#this is genius and beautiful and amazing and i want it

[tamedstray]

At some point a relationship page / tag won't be enough. I need to make PowerPoint presentations. This is a threat.

[happyhauntt]

— march fic recs, brought to you by happyhauntt.

a wee fic rec post for a few of the fics i read in march that altered my brain chemistry!! i've put a lil comment next to each rec because honestly writers don't get praised enough for their work these days and i wanted to show my appreciation for these talented souls!!

grishaverse.

➡ kaz brekker.

what do you want from me by @rubysunnday. notes: literally perfect wtf.

dark days by rubysunnday. notes: i reread this literally constantly, it is so perfect, kaz's characterisation is perfect, i adore it.

bloody hands by rubysunnday. notes: i devoured this whole thing like a starving person it was sO good.

when am i gonna lose you? by @crowsmybeloveds. notes: this is so beautiful honestly i have no words.

the lost princess by @ellewritesalright. notes: look it's only part one but elle is a fucking wizard and i'm a sucker for an anastasia au.

you and me (a whole lot of history) by @heliads. notes: this was so cute and such a clever concept i fell in love!!!

schat by @amourology. notes: fully choked this is so adorable.

soulmate by @magpiencrow. notes: KAZ BREKKER SOULMATE AU didn't know i needed this but now i need 100 more!!!!

➡ nikolai lantsov.

nine long years series by @ellewritesalright. notes: i am actively fucking screaming over this fic. i will never stop. this might genuinely be the best thing i've read in a LONG while. everything about it has me sobbing i actively CANNOT COPE. and it's not even finished yet.

one of us by @songofpatrochilless. notes: literally had me sobbing you don't understand the domesticity of it all!!!!!.

come on back to me by @atlabeth. notes: there is a very strong chance that i'll literally never stop screaming about this fic.

dreams of you by @wh0refornikolailantsov. notes: every cell in my body is SCREAMING.

this love by @lantsovsupremacist. notes: did not, in fact, give you permission to hurt me like this do it again.

salt in the wound by @in-my-feels-probably. notes: brain goes brrrr this has everything i need to survive tbh.

wanting was enough by @rubysunnday. notes: beautiful stunning magnificent i want to eat it.

an exhausted smile by @writing-havoc. notes: think i had an aneurysm reading this it was that amazing.

run away with me by @sumsebien. notes: i am still sobbing over this.

in emerald hearts, emerald minds by @undiscovered-horizon. notes: love love love love love. there aren't enough words in any language to describe how much i love this.

➡ alina starkov.

alina starkov x reader by @heliads. notes: alina does not get nearly enough love and this was so fucking sad and cute and brilliant.

➡ nina zenik.

the ten steps to 'i love you' by @sophierequests. notes: this was SO HEARTWARMING AND SWEET i adored it!!!

➡ zoya nazyalensky.

forget-me-nots by @syllvane. notes: not enough zoya fics on this hellsite. but also this ripped my heart out and made me sob so RUDE. i feel devastated.

➡ inej ghafa.

inej ghafa x reader by @heliads. notes: INEJ MY SWEET BABY, this fic is everything to me. everything. and it's so beautifully written!!!

➡ the darkling.

the dark side of the moon series by @myhairpintrigger. notes: this fic is ASTOUNDING. i haven’t cried this much reading something in a long time. i was FULL-BODY SOBBING. i don’t even like the darkling. i am Not a darkling girlie. but i was intrigued by concept of this fic and i can safely say it has ruined my life. this is Emotional Damage Incarnate. i will never recover. author, i salute you.

911.

through the smoke by @borntobewondering. notes: spent twenty whole minutes sobbing after reading this. i felt undone i felt hollow i felt so utterly fucked. author is a genius and that's all there is to say.

not so one night stand by @shmaptainwrites. notes: this was so fuckin adorable i'm in love.

d.c. to l.a. by shmaptainwrites. notes: bobby my guy just doesn't get enough fucking credit and this is so fucking adorable.

criminal minds.

➡ spencer reid.

trouble almost all my life by @januaryembrs. notes: this series is. it's literally. everything. i love bugsy like she's my own child. sister relationships are everything to me. i spent an hour sobbing in my bed over parts 2 and 3. i want this tattooed on my forehead.

➡ aaron hotchner.

found by @benedictscanvas. notes: DADDY i mean what. all jokes aside this was so sweet and beautiful and i'm in love the writing!!!

doctor who.

rage rage (against the dying of the light) by @morganas-pendragons. notes: felt feral after reading this. kayla just gets me in my feels every time.

heartbeat by morganas-pendragons. notes: this was the most emotional devastating thing i've ever read and i fully needed 3-5 business days to recover. rude. i want 100 more.

untitled by morganas-pendragons. notes: PAIN i love this so much.

ache by morganas-pendragons. notes: just scoop my heart out of my fucking chest i don't want it anymore after reading this.

a mind full of blissful terrors by @magiccath. notes: simply fucking amazing.

light in the dark by @i-imagine-my-doctor. notes: screaming please i adore this so much.

baby talk by @kisstherainwriting. notes: THE ABSOLUTE CUTIEST EVER. there's not enough clara fics and this had me squealing and feeling all warm and fuzzy!!!

holding my hand by kisstherainwriting. notes: angst galore this was STUNNING.

in another's eyes by @cas-kingdom. notes: PERFECTION.

where do we go now series by @theetherealbloom. notes: literally so fucking amazing i don't have enough words.

marauders.

the winner takes it all by @ellecdc. notes: brb faye is having a STROKE--

come back, be here series by ellecdc. notes: i think i had a full on stroke while reading this series. the attention to detail is insane. the characterisation is perfect.

i don't know you anymore (maybe i never really did) by @thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels. notes: SCREECHING i'm in love you don't understand.

bridgerton.

➡ anthony bridgerton.

distractions by @peterpparkrr. notes: simply immaculate.

right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch. notes: did you mean one of my favourite tropes bc this is it.

right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 & @thirteenisles. notes: i felt feral after reading this tbh.

➡ sibling!reader.

reluctant caretaker by @rubysunnday. notes: this fic hit my heart in all the right places okay sibling stuff means everything to me.

did she have a cookie by rubysunnday. notes: a joyous read from start to finish i CACKLED the whole way through.

moon knight.

come back to me by @mgparker. notes: still sobbing. immaculate.

the other sarcophagus by @starryevermore. notes: i literally reread this constantly i adore it so much!!

marc spector x reader by @softlyspector. notes: i had an aneurysm reading this and i haven't been the same since.

more marc spector x reader by softlyspector. notes: i am having an intense emotion hold on. anytime i see autistic stuff in canon content for any fandom i SQUEAK. and this is so well done honestly.

star wars.

heartless by @youvebeenlivingfictional. notes: i reread this constantly, it's so amazing and heartwrenching and beautiful and i want to eat it.

little talks by @light-yaers. notes: you simply do not understand how much i adore everything beff writes. i adore this fic more than i need oxygen to breathe.

right where you left me series by light-yaers. notes: personality-defining series. i LIVE for this fic. every update adds five years to my lifespan. if you're not reading this you are MISSING OUT.

a light, a song, a bluebird by @millllenniawrites. notes: made me SOB 10/10 would recommend if you like emotional trauma.

invisible string by @campingwiththecharmings. notes: pining!!! loneliness!!! i adore!!!

hard landings by @softlyspector. notes: no. no you don't understand. this fic doesn't just own my soul it is my soul. i want it tattooed on my face.

misc.

hopper x reader by @luveline. notes: you don't understand this might be the cutest shit i've ever read and jade is a fellow welsh person which automatically makes them brilliant in my book.

muña by @in-my-feels-probably. notes: alicent means fucking everything to me and this had me sobbing.

mistletoe magic by @writingsbychlo. notes: literally the cutest fucking thing ever, had me kicking my legs and squealing!!

[reidmarieprentiss]

Hii! I was wondering if you could write something with bartender!reader and spencer? They meet at a bar in one of his cases and he is WHIPPED, she gets drinks for the whole team and he just can´t stop staring at her, maybe penelope also tries to flirt with her? i don't know i love pen and just wanted her to be included in this lmao

Southern Charm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: hiii i love this prompt !! i hope this is something like what you were looking for <3333

main masterlist

After successfully closing a challenging case in New Orleans, the BAU team decides to take a well-deserved break before heading back to Quantico. Will LaMontagne, JJ's beau, invites them to his favorite bar, Jewel of the South, for an evening of drinks and relaxation. Penelope Garcia, who joined the team on this trip to assist with the precinct's outdated technology, is thrilled to unwind with her colleagues in the vibrant city. With the spirit of New Orleans as their backdrop, the team gathers at the elegant cocktail bar, ready to enjoy a night of laughter and friendship, leaving the stresses of the job behind.

As they settled into a cozy corner, Penelope Garcia took it upon herself to ensure everyone had their preferred drink. As she made her way to the bar, Spencer Reid found himself glancing around the room, his mind still half-occupied by the case they had just closed. But his attention was quickly drawn to a captivating figure behind the bar. 

You were busy mixing drinks with an air of effortless grace, your warm smile lighting up the room. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you, his interest piqued by your charm and the way you seemed to effortlessly command the space.

Penelope returned, carrying a tray laden with cocktails and setting it down with a flourish. "Alright, team! Drinks are served!" she announced, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she noticed Spencer's transfixed gaze.

"Looks like our resident genius has found something—or rather someone—interesting," Derek teased, nudging Spencer playfully. "Or should I say, someone has captured his attention?"

Spencer blinked, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "I, um, was just observing how well she handles the bar," he stammered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Emily raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Uh-huh, sure. Handling the bar. That’s what we’re calling it now?" she quipped, a knowing look in her eyes. "I think someone should go say hello."

Before Spencer could protest, you approached their table, carrying a fresh round of drinks. "Here you go! Compliments of the house for the amazing work you all do," you said, your smile even brighter up close.

Spencer tried to find his voice, but all he managed was a slightly awkward, "Thank you. You’re so pretty–kind, this is so kind of you.”

Penelope, ever the social butterfly, seized the opportunity to introduce herself. "I'm Penelope, and this is Spencer. And you have impeccable taste in cocktails!"

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the interaction. "Thanks, Penelope. I do try to keep the drinks as interesting as the company. That’s why yours has a special twist," you said, turning your attention to Spencer with a wink.

Spencer flushed yet again, "Oh—oh, thank you. Um, what is it?"

"Pretty boy, why don't you just take a sip and see if you like it?" Derek suggested, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah, pretty boy. And don't spare my feelings; I'd be happy to make you something else," you offered charmingly, leaning in slightly.

Spencer took a sip and realized you'd made him an absolutely delicious mocktail. His eyes widened with appreciation. "Thank you so much, this is wonderful."

"Glad you like it!" you replied, your smile warm and genuine.

Emily Prentiss, ever curious, leaned forward. "I have to ask, how did you get into bartending?"

"Yeah!" Penelope added with a playful glint in her eye. "A beautiful thing such as yourself must get a lot of tips."

You giggled at their flattery, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ha! You guys are too much. I'm just putting myself through grad school."

"And the tips?" JJ chimed in, wiggling her shoulders, much to the amusement of everyone.

You leaned in closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially, which put your chest right next to Spencer's face. "I'm not technically supposed to say..." you trailed off, casting a playful glance at Will, who was sitting nearby, "but if Will here promises not to say anything, the tips are phenomenal!"

Will smiled and raised his hand in mock solemnity. "My lips are sealed, good lady," he assured you, playing along with the lighthearted mood.

Spencer was trying his best to keep his eyes forward during the interaction, but they kept drifting over before finally accepting his fate of staring at your chest. His mind was a whirl of confusion and embarrassment, his usual eloquence completely deserting him.

"I'd say Reid over here wants to give her more than a tip," Derek laughed, his voice full of good-natured teasing.

"Morgan," Hotch scolded, though not without a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Realizing how your position had flustered the poor, adorable man, you straightened up, giving Spencer a little space. He was clearly overwhelmed, his cheeks a brilliant shade of crimson.

Spencer, noticing everyone's eyes on him, suddenly felt the urge to escape. "Excuse me," he mumbled, getting up from the table and making a beeline for the bathroom, his heart pounding with mortification and exhilaration.

As he disappeared, Penelope sighed theatrically, casting a wistful look in your direction. "Well, if he doesn't make a move, I might have to!" she declared with a laugh, earning a chorus of agreement from the rest of the team.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of the group's camaraderie and the genuine affection they had for one another. "You guys are a lot of fun," you admitted, feeling quite at ease despite the little whirlwind you'd unintentionally stirred.

Derek grinned at you, clearly enjoying the playful chaos. "Yeah, we're all sorts of fun. But don't worry about Spencer; he'll be back. Probably with a list of reasons why he shouldn't have left," he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You nodded, glancing toward the bathroom with a smile. "I'll have to make sure his drink doesn't get warm in the meantime."

—

Spencer stepped outside the bar, seeking a breath of fresh air to calm his racing thoughts. The air was humid, clinging to his skin, but it was a welcome change from the crowded bar where the laughter and clinking glasses seemed to amplify his embarrassment. He leaned against the brick wall, replaying every second from the moment he first saw you, analyzing each word and glance.

The way you'd leaned in, the warmth of your smile, and the kindness in your eyes—every detail felt vivid in his mind, refusing to be ignored. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open behind him.

"Hey, handsome," came your voice, cutting through the evening air like a melody.

Spencer spun around, his heart skipping a beat. The learned fear of being approached from behind flashed through him for a brief moment before he realized it was you. "Oh, hi," he managed to say, trying to sound composed but failing spectacularly.

"Hey, now," you teased, a playful lilt in your voice. "Don't sound too excited to see me. I'll start to think you don't like me."

"Oh—I, I mean, well," Spencer stammered, fumbling for words. His mind raced to form coherent sentences, but the proximity of your presence and the way you looked at him made it nearly impossible.

"You’re really cute, do you know that?" you said, your smile softening the tension in the air. You stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside him, your eyes glinting with amusement.

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your directness. "Um, thank you," he said, his voice filled with surprise and gratitude. "I don't usually get called that."

"Now that's a damn shame," you replied, shaking your head slightly. "What do you get called? Pretty? Beautiful? Charming? Sexy?"

Spencer laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nerdy, weird, loser," he admitted, the words tumbling out with a self-deprecating shrug.

"Nope," you said firmly, crossing your arms as if the mere idea was ridiculous. "I refuse to believe anyone could have a negative thing to say about you. You’re sweeter than honey."

He met your gaze, slightly bewildered by your unwavering confidence in him. "I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, I can read 20,000 words per minute, and I have three PhDs. No one is calling me anything kind. Other than doctor or genius, maybe."

"Sexy," you corrected him with a teasing smile.

"What?" Spencer blinked again, this time in genuine confusion.

"That's downright sexy, sugar," you repeated, your voice low and playful.

Spencer was at a loss for words, an unusual occurrence for someone who usually had an answer for everything. His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he processed your words, his heart skipping a beat at the compliment.

"I—uh," he stammered, searching for a response that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.

You chuckled softly at his reaction, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Don’t worry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable," you said, your tone gentle and reassuring. "I just think intelligence is incredibly attractive."

Spencer nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that someone found him attractive for more than just his intellect. "Thank you," he finally managed, his voice sincere. "That's… really nice to hear."

"You're welcome," you replied with a warm smile. "So, what brings you to New Orleans, sugar?"

Spencer relaxed slightly, grateful for the change in topic. "Work, mostly. We just wrapped up a case, and the team decided to take a night off to unwind."

"Well, I’m glad you did," you said, giving him a sidelong glance. "Otherwise, I might not have met the smartest—and sexiest—guy in New Orleans."

Spencer watched as you smiled, a hint of playfulness in your eyes as you leaned against the wall. The evening air was thick with humidity, but there was a certain warmth in the atmosphere that made everything feel alive. 

"Can I get you a drink?" he offered, feeling a sudden burst of confidence. 

“Sure, honey. I’m off in just over an hour. Will you wait for me?” you asked, your voice a smooth blend of charm and Southern warmth.

Spencer was entranced by your spell, your accent adding an extra layer of allure to every word. “Of–of course,” he replied, his voice tinged with both eagerness and a touch of awe.

Your smile widened, clearly pleased with his response. "Great! I promise I won't keep you waiting too long."

Spencer nodded, feeling a strange ball of nervousness and excitement fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t believe his luck; not only had he caught your attention, but now he had a reason to spend more time with you.

"Just hang tight, and I'll join you as soon as I can," you said, giving him a reassuring wink before heading back inside the bar to finish your shift.

As you slipped back through the door, Spencer took a moment to steady himself. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heat building inside him, a gentle reminder that this unexpected encounter was real. 

—

Spencer returned to his friends, who were still enjoying their drinks and each other's company. Penelope Garcia spotted him first, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to come back," she teased, patting the empty seat beside her. "Did you have a nice chat with our lovely bartender?"

Spencer smiled, feeling a bit more composed now that he was among friends. "Yes, actually," he said, a hint of bashfulness in his voice. "She’s really nice."

Derek Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice? Man, she was practically making eyes at you, and you didn’t even notice."

"She was?" Spencer asked, genuinely surprised. "I mean, I thought she was just being friendly.”

Emily Prentiss laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Spencer, I think you might need to brush up on your flirting skills. She was definitely interested."

Spencer blushed, his gaze dropping to the table as he tried to process this new information. "Well, she said she’d join me for a drink after her shift," he admitted, glancing around at his friends' reactions.

Penelope clapped her hands in delight. "Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! You have a date!"

"It's not a date," Spencer protested, though his smile betrayed his words. "We're just… having a drink."

"Uh-huh, sure," JJ said with a knowing nod. "But you better be on your best behavior, Doctor Reid."

—

The time passed more quickly than Spencer anticipated. As he sat with his friends, he found himself watching the clock, eager for the moment when he could see you again. 

Finally, as the hour drew to a close, you emerged from behind the bar, having swapped your work apron for a casual yet stylish outfit that seemed to suit you perfectly. Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, your presence a beacon of warmth in the dimly lit bar.

You approached the table with a confident stride, flashing a friendly smile at the team. "Hope I didn't keep y'all waiting too long," you said, your drawl a melodic touch to your words.

"Not at all," Spencer replied, standing up to greet you. "It was worth the wait."

Derek raised his glass in a mock toast. "Look at you, Reid, sounding like a proper gentleman."

You laughed, clearly enjoying the group. "Y'all are such a fun bunch. You might have to make this a regular stop."

Spencer felt a sense of ease settle over him, his earlier nerves fading into the background as he focused on the here and now. You were standing beside him, your presence both comforting and exhilarating, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for this unexpected twist of fate.

"So," you said, turning your attention back to Spencer, "are you ready for that drink?"

"Definitely," he replied, feeling a surge of anticipation. "Lead the way."

With that, you guided Spencer to a quieter corner of the bar, where the noise of the crowd faded into a gentle hum. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the wooden table, creating an intimate setting. Spencer felt his heart beat a little faster, knowing that this was a chance to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention so effortlessly.

Spencer settled into the booth across from you, his hands fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve. He offered you a small, bashful smile, the kind that hinted at both his excitement and nervousness. "So," he began, searching for the right words, "I guess this is the part where I ask you about your favorite drink, but it feels a bit redundant given your expertise."

You chuckled, leaning forward with a playful glint in your eye. "Well, I'm always up for a good mystery. Surprise me, Dr. Reid. What would you imagine my favorite drink to be?"

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the challenge. He considered your question, his mind racing through various options. "Hmm, I’d guess something classic but with a twist. Maybe an Old Fashioned, but with a splash of something unexpected like lavender or ginger."

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, clearly impressed. "Not bad, Spencer. I have to admit, I do like a bit of lavender in my Old Fashioned."

Spencer felt a surge of pride at getting it right, his awkward charm shining through as he said, "I, uh, thought it might match your personality—elegant with a hint of something uniquely you."

You smiled, your gaze softening as you watched him. "That’s sweet of you to say," you replied, your voice carrying a gentle warmth that made his heart skip a beat.

The conversation flowed naturally, with Spencer occasionally stumbling over his words in an endearing way that made you smile. He was unlike anyone you’d met before, his intelligence paired with a genuine kindness that was refreshing and intriguing.

As you talked, you noticed how Spencer's eyes seemed to light up when he spoke about his work and the things he was passionate about. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself leaning in closer, captivated by his stories and the way he seemed to pour his heart into everything he did.

"So, Spencer," you said, your voice taking on a more playful tone, "do you always get this nervous around women, or is it just me?"

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, I—I suppose it's not every day I get to talk to someone as captivating as you," he admitted, his honesty shining through despite his awkwardness.

You grinned, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him. "Captivating, huh? I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is," Spencer assured you, his gaze steady despite the flutter of nerves in his chest. "You have this way of commanding attention. It's, um, quite impressive."

You reached across the table, lightly touching his hand with yours. "And you have a way of making people feel appreciated, Spencer. That's a rare quality."

Spencer felt a spark at the contact, his heart beating a little faster. The moment seemed to stretch out, charged with an energy that was both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking.

"You know," you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a hint of mischief, "I think you're pretty special, too. Not just for your brain, but for who you are."

Spencer swallowed, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate. He felt a pull toward you, a magnetic force that seemed to draw him closer with every word and gesture.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot coming from you."

You smiled, your eyes holding his in a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. As if sensing the moment, the bar around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind caught between doubt and desire. But then he saw the encouragement in your eyes, and the decision seemed to make itself.

He leaned across the table, his movements tentative but filled with intent. You met him halfway, closing the distance with a gentle ease that made the moment feel right. 

The kiss was soft and tentative, a sweet brush of lips that carried the promise of something more. Spencer felt his heart soar, the warmth of the connection spreading through him like a gentle tide. 

When you finally pulled back, your eyes locked onto his, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "See?" you teased, your voice a soft murmur. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Spencer chuckled, relief and happiness washing over him. "No," he admitted, his voice filled with newfound confidence. "I guess it wasn't."

You grinned, leaning back with a satisfied air. "Good, because I was planning on doing that again," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Spencer felt his heart skip at the prospect, the evening stretching out before him with endless possibilities. He realized that this unexpected encounter could be more than just a chance meeting.

And as he sat there, sharing a quiet moment with you in the corner of the bar, Spencer knew that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

—

“Did you guys see that??” Penelope burst out, her eyes wide with excitement as she pointed toward the cozy corner where you and Spencer were sitting.

Emily turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of the sweet interaction, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Looks like our genius finally made his move," she commented, clearly pleased by the development.

Derek, ever the supportive friend, couldn't contain his enthusiasm. “Pretty boy is putting in the work!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together in approval. “I knew he had it in him.”

JJ shook her head with a laugh, leaning back in her chair. "I guess we all underestimated Spencer's game," she said, casting a proud glance toward her colleague.

Beside her, Will LaMontagne joined in the teasing, a playful grin on his face. "JJ, you might have a new travel buddy when you come to see me," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "Looks like Spencer's found himself a reason to visit New Orleans more often."

JJ chuckled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Well, I can’t say I blame him. She's a real catch."

Aaron Hotchner, usually reserved and composed, allowed himself a small smile as he watched the interaction unfold. It was rare for Spencer to let his guard down, and it was heartening to see him embrace this new connection.

"Good for him," Hotch remarked, his tone approving as he raised his glass in a quiet toast to Spencer's success.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse

[kaiser1ns]

𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

╹synopsis :: it doesn't take much to say or show you love someone even with the simplest of actions.

╹contents :: can be read as fem/gn reader; characters from blue lock, jjk and honkai star rail, FLUFF, ooc maybe?

╹notes :: as i was walking to go home at like 10pm i thought of this, hope you enjoy! added hsr specially for @okkalo ♡

ITOSHI SAE immediately takes you out to visit the sea when he gets some days off. The sounds of the waves, the relaxing atmosphere and you in his arms calm him down causing him to flashback to his childhood memories of when he was just a small and carefree child wanting nothing more but to play football with his little brother and personal cheerleader.

Not only he is known as the strongest but GOJO SATORU is also known for having a very strong sweet tooth. So what does he do to reduce the sugar? He shares it with you because there is nothing better than sharing his favourite thing with his lover, so let's say he gets a double dose of chocolate and candy from just seeing you and that's enough.

AVENTURINE is not afraid to take the risk and his constant smile makes it difficult for people to guess his true intentions. Not with you though, he lets his guard down, your voice soothing him to help him relax and as he gets lost in your touch. He is not Aventurine of the IPC or the Ten Stonehearts, he is just Kakavasha the little boy who once dreamed of love and now he won the biggest treasure in his life — you.

ITOSHI RIN knows how much you don't like scary movies, and that's why when you come over for the weekends you watch movies or series of your choice, be it Barbie or The Lion King. He will swallow his ego and stop watching the weekly uploads of his favourite scary games just so you can't fall asleep on purpose because of the horror films.

GETO SUGURU can't stop talking about how beautiful, amazing, and kind you are. Mimiko and Nanako are tired because they are the only ones who get to hear all his murmuring when you are away even for only 5 minutes. But they know how much he loves you and how you breathe life into him, and he wishes that someday they will become like you — strong and good-hearted.

ARGENTI thanks and prays to Idrila every moment of his life for obtaining the biggest blessing to ever exist and that is meeting you. The Knight of Beauty makes sure to give you one red rose every day to express his profound love and admiration, it's a small gesture that symbolizes his devotion to the relationship. He should protect his lover and like flowers, the tender petals are directed to you, with the thorns to the cosmic and its danger protecting you

It may seem that he is spoiled, but in fact, NAGI SEISHIRO is not, well not that much. Sometimes he takes charge of the household chores, giving you, a well-deserved break. He washed the dishes, cooked you a meal (instant noodles), and even tried to fold the laundry. And you, pleasantly surprised, sank into the couch, embracing the rare luxury of relaxation as familiar songs from your shared playlist were playing on the TV. Even if it doesn't happen often you are forever grateful for your lazy boyfriend to do something like that.

ITADORI YUJI shows genuine interest and actively listens to you talking about your current obsession be it a series, celebrity, book, food, or anything. He loves your voice, seeing your beautiful smile, and how your eyes seem to sparkle as you talk, he is so lovestruck that he sometimes just stares at you with the most soft and genuine look. Just don't be surprised when you find some merchandise on your desk with a little love note, okay?

Engaging in meaningful conversations and connecting on a deeper level with DR. RATIO seems like every other normal day for him. He approaches every interaction with a thirst for knowledge. And you take him by surprise every time and he doesn't know what to do, the great genius suddenly stops functioning. The way you hold his hand, kiss his cheek, make him stutter — he goes crazy and questions himself about how there is no logical explanation for this, but there is, it is called love.

SHIDOU RYUSEI doesn't like to share his material possessions with anyone, he worked so hard to get the last volumes of Chainsaw Man as they are now put on the shelf in his bedroom. And imagine his reaction when he sees you reading volume 10 which has Makina on the cover, cuddled nicely with his blanket on the bed. How dare you read it without him? And so he jumps onto the mattress, squishing you because that's your punishment for not telling him. You apologized to him of course but for him to fully forgive you, next time you will be on anicon cosplaying Makima and Denji.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI remembers the small details about you and your preferences. If you don't like a certain ingredient in the food, he will order the dish without it. You like to sleep on this side of the bed, no problem he will sleep on the other side as you both cuddle and drift to Dreamland. He will immediately notice the change in your mood and even if he is not so good with words, he will always be there for you offering his warm embrace.

As a Galaxy Ranger BOOTHILL tends to travel around the cosmos a lot and sadly he can't spend time with you. But when he's with you, one of the things you do is his hair and to put cute stickers on his metal hands or guns. The scary cyborg cowboy is now a pretty princess with pigtails, heart stickers and with a very happy lover. He watches you having fun with his makeover — and will do everything possible to spend more time with you.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[reiderwriter]

The Us That Could Have Been

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader

Requested: yes - role reversal of the player!Spencer fic I posted here!

W/C: 5.7k

Summary: They say if you want to get over one man, you have to get under another. Spencer isn't so sure why he dislikes the idea of you doing that quite so much.

Warnings: Mentions of Maeve, spoilers for S8, mentions of minor character deaths, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, angst.

A/N: I'm not going to apologise for this one... Have fun.

Find the rest of my masterlist here.

If you were a genius, you’d know that it took you three hours, twenty-three minutes, and six seconds to fall in love with Spencer Reid. If you were a genius, you’d also know that it took him five years, seven months, twenty-seven days, and two hours to the second for him to break your heart. The thing you were learning about geniuses though, is that they were the most oblivious people on the planet. 

Her name was Maeve, he had told all of you. And he needed your help to save her because he was in love with her. And of course, you went along with it, you tried your best even while your heart was cracked in two because at this point, you couldn’t stand the desperation on his face. The day he told you about her, only days before he died, you cried in the arms of Penelope Garcia for hours, letting her console you as you felt your world get flipped upside down. 

“I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, god, Penelope. Five years, and I knew, I knew that if he liked me like that something would have happened already, but I just…” She rubbed your back as you laid your head on her shoulder, letting your tears fall freely as the sobs wracked through your body. 

“I’ve been in love with him for five years and he never even noticed, and… Penelope he hasn’t seen this girl before and he’s desperate for her. What about me is so unlovable?” Your voice cracked as you broke down again, burying your head in your friend's arms as you let all the emotions hit you at once. 

“Y/N you listen to me right now. You are not unlovable, you have never been unlovable. If Spencer cannot see what is right in front of him, then he is an idiot. You are the most amazing thing that has happened to him, you’re a great friend, you’re smart, you’re beautiful-” 

“I’m not her. Penelope, I… I want to be her-” She held you as you emptied yourself for hours, crying until you were so physically exhausted that you just couldn’t anymore. You couldn’t say that you stopped crying per se, just that your body ran out of emotions to sustain you. 

“Okay, Y/N, here’s what you’re going to do now,” Penelope said. She’d heard you out for long enough, but she wasn’t going to let you be miserable for long. 

“You’re going to pick yourself up, take care of yourself. Get a haircut, dye your hair, whatever you need to do to get some change. And then you’re going to do your goddamn best to forget him, because if he’s too stupid to realize how special and amazing you are then he really doesn’t deserve you.” You sniffled a bit and nodded at her words. 

“And then, you’re going to get back out there. Y/N, when was the last time you went on a date?” 

“I don’t know it’s been… The last one I can remember was before I entered the BAU. I’ve just been so busy-” 

“Bullshit. You’re going to put yourself back out there and find a man, or multiple men, who actually value you and want you. A wise scholar once said the best way to get over a man is to get under another.” 

–X–

A year later and you’d probably taken Penelope’s words to heart a little bit too much. Maeve had died at the hands of her stalker not even a day later, and you felt terrible for Spencer, but he’d pushed you away, he’d pushed everyone away, so you’d decided she was right. 

Your first date had been a few weeks later, and you’d have liked the fact that you’d taken him back to your place and then immediately kicked him out and never seen him again after that to stay a secret. But the BAU copycat didn’t let any of your business stay within the team for long. He had pictures of you with the first guy, the guy from a week later, and the guy after him as well. By the time you’d figured out who the copycat murderer who’d sent you all Zugzwang-themed threats was, he’d got pictures of you locking lips with five separate one-night stands.

The team had said nothing about it, of course, except Hotch’s private aside asking if any of the men in the pictures needed informing about the situation. You’d had to admit to them that you’d not seen any of them since, and, with no reaction from Spencer, you’d felt almost vindicated in taking this step. 

If he didn’t care then, in those tense months where you were all leaning on each other for support, reeling from the death of Erin Strauss and the attacks on the team, closer than you’d really ever been before, then he wouldn’t ever care. 

The thought was freeing. So you’d kept up with your constant stream of men, not letting them get close enough to hurt you in the way that Spencer had, using them and discarding them like broken toys, ignoring that maybe it was you that was the broken one. 

It took a year for him to notice it. A year of you coming in with suspicious bruises on your neck that you laughed off, a year of your newfound confidence, a year of your conscious distance for him to notice that he missed you. It was slow at first. In those first few months, he just accepted that of course, you’d been seeing people. He’d assumed from the photographs everyone had seen that you’d been dating the entire time he’d known you, the feeling unsettling him a little, but he thought that was only because he’d never noticed. 

Now it was all he could notice. The way you’d walk in sometimes smelling unfamiliar, having showered at a hookup's place before taking off, the way you were suddenly open to the flirting by the local PDs on your cases. The way a sadness seeped into his chest every time he saw you with someone else. Envy wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, so it took him stupidly long to name the emotion. 

You were back at O’Keefe’s after a local case successfully closed, and if you were drinking a lot, no one mentioned it. No one except Spencer, who’d made it his objective to keep you safe and by his side the entire night, for reasons he couldn’t even name. It was stifling, having him constantly hovering over you. 

“Spencer, lighten up a bit, have a drink.” You smiled up at him, trying to get him to loosen up so you could escape the way his sudden care was making you feel. The bartender was eyeing you up from his place behind the bar, and while you were usually careful not to get involved with men whom you’d likely run across again, you were throwing caution to the wind that day. 

“I’ll have a drink if you drink some water and slow down a bit, Y/N.” He handed you the glass he’d retrieved earlier and you sipped it slowly, squirming under the care in his gaze. He ordered a drink, and you eyed up the bartender as he did so, pushing Spencer’s hand off your hip as he approached, offering him a smile. He looked between you and the unfamiliar man, and felt a cold flash in his veins, waiting for his drink and then pulling you away back to the table with the rest of your friends, tangling your hand with his. 

You pulled out of his grip but followed him dutifully. He guided you into your seat quickly, brushing your hair out of your eyes before falling back into conversation with the rest of the team. You hated the way he could still make your heart stutter, still have you feeling hot all over from a single touch, and you felt trapped in the booth, screaming for a way out. 

Your chance came an hour later, when he excused himself to the bathroom, and you excused yourself as well, running back up to the bar. When he came back, you were gone.

“Where is Y/N?” He asked with a scowl, cursing himself for letting his eyes off you for even a second when you’d drank so much that night, having come back to suggest you turn in for the night, getting ready to offer you a ride home. 

“Y/N? By now, she’s either in the back room with the bartender or she’s convinced him to get off early and head back to hers,” Morgan chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Took her only two minutes of conversation to have him inviting her out the back entrance, she’s been gone for like five minutes now. 

The constricted feeling settled in his chest again, as his scowl deepened. Not knowing why he was feeling so goddamn destroyed by that statement, he let his head hang and left the bar himself, taking himself outside to get in his car and go home. Unbeknownst to him, you watched him leave from the alley behind the bar, the bartender placing open-mouthed kisses on your exposed neck as you buried your worryingly consistent feelings in the scent of bourbon and lust. 

The next week is rough for both of you. You laugh and play along with Morgan’s jokes about your game, keeping an eye out for him the entire time and ending all the conversations as you feel him enter the room or step closer. It doesn’t stop him from hearing it all, though, all the details about your sex life tormenting him, as he boils with anger at how wreckless you’re being with your constant stream of guys. 

“Mama, you were on fire last week. Took you only two minutes to disappear with that guy, you’re going to have to let me in on your secrets,” Morgan laughed from his perch on your desk. 

“Sorry, a magician never reveals her secrets, and what I do is definitely magic.” Your tone was suggestive and set the man off in a booming laugh, but with your back to the door, you hadn’t heard Spencer’s entrance. 

“The secret is that men are more accepting of casual hook-ups with strangers than women,” he snapped at you both, beginning to ramble as you both looked up at him in shock. 

“Okay, kid, I was just joking-”

“When surveyed over 75% of men said they would be willing to have sex with a complete stranger, vs. 0% of women, and while that’s just one study, there are multiple others that I could quote that have similar results.” 

“Spencer,” you chastised him, but he didn’t stop.

“What? Did you want to know when posing the question of an affair to people in a relationship that 18% of men reacted positively to having casual sex with a stranger, and surprisingly 4% of women also reacted in the affirmative? Did you ask that guy if he had a girlfriend before you fell into his bed, Y/N?” 

“Okay, that’s enough, Spencer, take a walk. I don’t know what’s up with you today, but that was out of line. Hotch is looking for you in his office.” The words came from Morgan, but he kept his eyes locked with yours as he was scolded, memorizing the look of pain in your eyes as he finally backed away. 

He didn’t know why he did it. He knew it would hurt you, and yet he continued anyway, even after you’d begged him to stop. He was hurt, and he didn’t know why, and he didn’t think he had any reason to be hurt, and somehow it was all because you’d been in the back of his mind constantly for as long as he could remember. 

–X– 

“Okay, girl’s night, my place, tomorrow night. There are no cases, and I managed to get Hotch to agree to let us put our phones on silent for the night, so it’s just me, you, JJ, and Blake, a bottle of wine and some good old-fashioned girl talk, what do you say?” Penelope asked you gleefully in the break room one day as you both prepared your drinks for a busy day of paperwork ahead. 

“I’m sorry, Pen, I have plans already.” You grinned up at her as she pouted, promising to make it up to her another time. You didn’t offer an explanation though, just excusing yourself back to your desk and letting her know that you’d make it up to her another time. 

Reid took your place as soon as you vacated it. Almost obsessively, he’d been following you around like a lost puppy since he’d exploded on you the other day. 

“I know you said girls’ night but… Could... Could I come? I think I need some uh, girl talk?” He asked Penelope, an awkward, embarrassed look on his face as he smiled tensely. If anyone knew what was wrong with him, recently, it would be them. 

Last year, he’d have said it was you, but the distance he’d felt recently, combined with the fact that he was almost 90% sure you were the root of his problems had him desperate for other opinions. 

“Oh. Are you sure, Spencer, we’ll be talking about all kinds of gross women stuff?” 

“I was raised by a single mother. I’m sure nothing you say could gross me out. Please?” She nodded her approval telling him what time to get there and to bring his beverage of choice, knowing he didn’t really drink wine all that much if he could help it. 

He turned up twenty minutes late, after spending a great deal of time pacing outside of Penelope’s apartment building wondering if he had any right to unburden himself on them like this. Pacing he wondered whether you’d actually showed up despite your mysterious plans and whether this had been all for naught anyway. 

When he eventually knocked on the door, Penelope opened it and greeted him with a warm hug. “We were wondering when you were going to knock on the door, one more minute and we were going to come out to get you.” 

JJ stood up to hug him, wine glass in her hand, and Blake offered him a wave from her perch on the couch. He took off his scarf and coat and accepted the glass of water Penelope offered him, settling into a chair opposite the three women. 

“Penelope said you wanted advice about something?” Blake was the first to enquire, the three of them getting straight into it, not letting him chicken out of it. 

“Yeah, I think so. Lately, I’ve been having these, I don’t know, weird feelings…” 

“Oh god, I thought I was a few years out from having the talk with someone,” JJ joked, but Penelope shushed her quickly after a quick snicker, letting him continue. 

“I’ve been… I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been acting really weird around Y/N, and I can’t figure out why.” He finally pushed the words out, feeling a weight off his chest at the confession. 

“You can’t?” The room was silent for a minute as they looked at each other, and he looked at them looking at each other, wondering what it was exactly that he’d missed. 

“Yeah? I don’t know, every time I see her I just want to, I don’t know, have her attention on me, even if I have to say something a little mean to get it. And in the bar that time, I was so, I don’t know hurt, I guess, when she disappeared without saying goodbye.” 

They just listened to him go on, not stopping to interrupt him, so he continued. 

“And there’s been this weird distance between us lately, and I guess it’s been there for a while, but I miss her, but she’s still there. I can still talk to her, and I can still spend time with her but I miss her all the time.”

“Spencer,” Blake said with a soft voice. “Since when have you been feeling like this?” 

“I don’t know, I guess it started after everything happened with Strauss and the copycat in New York. But she’s always been… I don’t know, closer than most people? But every time I think we’re getting back to normal recently, she pulls away again and there’s this… void where she should be.”

JJ put her drink down and leaned a little closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Spencer, I think you might be in love with her.” He considered the words for a moment, before getting ready to dismiss them. 

“No, love is a good emotion, this doesn’t feel good, it feels… ugly.” Blake stared at him sympathetically, calmly talking him around. 

“Spencer, think about it. You’re protective over her, you don’t like seeing her with other people, this all started right around the time the copycat sent those pictures of her with other people. It is love, and it’s jealousy, too.” 

The words hit him like a tonne of bricks as he suddenly felt the full force of his words. He was in love with you. 

“Oh god, what do I do?” He held his head in his hands, and Penelope scoffed a little from her seat, the rest of them turning to look at him.  

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to figure this one out on your own genius.” She said with a slightly sharp tone, and even the girls sent her questioning stares as she continued. 

“You don’t just get to decide that you want her after all this time, not after how you’ve been treating her these last few months.” She turns her head away a little bit and sips her drink, her tough-love approach leaving him slightly defeated.  

“Penelope, do you know something?” Blake asks firmly, trying to coax some answers out of her. 

“If I did, I’d be under a strict oath not to tell anyone. And I wouldn’t want to considering how much pain she was in when she made me swear never to tell anyone.” It was clear from the tone of her voice that she really wanted to say something though, the words desperate to spill out. 

“Penelope, your loyalty is commendable, but don’t you think what you have to say could help both of them?” JJ quietly coaxed out of her, and she finally gave in. 

“Okay, but if you hurt her, Spencer Reid, I will never forgive you ever again.” He nodded quickly, hanging onto her every word. 

“Think about what else happened a year ago.” She encouraged him, and for a moment, he was coming up blank.  

“A year ago? We were in the middle of the copycat case. Strauss had just been killed. We were close to being pulled off the case-” 

“You got a girlfriend, Spencer. You came in one day out of the blue and just announced that you were in love with someone you hadn’t met, and you didn’t realize that you were torturing her.” Penelope tried really hard not to snap at him, but his ignorance of your feelings was frustrating, to say the least.  

“What Penelope is trying to say, Spencer, is that we think Y/N was in love with you, too,” JJ added, softening the blow. “And finding out you didn’t feel the same way so suddenly was, well it was a shock to all of us really.”

“What Penelope is trying to say is that she spent six hours with me crying into this couch, and then picked herself up and helped you try to save the woman you had chosen over her. So yeah, she’s been a bit distant, but can you really blame her?” 

“She… She was in love with me?” His heart stopped for a second, dropping to the pit of his stomach as he thought back to those days, how you’d acted around him, the smiles that hadn’t reached your eyes, the reassurances that he’d brushed off, so desperate to help Maeve. 

“Honestly, until you told us about Maeve, I thought you two had something going on,” Blake added. 

“We used to have an office bet when Emily was around about which of the two of you would confess first,” JJ admitted shyly. 

“Oh, god.” He let his head hang a little in shame. “Do you… do you think she still feels the same?” 

They shared another glance at each other again, and he panicked trying desperately to decode whatever it was that had just passed between them. 

“Look, we shouldn’t profile each other but… It’s not a coincidence that all of her hookups tend to happen after you pay her some attention.” Blake observed, letting Reid fill in the blanks of her statement.

“That might be my fault actually, I told her the best way to get over you is to get under someone else.” 

“I don’t want her under someone else,” he stated then, cutting himself off before he could say anything else too damning.  

“She’s not here tonight, why isn’t she here?” He panicked looking frantically around the room for answers, but none of them knew really.  

“She said she had plans, but she didn’t tell me what they are.” 

“Do you think she’s… do you think she’s with…” He couldn’t finish the thought, instead bolting upright and gathering his things. 

“I need to go.” He let out, as the women cheered behind him, finally happy that he was taking action. Penelope shouted your address at him as he left as if he didn’t already have it memorized, running out in the rain, his feet carrying him to your apartment.  

He saw the light on when he approached, thankful that you were still there, and bounded up the stairs to your floor, not giving himself time to second guess this before he pounded on your door.  

You pulled the door open, a confused look on your face as you greeted him, his chest heaving, water dripping down his face. He looked like a mess. 

“Are you alone?” He gasped out, having to pause between each word to catch his breath.  

“Spencer, what are you doing-” The breath left your body as he leaned into you, catching you around the hips and walking you back into your apartment, your back hitting the wall behind you as he rested his forehead against your own, chest still desperately drawing in oxygen. 

“Please, please tell me right now if there’s someone here with you. If there is, I’ll leave, if there isn’t…” His gaze fell to your lips and your entire body lit up, the haze of your confusion finally lifting as you took in each of his words. His lips moved forward, seconds from connecting with your own when his question was finally answered.  

“Y/N? Who is it?” The voice was male, and it was coming from your living room, but it was all Spencer needed to know as he detangled himself from you, pushing his wet hair out of his face and putting some distance between you two, muttering apologies as he backed out of the door again. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I’m sorry,” he said, quickly turning away from you and leaving your apartment quickly. 

“Spencer, wait-” You tried to yell after him, but it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, as quickly as he came. 

You returned to the living room, cursing yourself for not answering quickly enough as you crawled back into the seat you’d just left. 

“What was all that?” Your brother asked from his perch, shoveling popcorn into his mouth in a way that had you somehow even more pissed at him for the simple fact of his existence.  

“That was Spencer. He… God, I think he thinks I’m in here with a guy.” 

–X– 

The next few days at work were tense, as you desperately tried everything to catch his eye. But you weren’t sure why you were putting in so much effort. He was the one who had burst into your apartment and practically begged you for your attention, why were you now the one chasing him?

Needless to say, you took your frustrations straight to Penelope Monday morning. 

“And then he left without letting me explain that it was my brother, and he hasn’t talked to me once this morning, he keeps running away from me and I don’t even know what the fuck it was he was trying to gain from all that and- ughh he is so dense.”

Penelope had sensed the oncoming disaster the moment she’d seen your social media post about your brother’s visit Saturday morning, and you only confirmed all her fears as you unloaded onto her. She silently cursed Spencer as well, and once she’d given you some reassurance and reminded you that you had some case files on your desk that were urgent and distracting enough to calm you down, she practically lept from her seat to hunt Reid down.  

“Spencer Reid, you get your ass in my office right this second,” she whisper screamed at him in the breakroom, his sunken eyes showing that his jump to conclusions had left him in a poor emotional state. He jolted at her words, as she watched to see if you noticed the two of them before practically frog-marching him off down the hall.  

“What the hell happened? We sent you off to confess your feelings, and you what? Pin her to the wall and breathe down her neck before running off with your tail between your legs?” 

He looked down guiltily before replying. “She had a guy there, Penelope, I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to get rejected like that.” 

“She did not have a guy there, Spencer, she had her brother there.” She pulled up your post on her phone and thrust it in his face as she watched his eyes go wide at his own stupidity, clutching the phone as he read your words.  

“And if you weren’t a coward, you’d have stayed and told her even if she did actually have someone over.” 

He’d since tuned out her words though, the crushing weight of his almost-confession that had been stuck to him since the weekend dissipating slowly. 

“This is her brother?” He looked up at you again, desperate to confirm the words she’d already said. 

“Yes. You’d know that if you weren’t such a technophobic freak. I love you but this is the 21st Century and you’re an idiot.” 

“Yeah, I am.” He handed her the phone back and slunk out of the office, and back to his desk. He had a chance to try again, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time. 

–X– 

You didn’t know how you knew that night, but when you heard the knock at your door, you knew it was him. 

You hesitated before reaching for the door handle, pulling it open, and confirming your suspicions. 

“Hi.” You said, and he returned the greeting with a mumble of his own before the two of you fell into silence again. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t, instead letting his gaze fall to your lips. You heard the hidden question in his look and opened the door a little wider. 

It took only a moment for him to come crashing into you, hands holding your face as his lips met yours in a passionate embrace, drinking you in as again walked you back into your apartment, not even breaking away as he closed the door behind you.  

You wrapped your arms up and around his neck, as you let his hands fall to your hips, your chest, your ass, exploring every part of your body he could reach as you stood caught up in each other. In your desperation for each other, you hit walls, and bumped into tables, finally stopping at your kitchen island as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he started pressing kisses down the hollow of your neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered between kisses. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was your brother and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, and I’m sorry I’ve been so weird recently.” You pulled his face back up to your own claiming his lips in yours once again, swallowing each of his other apologies. 

He pulled away again, looking at you tenderly as he lifted you into his arms and gently carried you into your room, laying you down on your bed. 

“I love you,” he whispered, and the words broke you. You’d spent five years practically begging him to say them, and another year since trying to bury even the very idea of him feeling the same way deep inside you. Tears fell from your eyes and he kissed each one of them away, muttering confessions into your skin. 

“I love you, please don’t cry.” 

“I love you, you’re so beautiful.” 

“I love you and I’m so so sorry.” You pushed him away again slightly, regaining enough of your composure to finally talk again. 

“I need to know that you’re serious, Spencer. I can’t… I can’t do this if you’re not totally sure, because it will destroy me.” Your voice broke as the words stumbled over the knot in your throat, your hands balled into his shirt, legs still wrapped around him. 

“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you ever again.” He pressed his lips back into yours again, and you let the kiss deepen, lips slanting over each other in desperation as the need to be joined overtook your body. 

He lifted your skirt, trailing a hand between the two of you as he checked your arousal. You could feel his cock pressing into your thigh, desperate to be freed from it’s restraints. He began kissing his way down your naval, but you pulled him back up.  

“No, I need you now. There will be time for that later, but if you don’t do this now I think I’ll drive myself mad with wanting.” His lips reconnected with yours again as you began divesting yourselves of clothing, and within another two minutes, he was pressing into you, muttering more adoring serenades into your skin as he began catching the tears escaping your eyes again. 

“Yes, Spencer, more please,” you moaned underneath him, legs tight around him as he began thrusting into you with a ferocity you hadn’t felt from him before. It was tender, but you were both desperate, after months of separation, to come back into one another. 

Your lips and teeth clashed together as you let the room echo with your moans, his moans, and the sound of your skin slapping against each other. His forehead came to rest against your own as he grew closer to his release, lips disconnecting as you just stared into each other's eyes in that moment, seeing each other truly for the very first time. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.” He pressed down into you harder, looking down to the place where you were joined and letting out a whispered curse as he watched you take every inch of him. His hips stuttered then, and you felt your own climax reach you as you felt him release into you, his lips softly tracing your own as you breathed each other in again. 

He pulled out and immediately went to work making sure you were comfortable, propping you up on the bed, making sure the pillows behind you were plump and soft, and running off to find something to clean yourself up with. You watched him silently, again brushing some of the tears from your eyes. 

“How do you feel?” He said shyly as he returned, having pulled his pants back on at least as he bought you a glass of water. You offered him a small smile and a thank you as you replied. 

“I think… I think we need to talk, Spencer.” You said, not meeting his eyes as he looked down at you attentively. 

“Why did you come tonight, Spencer?” You asked, voice so quiet you resisted the urge to repeat the question, knowing that he heard you perfectly clearly, 

“I needed to tell you how I feel. It’s been staring me in the face for six years, and I somehow didn’t know, but once I did I just… I needed you to know.” You nodded at his words, standing still in front of you on the bed as you swung your legs off and asked him to pass you your nightdress back. You pulled it on over your head as you asked him your next question. 

“Why did you run away the other day?” 

“I didn’t know it was your brother, Y/N, I should’ve-”

“It shouldn’t have mattered who it was. If you love me, you should fight for me, right? The way you fought for Maeve.” Your tears start falling again as you open the wound that brought you this far. 

“Y/N, that was… That was different-” You can hear the panic in his voice as he tries to come up with the words to explain himself. 

“Spencer, if.. If it’s different then I think you should leave. If you don’t love me the same way you loved her, then there’s no point starting something.” 

“Y/N, please.” 

“No, Spencer. I have spent six years of my life filled with nothing but love for you. I wake up and think about you, I go to bed and you’re still there in the back of my mind. My every action is informed by your presence and I am so, so tired. So if you do not feel the same way, you need to turn around and leave this apartment.” 

The silence between you is thick, as you stare up at him through your tears, face stern as you push him away. 

He gathers his things. Moves towards the door and doesn’t say anything, and just as you’re about to break down, to let the sob burst from your chest in an agonized wail, you hear your front door close behind him, and you’re left alone in the empty apartment, stuck in the purgatory of your love for him, unable to move an inch. 

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hi there,

I love your writings! I never sent an ask before, and I'm sure you have plenty of requests, but your works are incredible, so anything you choose to write about is bound to be amazing!

I was wondering if you would consider doing more 18+ headcannons for the ROTTMNT Boys, like you did for Leo? The idea that they all fall for the reader for different reasons sounds intriguing 🤤

Random Headcanons About Donatello (18+)

Rise!Donatello x reader

A/N: I decided to write one for Donnie, because other than this, I have nothing one Rise Donnie😭 Hope you’ll like this, and will satisfy some of you Donnie people out there💜

Warnings: Talk of masturbation, a little bit of intimate instints.

Donnie was never been much of a big flirt, nor had he ever had much interest in anything romantic. To him, it felt like a waste of time. Those kinds of feelings never came easy to him, so it was kind of hard for him to fit it into his life.

But of course Donnie felt bodily needs. He was a living being after all. But he had never tied it to any emotions of love or attraction. No, to him it had always been a natural thing he needed to get done. Something his body needed, a part of his nature. Science and biology in its natural habitat. So when he felt the need, he would hide himself away in his room, and make quick work with his hands on himself, until he didn’t feel the growing neediness in his member anymore.

He never bothered to spend much time thinking about these things. He never bothered spending time thinking about what he was into, when it came to a partner. Because why would he do that? He wasn’t looking for a partner, so why would he try to figure out what his ideal partner would be like? Sounded like a stupid thing to do in his opinion.

These things didn’t change straight away when you entered Donnie’s life. Donnie did not feel any different when he and his brothers started to hang out with you. You were a nice friend and Donnie did enjoy spending time with you. But that was just that. You were just a friend, and Donnie didn’t want it to be any other way. No more. No less.

But slowly but surely, things between the two of you would change.

As time went on, you and Donnie would get closer, slowly becoming best friends. That meant you and the purple genius would often spend time alone together, getting to know each other on a deeper level. You just understood Donnie, and you never struggled or clashed with his way of being, like his brothers would from time to time. However, there would be small things that you did, that slowly would make Donnie’s heart flutter. It was how you seemed to understand his sometimes non-verbal communication, how you easily learned his way of organizing, and his other small quirks.

The realization that Donnie had developed feelings for you, hit him like a wall of bricks. It happened one late night, as Donnie sat in his lab, hunched over his work, his thoughts running as he worked. His thoughts floated towards you and your beautiful smile… Hmm, odd… But you did have a beautiful smile. Anyway, back to work… You also did have a very nice voice… Donnie really liked your voice. It made him happy to hear it whenever you were around… Snap out of it Donnie! You’re working!... When did Donnie last see you anyway? A few days ago, when you and him had decided to watch that movie together. And you were wearing those jeans that really fitted your butt and thighs so well. So well that Donnie for a short moment, wished he could just reach out to touch them. That was the moment Donnie dropped what he had in his hand, his eyes wide when he realized what was going on.

Donnie, much to his own surprise, now found himself spending much time dreaming and wondering about love. He thought of you, what it would be like to be with you, both emotionally and physically. He wondered what you liked, and if you would ever look at him in the same way. And for the first time, Donnie found himself touching himself, not just because of his needs, but because of what your beautiful being did to him.

And for the first time Donnie found himself interested in romance, and it wouldn’t take long before he slowly put in the work, in order to win you and your love over.

[cillivnz]

Hi 👋 I see you write for Lord Dimitrescu (miss a spot, hit the spot was brilliant and I would devour more) and I saw that you are taking requests, what do you think about monster hunter!reader x Lord Dimitrescu? You can take this in whichever direction you like best, but I do have a prompt idea!

Lord Dimitrescu and his sons find a trespasser on their land and Dimitrescu takes her in as his guest/prisoner thinking that she is a clueless lost traveler, not knowing that she's a hunter willing to get close to him by any means necessary, even if it means seducing a monster. Gaining access to his infamous library full of books on how to kill every monster known to man is just the first step, what she really wants is to find out the family's weaknesses and get lord Dimitrescu to let his guard down enough for her to kill him and every last member of his twisted family. Or at least that was the plan...

I just love villain gets the girl/ corruption stories and the idea of someone rolling up into that castle with every intention of wiping out the evil that lives there, but getting seduced instead... 😍😍😍

Love your work!!!

façade of seduction [lord dimitrescu]

PAIRING — LORD DIMITRESCU x MONSTER HUNTER!READER

WORD COUNT — 12.6k+ (i’m so sorry, it’s for the plot!)

WARNINGS — SMUT. eighteen+. AFAB!reader, dark arts, necromancy, the supernatural, mentions of murders, beheadings, cannibalism, vampirism, extremely dubious consent, cursing, extreme gore (blood, cuts, stabbing, mass murder, executions, etc.), reader uses seduction as a tactic, death of family, size kink, age-gap, degradation, pet-names, mentions as well as performed oral sex (talk of male!receiving, performed cunnilingus), fingering, female masturbation, mentions of male masturbation, unprotected penetrative sex, weird & unspecific AU, creampie, cum-eating, breast/nipple play, clit stimulation, extreme descriptions (?), kinda sorta brat-taming.

A/N — whoa, baby! she’s done! firstly, let me just shower this anon with kisses for trusting me such an amazing prompt! thank you, you beautiful soul. i had a blast writing this, and i’m sorry i couldn’t finish it sooner :’( you’re a literal genius, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this, and thank you for the kind words! secondly,

i tried incorporating as much lore from the game as i could, majority of the plot is my own fictional work, and the rest [credited to the game] may have been tampered with to suit the plot of this fiction.

Lady Elvira Natalia Stoica is an original character — INCLUSIVE OF ETHNICITY, RACE, COLOUR, BODY TYPE, etc. the only definite characteristic she has is that she is reader’s doppelgänger with an identical appearance, and that her family is of the same origin as The Dimitrescus (Romanian).

Alcina Dimitrescu’s gender-bent version is named Alcides Dimitrescu in my fiction. the credit of his sons’ names goes to @angel-hawthorne ’s comment under this post.

there’s some deliberate references to my other Lord Dimitrescu fiction. read it HERE!

NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations]

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" : You idiots! Is this how you treat our guest?

"Oaspete? Dar ea—" : Guest? But she—

"Scuzați-vă." : Excuse yourselves.

căprița mea mică : my little doe

cameristă : maid

Pentru dumnezeu! : good god/for god’s sake!

𝓗unters.

Your father before you, and his before him. Monsters, demons, deities; anything of supernatural order, possessing paranormal traits needed to be laid down, and your family was bestowed with the responsibility to do so. They told you, you were god-gifted; possessing an astounding memory. It was as if you soaked in every word you read in journals rich in paranormal history, and carved every word into your brain with your own hand.

Those ungodly creatures fumed at the audacity of a mortal family killing the abysmal aristocracies in the name of slaughtering abominations.

How proudly you awarded yourselves the title of Vânători de urâciuni — Hunters of Abominations. Soon enough, though, the leaders of the Four Houses knew a lesson needed be taught, example be set; actions have consequences, and after all, you were mere mortals. Audacious, dangerous mortals.

The last of the Four Houses needed to be hunted down. Your father, your uncle, your brother managed to wipe out the other key members, before it was about time the reaper caught up to them. Weeks, months went by in weeping for them, never letting their caskets dry, but it was about time you stopped mourning. This isn't what you were raised to do — whom you were raised to be. There was no way in hell you'd let the last Family standing think that the danger was over, not when you found out that it was on their cue, their command, that the guillotine that slashed through your family's head held high, became the inevitable demise of the men of Vânători de urâciuni.

'Fuckers even had the audacity to send the heads back, all nice and packaged, and signed. It was then, you realised, the weight of your name's responsibility lies on your shoulders, now. Mother was too deep in the waters of depression, perhaps, vengeance would serve as her lifeguard, and you sought to get it. For her sake, and yours.

Packing the the remnant of your belongings, primarily, lore on whatever mutation resembled that of what you've heard the family to be; barbaric, and vampiric, you set voyage to Castle Dimitrescu, the Lord's stronghold within the vicinity of a titular Eastern European village; Romania, in other geographical terms.

After weeks on foot, travelling from place to place and squeezing in some good o'l slash-and-dash of monsters into your quest, you reached the abysmal castle. The oppressive aura surrounding The Dimitrescus' colossal abode could be felt miles away from its actual foundations, the monotonous venus blue atmosphere, the trees that have been decayed for decades, peering into your periphery, mortifying the sight of Castle Dimitrescu, even more. You shake off a shiver, determined strides leading you forward. An ominous forest welcomed you, seemingly, the flora responded to every step you took on the onyx soil; you were not too far from the gigantic gates of the castle, deciding to take a breather and assess just what you were dragging yourself into, the massive mountainous foliage providing a safe haven, temporarily.

Rummaging through the contents, page after page, you landed on Wendigo. You knew your ancestors categorised mutations in the same category as a Wendigo, it being the severest form of inhumanity; the mutated man would resort to cannibalism, still humanoid — tall and pale with elongated limbs and pale yellow eyes. If the Dimitrescus were anything like a typical mutated Wendigo, you hadn't thought this through. Then, you remembered your brother's journal.

He was vague with words, often scribbling up a précise at the end of a hunt. Too consumed by your tears, you initially forgot about it, until you realised halfway through your voyage that your mother packed his journal for you, and some documentations recorded by your father and your uncle in their youth, though, you highly doubted you'd be coming across an extinct creature.

There it was — the last page of his journal — the twenty-seventh page to be precise, with triple the pages still empty; clean slates like a reminder of his unlived life, the life that was taken away from him.

You smiled fondly at his handwriting, letting your fingertips trace the scribbles, how deeply the quill was engraved into the paper. You remember laughing at his handwriting, growing up, how your mother would ask him to get a doctorate to match his stereotypical physician's handwriting, but this is all he knew — all you knew. Hunting was your profession, your life and lifestyle, and now, inevitably, your demise, too. You began reading, as I said, your older brother, a master at scribbling précise.

You were unsure, however, when he'd got the time to write down about The Dimitrescus, having never come face-to-face with the tyrants. It seemed your brother's first guess, too, was 'Wendigo', which he scratched down, only to pen it down again, bigger and emphasised, once he enlisted 'Cannibalisme'.

Your heart sank at the etchings.

Even for someone like him, these were too cynical, like he were losing his mind at the mere thought of them: 'one LORD — THREE SONS', it read. 'Blood disease??', 'PARASITE??', 'VAMPIRISM'? That would mean— "Oh." You stood corrected when just below the analysis was a remark, "NO WEAKNESS TO SUN OR WEATHER". Sometimes you swore you and him had the same braincells, always jumping to the same conclusions, which only made the desire to avenge him overpowering.

Your eyes traveled to the end of the page, the last of ink spilled on the worn out pages of your brother's journal, 'NEOPAGAN CULT', 'BLACK GOD'. With widened eyes, and a sinister feeling you couldn't yet shake away, your eyes dart to the next, last page.

There was a symbol maniacally delineated, labelled as the same reports on the previous page. 'NEOPAGAN CULT SYMBOL', and at the bottom of the page, the last thing your brother ever did write was, 'THE CULT OF THE BLACK GOD'. You subconsciously traced the diagram, only to see the graphite taint your fingertips. Your mind was racing two hundred miles per hour, trying to put the pieces of a fatally intricate puzzle together. Your brother's journal, the last of the contents were mere observations, unlike the rest of the pages that are filled with methods of executing generations of monsters.

But for The Dimitrescus, the fact that 'most powerful family' was written with emphasis only made you scowl. You searched frantically in your bag for the journals of your father, your uncle; anything that spoke more about this parasite and the said Black God.

Glancing back at the foot of the palace, you had to do a double take when you saw the guards leave the premises, bread and wine in hand. Their chuckles could be sound from the heart of the forest, even though they repeatedly 'shushed' one another, saying "the Lord" would put their "heads on a stick".

You take their departure as your cue and pace quietly towards the castle. You stood face to face with the colossal gates, doing your level best to push them open, just enough to sneak in, but the big dumb fuckers wouldn't budge. Scoffing, as fate would have it in your luck, you began scanning the perimeter for any safe way in, otherwise, you sure as hell knew how to make an entry.

"Ain't no fucking way," you'd pretty much lost all hope, not realising when your brother wrote down, "tall", it included the infrastructure, too. It was then your eyes noticed one particular stone brick placed slightly outward, and the one above it, and then the one above it, outward enough for you to step on, up, and grip the grotesque grill, securing the premises from people exactly like you.

The first step up was easy, the stone steady enough to carry you, or so you thought for when the second you stepped onto the next one, the one below fell to the ground, shattering to bits. You eyed the stone your foot was on currently, leaping when realisation hit you. By the time you rock-climbed your ass up to the top, the whole way up had crumbled down. You gripped the gothic grill, not taking the maker of it to be a sadist, for it sliced the flesh of your palm even through the slightest contact. You winced, looking back at the broken rocks, perhaps, a good omen; no one would suspect you climbed up the wall, now.

Crossing the grill, you jumped down as silently as a human could, looking back at your newfound enemy, the grill, only for it to be leaking with crimson. You groaned at the sight of your blood, thinking you were better than this, letting some metal get the best of you, but the immense pain from the cut made your head a little dizzy. Shaking the odd feel off, you proceeded leftward, walking further in to be greeted by what seemed to be a courtyard.

No servants, chamberlain nor staff was seen out and about, quite contrary to what one would expect from the functioning of a castle this mighty. Though the odds were in your favour, it didn't seem so; it's quiet, too quiet. Nothing other than a raven's screech and the flap of the wings of a murder of crows was heard for miles. Your steps had quickened at the sight of a door, finally leading you inside. As you inspected it, you sensed a magical aura around it; you could use a spell to crack it open, but that would cause bring attention you did not need at the moment. So, you pull a pin from your hair and apply the cheapskate thief method, and lo and behold, you were in.

Fuck yeah.

Closing the bulky door as silently behind you as you could, you were slammed right back into it, while what felt to be a talon instead of a hand wrapped around the back of your throat. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Said an anonymous voice, cuing laughter from two more.

Fuck, no.

The last thing you remember was a pair of hands squeezing your waist, one choking you, while one hand ghosted over your face, causing a wave of unconsciousness to pass over you.

Chained; you groaned, a pounding ache ringing in your head like an alarm, your eyes blinked, close to a hundred times to get accustomed to your dark, unfamiliar surroundings, while your nose burned with the stench of— burning bodies?

You lifted your head to see three tall figures illuminated by the feeble attempts of a torch. "Alas, sleeping beauty wakes." You heard one taunt, a raspy baritone to his voice, "No fun — I prefer them unconscious," said another with a similar tone. "Well, you're no fun if you don't like to watch the fear in their eyes when they beg you for their life," said the third. The conversation flowed more amongst themselves, quite rude to not have included the meat of the matter — you, but what more could you expect from The Dimitrescu Boys? Oh, you were sure it was them. 'One lord — three sons', you remembered, and no odds suggested they were servants or guards. Not with the way expensive jewels embellished their stallion necks not-so-subtly, like an all-time reminder of their aristocratic status. 'Pathetic,' you thought, it seems no matter the day or age, the breed of "daddy's money" remains as obnoxious as ever.

While they bickered amongst themselves, you took the time to take in their appearances: Handsome, irrelevant. Tall, but no more than an average case of gigantism in most villages. Yellow eyes, but not humanoid — no, fully, thoroughly (so it seems) human. Could this be another variety? Hybrids, perhaps, since Vampirism was in the books of possibility. That could explain their immunity to weather conditions. Their facial features became vivid all of a sudden, and you noticed the blood smeared all over their faces. Paying heed to your iniquity, perhaps even irked expression, the boys smirked devilishly; not charming, dangerously, Lucifer-ishly, but satanically. You weren't into the lighter side of magic like your mother, only using it grotesquely, but you knew aura-reading, even envisioning, like the back of your hand, and theirs was sinister: an abysmal shade of black surrounding them, with occultism dancing between their physical forms in the fiery colour of hellish hues.

"Tell us, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" One questioned, "Hm, never seen one so beautiful." "Is she even real — ethereal." "Makes me almost not want to eat her." Your eyes widened at the last remark, "Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely." Their shark-like smiles grew wider, subconsciously causing you to back away from them while they inched closer, ready to pounce on you and relish your beauty. "What do you have there, boys?" Asked the deepest voice you'd ever heard, from the other side of what you now realised was the dungeon. You were taken aback at the intrusion, silently thanking your saviour, even if it were the man himself — Lord Alcides Dimitrescu, head of Familia Dimitrescu.

His sons scattered immediately, letting their father rest his eyes upon you. "Food, father," one spoke eagerly, as if trying to impress his old man. "We saw her trespassing in the courtyard, and then she came inside." Spoke the other. "You could have her," said another, "If you save us a taste." Your face lost its colour when a ice-cold hand wrapped itself around your throat, yanking you up with one lift, and throwing you towards the bars between you and the mammoth Lord. His devilish expression— softened? "Elvira!" He exclaimed softly, reaching for your face, but the second his hand tried to snake past the bar, he winced in contact, the metal bar hissing with effervescence. Weakness?

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" The man was fuming: a flabbergasted expression on the said idiots' faces. "Oaspete? Dar ea—" "She can do as she pleases in my home." The man spat venom like thunder, his hateful expression turned to apologetic and caring in the blink of an eye when he turned to you. "Let her out this very instant." He glared at his sons one last time before turning away and saying, "The longer you wait, the more severe will be the outcomes."

So you were rushed out the dungeon and sent to the guesthouse.

The chamberlain had been waiting for you there at the direct orders of her master. "Lady Stoica, We're truly very sorry for the inconveniences caused to you. The Lord gifts you these gowns as his sincerest apology. He'd love for you to join him for supper once you have freshened up. Step out of your chambers, when you're done, and I'll be happy to take you there." You didn't acknowledge her, only awaited her leave so you could examine the gowns she had motioned towards while babbling courtesies you didn't give a fuck about. It'll definitely take more than four gowns to earn forgiveness for the treatment meted out to you down in the dungeons, but you wanted to give the tyrant lord a little bit of credit, for the gowns were stunning.

As you took in the details of each cloth, you came upon a note, which read: Sweetest Elvira,

Forgive my imbecile progeny, if you think they are worth it, but let us celebrate your presence, still, in my abode. Would you be so kind to accept my invitation for dinner? I have long yearned your company since the last time Lord and Lady Stoica visited.

Hoping to have you with me,

Alcides Dimitrescu.

Your blood boiled at his handwriting. It was the same intricate, royally cursive writing that signed the parcel of your family's heads.

You headed into the bath with murder on your mind; no matter how many times you'd sink into the warm waters, the heat only aggravated your fuming self. It was rosewater, the scent made your mind trail back to days of yore: when your mother would set up baths like this for you, the sweet scent of herbs and nature's warmth filled your hateful mind with nostalgia, then worry. Your mother had the most fight in her, no doubt about that, but that didn't mean she resorted to it easily; always seeing the best in people, giving them countless chances to repent. A generous, godly trait, but fatal in a world dominated by people like the man you were to meet with for dinner— supper, or whatever. You were just glad you weren't being served as the main course.

For now.

As you dried yourself up, your mind replayed the conversations, the characteristics and behaviours of the family. How he called you, 'Elvira'. Yes, Lady Elvira Natalia of Familia Stoica, another noble household your family put an end to. The irony lay in her appearance: the two of you looked alike — no, identical. Perhaps minor attributes set the difference between you two, or the fact that you put a bullet between her eyes — eyes just like yours; it was the reason why the Vânători de urâciuni men hesitated to kill her — sister, daughter, and niece. Not you, never had you hesitated. It's what set you apart in a man's world. If a woman's emotions got the best of her, than lucky for you and unfortunate for the whole world, the only feelings coursing through your mind like the blood in your veins were bloodlust. Blood and Lust, as your mind trailed back to Lord Dimitrescu—

Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu.

He was tall, so tall, he had to crouch to an uncomfortable extent just to get a proper look at your frame through the dungeon bars. His raven locs and beard: neat as a lord, rugged like a pirate; his sharp nose, his thick, furrowed brows, his luscious lips and those eyes. Those fucking amber eyes, captivating, devouring you like a fox after literal meat. Their hue was as fluorescent as a Wendigo's, then how was he not like one? How is he so devilishly handsome?

Stuck in a limbo, half- hypnotised with hazy memories of the Lord, memories you were yet to make with him, you were left enchanted; like he had cast a spell on yo— "Holy fuck." That's it. It's the only logical reason behind such profound emotions. He had cast a spell on you. It could've easily been the waters, you had bathed in them, let the rose waters soak every inch of your skin. Or worse, his eyes? You had definitely not been that out of it to imagine them glowing in the dark, but if he truly practised necromancy at such a profound level that a mere look in your direction left you enamoured, then you had to come up with a plan, and come up with a plan fucking fast.

Despite your certainty that the only way you'd feel something so unlikely for a man who was responsible for the death of family, was via nécromancies, you still had to be sure. So, you performed an indication ritual. In a vessel, you stored the possible method of enchantment — the bath water — along with the blood of the enchanted. You prick your finger deep enough to get ample beads of crimson out, letting them drop into the vessel. Now, if by dawn, the contents of the vessel turn potently black, your suspicions are true, and the tyrant Alcides, indeed, cast a spell on you, but if it were to remain colourless, than the worst of your concerns has arisen, for you'd have willingly let lust overpower the balance of bloodlust in the weigh of your emotions.

Placing the vessel underneath your bed, you begin dressing. The odds were too ironic not to choose the rose coloured gown for the evening, so you wore it, feeling condemned to. Fixing whatever you deemed necessary, you stepped out of your room to find the chamberlain stationed exactly where she said she'd be.

Her breath hitched a little, eyes widening as she saw you turn towards her, "You look beautiful, Miss Stoica," was her way of seeing 'you clean up pretty nice for a dirty mess in the dungeons', but you paid no heed, letting the woman escort you.

The walk to the Lord's dining area was awkward, and fearful for the servant. There was no denying you resembled the heiress of one of the Seven Royal Families, but you hadn't thought your own victim's identity would play as your decoy in your most fatal mission.

You didn't blame them, you were dumbfounded at the striking resemblance, yourself.

The hair, the skin, the features; it was without a doubt you killed your doppelgänger that day, and though you were never one to follow rituals of lore, it says, 'the slaughtering of one's self' — a doppelgänger — 'is the greatest sign of one's power and control', so it was no wonder since then you had long been feared in every corner of Eastern Europe, but you never earned notoriety, nor make a fuss over the death of The Stoicas, which is why everyone in Castle Dimitrescu believes you to be her, for they think she is what you are; alive.

"We've arrived, madam. If you need me, please don't hesitate to call." She gave you a knowing look, one of empathy? Weird. Interestingly weird. You only nodded, before pushing the glass doors open, and letting yourself in.

Alcides sat with the three of his sons, you'd heard him call them Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, not knowing which one is which, but you doubt names matter when their death's are destined by your hands. As if sensing you, something you'd mentally categorise among his vampiric characteristics, his head shot up from his sons and immediately those amber eyes were on you, ripping through your dress, eating you alive. His lifeless skin flushed at the sight of you, wet hair clinging to your frame so perfectly, he could smell the shampoo from here. How tightly the dress hugged your curves, how accentuated the rose colour of the gown made your ethereal body. Your plump, pouty lips were rosy like the gown, an even prettier colour, the sudden blush that dared to creep on your face, your determined brows raised a little at the shameless attention you were receiving, your big, radiant doe eyes widening, pupils dilating, and your long lashes batting at his direction.

"Elvira." He rose from his seats, as did his sons, heads snapping right at you to shamelessly ogle at you. On seeing that the look of disgust on your face was directed towards his sons, he shot them a fuming glare, causing them to nod an apology and immediately be seated again.

"Thank you for joining me." He said, softly, awaiting you. You moved closer, deciding to be seated beside the lord, across from his sons. "How have you been, my dear?" His hand found yours, yours minuscule in his clasp. "I had been fine, until certain miscreants accused me of trespassing."

You shot the three culprits a glare, and rightly so. Alcides eyed his sons, clearing his throat obviously when his sons remained oblivious to his cryptic signs.

"We're, uh," began one, "We're sorry, Madam Stoica," continued the other, "We didn't mean for any of that to happen, we just wanted to scare what appeared to be an uninvited guest at the time." "Had we known it was you... well, let's just say your welcome would've been different. Mostly." Finished the last, and your mind immediately caught on to the insinuation:

"Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely."

You could see the man's blood boil beside you, "Scuzați-vă." He growled, and you caught a glimpse of just how much fear he's instilled into his children, for they immediately excused themselves from the table and left with hurried steps.

"Pardon them, I don't know where I went wrong in raising them." He sighed once they were out of sight, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You've never been one to sympathise with an enemy, but maybe sympathy isn't what'll lead to his slaughter; seduction is.

You wordlessly place a hand atop his, earning a soft gasp from him. His eyes searched your face, and when you couldn't help but give him a small smile, he grinned; from ear to ear, letting his pearly fangs rise from their pillowy coverings, his lips, which he soon had to bite to control his giddiness. "Oh, Elvira," his voice was soft, a mere yearn lingering in the warmth of the room. Had it been this hot since you stepped in, or had the flush of your cheeks been indicating otherwise? "You're so beautiful." His other hand tucked the stray strand of hair falling onto your face, behind your ear. You felt a tinge of bitterness brewing in you, whatever relationship was established between Alcides and Elvira, it sure was on the better side of the spectrum.

Were you really feeling jealous of your dead doppelgänger? Well, from the way he looked at you— her — right now, you'd say he wouldn't take to her murder too kindly.

"I swear, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you." You blushed, so he enjoyed the new-and-improved Elvira more. "Yet you stay ever handsome." NO. You didn't mean for it to slip, you didn't mean it, you didn't think it — yet, you said it, and he fucking relished in it.

To save you from your embarrassment, your newfound guardian angels, the chef and other servants, brought in food of all sorts. Albeit the sheer hatred you felt towards them, you couldn't help but ask Alcides about his sons. "Aren't you sweet?" He looked at you with fondness, before answering, "The servants will bring them food to their quarters."

Fair enough.

You proceeded eating without another word or glance in his direction. Upon finishing the scrumptious meal, you waited for Alcides to take the lead.

Men like him relished in power, authority, and since he was born into it with a silver spoon hanging from his mouth, it was the only thing he knew.

He looked at you for several moments, an unreadable expression on his face making you more conscious than repelled, as if you craved the validation of his eyes.

He rose from his seat, one hand lingering in the air, an invitation for you to clasp it, while the other grabbed a hefty cluster of grapes by the stem. "Walk with me, darling."

He had to look painfully low to even see your head, once you rose to your height, it helped, but little aid was provided to the giant standing at 9'6.

You held his hand, the sheer size difference had you squirming in your steps.

Just imagine how beautiful sex would be with him, you wouldn't even be able to fit him— "Fuck," you whined under your breath, making damn sure your voice wasn't audible to Mount Everest beside you.

This was the spell talking — thinking; it's got to be. You withdrew your hand, pretending to fix the blouse of the dress, earning a glance from the Lord in your direction, which only stayed for a moment before the calming silence between the two of you was the only thing you could see, until he halted, pulling your attention back to him. "Fruit, my dear?" He waved the cluster, so you knew which ones he was talking about. Come to think of it, you did feel thirsty, and those grapes looked lusciously juicy.

"I don't see why not," you shrugged, not anticipated him to raise the cluster to his mouth and bite a grape off. You watched, mouth slightly agape as a perfectly fine grape rested between his fangs. Even the slightest subconscious movement could rip through the fruit, yet it stayed perfectly safe in his mouth.

He then crouched, now eye-to-eye with you. His eyebrows raised in your direction, challenging you. Challenging you to pull the fruit out of his mouth, and there was only one way to do it.

You bit your lip, you could have your fun, just until you find a reversal cure to his spell.

So, you grab onto both his wide, muscular shoulders, letting your arms cross around his neck. You smirk at him, bringing one hand forward to trace his features. He was so, so strong, to the point you were more aroused than intimated. Your hand reached his torso, you could see how your teasing placed him in agony. Slowly, you let your hand ghost over his pants, and lo and behold, he was aroused; painfully so, and you felt it immoral to torment a man so much (the fucking irony), so you palmed him through his pants, causing his mouth to hang open and out fell grape— right into your palm.

You bring the fruit up to your mouth, Alcides left mesmerised with the way your plump, perfect lips wrapped around it before ripping through it. A moan escaped your lips as the juice dripped down your tongue. "So good," you left out a sigh, and something in him snapped. Alcides flipped you around, you were now pressed against some wall that practically emerged in support of his... expeditions. He plucked two grapes, placing them in his large palm, before bringing it closer to your face. When your eyes widened in confusion, his other hand wrapped itself around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth, before you realised what he demanded and gave it to him; you licked about the fruit, before accepting them into your mouth. Your tongue still teased his flesh, when he pulled away. Amber eyes mere slits with obvious lust, "Now," he began, "You can say you've eaten out of the Lord's palm." He winked at you before walking away.

You steadied your haggard breathing, before deciding to follow him when a certain room caught your eye. It were as if your name was being chanted like a careful whisper, that only sounded when you were left alone. Following your gut, as a hunter as skilled as you would, you push open the heavy doors and let yourself in.

The first thing catching your eye was an obnoxious leather chair that you couldn't help but run a hand over, "Gator skin," you scowled. Though a hunter, you were against hunting — animals, that is, although you'd be hypocritical to say so when the creatures you send to hell are no less barbaric than a creature tormenting in wilderness. Still, you believed in fighting an equivalent, or even better, an apparent immortal.

On the left of it was an fireplace, charcoaled in exhaustion like it recently gave up it's flame and purpose, and in front, was a library, the source of your calling; not colossal, yet extreme in number. The whispering chant grew to a shout, a yearn for each leather-clad covering of ink spilled on paper to be touched by your feather-light fingertips, and only a fool would turn down a beseech like such.

Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display, and you explored every single one of them. Fighting the temptation to steal every book with valour, despite how useful each would've proved to be to you in the future, you declined every book until you reached what you sought, rather, what sought you tonight. "The Book of The Four Houses", the spine read. You pulled the book out, not anticipating it to be so heavy. "The Book of The Four Houses", you read again, searching for an author, but not met by any name.

You flip through the pages frantically, in hopes to find any continuance of relevance to your brother's observations, and there it was: Familia Dimitrescu, the excerpt was titled.

"Alcides Dimitrescu was born into the noble Dimitrescu family sometime before the Great War, and through this ancestry inherited a hereditary blood disease, possibly porphyria cutanea tarda. Although his family traced their origins to Cesare, one of the four founders of an isolated mountain village in Europe, Alcides himself lived elsewhere, perhaps through a cadet branch. In the aftermath of the Second World War and the abolition of the nobility, Dimitrescu returned to his family's former lands, which had fallen under the control of a neopagan cult worshipping the Black God.

Prior to 1958, at the age of 44, Dimitrescu was lured by the cult leader, Mother Miranda, to a crypt beneath the village cemetery, where he was surgically implanted with a Cadou parasite. The purpose of this experiment was to determine his viability as a candidate who could become host to a parasitic intelligence at a later date. This experiment mutated Alcides' body considerably, granting him regenerative capabilities, retractable claw-like nails, and the ability to transform into a dragon-like monster and back again. Moreover, the parasite halted his aging process, maintaining his appearance perpetually. In spite of these impressive biological changes, the resulting mutation did not nullify his blood disease. As a result, Dimitrescu needed a ready supply of fresh human blood to maintain his health, and was therefore judged by Miranda to be a failure."

"Although Dimitrescu was of no use as a host, his claim to Castle Dimitrescu was recognized by Miranda and he was allowed to take residence in the village as one of the Four Lords, who would maintain order over the native peasantry while aiding Miranda in Cadou research. Upon inhabiting the estate, Dimitrescu took over his family's vineyard and wine-distribution business as a means of supporting himself."

"Relishing in his reclaimed noble status, Dimitrescu developed extreme caste-based views of society, seeing himself as second only to Miranda herself. He openly loathed the other three house Lords, particularly Karl Heisenberg, whom he frequently argued with. He privately bemoaned that he was not Miranda's favorite, instead being treated the same as all the others. Despite this, Dimitrescu's alliance with the other houses allowed him to rule his castle with barbarous cruelty, regularly taking in new staff to replace those who had been taken to his dungeon to be killed and drained of blood for sustenance."

"Dimitrescu's own experiments with Cadou appear to have been limited, as the only confirmed instance was an experiment begun by Miranda and monitored by Dimitrescu. In this experiment, the corpses of three men were implanted with Cadou parasites. Over the course of about a week, the Cadou produced fly-like organisms which then consumed the flesh of all three bodies. Having assimilated the DNA of these men, the flies merged to mimic their human shapes and slowly adapted their likenesses. Dimitrescu immediately formed a bond with these three men, whom he named Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, and came to regard himself as their father. They obeyed Dimitrescu without question, and were similar to him in that they were ageless and reliant on vampirism for sustenance. However, they were incapable of withstanding cold temperatures, thus remaining trapped within the confines of Castle Dimitrescu."

That explains the overwhelming warmth of the Castle that had began to annoy you.

"Over the next seventy years, Dimitrescu and his sons systematically consumed the flesh and blood of local peasants and servants alike. The blood of maids was extracted and combined with grapes to create Sanguis Virginis (Latin for "Maiden's Blood"), a traditional Dimitrescu family wine. The female victims, now infected with Mold, lived on as Moroaicǎ and Samcă, while male victims were consumed and then hollowed out to be turned into scarecrows for the castle vineyard."

"Dimitrescu's reign of terror was not without resistance, however, as one villager is known to have stolen a family heirloom — the Dagger of Death's Flowers — in an attempt to assassinate him with its poisoned blade. The attempt failed and he was buried with the dagger in the Tower of Worship to keep it hidden from any others who might seek to harm him."

You snapped the book shut, mind whirling in an epileptic shock, replaying every single word over and over in your head, then images of Alcides, his "sons", Cadou Parasites, Mother Miranda? By the time you realised it, you were hyperventilating, eyes scattering from corner-to-corner, in search of anything less cryptic, anything less 'Once-upon-a-time-there-was-a-beautiful-boy-named-Alcides', and more 'Weakness-to-duhduhduh-kill-by-gunshot-to-the-duhduhduh'.

You threw your head back in unfamiliar pain that originated from your chest, you can't believe plain ink on paper knocked the air out of you, but then again, so did the signed caskets of your family; by the same man you now found out to be ancient and seemingly indestructible, but talk of this "Dagger of Death's Flowers" gave you hope.

Your thoughts of retrieving it were cut short when the doors burst open. "What are you doing?" roared the thunderous voice of the man of the hour, "Elvira." His voice was laced with an emotion you were too out of your head to begin deciphering. His eyes dropped to the book in your hands while awaiting your answer. "Oh, why didn't you say so?" His expression softened, causing you to raise a brow in perplexity. He walked over, the fondness in his eyes returned, causing your tense posture to relax a bit. He took the book from you, and seemingly landed on a page mentioning Alcides' life before lordship. "You really love this book, don't you? I guess it is fun to read a fan's work." He chuckled, flipping through the pages as if he hadn't seen the book in a long, long time.

Huh.

If 'Elvira', too, had been scavenging through the book of Dimitrescus, possibly for the same reason as you, maybe you're more similar than you thought.

When you looked up to his height, his eyes were already on you. "You look tired, my dear. I would be happy to take you to your quarters." He smiled, and your heartbeat was quick to quicken at that. "I'd like that, my Lord."

My Lord.

The walk to your chambers was a haze, all you could feel was the growing wetness in your panties from the way his eyes bore into you; penetrating every inch of you, consuming your conscience with the darkest desires.

Taking out your brother's journal from your bag, you flipped to a fresh page and began filling in your own conclusions. As you wrote, you began to think— not just as a hunter, but as a long deprived woman who had just encountered the most handsome man ever, who just also happened to have murdered her family.

The way he walks, the way he holds your innocent gaze challengingly, the way he looks at you like you're the most exquisite meal, and he's a man starving. You had long abandoned the trepidation and abhorrence you felt towards his cannibalistic lifestyle, instead, feeling a shameful surge of lust shoot into you. You rubbed your thighs together, laying on the bed, but dutifully still, writing every bit of knowledge you gained today; from the parasite, to relations with the leaders of the other Houses and Seven Royal Families that Vânători de urâciuni had already slaughtered, to Mother Miranda, and even what little you read about the Black God.

By the time you covered every intricate detail of a disaster waiting to happen, the heat between your legs was nuclear; the throb, unbearable, leaving you no choice but to act on your animalistic urges. You straighten up, slowly discarding the beautiful cloth that once accentuated your body, now felt like constricted bondages on it.

Once bare, you sink into the pillowy cushions of your given quarters. Something about the whole room smelled like him, but the strongest scent came from your dress, when you were pressed against him. Even both your arousals could be scented from the innocent rose dress, so you tugged it closer to you, breathing in his smoky musk scent, along with your innocent floral one. "Fuck," you groaned, fingers finally ghosting over the mess dying to be made between your legs.

You decided now was not the time to tease, so you coat your fingers in your wetness and smear circles on your swollen clit. "Fuck."

Your bud throbbed in your grasp, desperate to have a little somebody's fanged mouth on it, your nipples hardened the same, aching to have that mouth graze over them, suckle on them, taint the soft, ample flesh with sinister marks. Hell, if it meant one night of succumbing to carnal pleasures, you'd even let the fucker carve that neo-pagan cult symbol on you.

"Fuck!" You weren't thinking straight — no, you weren't thinking at all. How could you? You were under a spell, 'Yes, that was it,' you thought, more so struggling in convincing yourself than anything. Just the sheer thought of a man possessing vile notoriety, relishing in every crime you've fought against; his size, the abnormality of it all. You fantasised about how inhumanely long his tongue might be, teasing around your clit before plunging into your slit.

Oh, that's it.

You shoved your fingers inside of you, whining at how unfulfilling they were, when compared to the hands of him. You were pretty sure his middle finger was bigger than your face.

The only sound to be heard was the squelching of your pussy and your whimpering. You could only pray you weren't audible, not that you minded, because it was Elvira Stoica who'd get mocked, not Y/N Y/L.

Your pace quickened at the thought of him fucking you as Y/N. Would the thought of fucking the enemy be as tantalisingly erotic to him, too? Or would he just hate fuck you, and then feast on your flesh?

"Fuck me..—" You lost your voice when your breath hitched in your throat. "Ju-just like that, mhhm." You were so close, just a bit more... "Fuck me."

That's it, honey, just let go—

"Oh," you moaned too loud to be safe, "Alcides!"

Your legs were shaking, cunt spasming around your fingers while your chest heaved up and down, in a breathless state.

As you rubbed your high out, realisation dawned in on you.

What have you done?

You woke up disgruntled.

Still unimaginably wet, yet thankful for the release, but you hadn't forgiven yourself. Last night was unacceptable, even for someone enchanted. To make matters worse, this isn't even the first time someone put an infatuation spell on you; at least three men before this, but not to pacify an enemy, but to woo a stoic woman with only murder on her mind.

The victim of such a spell for the fourth time, yet Alcides is different. This was incredible necromancy, not like any you've encountered before. It was then you remembered the vessel underneath your bed. Almost too eagerly you jumped off the bed, still somewhat entangled in the sheets, which you threw off swiftly.

You ducked under the bed, the vessel promisingly in the same spot as you had left it. Reaching for it with closed eyes and crossed fingers, you pull it from underneath and lift it to your height.

As you peeped one eye open, then the other in disbelief, you threw the vessel with one swing of your arm. It banged against the wall, before falling to the ground with a typical, screeching metal noise.

This can't be happening. There was no way you felt what you did for Alcides, willingly. The clear contents of the vessel indicated otherwise, though. There was no mistake in your ritual, either; you added what was needed and waited long enough.

"No, no, no, no, NO!"

This can't be fucking happening. You were ready to bawl your eyes out, when one sophisticated knock erupted you. "Elvira." It was him, you knew, your body and heart knew.

When no response followed, Alcides began, "My sons and I are travelling out of estate," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for telling you on such short notice, but we won't be back until tomorrow." His voiced trailed off, as if waiting for you to reveal yourself, your reaction, anything, but you're too shaken up to give him any satisfaction. "That's quite alright, my lord." You swallow the lump in your throat, not being able to control yourself and adding, "I'll be right here, waiting." You swore you heard a groan, but were stuck in a limbo by the time Alcides left your door.

You decided all things could be said and done after bathing, so you run a bath and let the scented waters soak into you, replacing the stench of your sins with the perfumed power of blaming Alcides; but you couldn't do that anymore, could you? Not when he was never provocative.

Once you finished freshening up, you grabbed another one of the gowns Dimitrescu gave you. It was black, and beautiful; you were left speechless when you put it on. God, did he really have to make you feel beautiful when you were sent to kill his entire bloodline? "Ah, such unfortunate circumstances." You 'tsked' before doing your hair.

By the time you were done with your makeup, you were certain of today's plan: You were going for breakfast, accessing the courtyard, navigating the Tower Of Worship, exhuming the villager with whom the "Dagger of Death's Flowers" is buried; dig it out, lace the blade with gunpowder, stab all fuckers, one by one, get the fuck out, walk miles back home, and hibernate.

Sweet.

You step out of your quarters to find the chamberlain posted there, just like the day before. "If I say so, my lady?" She looked up at you, the tiny thing was adorable for the fear she felt, yet still wanted you to know that, "You look ravishing." She briefly looked you in the eye before the rouge on her cheeks became embarrassingly obvious, to her. You, on the other hand found her just as she was, adorable.

Upon entering the dining area, she silently took her leave, when you grabbed her wrist. "First Alcides, now you, too?" You asked, flirtatiously referring to both of them excusing themselves from you. "The least you could do is give me company." And how could anyone resist the sultry tone of a stunning woman?

So the chamberlain finds herself dining with you.

You insisted she sat besides you, and despite putting the maximum distance between your chairs, she complied. "So...?" You inquired after finishing your meal, referring to her name. "Oh— uh— Pasha, mi lady." You smiled, "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." You saw her rub her thighs together from the corner of your eye. "Well, Pasha," you decided to break the awkward silence that hadn't formed yet, "You think you can take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You sipped on your tea, eyeing her while you swallowed, only to see her with widened eyes and haphazard breathing. "Me-my l-lady—..." she stammered, hesitation painted all over her soft features as if you asked her to murder The Dimitrescus herself, or eat you out, you couldn't decide which was more mortifying for the poor girl. "What is it, Pasha?" You sighed.

"Th-the area is strictly off limits— only the... family can go there." She gulped at your growingly irritable expression. "I am part of the family — the Stoica household, in case you've forgotten, cameristă."

"I- yes, mi lady. I'm so sor—" "I don't want to hear it." You interrupted, raising a hand in the air. "Will you, or will you not take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You stared at her, the impatience visible on your face, before you decided to put on the façade you knew best; the façade of seduction. "Please, Pasha," you placed a hand on her bare thigh, her little skirt leaving little to imagination.

"For me?" Were the magical words that got the job done.

So you walk with the head of the staff of Castle Dimitrescu, into the family's place of worship, to exhume the corpse of the only man with the balls to try and assassinate him.

Pasha dropped you off at the foot of the Tower, more than happy to bolt away once you told her it was okay to leave you alone.

You walk up the stairs, and into the end of Castle Dimitrescu.

For a place of "worship", the place had the most oppressive aura, reeking of the occult and unimaginable. You fought your way inside, barely getting in while the air was knocked out of you; perhaps, a barrier of necromancy, despite it, you were able to get through.

You ran from corner to corner, searched every square centimetre of the place, but no place near-resembled the tomb of an assailant. "Fuck, where is it?" Your hands dipped inside your bag to look for something, before pulling it out and beginning your rummaging.

Indeed, you had stopped by Alcides' study before breakfast, telling the maid you 'forgot something' in there during your "time" last night, before winking at her shamelessly and forcing your entry. Sneaking out 'The Book of The Four Houses' was something you could do with your eyes closed.

Your eyes read past every word until you landed where you were made to stop, when the wave of overwhelm hit you last night. "Hall of the Four", the title read.

"The Hall of the Four, known in Japanese as Between the Four Angels (四天使の間, shi tenshi no aida?), is an area of Castle Dimitrescu." The Hall of the Four leads to the Tower of Worship, but this door cannot be opened until the four masks are placed on the Angel statues."

You groaned a string of profanities.

It's like you were set up for failure, and the worst part is, you could hear him laughing in the back of your mind— Alcides. His new abode has become the back of your mind, for he never leaves there.

Tired, disappointed and on the verge of giving up, you leave the Tower. You were a goner without the masks, and despite being in a rush to at least try and acquire them, you walked in a defeated slumber.

The chamberlain met you somewhere near the courtyard, surprised to see you walking out alive. "Lady Stoica—" "Just take me to my quarters, Pasha." You sighed, earning a swift nod from the confused chamberlain.

You walked lost, still, until you reached your room and opened that damned book again. While you scrolled through the contents, a mere note fell off, barely in your grasp.

The handwriting.

It was your brother's, but— it couldn't be. They never got close enough, which is why you're here now, right? They never got close enough. Three of the most feared, skilled men in the world of hunting never got close to one man and his three experiments for sons.

How in the hell did— Wait.

'Mask of Pleasure: Second Floor of Castle Dimitrescu',

that's where you are right now.

Everything could wait, hell, God could wait on the other line of heaven. You needed answers, yes, but something in your gut tells you it's better unknown. All that matters right now is killing him and every last member of his twisted family.

Or at least that was the plan...

You find yourself walking towards any room, with any possibility of possessing a mask. Hell, you had no idea what it looked like, but if it looks anything like the pleasure you'd be rewarding yourself with once you get the fuck out of this place, the mask won't be too difficult to find.

Soon enough you had pulled the place apart — the whole floor — except one room you hadn't set foot in. Alcides Dimitrescu's chambers.

A colossal door; you couldn't look away from the necromantic symbols etched into the woodwork. Had you not possessed the ability to see through such dark arts, you would've stepped right in and be left to deal with a fatality. You pull two vessels from your bag; the Blood of Christ and Vurxelheim, two of the purest substances on the planet, known to melt away all magic, no matter how ancient or dark, and as your expected, it did just that.

Alright, now all that was needed was to open the door, and even an amateur could do that with a pin.

Upon entering, you took in the details of his abode, almost forgetting to close the door behind you. Everything was brown; that's something you've noticed about the whole castle. Monotonously warm shades of brown, dimly lit with heat radiating over every surface. You only quirked a brow at the abnormalities. It soon came to your knowledge that the foundation of this floor is regarded as the "Hall of Pleasures". Kinky.

You looked around every corner, in every possible direction and space, but to no avail. Sighing, your head fell back, eyes closed it absolute demotivation, but when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was porcelain intricately carved, and hanging from the ceiling; a place where no mortal, but only a 9'6 indestructible titan of a tyrant could reach. It was obnoxious, if anything; placing it in a place so obvious, yet so out of reach — a direct message to show he's better than the rest, quite literally above them.

With no possible way of reaching it, you were still accessing your options when one strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and raised you up, right to where the mask hanged. "If you wanted to swing by my chambers,"

"You could've just asked, mic vânător."

Little Hunter— "Let go of me!" You writhed in his grasp, hand slowly reaching for the mask, still. "If you say so," he shrugged before letting go of you completely, letting you hang from the ceiling like a dreamcatcher. "Son of a bitch! You put me down this instant or I swear to God I'll rip through you and your experiments with my bare hands." "Ah, there's no need to get feisty, Elvira." He said, grabbing you by the waist, and putting you down, despite your kicking and struggling. "I'm only trying to help." He grunted, one hand disappearing behind his trench coat; you were ready to pounce at him, when he pulled, seemingly, the other three masks from behind.

"There you go, sweetheart. Masks of Joy, Sorrow, and Rage." He waved the remaining three keys to The Hall of the Four. You eyed him, and he swore the frowning pout was the cutest sight he's ever seen. "C'mon, they're yours for the taking, darling." He smiled at you.

"What's the catch, Alcides?" You sighed.

It's never that fucking easy, is it?

"One night with me." He simply spoke, taking your deepening scowl as a notion to carry on, "One night to decide what is it that you want, Elvira," "Or should I call you, Y/N Y/L of the Vânători de urâciuni?" Your eyes widened with horror; you hadn't processed him calling you 'little hunter', yet, and now this? This could only mean— "How did you—" "Please. 'You think I wouldn't find out about the mass murder of my fiancé? And imagine the gossip about town that it was a doppelgänger who did it." No, you were careful, he's lying — he's got to be. "Lucky for me, I get the sexier one, now." He chuckled, impressed with his wit.

When you didn't give him the satisfaction of freaking out on him, moreover agreeing to his terms, he rolled his eyes, "Pentru dumnezeu! The first mistake was the rocks you climbed on. They've deliberately been arranged like so, for trespassers like you to easily enter, walk through the courtyard, and into the quarters of my sons for them to feast upon. Then, leaving your blood on the grill? The scent agonised me. It was so difficult to put those three dogs on a leash, having never smelled something so sweet." He 'tsked', "The second mistake was trusting Pasha. It was her hand that twirled in your bath water, mixing the infatuation spell, and it was her, too, that switched the vessel underneath your bed. Very clever, by the way, very thoroughly performed indication ritual."

"But your third— baby, this mistake might as well be a blessing because it's the only fucking thing keeping me away from ripping into you slowly, and feast on your flesh for two whole days; pleasuring yourself, in my fucking castle, fantasising about fucking me."

"Oh, and the guillotine was Heisenberg, I only added the dramatic touch of sending the heads back."

You couldn't bear it.

Bottles full of emotions you've locked away for ages finally hit the concrete of reality; shattering to a million pieces while the man you still find irresistible, had an unimpressed look on his face. "Y/N. I know you want to kill me—" "Oh, honey, you have no idea." You laughed dryly, choking on sobs, but something tells you the impact of your threat didn't go in the direction you wanted because he visibly tensed when you called him, "honey".

"But," he raised both hands in defence, "I wouldn't have gotten you these," he said, waving the masks again, "If I didn't think this deserved a chance— we — deserved a chance." "You think I'll let you anywhere near me after you toyed with me like a plaything? Sent me my father, my uncle, my brother's heads to add a 'dramatic touch'?" "I should've put a more potent spell on you," he cursed under his breath, earning a scoff from you.

You pulled out a dagger from your thigh holster, and lunged at him. Caught off guard, Dimitrescu's eyes widen while you slashed through his alabaster shirt, eager to bleed some crimson into his lifelessly pale skin. "I've had it with you, brat!" He growled, the whack of his palm on your cheek took you back, and you didn't mean to moan.

The cry, it was wanton, and it had Alcides latching on to every ounce of self control he still preserved. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do," he grabbed the dagger from your grasp within a second. "You're gonna take off your clothes, lay down, looking pretty for me like you always do," he walked closer, raising his large hands again in defence. "You following me— okay," he inched closer to you, while you backed away, further into the wall. "I'm gonna feast on this pussy, then I'm gonna finger your tight hole open, and because I'm feeling generous," he grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, "I'm not gonna force my cock into your pretty little throat, you're gonna beg for it." He caressed your face, the way your doe eyes watered while staring at him, like glass he could see his reflection in, your agape lips and soft expression made his pants constrict his cock agonisingly. "And the last thing I'll be doing, even if it's my last ever," his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you to his king-sized bed. Laying you down, and climbing on top like a wolf on a lamb, he says, "Is fucking this pussy till you finally accept that you're made for me."

His mouth latched onto your neck, easily manhandling you at the same time while you writhed in his grasp. "I would rather be dead." You spat out venomously, which only made Alcides smile. "Well, alright. I'd still pound you till you're a mere cum-dump, but I'd surely miss those pretty sounds you made when you fingered yourself thinking about me." He panted against your pulse point, baritone voice hoarse with lust.

He spread your legs, lifting both your hands up by the wrists to his face. "Tiny little things," he kissed the knuckles of each finger, "Unsatisfying, aren't they?" He showered your hands with kisses, "Don't worry, darling, I'm here now." He raised both hands so their size was visible in your periphery, before grabbing your dress and pulling it over your head. "No!" You resisted, causing him to huff, annoyed. "Don't make me tear it off, honey, you look breathtaking in it." He cooed, and your movements haltered enough for him to successfully get it off you. "Good girl— such a good girl f'me."

Immediately his eyes were on your curves, your hips — perfect for bearing the child he was about to fuck into you, your breasts, so ample, all available for his groping and fondling, your pussy almost peering out of the silk panties. "Fuck, Y/N." He groaned, about to rip your underwear off when your pleads interrupted him. "Alci-Alcides please don't." "Hm," his sharp eyes seemed to be calculating his next move. "You say no, but your body," he groaned, pressing the knuckles of two of his fingers against your clothed cunt, "Your body sings otherwise, my love."

Every second passing by was petrifying.

The mortal battle between blood and lust, two things you were the epitome of, qualities comprising your very backbone, now, asked you to break it; bend over backwards and break your back for this man.

The string of pleads you cried fell on deaf ears, which, a part of you was glad for. Maybe if you continued to put the blame on Alcides and his necromancy, you'll actually let yourself live with the fact that your desires to have him ravage in your guts is overpowering, and the carnality lay in the fact that you didn't even care about what happened after. You were serving him your body in a platter, which you had not an ounce of doubt would eventually serve that purpose, quite literally.

"Tell me you want me." He hovered over your breasts. If he wanted to play games, then games you'll play. "I want you..." you whispered, "to go fuck yourself." He would've smacked you again, but again, you would've enjoyed it. What did stop him, however, was the shit-eating grin plastered on your face that showed him you were still on planet Earth, among the living and the abominable.

"Now, why would I do that, when I've got such a pretty girl with her pussy all wet for me?" He mimicked your expression, staring into your soul until you were forced to look away, and your eyes landed right on his clothed erection. "This?" He followed your gaze, "You're going to take care of this in just a minute, but for now," he paused, his large hands turning into talons and ultimately perilous claws. Cutting through the hems of both your garments, he retracted his claws immediately. You flinched when his hands came closer to your hips, "Don't be afraid, mic vânător." His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring. "They can't hurt you, unless I want them to." His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you.

With that, he lowered himself and dove right in.

You slithered about while his anomaly of a tongue kitten-licked your inner thighs. "I'll tie you to the fucking bed, if you don't quit squirming." He spat.

At your pussy.

You moaned in response, hips momentarily halting from the continuous resisting. "Yeah? You like that don't you, slut?" His fingers spread your slit, before spitting right into your tight hole that fluttered about nothing. "There you go, my love." He cooed in response to your whining, smoothly inserting his index finger into the same hole. A tremor ran down your spine at the sudden intrusion; the stone-cold, thick and long thing digit was a cruel thing, reaching that sweet spot the minute it bottomed out till, knuckle-deep in your velvety walls, and even calling the others to join in on the assault on your cunt.

Accommodating, now, three of his fingers, pummelling your cunt, scissoring you open, was more overwhelming than any dick you've ever taken. Maybe the fact that no one else could amount to the size of an ancient 9'6 vampiric cannibal Lord who's put his and the life of his sons in your palm.

Either you take them away, or let him take you to carnality never fathomed before, and the way he sucked on your swollen clit while fucking you with his fingers was a clear indication of your preference.

"Alcides," you moaned, nearing your high. "Yes, my love?" He replied almost instantaneously, as if finally you complied with a poor man's request. "What is it that you need, darling? I'll give it all to you." He lifted up from your pussy, leaving your clit with a wet 'pop' sound, making his way over to your breasts, while his movements inside you never faltered once. His sharp eyes searched yours, fixated on them while his hot tongue snaked out of his mouth to twirl around your hardened bud. Flesh on fire, you leaned into the feel of his mouth on you. "Fuck me, Alcides." You cried in defeat. How the mighty have fallen prey to the vultures of lust, mere carcasses of seduction.

Alas, the façade of seduction had backfired, and you had fucked up royally.

Upon hearing the trumpets of his victory through your pretty mouth, Alcides would've been a fool to refuse you. Eagerly he undoes his pants, letting his throbbing cock spring free. Your eyes damn-near saw your brain at the sight of the thing. "Alci— I can't." Seeing you panic, he began getting off on it. "You can, and you will." He hissed when his calloused thumb rubbed against the slit of his cock.

"Oh, I wanna feel that throat squeezing around me." He pumped faster, fucking his fist to the thought of you like many a night before. "But this pussy will do," "For now." He said, rubbing his length fervently against your slit, lathering your wetness on his leaking tip, enthusing a sweet mix of your cum, much more of which was to come.

"Won't be... able... to..." You spoke in between moans gaps the tip was in. The stretch was abnormal, ungodly, unnatural — exactly what you're deemed to kill. "You'll take it, mic vânător." He began to push more in, knocking the air out of your body. "Stop clenching," he groaned deeply, the sound resonating in your core. Nothing could've prepared you for this intrusion, so agonisingly painful, yet deliciously filling.

"You've... got to s.—stop... clenching." He pushed in the whole length, deadening your movements. You'd think he'd fear breaking you, but no. Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu was thrilled to see you finally submitting, even if your body paralysed in the fear of being ripped open, your back arched, breasts stopped wavering in the air, and your breath caught in your throat.

Only when the loudest, most pornographic moan left your lips did Alcides begin to thrust into you, already drunk off of your pussy, ecstatic in ecstasy.

Despite the slow speed, his thrusts were deep enough for legs to start shaking. To your shock, he lifted your legs and since they couldn't reach his shoulder's that stood almost as stall as the fucking ceiling, they were swinging across his forearms, and at this angle he slammed his hips into you.

You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it. On seeing your closed eyes, Alcides smacked your face, gentler than before, yet enough for your eyes to shoot open, face contorting in pleasure at his gesture that was now among your favourites. "Don't let those pretty eyes waver away." His grip on your hips was threateningly tight. "Look into my eyes, or there," his eyes motioned downwards, and it was then you saw the immense bump in your belly. Your eyes widened in profound horror. He had most certainly torn your insides apart, you were sure.

"See how big it is— how well you still take it?" He babbled while vigourously pushing into your poor cunt. "Pl-lease, go... easy on—me." You managed to plead out, but nothing counts stop the possessed Lord. Finally, he got the chance to feel your insides, and there was no way in hell, he thought, he'd let you off easy. Not when you're the biggest threat to his existence, let you wrap so tightly around his monster cock.

Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure.

Just when you thought your demise would be the sole pleasure you were forced to undergo, two of his fingers rubbed fervent figure-eights on your bundle of nerves that ached with bloodrush.

You babbled incoherences, whimpering, shaking your head repeatedly when he lifted your lifeless body, just the tip of his cock inside, and switched positions with you. Now, he laid, somewhat upright, hands crossed behind his head. Leisurely eyeing you, while you struggled to breath with his entire length upright inside your walls, his tip pressing against your cervix like an enemy threatening to break down your barriers; your walls.

"M-move... please..." you mewled, causing him to 'tsk' with disdain. "Help yourself, căprița mea mică." He raised a brow, mouth curling viciously into a smirk, "Use me as you please." Your shaky hands reached for his broad shoulders, raising then steadying your hovering self over his cock. His eyebrows wiggled in amusement, awaiting your move comically, until the feel of your walls struggling to take in his tip pulled him back into a trance of pleasure.

He let out an animalistic groan that lingered to be what you swore was a whimper, so you did your best to lift your tiring legs and plop down on his cock, upright and pulsating inside you. "I could fuck this pussy every moment for the remnant of my days." He smiled at you, large palms resting on your hot ass, slowly caressing your curves. The gesture, so contradicting to the impaling you were enduring, nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.

"If I'm lucky enough to live," he paused, hands squeezing your ass before sitting upright, pulling you with him. You moaned wantonly when you felt his cock deeper. "Let this be how we wake, how we sleep — in each other's embrace." His eyes widened, as did yours, like deer caught in front of headlights. The feigning look of innocence on his face sent your core spiralling with erotic ache, when his face, not once breaking eye contact, inched forward to stop just in front of your nipple.

You shrieked when he took complete control, earning a whine from you as you just got the hang of dominance, but when you noticed the hellbent gleam of carnality in his eyes, you knew you were in for a ride.

He suckled on your bud while fucking through you. "You're close, aren't you?" He pulled away from your nipple with a pop sound, resting his bearded face on your breast, "I know you are. 'Can feel her tightening around my cock." He chuckled, mouth back on the hardened bud in his presence. You sneaked a hand down and rubbed your bundle of nerves, fervently.

His large fingers, jealous of your own, were quick to replace them in driving you to your high. You were practically spoon-fed the orgasm, that took a toll on your fragile body.

No emotion overwhelmed every hemisphere, every neurone of your brain like ever before. Your mind went spiralling away, like an eternal shore hugging the lunar tide for the first time a night, your shore's dry spell was over, and your body did it's best to fight the feeling and drive a stake through his lustful heart, but your body was worn out; used as any lucky ragdoll would be.

The overstimulation sent you back to Earth at godspeed. His movements were sloppy, but not faltering, and soon enough, he let his seed bathe your walls a pearly shade. "Take it all— carry my seed." He moaned, absentmindedly.

When you plopped onto his shoulders, he lifted you up single-handedly and laid between your legs. You instinctively closed them; despite being too fucked out of it, you still cringed at how both your cum leaked out of you, ruining the sheets and everything between.

"Alcides, no—"

You were a second too late in pleading, for he grabbed you by the legs, placed them on his shoulders, and stood up.

You hung upside down, your pussy a stone's throw away from the man's smirked lips. By now, you knew what was about to unfold, yet the first lick to your cum-coated lips sent shockwaves down your spine (rather up?).

He moaned against your clit, the vibrations causing you to writhe in his grasp. His tongue licked your pussy clean, the circular motions on your clit, to the long licks from your clit to slit.

It's crazy how an anomaly like him became your exception — the hunter's favourite prey. With a tongue so skilled, you weren't to be blamed for succumbing to your current situation; not like you could do much in the grasp of a monster like him.

You're lucky his cock didn't fuck a new hole into you.

When his large palms let go of your hips, you wrapped your legs around his neck instinctively. You could've used his vulnerability to your advantage, had your mind not clouded in the ecstasy of overstimulation. It seemed like Alcides thought the same, for he smirked devilishly to himself, letting his talons ghost about your flesh, before slightly retracting to pinch and squeeze your nipples. He placed open mouthed kisses on your clit that not once stopped throbbing.

You shook in agony, his mouth worked tantalisingly slow on your burning hot cunt. Deciding to show mercy, an unlikely thing for the tyrant Lord, he smiled at your frame hanging tightly from his; your breasts heaving under his touch, obstructing his view of your pleasure-stricken face.

Lord Dimitrescu plunged his tongue inside you, placing one hand on your hip to push and grind you against his tongue, and you swore every atom in your body was swollen with pleasure.

"No... n-no more..." Your beseech was deemed adorable by the man tongue-fucking you. He pulled out, slithery wet tongue, coated in your juices, leaving you breathless. He lapped at your wetness, growing per minute as he so desperately coaxed more out of you.

Dumbfounded, pussy-drunk, utterly engrossed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless devouring of your pussy at the hands of your sworn enemy.

One of his hands snaked to your clit, the ever fervent pace of his movements drove you to madness. Your body stilled, eyes rolled back, breath hitched, and it was when his tongue flicked inside of you that you realised that you were doomed.

After drinking your juices clean, Alcides placed you gently on his bed, and by the time he laid next to you, you had already wandered off in dreams.

Your mother awaited your letters.

Perhaps, she'll be rejoiced to hear you alive and well, or maybe she'll be mortified that you're alive and well, and The Dimitrescus live and breath, still. Either way, she and the rest of the world better get used to you signing every final letter as 'Lady Dimitrescu'.

[honeytonedhottie]

all about role models⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧁

FIND ROLE MODELS ;

its important to have people that u look up to. people with similar morals and values as you and people who have achieved things that u want to achieve, or things similar to what u want to achieve.

you can find mentors or role models or, simply look up to people even if u dont know them personally. for example one of my role models is kimora lee simmons. i look up to how effortlessly glamorous she is and how much of an amazing business woman she is, shes also a biracial woman just like me.

find traits in ur role models that u already have, whether thats interests, talents, physical similarities etc.

finding role models helps to give u inspiration. something important to remember though is to emulate, NOT imitate. use their qualities and achievements as motivation to discover and develop your own individuality.

for this post im going to focus on one of my role models, the wizard liz because this is a mindset based post...💬🎀

STUDY THE MINDSET OF UR ROLE MODELS ;

their conception of self ; the wizard liz has high standards for herself because she knows her worth. because of that she won't settle and she doesn't let herself get walked all over.

something that liz has said in her videos before was to be okay with people misunderstanding you. dont go out of ur way to get worked up just bcuz someone sees something in a different way then u do.

her conception of self continued ; in another video she says to "make a list of tough situations that you've handled in the past and what skills you used to handle them". she has a lot of trust and belief in herself and her abilities

after taking notes on the mindset of ur role models (like so) i can see what resonates with me and what doesn't, i can see clearly ways in which we are similar and ways in which we are different.

WHAT ABOUT YOU? ;

take time to formulate ur own opinions. take time to think, "hey what do i think about this" without the influence of others views or opinions what do u think originally. grow comfortable with thinking for yourself.

trust ur gut feelings and intuition

be confident in ur own mind and trust that you have the ability to make the best choices for yourself.

another thing, grow comfortable with asking yourself for advice. something that i realized is that often times when we ask others for advice, we already know what we should do but we wanna hear it from someone else but its important to just ask urself some times.

"what do i rly want" or "what is the best thing for me to do" are things that u should be asking urself instead of asking others. dont let others peer pressure you into thinking the way that they do. THATS NOT TO SAY DONT BE OPEN MINDED, THATS NOT WHAT IM SAYING. but im saying think for urself first.

SOME OF MY ROLE MODELS ;

kimora lee simmons - successful business woman, biracial queen, effortlessly glamorous

beyoncé - passionate about her talents and recognized as one of the best in her industry

wonyoung - smart, beautiful, and unbothered queen

jennie - so talented and radiates major it girl energy

britney spears - popstar queen, her music is AMAZING and her energy is palpable

bella hadid - empathetic beautiful human being who speaks up about things that society wants to be silent about

megan thee stallion - educated queen, such a hard worker, strong even when everyone is against her, talented and confident

paris hilton - used the image that the media portrayed for her to make a profit, marketing and business genius, gorgeous and cunty

[fahye]

book recs: feb 2024

(disclaimer: I have spent nearly three months languishing and sullen with post-COVID symptoms and have read, over dec-feb, eighty-one books. this is a ruthlessly streamlined list of recs that does not include, uh, all the rereading of sarah maclean and charlie adhara and georgette heyer books.)

AT FIRST SPITE by olivia dade - what if I moved in next to the man who ruined my engagement to his younger brother, and tried to ruin his life by playing monsterfucking audiobooks really loudly?? a heartfelt and lovely romance that also expertly sets up a great small-town setting for an ongoing series.

THE REFORMATORY by tananarive due - historical horror based on the existence of a real school for boys, clear-eyed and brutal in showing the the effect of racist systems in the 1950s american south. compelling as hell. even if you're not usually into horror, I'd recommend this: the ghost aspect is light-handed and really not as important as the horror of what humans do to other humans.

SOMETHING WILD & WONDERFUL by anita kelly - this is a m/m romance about walking the pacific crest trail which made me see the appeal of very long walks. a miracle! it's gentle and emotional and well put together; the characters really grabbed me.

THE BELL IN THE FOG by lev a.c. rosen - the followup to 'lavender house', and somehow even better?? a historical mystery series featuring a queer private eye in 1950s san francisco who looks into crimes against other queer people. amazing queer history! ACAB! I hope there are fifty more books in this series.

FEAST WHILE YOU CAN* by mikaella clements & onjuli datta - beautiful, greedy, terrifying small-town horror that is also a fucking fantastic, gorgeously written sapphic love story. this one IS for the horror fans. it gave me the absolute creeps but I couldn't put it down.

LADY EVE'S LAST CON* by rebecca fraimow - I described this on bsky as 'if you like Leverage, space opera, old screwball comedies, and dashing sapphics who are at all times spiritually wearing a leather jacket: this one is for you' and I stand by that. huge amounts of fun.

LONG LIVE EVIL* by sarah rees brennan - I will be screaming from here until forever about SRB's first adult fantasy book. if you like the isekai'd-into-a-villain-character setup and want it to be hilarious, genre-savvy and wildly angry and clever, you will roll around in this like a blood-stained mud puddle and then beg for more.

THE LAST HOUR BETWEEN WORLDS* by melissa caruso - really clever and original fantasy about a woman on maternity leave who gets dragged into saving a cocktail party which is falling through increasingly murderous and bizarre dimensions. LISTEN, JUST GO WITH IT. it's a seriously cool adventure.

YOU SHOULD BE SO LUCKY* by cat sebastian - yes, it's another m/m romance about queer history in the mid 20th century, this one between a baseball player and the journalist assigned to write a story about his slump. made me care about baseball. cat is a genius.

*I read these as ARCs, they're not available yet but consider preordering or keep your eye out for them!

[il-predestinato]

hello beautiful elle

since it is going to be a long 3 months without our boys could you please recommend some fics that you liked? cause i really like your writings and how realistic they are and i wanted to get some of you suggestions for the break!

love you loads

Thank you, lovely anon, for your very kind message! 🥺 I must admit I have fallen behind in reading fics. I am sure I am forgetting some excellent Lestappen fics/writers, but these are some of my all-time favourites!

Lestappen Fic Recs:

And in the end I will seek you out amongst the stars by mandzilkos (@geeeooorrrge) - rating: G, 22k words

Soulmate AU where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate, and the world goes back to black and white after your soulmate dies. This is ALWAYS the first Lestappen fic that comes to mind whenever anyone asks for a recommendation, and it is probably my all-time favourite. The fic that inspired me to write Lestappen, if I'm honest.

getting half of you just ain't enough by shybear_styles - rating: E, 20k words

The friends with benefits story that spans the 2019 season. The only thing better than amazing smut is amazing smut with feels. For sure a top 5 fic in the Lestappen fandom for me. Also, this author is simply amazing in general and you should read all of her fics! I haven't given up hope that she will return one day and write more Lestappen. 🤧

you feel the mornin' feel by shybear_styles - rating: M, 3.3k words

Remember that time Sebastian Vettel asked Charles, "Is he [Max] pretty?" And we never got an answer because Charles descended into gay panic? Well, worry not! We get an answer in this fic.

Monaco Malaise by ProngsfootxJily (@cupidskissx) - rating: E, 8k words

Rivals with benefits, takes place after the 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Yes, this one is delicious smut but also a character study. Both of them are written so well, and it leaves you begging for more. Don't forget to check out the equally amazing sequel! (Don't worry, I have been relentlessly harassing her to write the sequel's sequel.)

algorithm by Anney (@badboy-george) - rating: M, 17k words

In a world where F1 uses simulation-based compatibility tests, five times Max doesn't find the right partner and the one time he does. Black Mirror ("San Junipero" and "Hang the DJ") vibes in the best way. Another one of my absolute favourite fics. If you've read any Lestappen fics, you've probably read "Every Other Sunday." This one is simply a masterpiece by the immensely talented Anney; definitely check out her other fics!

panem et circenses by Anney - rating: E, 13.2k words

Wow - simply devastating, haunting, an ode to these two as drivers, set in a dystopian future AU. The world building is absolutely incredible, but at its heart is such a beautiful story of love and hope. This one doesn't get enough recognition. (TW: implied non-con, not between Lestappen.)

Unlearn by wantinghopingwriting (Tazza1993) (@lightsoutfullhearts) - NR, 45k words

This is another all-time favourite, a must-read. Fake/pretend relationship to lovers multi-chapter story that is ever so satisfying; both of them are so well characterized. Set in a parallel-ish 2022 season. I really cannot recommend this one enough.

the edge of what can be loved by Ledger_m (@the-last-jedis) - rating: T, 13k words

The third wheel fic from the perspective of Max and Charles' various "Steves." It's funny, heartwarming, and everyone on the grid is nosy as fuck.

Charles Leclerc vs Red Bull caps by Ledger_m - rating: T, 6.4k words

Charles is the hero we all need, as he goes on a mission to get rid of all of Max's stupid Red Bull caps. This is REQUIRED reading! Kami is a genius. Go read all of her fics.

If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) - rating: T, 4.1k

Post 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Max wants to take their relationship further; Charles... doesn't. Oh my God, where do I begin to describe how much I love this fic. The language is beautiful, both of them are so well-written, and I feel punched in the gut over and over again in the best way. The ending (well, the whole thing) is so damn satisfying.

all's well that ends well (to end up with you) by stylestappen (@stylestappen) - rating: G, 3k words

Max has a meltdown in the cereal aisle (yes, the cereal aisle) at 3 am when he realizes he is in love with Charles despite the latter's questionable taste in cereal. Dani has an absolutely wicked sense of humour! (Although I don't understand what she has against cocoa puffs 😭.) She also wrote a banger of a Lestappen soon-to-be teammates fic, so make sure to check out her profile.

Max Verstappen: Spotify Extraordinaire by frnndtorres - rating: G, 26k words

Max makes Spotify playlists for the grid. Fluffy, funny, care-free, liberal use of nicknames, with a healthy dose of feels between Max and Charles. A really fun read.

i love the way your green eyes mix with that malibu indigo by altissimozucca (@altisssimozucca) - rating: G, 11k words

Max and Charles spend summer of 2020 together in Malibu and try not to fall in love. Spoiler alert: they fall in love. I feel the urge to explain something: When I first started reading Lestappen, there were less than 250 fics in their entire tag (yeah I know, we are currently close to 3000 fics, which is insane). From 2019-2021, we truly lived off crumbs. So trust me when I say that we owe so much to altissimozucca, who wrote something like 40% of the fics in the Lestappen tag and nearly single-handedly kept us fed in those days. It's so hard to pick one of her fics to recommend, so make sure you check out her profile for more!

#803442 by altissimozucca - rating: M, 1k words

Max and Charles celebrate the end of the 2019 season in a hotel room. So soft, so fluffy, so satisfying.

Bruises by eefiplier - rating: E, 5.1k words

I think of this one as THE Lestappen smut fic. Oh my God, it's 5k words of amazing established relationship smut with all the feels. A classic. I can read this one over and over again.

outside the box by playclock (@endowataru) - rating: M, 6.1k words

Max falls in love with Charles' driving... oh and Charles himself too. They are ultra competitive idiots who are madly in love. There aren't enough established relationship fics out there, but this one is simply amazing. And don't forget to check out this author's profile for additional Lestappen fics. I promise every single one is a banger!

i made it link by link by purpleglasseswrites (@f-ferrari-forever) - rating: M, 4.2k words

Charles and Max try to be kinky, but who are they kidding - they are far too vanilla for that stuff. 🤣 This one is so sweet, and don't forget to read the sequel!

One man's trash, another man's treasure by AzziNow (@track-terror-apologist) - rating: T, 4.2k words

Charles turns into a raccoon and terrorizes everyone except Max. (Well, he terrorizes Max too... slightly.)

Call it madness, call it love… by AzziNow - rating: M, 3.5k words

Ferrari auctions off Charles for charity. No angst, just fluff. Alpha!Max/Alpha!Charles. So I confess that I never read A/B/O fics. There's nothing wrong with it - just not my cup of tea. But I really enjoyed this one. Al has such a chaotic sense of humour.

it all reminds me of you by grandprix (@grandprix-ao3) - rating: E, 3k words

Secret relationship Lestappen with flashbacks. Oh the yearning, the desire, the smut - incredibly satisfying. I must put a plug-in for this author's other Lestappen fics as well. Never misses - make sure to check them out!

burning you into my mind by thightattoos - rating: E, 4.1k words

Porn with feels and possessiveness. You cannot ask for anything more. I must have read this one a dozen times.

an evil plan or two by witchee_writer - rating: T, 5.2k words

Max and Charles are roped into a plan to get Brocedes back together; they come to a few realizations along the way. The only thing better than a Lestappen fic? A Lestappen AND Brocedes fic!

Fine Line by empireoffclouds - rating: NR, 7k words

One of the more light-hearted enemies to friends to lovers fics. I absolutely adore their dynamic here - it's snarky, warm, but also so them. The incomplete sequel is also a super fun read.

Into Darkness Of Thought by flamingosarepink - rating: T, 1k words

After the 2019 Japanese Grand Prix, Charles thinks Max isn't coming back to their shared space.

steal softly under castle walls by untouchableocean - rating: G, 521 words

Max gets home late from Milton Keynes and Charles has already fallen asleep. Short, tooth-rooting fluff of the best kind.

Zoomies by greeny1710 (@maxlambiase) - rating: E, 2.2k words

This one is just hilarious. A (mostly) naked Max walks into Charles' team Zoom call during the COVID lockdown.

...and many, many more that I'm sure I have forgotten! 🙈 You can also check out my AO3 bookmarks (the first few pages are pretty much all Lestappen fics).

Please remember to leave kudos and comments for these amazing writers. The talent in this fandom is absolutely incredible. They all deserve so much recognition. Happy reading!

[strawbeerossi]

If You Leave Me

Pairing: Fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After coming home, Spencer has nightmares of his wife leaving him after the weight of prison weighs on him after his release.

Content Warnings: Depression, mentions of problems with eating, nightmares, fear of abandonment, mention of parental abandonment, spoilers for the prison arc, mentions of blood and being beaten, anxiety, there’s a panic attack, general angst, light fluff towards the end

Word Count: 1.4K

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'The Show' is so amazing, so I might make more based on each song on the album.

“Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future.” John F Kennedy.

Spencer had faced change for his whole life. Between his father leaving him with no explanation when he was a child to his mother’s schizophrenia spiralling, he was the poster child for adapting to the plethora of things that life can throw at you and making the best of things.

Child abandonment coupled with a mother whose illness was worsening, there was a lot of pressure on him at a young age. Spencer wanted to take care of his mother, make sure she was safe and sound. He enjoyed lying with her and reading, spending his time with the woman who he cared for. He struggled with making many friends.

Not a lot of high schoolers want to be friends with a twelve-year-old child prodigy. He was the target of relentless bullying, his safest place being home where he could read in the comfort of his own bedroom.

Most children who had any form of trauma as a child turned out to be psychopaths, incapable of empathy and most who exhibited those symptoms were serial killers, he was quite the opposite. Spencer would say that he turned out alright. 

Three PHDs, being a supervisory special agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, as well as being a literal genius. He had a team of people who loved him dearly, a good amount of godchildren who he adored, as well as a beautiful wife who did so much for him.

When Spencer was imprisoned, his experience killed a piece of him. The once sweet, innocent Dr. Spencer Reid was now a man who was more prone to showing his complex emotions, his temperament changing. He wasn’t nearly as talkative, he was having a harder time processing things that used to take him mere seconds to understand. It was why they had placed him on a weird schedule; every one hundred days spent in the field would have thirty days off following behind. He thought it was the stupidest decision they made.

Despite all of his protests, nobody would hear him out. It brought on the thoughts of him being untrustworthy. After all, he did kill Nadie Ramos. He may have been under the influence of drugs but that didn’t excuse a damn thing. He killed her with his bare hands. 

That haunted him. The fact that he could be capable of madness, capable of murder. It didn’t help that soon after, he was producing a tampered batch of drugs that he was being forced to push within those four cement walls.

Everyone told him that it wasn’t his fault, that some people were pushed to dark acts in order to ensure their survival. After all, a federal agent in the general population sector was a huge target, someone who would have a lot of enemies. Too many enemies.

After his release, there came a plethora of emotions. Y/N was a saint, patient as could be and more loving than he ever could’ve hoped for. Even when he was dissociating into his mind to shield him from all too familiar territory, she was right there. It had gotten to a point where he severely depended on her, the attachment so strong that he would follow her around the house as if he were a kitten who needed constant attention. 

Dinner was hard, the man having to be reminded that he could take his time to eat and he had no risk of someone coming and taking it whether he allowed them to or not. There were nights where he wouldn’t take a packet of cookies from his wife, stressing over having to ‘pay her back’. It took a lot to break him out of that routine.

Don’t get him started on the nightmares. They were vivid, placing him back to the night when he was beaten in prison or to the day where Luis Delgado had his throat slit in front of him because of his own choices. It was like he could still feel the warmth of the crimson blood staining his hands in the failed attempt to stop the bleeding. 

In addition to nightmares that were filled with blood and violence, there was another recurring nightmare. One that killed him more than any sort of guilt of association ever could. It started out the same way every time, he would come in the house after a long winded case. There would be a lot of stress on his shoulders, a tightening in his chest because of the fact the case didn’t end the way the team had anticipated. He would then walk into the kitchen, where Y/N would be waiting for him. There was no sweet greeting, no kiss against his lips while she hugged him and cried about missing him. 

Instead there was a tense silence, the usually warm apartment freezing. She would turn to him, her eyes filled with exhaustion, no glimmer of love shining over them as they faced one another.

“I can’t do this anymore. You aren’t who you used to be, this time by myself has made me realize that I am much happier without you here. I don’t have to coddle you, treat you like a baby. I just can’t bring myself to love you anymore.” 

Spencer was waking up in a cold sweat, his body jolting upwards on the mattress while his other hand was quickly, yet cautiously reaching beside him to feel his wife’s shoulder. The touch had Y/N stirring awake, a gentle frown on her face. “Spencer?” Her voice was filled with drowsiness, her hands slowly pushing her to sit up on her knees while her free hand was leaning over to turn on the bedside lamp. 

Any form of annoyance from drowsiness was wiped away when she noticed her husband’s state. His face was drenched in sweat, his chest was heaving from the impending anxiety attack, he was unable to talk as his body trembled. “Shh, hey.” Y/N whispered as she was shuffling closer, pulling back the duvet so she could carefully pull her husband into her arms. 

Her fingers were threading through the messy curls, a weak sigh leaving her lips as she could feel his arms tightly wrap around her torso, practically squeezing the life out of her.

“I’m here. It’s okay, baby, I promise. Luis dream again?” She asked softly, her lips pressing a kiss to the crown of his skull.

“You left.” His voice was hoarse, the tears joining in soaking his face the same way that the sweat had done over the course of the night. “Baby..” Y/N whispered while her fingers were lightly scratching over his scalp, her cheek resting against his head as she was being hugged tightly, as if she would disappear if Spencer let her go. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that.” Her words were dipped in that sweet assurance, her eyes slowly fluttering shut. 

Spencer faced enough people who abandoned him in his life with little to no explanation, she could never be added to that list. He spent three long and gruelling months in a maximum security prison for a murder that he was pushed into doing under the influence of a drug that Cat Adams and Lindsey Vaughn got their hands on. 

This wasn’t like he was a man who snapped and murdered an innocent woman because of deterioration of his sanity. He was absolutely nothing like the men and women he hunted down for his job, she tried to push that every time that she could. “You’re a good man, you know that. I would be a fool to leave you.” She said softly. 

As her body was eventually laying down against the mattress, she couldn’t help but smile once Spencer quickly followed her movements. Her legs were spreading in order to invite him between them, the male laying on top of her as his head was against her chest. “There we go..” She cooed softly, her fingers continuing to comb through the tousled curls. 

With his cheek now smashed against his wife’s chest, he listened to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. 

The drumbeat mixed his wife’s sweet words of assurance and the warmth of her love radiating against him was enough to have Spencer starting to drift off to sleep. 

How did he manage to get so lucky to have a woman who wouldn’t give up on him?

[saudrag]

my take on the ending, especially aziraphale’s behaviour.

all this fandom talk “this couldn’t be our aziraphale”, “metatron put something in the coffee”, “everything in the end seems odd” really weirded me out. for me it’s equal to “i dont want all that complicated writing, for me the simple one is easier to process” like. i get it, really. but from writer’s point of view it sounds kinda… debasing. neil just gave us an amazing social problem analogy with organised religion slash abusive family and how it brainwashes & manipulates people who are so desperate to make any difference that they reach out to religion, their last instance. people abandon their loved ones for it, because they’re “unholy” and “sinful” and don’t want to join them.

there is that aziraphale/heaven parallel with nina and her ex. nina just realised that her ex was abusive and now she needs time to heal, but maggie would not abandon her, she would be right there.

it’s exactly what is happening and what will happen with azi in season 3.

aziraphale never truly left heaven, not in his mind, at least, and now, when he was the most vulnerable, heaven waved in front of his face with “you can come back, change everything and be with the person you love the most, so you can be all happy together” and azi just couldn’t say no to THAT. to his memory of angel!crowley, being so joyful and cheerful and happy with just bring able to create, to make beauty. what he didn’t realise is, that he was being manipulated. as a victim of brainwashing by my own parent for DECADES, I can tell you that azi couldn’t just “open his eyes” randomly and realise without something really PROFOUND happening to him. (that is remains for neil to tell us, what it will be).

for me it was separation, my parent’s fast decreasing mental health, and a LOT of outer influence (talks with my other parent, friends, discussions about the abuse of my other parent). the last straw was one of my visits.

we are yet to see it in s3.

aziraphale being an analogy for a victim of brainwashing by organised religion (“parents”) is a genius writing, something that you don’t see often in tv shows. but explaining his behaviour by “metatron just drugged him that’s why our angel is acting weird” is SO DEBASING and for aziraphale’s whole character, and for neil gaiman, and for me, as a victim

[daltonsluvr]

IN THE COMPANY OF THE STARS

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

summary: amongst the peaceful covering of the astronomy tower, you find an unlikely comfort in the presence of none other than theodore nott. (1.2k wc)

authors note: first little drabble to bring me back out of my writers slump - and who better than boyfriend no.1 to do so??

"Is this seat taken?" You turned around at the voice, to see none other than Theodore Nott standing behind you, his hands in his pockets, indicating at the space next to you.

Technically, the seat he wanted wasn't a seat at all. It's a part of the Astronomy Tower floor, of which you were sitting on, your feet dangling over the edge. You had a book in your lap, which had been left long forgotten as you looked ahead of you at the stars which danced upon the night sky. It really was the prettiest place in all of Hogwarts.

Slowly, you shook your head, and he nodded in response, taking a seat beside you. It's strange, you thought to yourself, watching him closely as he too dangled his legs out in front of him. The two of you knew each other from classes and such, yet had only interacted a couple of times, usually to ask for a quill or something along those lines.

You realised then just how weird you must have looked, watching him so intensely, and so you forced your attention back to the landscape around you, focusing on the trees ahead.

A few beats. 1, 2-

"You come here often?" he broke the silence first, turning to look at you. You hadn’t noticed until that moment just how startlingly beautiful his eyes were - dead, but with a softness behind them. It was entrancing, to say the least.

"Yeah," you answered, meeting his eyes. "The stars don't ask too many questions, so they're pretty great company when I need some peace." You hadn't meant for the comment to be funny, yet you watched as a chuckle escaped his lips: a beautiful sound, really.

"Didn't think you'd ever be a quiet person," he half-laughed, his eyes crinkling slightly. "Anyone could hear your voice from a mile off."

"Even the loudest of us need some quiet, sometimes," you responded, shrugging your shoulders, and swinging your feet slightly. "This must be a regular spot for you then, huh, given your notorious 'Mr Silent' status?"

The statement was true - this was the most you had ever heard the boy spoke, to anyone. It was his turn to now shrug, before leaning back on his hands. "You could say that."

You assumed the conversation had reached its natural end, and so you took the book you had on your lap and opened it to the page you'd bookmarked, and began reading.

"Romeo and Juliet?" A voice from next to you read, and you turned once more to see Theodore now reading the cover of the book, raising a brow in your direction. "You read muggle literature?"

"Shakespeare is one of the greats, I'd be stupid not to," you answered. Upon seeing the look on his face, you continued, "Don't tell me you've never read Shakespeare."

He shook his head, and you laughed, endearingly. "You are seriously missing out, Nott. Muggle or not, he's amazing. A real genius."

"Well, talk to me, then," Theodore looked down at you, his eyes piercing through your own. "Tell me about this guy and his books."

"They're plays, really," you started, almost unsure as to whether or not to continue. But he looked at you, almost daring you to continue, and so you did.

It was unusual for you to find someone so interested in talking to you, especially about something as niche as the works of William Shakespeare, but then again, Theodore Nott really wasn't like anyone you'd ever met before.

"-this book was one of the first my mother gave to me, and so its always been my favourite," you finished eventually, your voice growing slightly hoarse from talking so much. "Sorry for talking your ear off."

"No worries," he said in return, sending a small smile your way. "The b-play, certainly sounds interesting."

Looking between him and the book, you reached out to him, book still in your grasp. "Here, take it. To borrow."

He looked at you, almost questioning you with his eyes. "Why?"

"Everyone needs to read Shakespeare at least once in their lives, and I'm guessing none of your friends own any of his works, right?" He shook his head once again, and you shook your own in mock exasperation. "Honestly."

You coaxed him once again until he took the book from your hands, and you watched as he felt the cover of it. "It's a bit battered, because it's the one my mother got me when I was younger. And I have written inside it, so you may want to ignore that as well."

You got up, book officially out of your hands, and you dusted off your robes. Finally ready to go, you made to leave, until he called out your name. You turned around to look back at him.

"Thank you." was all he said, a smile lighting up his features with genuity.

"No problem, Theodore-"

"Theo."

"Theo. No worries, Theo," it was your turn to smile as you turned to leave, leaving the Slytherin boy alone.

— —— — — —

"A boy left this for you." A small first year girl approached you no more than a week later, a box in their arms, which they had outstretched towards you. You were sat by the window in your common room, Transfiguration homework in your lap as you worked through the questions McGonagall had set you.

"Did the boy leave a name?" you questioned, looking cynically at the box in front of you, which you had taken from the girl.

"No, he said you'd know who he is." The girl gave you a small fleeting smile, before skipping off, presumably to go and sit with her friends.

The box was noticeably small, and could be carrying nothing more than a couple of things, you thought to yourself, as you carefully opened it.

As soon as you saw the contents of it, though, a smile spread across your face, and you had no doubts of who the box was from. You had never pegged Theodore Nott to be one for dramatics, so you couldn't understand why he had decided to return your book in a box, but nonetheless you appreciated the sentiment.

You picked up the battered copy, the pages just as beautifully crumpled as before, and you found yourself smiling again. A note lay underneath the book, and you picked it up to read what it said.

The play was great - you clearly have good taste. Shakespeare truly is one of the greats. Astronomy tower at 8? — T.N.

Delicately folding the note and putting it in your robe pocket, you took back the copy of Romeo & Juliet in your hands, and began to flip through the pages.

His chicken scratch handwriting tattooed the pages - not overlapping the actual text or your writing, but still written as nearly as he could in numerous corners of the book.

You laughed as you read through a few of them, most of which were his sardonic comments about Romeo's idiocy, and in turn Juliet's naivety.

Eventually closing the book, you set it aside, and smiled to yourself. You weren't exactly sure how you'd found a friend in Theodore Nott, but you were certainly glad that you had.

[reidsdimples]

Accidental Baby Genius | Part 2

Based on the request from part 1

You tell Spencer about his child, years later.

Fluff/angst/no smut 🖤 🧸

Enjoy some AI renderings of Reid’s son 🫶🏻

3.5 Years later

“Mommy!” Your son raises his arms when you walk in the door. He hugs you tight around the neck.

“Roman,” you sigh and hold him for a minute. You push away the gnawing realization that’s been plaguing you for months.

He looks up at you with big brown eyes and sweeps his wavy brown locks from his face. You put your hand in his hair and mess it all up again and he laughs. Even his laugh- the way his face contorts- it’s so achingly familiar.

The cut of his jaw as he approaches three years old is becoming more pronounced. You can’t unsee it in him, Spencer Reid is his father. And if his looks weren’t enough of a convincer-

“Rome read me three Dr Seuss books and The Very Hungry Caterpillar today,” your sister informs you,

“Four!” He pouts.

Your two year old was reading at a fucking first grade level if not higher. You sigh, in awe of him.

A familiar heartache seizes you. Spencer has no idea that this amazing little boy is his son.

“I think it’s time,” you shake your head and inform your sister.

“I think so too,” she agrees.

Roman as back to his spot on the floor, building a Lego set of the Star Wars star destroyer which is huge and you can’t figure out how to build. But he’s over half done and you can watch him move around and articulate how to do it all day long.

You noticed about a week ago that he’s started to lick his bottom lip when he’s thinking, or bite it when he’s nervous. It’s not a trait he got from you.

In fact the only thing he seemed to get from you was his nose and ears but the jury was still out on that one. It’s like you birthed a mini Spencer Reid.

“Hey Romi,” you call him by his nickname and wave him over.

“Do you remember how you asked me about your dad?”

“Uhuhh,” he uses his palm to brush his hair back with his hands which are too big for him.

“How would you like to meet him?” He turns in your arms and lights up.

“Does he like reading?”

“He does,” you answer and fight back tears.

“What about counting, because I can count all the way to five thousand,” he starts talking faster when he’s excited.

“I think so,” you caress his small face and kiss his forehead.

—

“I didn’t know if this was still your number,” you say when Spencer answers his phone.

“I’ve had it for years, what’s up?” He seems distracted and you don’t want to do this over the phone.

“Can we talk… in person,” you ask.

“Sure?” He hasn’t spoken to you since about a month after you left the team so abruptly.

“How’s lunch tomorrow?” You ask.

“I thought you moved?” He presses.

“My sister and I moved to DC last month, I’m working at the pentagon now,” you inform him.

“Wow, okay,” you hear shuffling in the background. “Let’s do pizza, you still like Ray’s?” He asks because you two ate there all the time.

“Yeah, how about 1230?”

“Sounds good, see you then,” he hangs up.

Your sister takes your shaking hand but you calm yourself by looking at your beautiful boy.

You think Spencer will want to be a dad, you think he’s mentioned it before. Especially with how absent his father was. But you’re nervous and unsure. He would have every right to be angry with you, Roman was almost three. But it’s better late than never right?

-

“Spencer,” you beam nervously and he hugs you. He seems taller, his hair seems curlier, and he’s got some facial hair. He looks… matured. You wonder what he’s been through, what he’s seen with the BAU since you last saw him.

“Y/N, how are you?” He asks.

“Good, I’m good,” you guys sit outside and make idle chat about work.

You fall into easy conversation over pepperoni pizza and he laughs about some joke your coworker made about Aristotle.

“You said you needed to talk to me?” He crosses his legs and pushes his hair back with his palm(just like Roman does.)

“Spencer…” you shake your head and look down at your lap. Your throat tightens and it all comes down to this moment.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He leans forward and drops his pizza.

“I’m so sorry,” you don’t expect to cry but you do. He drags the metal outdoor chair closer to you and touches your shoulder:

“Sorry for what? What’s going on?” He seems worried.

“I didn’t just leave the BAU for a new position,” you sigh and wipe your eyes. You turn in your chair towards him and pull your knees to your chest.

His brows are furrowed, full and dark just like your sons.

“I got pregnant,” you huff out a shaky breath.

He slides his chair back. You can’t look at him.

“What are you saying?” His voice is low.

“This is Roman,” you slide your phone across the table towards him. Your lock screen is a picture of your son staring at the camera as though he’s far beyond his years.

Spencer inspects it, his eyes scanning the photo frantically.

“That- he…” and then a tear falls down his face. “Do you have more pictures?”

You take your phone and give him your camera roll.

He swipes for a while, he’s biting his lip, his eyes bloodshot.

“He looks just like me,” he whispers a broken whisper and sits back down.

“I know,” you can hardly speak.

“How long have you known he was mine?” He doesn’t sound angry, just… sad.

“I’ve suspected it for a while, he started talking a year ago and… he’s just so smart. Sickeningly so…”

“He could talk at 1?”

“Spencer he can read books and do math at 2 and a half. I could kid myself on his looks for the first year or so of his life but…” you grab his hand and squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why did you leave? Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” He asks and looks up at you.

“Because… you had just lost Maeve and there was a chance that the baby wouldn’t be yours and I didn’t want to make things harder on you,” you sniffle.

He rubs at his eye like he used to do when he got a headache.

“Why tell me now?” He asks.

“He asks about his daddy. And now that I know for a fact who that is… you deserve to know.”

“Daddy,” he whispers and his voice cracks as he looks at a photo of Roman as a baby baby.

“He’s even wearing…” he points at the picture.

“My sister was trying to make a point,” you smile softly.

He laughs a little at that.

“Do you want to meet him? You don’t have to. You never have to…”

“Of course I do,” he stops you.

“I don’t want anything from you. That’s not why I’m telling you this,” you assure him. “You can be as involved or not involved as you want.”

“Y/N, he’s my son. I want him to know me and I want to know him,” now he’s squeezing your hand. You nod, you’re relieved.

——

“Okay, are you ready?” You ask your son the next day.

“Yes!” He holds up his toy train that he brought his dad to the park.

You spot Spencer at a picnic table in the shade and pick up your son. The wind blows his hair around as you approach. Spencer stands, his eyes lighting up as he beholds Roman.

“Spencer Reid, this is Roman Jacob Reid,” you say proudly.

“Hi,” he smiles and waves at Roman who you stand on the table.

“I got you a train. It has my name on it, see. R-O-M-A-N,” he points at the letters. Spencer lets out an amazed huff and takes the red engine.

“It’s perfect!” He exaggerates.

“I’m changing his last name tomorrow,” you whisper to Spencer. “If that’s okay.”

“That would be amazing,” he smiles down at you.

“Okay stand back,” Roman pushes Spencer away from the table. “I’m going to show mommy that you’re strong because I’m strong and if I’m a superhero you’re a superhero!”

Spencer glances at you and has no idea what he means but then Roman jumps off of the table towards Spencer in a giant leap with a howling laugh. Spencer doesn’t miss a beat and catches him swiftly with the biggest smile of his face.

“See mommy! Strong! Now I know he’s my daddy for sure!” Roman exclaims.

“Romi be gentle with him,” you warn.

“Romi,” Spencer whispers as he tries out the nickname.

“Mommy says you’re a special agent, are you a spy? Like double oh seven?” Roman asks absentmindedly as he places the train into Spencer’s shoulder and moves it back and forth. He’s sitting on the table in front of his dad who looks like the world just fell in his lap. Your heart feels so full.

“Maybe, what do you know about 007?” He grins at his son.

“Some stuff,” he shrugs.

“I do know magic,” Spencer informs him.

“But magic isn’t real!” Roman swats his dad’s chest.

“No?” Spencer pinches Romans ear. “So you always have a quarter in there?”

“Woah!” Roman stands on the table in awe. “Do it again!”

“What about this? Is this yours?” He reaches towards his other ear and brings out a lollipop.

“It is now,” he giggles and snatches it. “Thank you,” he hugs Spencer around the neck.

Spencer looks at you and you’ve never seen him like this. He seems content, amazed, like he’s finally found a puzzle he can’t solve. You’re hugging Roman’s stuffed bear to your chest as you watch them.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispers to you and hugs Roman again. “Now let’s go get some ice cream,” Spencer says.

“Uh-oh you said the magic word,” you taunt as Roman squeals in excitement.

“I wanna be on your back,” Roman tells Spencer who obliges. He wraps his arms around Spencer’s neck, his legs around his waist while Spencer supports his legs.

He follows you to the ice cream shop across from the park. You think for the first time in a while, that everything just might be okay.

“Would it be weird for me to thank you?” You ask Spencer.

“Thank me for what?” He asks and licks his ice cream cone. Roman is in your lap, gently picking singular sprinkles off of his ice cream and eating them first. Like always.

“For him,” you hug him gently and kiss his head. Roman doesn’t react, too lost in his ice cream.

“You carried him, birth him, and raised him on your own until now. I should be thanking you. You’re incredible,” he stares into your eyes. Your heart skips a beat and you look away.

“Let’s just say we’re both grateful for him,” you smile. “I never knew, where you stood on children. If you ever wanted them.”

“Children bring such a light into our lives, especially people like us who work in the dark all of the times they remind us of wonder and innocence and show us compassion and patience. In their presence we are given the opportunity to rediscover the joy in simple moments, the thrill of exploration, and the power of unconditional love. I’ve always wanted children,” he explains.

You don’t know why you had any doubts about him.

“Well, they can be trying too,” you look down at your perfect child. “So I hear,” you shrug and both of you laugh.

[awkward-walking-potato]

saw you wanted some wade requests so.... how about wade x a scatterbrained (probably has adhd) reader who always calls themselves stupid whenever they forget what they are doing \ walk into a room and forget what they were supposed to do?

Forget-Me-Nots

You stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring blankly at the open refrigerator. The cool air wafted over your face as you tried to remember why you had walked in here in the first place. You were sure it was important—maybe something for dinner? Or a snack? You couldn’t recall, and the longer you stood there, the more frustrated you became.

With a sigh, you closed the fridge door and leaned against the counter, muttering to yourself. “Ugh, I’m so stupid. Why can’t I remember anything?”

“Did someone say ‘stupid’? I’m pretty sure that’s a code word for needing more Deadpool in your life,” came a voice from the doorway. Wade strolled into the kitchen, a lopsided grin on his face as he made his way over to you. “What’s going on, babe?”

You glanced up at him, feeling a bit sheepish. “I came in here for something, but I completely forgot what it was. I feel so dumb. This happens all the time.”

Wade’s grin softened into something more tender as he reached out to ruffle your hair playfully. “First of all, you’re not dumb. Not even close. You’re just running on a different frequency than most people—one that happens to be way more interesting, might I add.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, even though the frustration still lingered. “I don’t know, Wade. It just feels like my brain’s always all over the place. Like I can’t focus on one thing for too long, and I keep forgetting stuff.”

Wade’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Well, that’s where I come in, babe. Ta-da!”

You looked down to see a small, brightly colored sticky note in your hand. On it, in Wade’s messy handwriting, were the words: You came in here for the snacks, didn’t you?

You blinked in surprise, and then a laugh bubbled up from your chest. “Wait, how did you—?”

“Because I know you, that’s how,” Wade said, looking way too pleased with himself. “And also because I’m a genius. But mostly the first thing. I figured you might get sidetracked, so I wrote you a little reminder earlier. Just in case.”

Your heart melted at the thoughtfulness behind the gesture, and you looked up at him with a mixture of affection and gratitude. “Wade, that’s so sweet of you. And, yeah, I was definitely thinking about snacks.”

Wade’s grin widened. “Called it! Now, let’s raid the pantry and find something good. I think we’ve got some chocolate stashed away somewhere.”

As the two of you searched through the cabinets, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of appreciation for Wade’s efforts. He didn’t just see your scatterbrained moments as a quirk to be tolerated—he saw them as an opportunity to show how much he cared about you. It was one of the many reasons you loved him so much.

Later that evening, as you were getting ready for bed, you found another sticky note taped to your bathroom mirror. This one read: Brush your teeth, beautiful. And don’t forget to floss—I know you hate it, but your smile’s worth it.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you did exactly what the note suggested. Wade had a knack for knowing exactly what you needed, even before you realized it yourself.

Climbing into bed, you found yet another note tucked under your pillow: You’re not stupid. You’re amazing, and I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you. Now, get some sleep—dream of me, will ya?

You clutched the note to your chest, feeling your eyes well up with tears, though they were the happy kind. Wade always knew how to lift your spirits, to remind you of your worth, even when you were feeling down on yourself.

When Wade finally joined you in bed, you turned to him and snuggled close, wrapping your arms around him as you whispered, “Thank you, Wade. For everything.”

He kissed the top of your head, his arms encircling you protectively. “Anything for you, babe. You’re my whole world, scattered brain and all. And don’t worry—I’ve got plenty more notes where those came from.”

You smiled against his chest, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you drifted off to sleep. Wade might have been unpredictable and wild, but when it came to you, he was steady, thoughtful, and endlessly loving.

The next morning, you woke up to find a sticky note on your nightstand: Good morning, sunshine! Remember to take your meds and have breakfast. I made pancakes—don’t let them get cold!

You grinned, feeling a surge of affection for your wonderfully chaotic boyfriend. With Wade by your side, you knew you could face anything—even the most scatterbrained of days.

[lucilleslore]

sometimes when i think about crack with coryo and reader, i have a little fun with reader being someone who is a very powerful person and genuinely has control over snow with just 'tiny' ways like: decorating the house, clothes, food, anything so trivial. it starts out tiny, small, personal things but the influence gets bigger to the point that politics has to get dragged in.

somebody please humble this man, even though this is a bit ooc, i just need this man to lower a bit in my imagination.

yeah 1000% i’ve been saying this from the beginning and it will forever be my favourite concept!

whilst i don’t think coryo would actively want you to have any control over him, there’s not much he can do about it once the DEEP obsession kicks in. making people happy has never been his priority but then he has you and suddenly he needs you to be happy. needs to spoil you and give you everything you could want but it’s more from a place of thinking that if you’re happy you’d never even consider leaving him. which i think is a fear of his because he’d never let you leave of course but he’d never even want the thought to cross your mind. would feel like a massive betrayal to him.

so that kind of follows into you getting a little control here and there. if you slip something into conversation that you don’t like he’s automatically getting rid of it. problems with staff? they’re gone. don’t like the food? someone will make you something else. want to change the decor? go ahead. not feeling any of your clothes? here’s access to his bank accounts.

it’s definitely slow because politics and his overall plans for power would be things he strictly doesn’t want you involved in. sure he’s not got any morals but you’d still be his safe place and he feels like that should be protected. his time with you is kept separate from his work life but maybe one night he comes home extra stressed and you’re just there, offering him drinks and rubbing his shoulders and his problems all just sort of fall out.

now coryo isn’t expecting much. you’re his wife and have no experience in the ways of politics so he just expects you to listen but all of a sudden you’re coming out with these brilliant solutions, things he would never have thought up in his life. maybe it’s not the conventional way to do things - and by that he means his way - but he has to admit your ideas could work.

but that’s how it starts and after that when he’s really stumped he comes to you. talks it out and sees what you come up with. he always gets this grin on his face that’s honestly kind of menacing because you’re boosting his ego. like how did he instinctively pick a wife that’s not only beautiful but so, so scarily smart?? he must be a genius.

but when you’re talking about humbling i can honestly see the both of you at some fancy dinner and they’re all fawning over coryo, about everything he’s done for the capitol and the world and how amazing he is and you’re just sat there like?? those were all my ideas?? not his?? so then you’re all over him and asking him just how did he come up with these plans and coryo is just kind of fumbling for once and you’re just sitting there enjoying your wine and smirking <3

or you could go full girlboss and call him out in front of all the old loser politicians!