIIIIPLK!” Leona sighed as the eruption came to an end, and snorted as you squeaked at the sound. “Happy now?” he drawled boredly. “Very,” you peeped, patting his belly thankfully. Leona rolled his eyes as he scratched the side of his gut with his leather-tipped fingers, making it slosh under your palm. You quivered. His lips quirked. “Tch. You’re such a snack,” he muttered. “It’s amazing nobody’s already gobbled you up…” “Just lucky so far, I guess,” you shrugged, and scratched his belly with your own fingers. Leona let out a non-committal rumble…then smirked a bit. “We could fix that, you know,” he purred in a slippery, sly way. You froze, and looked up at him slowly, a little confused and slightly apprehensive. Leona smiled back, eyes half-lidded; the dominant, powerful, but affectionately amused smile that always left you shivering for all the right reasons. Then, one of his his hands lifted, and cupped your cheek. He brushed a thumb against it, and you smiled gently back… …Just before that same hand slid forward, and wrapped around the back of your head. “Here,” he growled, commandingly, as he began to force you downwards. “Listen. Feel.” You didn’t have much choice, and it wasn’t as if you would disobey if you could. You surrendered easily as he eased you down against his belly, pressing your head down and holding it firmly, curling his hand so one of your was right above his navel. You felt your chest flutter as the warmth of his body was now right up against your face, and the deep, thick GRRRROOOOLLLLLLG sounds of his ever-hungry belly echoed in your ear like rolling thunder. You stayed perfectly still; time and place seemed to fade into nothingness. All that mattered was the moment: you were hypnotized by his belly, barely conscious of anything. He started speaking, but it took you a few seconds to realize what he was even saying. “…I’d you’d like it, huh?” were the first words you made out, followed by still more: “I could swallow you alive, Herbivore. You’d slither right down my throat, curl up in my stomach…and never come out. I’d just fall asleep, and let you stay there. It wouldn’t have to hurt: one big burp, and your air would be history. Then, you’d go straight to my hips…my thighs…my ass…even my belly. Every part of me you love most.” He paused, purring as his stomach let out a greedy, longing rumble. “How does that sound for your birthday, Herbivore?” he crooned. “How would you like to spend your birthday – your LAST birthday – turning into more of the body you’re so in love with. To be the snack you’re supposed to be. To spend the rest of eternity as just a part of me.” None of these were spoken as questions. You shivered and let out a whimpering sound – not necessarily one of fear, either – as you heard him lick and smack his lips. He leaned down and sniffed at you, purring in the back of his throat. “Mmmmmmm…I could make that happen. Right here. Right now.” You bit your lip; as his stomach rumbled, you closed your eyes. You could picture yourself inside of there…partially submerged in acid and bubbling goo…embraced on every side by his powerful muscles…hearing him belch with satisfaction above and around you…rubbing over you as you were steadily digestedinside of him… You took longer than most people probably would before speaking. “I know you could,” you said, very softly, then added, “Maybe someday you will.” Leona blinked…then puffed with amusement, his smile growing slightly more affectionate as he ran his fingers through your hair the way a cat might. “Not ready to make this birthday your last, huh?” You opened one eye and carefully shook your head. “If it means next year I could get one as good as this, or better, definitely not,” you responded, without skipping a beat. Leona clucked his tongue, and removed his hand, letting it rest against the back of the sofa. He chuffed as your remained where you were, despite no longer being forced down. “Kinky little morsel,” he mumbled. “Guilty,” you responded in a slightly muffled voice as you freely nuzzled his abdomen, smirking as he purred anew, clearly enjoying it. Leona chuckled, and nudged you, indicating he wanted you to look up at him again. You did…and watched as his cheeks ballooned with gas as he caught a particularly low, gassy burp in his mouth… “HHHHRRRRMMMMLLLLRRRRPH…phoosh.” …Before blowing the residual fumes into your face, almost like a kiss. You nearly fainted dead away. Leona grinned. “Good?” was all he said. “Marry me now.” Leona barked out a laugh and gave your hair a ruffling, then shut his eyes and reclined peacefully once more. “Get back to rubbing, meat,” he growled. “Or I might just swallow you whether you want it or not. Don’t let your gift go to waste.” You smiled and eagerly got back to work, kissing and nuzzling and rubbing his belly worshipfully, without any sign of restraint. Leona’s purring heightened as you pampered his plumpened middle. “Mmmmm…happy birthday, Herbivore,” he growled. “Maybe next year, I’ll add you to my hips…” At the rate things were going…that was starting to sound like a promise more than anything else. If so…you could hardly wait till next year.

 The End

[honey-andtea1889]

Battered and Bruised

AN: Hello! This is my very first Spencer Reid blurb! I’m super excited to write this and I seriously hope you all enjoy it! My requests are open and ready for business, please don’t be afraid to ask! Xx

Summary: The BAU team gets called on a case in Omaha, Nebraska for kidnaps and murders of women around the city. When Y/N get taken, Spencer goes to the ends of his being to find her. 

Warnings: Violence, swearing, death, mention of rape, shit ton of fluff

Song: Battered and Bruised by Circa Waves 

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Mornings weren’t Y/N’s strong suit. Especially when it included waking up at 5:30 am because your boss calls you in on a case. She knew it was a serious case just because of the time and after the last case the team had finished, she knew she couldn’t be too upset. 

Y/N loved her job at the BAU. It was pretty much her who reason for living. She absolutely loved helping people and putting away criminals that don’t deserve any more than a kick of dust. Just the feeling of saving someone’s life made the job worth it. She always put her heart fully into every case that came up, making sure that every person that was found was safe and every bastard that would cause the victims pain would get every ounce of punishment they had coming to them. Y/N couldn’t think of doing anything else.

Her team made it even better. She got along with everyone. They were all so welcoming when she first joined the FBI, Y/N felt that these people, this wonderful team, was her family. 

Y/N soon made it to the BAU and went straight into the break room for some coffee. She ran into a very groggy, barely woken Derek Morgan. He smiled at her, sipping his morning brew. 

“Good Morning, Princess. How was your nap?” Derek asked as he chuckled. 

“About as good as it can get. Can’t believe we got called back in so quickly. Did Hotch tell you anything about today’s case?” Y/N asked. 

Derek shook his head. As far as they knew, no one was told about the case. Hotch had just called everyone in saying that it was an emergency. The two were soon joined by none other than David Rossi. He smiled as he made himself a cup of coffee, sighing at the time. 

“One of these days, I’m just not going to answer my phone.” Rossi grumbled. 

The three of them laughed. Derek and Rossi made their way to the briefing room while Y/N fixed herself another cup of coffee. A loud groan echoed through the hall, and you knew who that belonged to. Dr. Spencer Reid came into sight as he trudged over to the coffee machine, smiling a tired smile at Y/N. 

Spencer and Y/N had a weird relationship. It was evident that the two of them had feelings for one another, but neither of them acknowledged them. There were times where Y/N wished she had the courage to just walk up to Spencer and ask him out, but she could never convince herself to do it. Spencer was the same way. He thought she was so beautiful and smart. He felt so comfortable around her and just being in the same room as her was a gift in itself, he just didn't know how to ask without making a fool of himself. Everyone on the team could feel the romantic tension between the pair and it killed them. Spencer couldn’t could how many times Derek had mentioned it to him that he should ‘make a move before someone else does.’ 

“Whoever allowed anything to be done before 11:30 in the morning is psychotic.” Spencer grumbled, pouring coffee into a mug. 

“I hear ya, but Hotch sounded pretty serious on the phone. We should probably get up there.” Y/N sighed. 

The two made it into the briefing room, Penelope setting everything up for the team. Spencer took a seat next to Y/N, smiling at her as he took his first coffee sip of the day. Prentiss, JJ, and Hotch soon flew into the room as Penelope began explaining the case. 

“Three women were found dead in ditches all around Omaha, Nebraska. Jenna Lender, 25, was our latest victim. She was last seen yesterday morning, getting coffee for her boss. Jenna’s boss tried calling her after noticing she was gone longer than she needed to be but got nothing.” Penelope said as she clicked through the presentation. 

“How long did the unsub keep the other victims alive?” Emily asked. 

“That’s the thing, all of the girls were only alive for a day. once he was finished with one, the unsub would spend a week hunting for a new woman.” Hotch says. 

“He stays in the same area, he’s got a comfort zone.” Spencer said, eyeing the file in front of him. 

“He obviously doesn’t have a type, the women are all different. The only thing that is connecting them is their age.” Y/N said. 

“And their jobs. All of the girls worked at the same company just different departments. It looks like the building is downtown, did they know each other?” JJ asked.

“No, its a huge company. Jenna worked on the 23rd floor in Accounting, Sierra on the 12th floor in Marketing, and Marie on the 33rd as an assistant to the CEO.” Penelope said as she clicked on her tablet. 

“Are we looking at the CEO of this company? Maybe he’s got something to do with it?” Derek questioned. 

“No, he’s got a trustful alibi.” 

“Whoever it is, we need to find him before he kills again. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said, gathering the files to head out to the jet. 

The team gathered their things and boarded the plane. Everyone was slowly dozing off in their seats while Y/N and Spencer stayed up and talked about the little things. They did this every so often. Whenever they had a long trip, the pair would sit closer to the back and just talk. They never had a set conversation, the topic was always changing. Y/N loved that. 

“No way, you can’t possibly think that Stephan King outranks Edgar Allan Poe.” Spencer laughed. 

Y/N shrugged and smiled at the genius to her right. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Edgar, but something about King’s writing just hits a little on the different side.” She said as she sipped on her coffee. 

Spencer studied Y/N. He took in her features, her beautiful Y/E/C eyes, her gorgeous smile, intoxicating laugh. He became so enthralled by her beauty, he didn’t realize that the plane had landed and the team were departing the aircraft. Y/N noticed his staring and blushed. Now wasn't the time to flirt though. They had a job to do. 

“Alright, Prentiss and Morgan, I want you two at the first crime scene. Look for any details that were missed. Rossi, you and I will go to the second crime scene. JJ, talk to the families of the girls. We need to know if there was anything linking them. Reid and Y/N, go to the latest crime scene and gather as much evidence as possible. You both are then to go to the police station and set up. We’ll meet there in about two hours.” Hotch explained.

Everyone broke off into their respected groups. Y/N and Spencer quickly arrived to the recent crime scene, the body still laying in the position it was found.

“FBI?” A detective asked.

“Yeah, this is SSA Y/L/N and I’m Dr. Reid. Is this how the body was found?” Spencer quizzed at the detective.

The man nodded and led the two over to the body on the ground. Y/N looked at the woman to see if there was any form of self defense wounds on her. Spencer was taking note of the area in which the body was found. It was just outside of town, the woods just a few miles away from the dump sight. Spencer was about to look around until Y/N called him over.

“Take a look at this.” She said, moving the arm of the woman.

The two saw marks around her wrists, showing that the woman was tied up when she was captured. As the looked even closer, the agents could see the body had bruises all along her neck, hips, and thighs. 

“This woman was raped, Spence.” Y/N said disappointedly. 

Spencer sighed. This case was not going to be an easy one. The two headed back to the station to set up the search. Spencer could see that Y/N was a bit off since they left the crime scene. Morgan and Prentiss came into the room, they were almost out of breath as the entered. 

“Marie Thomas was raped.” Prentiss explained. 

“So was Jenna.” Y/N stated, pinning up a photo of her lifeless body. 

“So he stalks them for a week, kidnaps them, rapes them, then dumps their dead bodies in ditches.” Derek said as he flopped onto a chair. 

“None of the girls had enemies at work, they all got along with their coworkers and mostly kept to themselves.” JJ said as she walked in. 

“So what sick bastard is taking these women?” Emily questioned. 

Hotch and Rossi soon joined the rest of the team, both looking more on edge than everyone else. 

“Guys? Are you okay?” Y/N asked. 

“Something isn’t sitting right.” Rossi sighed. 

Hotch walked over to the board as Spencer explained how he wanted the people of Omaha to see that he means business. Y/N became uncomfortable with the topic and decided to stand outside to get some fresh air, clearing her mind from all of the horrifying information she had taken in. Derek came to check up on her almost immediately after she left. 

“You okay mamas?” He asked. 

Y/N chuckled at the nickname.

“Honestly? No. These poor women were just living their lives and then this happens to them.” She explains, her heart sinking at the thought. 

“Look, Y/N, I know this is hard, but we have to keep our heads up. We’ll catch this sick son of a bitch, no matter the cost.” He said. 

“Derek, we don't have a lead. We can’t even connect the girls to each other besides the fact that they’re all the same age and work in the same building. To me, it almost seems like a revenge story.” 

Y/N’s head picks up after she said that. What if it was a revenge plot? What if the unsub was hurt by an ex or embarrassed by a coworker of the opposite sex and it just trying to get payback? 

Derek looked at Y/N curiously. She bolted back into the station and ran into the conference room where the rest of the team was. 

“This is a revenge spree.” Y/N said. 

The team looked at each other, confusion taking over the room. Y/N walked over to the board and began explaining her theory. 

“All three women worked at prestigious jobs, all three women were young, they were successful. Maybe this guy was ridiculed by someone like them, a girlfriend, coworker, boss, whatever. He is most likely killing them because he’s intimidated by them.” She said. 

“That explains the connection. But what about the geographical profile? What the significance of the ditches around the city?” Rossi asked. 

“He obviously wants them seen but not immediately. He’s almost trying put on a show for people, saying that he’s superior.” Spencer adds, looking over the photos. 

“It adds up but what about the rapes? He just does it because he can?” JJ asks. 

“No, he’s asserting dominance to these women. Showing them that he’s in charge.” Hotch said. 

“Gather all your officers up Detective. We have a profile.” 

About 15 minutes later, Omaha Police Officers and Detectives were surrounding the FBI agents as they gave the profile. 

“The man we’re looking for is in his late 20′s-early 30′s. He socially awkward and intimidated by women of higher class.” Hotch starts. 

“He won’t approach anyone first. He would be someone that keeps to himself at work unless his boss came up to him.” Emily said as she looks around the room. 

“Over the years he’s been humiliated by women of authority, this could be a boss, higher up coworker, a girlfriend even. He has been taking this for years and has had enough.” Y/N said. 

“He’s definitely the odd one out, he doesn’t look like he could do something as gruesome as this. Think of like a nerdy kid in high school.” Rossi explained.

“He’s trying to assert his dominance. He’s been submissive almost his whole life, he’s trying to show that he’s the one whose in charge by not only kidnapping, but raping the victims before he kills them.” Derek said as he sat in front of the group. 

“He’s on the hunt right now. He could be anywhere around the city so be on the look out.” Spencer said. 

“We’ve already made sure that everyone never leaves a location alone and that a city wide curfew has been set.” JJ says, crossing her arms. 

“This man is very dangerous, stay alert and stay safe.” Hotch said, ending the briefing. 

Y/N exhaled and decided to take a breather. She walked outside and took a deep breath. The case was starting to get to her. It could also be the lack of sleep she had. 

Y/N turned to go back inside, until she felt a sharp pain coursing on her head and the world went black. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a few hours, Spencer had noticed Y/N missing and started looking for her. He looked around the station and even went downtown to see if she was at some coffee shop. He called her phone, only to be answered by her voicemail. Somethings wrong Spencer thought. He quickly went back to the station, panic taking over his mind. 

“Hey, Y/N isn't answer her phone and I can’t find her anywhere.” Spencer said frantically as he entered into the conference room.

The team looked around at each other, trying to figure out where she could’ve gone. It was normal for Y/N to wonder off during a case but not for longer than a half hour. The team knew that sometimes, some cases can be a little much for her so she steps away to take a minute to gather herself. Spencer would always go to make sure that she was okay, comforting her whenever she became overwhelmed with any case they were working on.

“Oh god..what if..” Emily started. 

“Our unsub has her.” Hotch said grabbing her phone and dialing Penelope’s phone number. 

“Hello my sweet, beautiful, darlings. How might I be of assistance.” Penelope sang through the small phone. 

“Garcia, Y/N has been taken. We need you to run a search on her phone to see where she could possibly be.” Rossi said. 

“Oh my god, no.” She said, sadness and worry taking over her demeanor. 

“It’s gonna be okay baby girl. We’re gonna find her, right now we need you to get that search started.” Derek cooed. 

Spencer was standing in the back, watching everything unfold. 

How could he let this happen? Usually he would check up on her but today, he was so wrapped up in the case that he didn’t even bother to make sure she was okay. He wanted to make sure that you weren’t over stressed, especially with cases like this one. This was all his fault. He should’ve gone with her. His guilt began to eat at him, anxiety gnawing at him like a dog on a bone.

“Spence? You okay?” Emily asked. 

“This is all my fault..” He whispered. 

“Spencer, you couldn’t have done anything to stop this. We’re dealing with a violently aggressive man-” 

“I check on her when cases become too much. I make sure that she’s okay. I’m always there for her and this time, I wasn’t. I wasn’t able to protect her from this maniac out there. And because of that, I’m losing the love of my life...again.” Spencer snaps. 

Emily looks at the sad Doctor with empathy. She rubs his back for just a moment and returns to the rest of the team, leaving Spencer on his own. 

---------------------------------------------------------

Y/N groaned as she picked her head up, the weight being ridiculously heavy. She took in her surroundings, seeing only a dark room with a single light bulb above her. She tried to move but her hands and feet were tied together on a chair. Well this wasn’t how I wanted to spend my day, she thought. Y/N soon heard a loud slam come from down the hall. Footsteps were soon followed, dragging along the concrete floor. 

“Well. Aren’t you a pretty one.” A man with a deep voice seethed, slowly making his way over to the light. 

Y/N could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest. To say she was terrified was a huge understatement. 

“What do you want from me? I wasn’t the one who hurt you.” Y/N said, trying to sound as brave as she could. 

“No, but you’re like her.” The man yelled as he slapped her cheek. 

“What do you gain from this? Huh? Some sick form of pleasure?” Y/N screamed as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. 

The unsub punched her in her face. Y/N could feel a bruise forming under her eye as she panted. Y/N was a strong girl, and she wasn’t going to give up that easily but she definitely couldn’t hold on forever. 

She hoped the team would save her soon. 

----------------------------------------------------------

“Okay so by the looks of it, her phone was up and active until she got closer to the forest. That’s where the trail runs cold.” Garcia says, clicking away on her many computers. 

“Detective, is there any abandoned houses or barns out that way?” Hotch asked. 

“There’s actually an old barn just passed town. It’s deep in the woods though. Kinda hard to see at night.” The Detective said. 

“Well we can’t wait until morning, she’ll be dead by then, so if you could tell us what the coordinates are, that’ d be great.” Spencer hissed. 

“Reid.” Hotch said sternly. 

“No Hotch, if we wait any longer Y/N will be dead. She’s part of the time and a huge part of my life. I can’t just wait around until it’s convenient for everyone!” Spencer yelled.

The team looked at Spencer in surprise. Hotch signaling to Derek to get Spencer to calm down before he’s removed from the case. 

“Kid, I know you care about this girl, but you need to keep your cool.” Derek said, pulling Spencer to the other side of the room. 

“I’m sorry, Morgan. I just want her to be alive.” Spencer said, his voice wavering. 

“I know. We’ll get your girl back.” Derek promised. 

Spencer nodded and hugged his friend. 

---------------------------------------------------------------

“Only a few hours left gorgeous, better get some rest before I destroy you.” The man said. 

Y/N was beaten beyond belief. She felt as though she’d been to hell and couldn’t recover. Her vision was hazy, she could tell she had a huge concussion. Her lip was bleeding and by the throbbing of her eye, she knew there was going to be some bruising. Her body ached from being beaten in a chair. She could barely keep her eyes open. 

Her thoughts went to Spencer. She thought about ever seeing him again, about ever being able to tell him that she loved him. She wanted to finally express her feelings to him, but probably won’t ever get the chance now. Her swollen eyes began to fill with tears as her heart breaks. 

It’s not long until the man come back and beats her again. Constantly throwing fists at her face. 

“How does it feel to be less than nothing, you bitch.” He whispered.

“Go to hell.” Y/N seethed.

With that, Y/N spit some of the blood from her lip at the unsub. He yelled and slapped her across the face. As he was going in for a punch, Y/N hear footsteps outside, Her heart beat picked up, knowing her team finally came to her rescue. 

“You think you’re all big and bad because you kill and rape women? hah, I’ve seen bugs better than you.” Y/N spat. 

It was that moment where a click of a gun rang throughout the barn and Hotch’s voice rang through Y/N’s ears. 

“Put your hands where I can see them.” He said sternly. 

The unsub grabbed a knife and pulled it to Y/N’s throat.

“If I die, she dies with me.” He said. 

Spencer locked his gun and pointed to the unsub. He could see the terror and shame in Y/N’s eyes as his fingers landed on the trigger. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to keep her safe, and after this, he was going to make sure you weren’t in harms way. 

“Sir, just let the girl go.” Hotch tried reasoning. 

“Why? So she could go tell scrawny over there to work harder? So she could torment him just like I was?” 

The unsub looked over to Spencer. 

“You know she screams your name, right?” he said. 

“She screamed it while I was beating her to a pulp. Guess you could say she-” 

A gunshot was fired. The man’s body flopped to the floor as Y/N hyperventilated. Spencer ran over to her, untying ever blasted knot that was harming her precious skin. Once she was released, Y/N flopped down on top of Spencer, holding him as tightly as she could. 

“I thought I was never going to see you again.” he whispered. 

“I was so scared Spence. I thought he was going to-” 

Spencer cut Y/N off. 

“I wouldn’t let anything like that happen to you, Y/N. I care about you way too much to let someone manhandle you like that.” Spencer said lovingly. 

Y/N pulled away from him and crashed her lips onto his. 

The kiss was delicate, yet full of passion. The pair kissed for just a few moments before they pulled away. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while, just couldn’t find the right time.” Y/N said, softly smiling at the cheesing Doctor. 

“Well I’m glad you finally did. Come on, let’s get you home.” Spencer smiled. 

Both agents stood up from the ground and made their way outside of the barn. Y/N was looked at for her injuries and soon after, the team made their way back home. 

---------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t worry about the reports just yet, guys. Go home and get some rest.” Hotch said as they entered the BAU. Everyone cheered as they all made their ways to their designated cars. 

“Hey, Spence?” Y/N asked. 

“Yeah?”  

“Can I please stay with you? I don’t know if I could stay there by myself tonight.” Y/N blushed. 

Spencer smiled and pulled Y/N into his chest. Y/N snuggled in tightly, feeling the warm embrace of the Doctor who saved her.

“Of course you can stay, do you want to run back to your place and get some clothes?” Spencer asked. 

Y/N nodded as they headed to his car. The drive back to Y/N’s apartment was silent, but a comfortable silent. The two held each other’s hand tightly, afraid of letting the other person go. They pulled into the parking lot and made their way upstairs. Y/N unlocked her apartment and quickly slid inside, allowing Spencer access to her home. Y/N quickly ran back to her room, gathering some clothes and her tooth brush so she could stay over at Spencer’s. 

As she exited her room, Spencer was sat on her kitchen counter, looking through a small cookbook her mother had given her. 

“These snickerdoodles sound really good, do you mind if we bring this and make cookies tomorrow?” Spencer asked. 

“Sure.” 

Spencer smiled and took Y/N’s hand, leading her back to the car. The drive to Spencer’s apartment wasn't too far from hers. The two quickly made it up the stairs and into the apartment. 

Spencer’s place was cozy. With the many books on the book shelf, it made Y/N’s heart fill with joy. A yawn passed Y/N’s lips. 

“You wanna go to sleep, darling?” Spencer asked, placing a hand on her back. 

Y/N nodded. Spencer lead her to his room. They both began to get ready for bed when Y/N spoke up. 

“Can I wear one of your shirts to sleep?” 

“Of course, here.” Spencer said, handing Y/N a black crewneck sweater. 

Y/N threw it on and climbed into bed. Spencer follow shortly after, snuggling close to Y/N as possible. She rested her head on his chest and sighed. Spencer kissed her head sweetly whispering: 

“I love you.”