#<- I listen to them since two hours and I'm mesmerized

[hammill-goes-fogwalking]

I love the fact that youre interested in Skandinavian music!! - but please, as a Finn, Finland is not a part of Skandinavia 🙏 i get that people just group us with Skandis but we are not part of them!! Maybe just say "nordics/nordic countries", that’s always correct! :) also - which finnish prog band are you interested in?? I love that youre into our music 💙

thank you, I'd probably never notice the mistake XD honestly I never heard anyone who said it's not a part, anyways I'm gonna change it on my last post

also it's so cool to meet you!!!!

I thank my father, a literal geography guru, for my silly little interest- he's a huge fan of Finnish tango 😌

I'm fascinated of your language, yes I tried to at least learn some simple vocabs but it's impossible

^ they're like the ideal band imo, the songs are EXTREMELY GOOD and this one is my favourite, although I'm really sad that they don't sing in their native language (I would prefer Finnish honestly, the language sounds stunning in songs -UNLIKE GERMAN)

they're connected with a 60s soul/jazzy kinda band called Soulset

//

two prog/jazz fusion epics, isn't it amazing 😭 I love Nordic experimental music, they were innovative, had a fresh sound, the musicians' instruments sound just fine as hell 👌🏻🛐 I have a weakness for saxophones in prog

I think they're one of the obscure Finnish groups

it's now a year ago since I discovered Wigwam, which is probably the most popular Finnish jazz fusion kinda group?

in my bio is a link to my Spotify acc, there I created a playlist for favourite songs of your country...

thanks, again 🤍💙

[peachylynnie]

you make him lose his cool

word count: 900-1k per lead

synopsis: in which you provoke them, and they love it. (inspired by kiss of life's igloo)

contains: fem!reader x lads men (separate, non!mc), established relationship, downbad men, NSFW CONTENT MDNI (i'm talking grinding, oral sex implications, etc), song lyrics, and cursing.

a/n: i feel hot whenever i listen to this song. i hope you do too while reading. i'll write for caleb once he's officially in the game since i'm not familiar with him yet. enjoy! do not plagiarize or translate. lads men do NOT endorse plagiarism. reblogs & comments appreciated.

lads masterlist | tagged: @vvintqz (ik this is technically the reader teasing xavier but u said to tag u when i write xavier so i hope u enjoy)

sylus

Glass room, perfume, Kodak on that lilac (alright)

Slipping on my short dress, know he like that (like that)

there's nothing like getting ready in sylus' bathroom. not because of the sheer size of it (it takes at least a day to explore his residence), but because of how good you look in the mirror right now. you can't help but smile as you step back to get a full look at yourself.

sylus went all out for tonight's auction.

he gifted you a tight-fitting ebony dress, its gorgeous silk straps accentuating your shoulders perfectly. he also gifted you a pair of evening gloves, its velvet fabric wrapping around your arms flawlessly. of course, the dress came with priceless jewels and heels. as you twirl in front of the mirror, the scarlet gems on your ears glimmer, and the cherry kitten heels on your feet click. oh, you look so good, you can kill.

but what seals the deal is the neck accessory he got you.

an intricate, black choker made out of lace. fucking lace. a scoff leaves your mouth when you notice the ruby medallion hanging at the center. his taste is as clear as day.

as you reach behind your neck to clip the choker, the man of the hour walks in. you meet his eyes through the mirror, your hands still at the back of your neck. "sylus."

"miss," he acknowledges in return, an unmistakable smirk appearing on his lips. his eyes trail down your figure. "you look stunning."

"thanks," you giggle as you hook the choker clasp. "you don't look bad yourself."

and you're absolutely right. although he has his usual dress shirt on, his outerwear is completely new. a gorgeous red blazer, adorned with inky brush strokes, sits proudly on his shoulders. moreover, his accessories are new (he's never worn any before). cuffed around his right hand is a sleek platinum watch, spotlighting his forearm deliciously. hanging from his left ear are silver chains, shining unashamedly. you can't help but bite your lips as you admire your lover in the mirror.

yeah, sylus went all out tonight.

catching the hazy look in your glittered eyes, he tilts his head before grinning, "like what you see, sweetie?"

you roll your eyes playfully before returning to the sink. "yes, actually. didn't know you were capable of wearing something other than black."

sylus chuckles as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. "i've worn colors other than black before."

"if you're talking about the two outfits that have the belt around the sleeve," you list nonchalantly as you pick up your lip gloss. "they don't count. they have black on them."

"i'm talking about the red cardigan, sweetie," he counters smoothly, eyeing the lip gloss in your hand.

"ah." you run the wand over your parted lips, enjoying the feeling of gloss on them. "touche," you say, bending over the sink to see if you missed a spot. you do, however, miss the way sylus' fingers tighten around his arms when your dress hikes up. smacking your lips together, you lift the wand to reapply. "but you barely even wear that. so that doesn't count either."

sylus hums, barely paying attention to what you just said. his eyes are transfixed on the wand. he's mesmerized by how it travels across your lips, slathering them with sticky, shimmery syrup, leaving him thirsty for a taste. not to mention the sounds leaving your lips whenever you press them together. sweet, squelching sounds that have him pressing against you in mere seconds, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

at first, you were taken aback by his sudden proximity. but after feeling something prod at your back, you smile amusingly before placing the wand down. "i'm assuming," you swiftly turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes widening as you pull him closer. "there's been a change of plans." you slowly lick your lips, collecting some excess gloss. as it drips from the tip of your tongue, you ask with a tilt of your head, "how late are we going to be?"

that's it.

sylus crashes into you, his tongue desperately trying to lap up the excess gloss. his hands haphazardly roam all over your body before lifting you onto the sink, pinning you down as his lips smear your lip gloss everywhere. you moan, trying to match his fervor. the sinful mixing of breaths, saliva, and gloss floods your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around him and bring him closer to you. he welcomes the action, gasping and grinding into you.

by the time he pulls away for air, both of you are left panting like dogs, mouths and chins smothered in sheen.

your eyes never leave sylus' as you wipe your chin, a string of gloss and saliva hanging prettily from your gloved palm. with a groan, he dives into your neck and sinks his teeth into your collarbone. you throw your head back at the pain, whimpering when he soothes the spot with his tongue.

but when sylus traces a finger up your back, you freeze immediately.

why?

oh, because he's unzipping your dress.

"sorry, sweetie," he chuckles into your perfumed skin, savoring your surprised reaction when he drags the zipper all the way down. "we won't be late."

you look at him in confusion, barely processing the silk straps falling off your shoulders.

he leans in and whispers into your ear.

"we won't be going at all."

xavier

your starlight of a boyfriend collapses onto the bed, his legs hanging off the edge and his pants dangling pathetically from his ankles.

Heart attack, IV when I walk the street

Vitamins that D, I'm good, I'm healthy

you giggle at the sight, wiping your lips clean of his release. as you rub a drop between your index finger and thumb, you notice the texture's a bit thick, almost like jelly.

"xavier," you call lovingly, rising from your knees and crawling on top of him. he barely responds; his eyes are screwed shut with beads of sweat trailing down his face, neck, chest, legs, everywhere. shit, what did you do to him? he can't get his chest to stop heaving, his mouth to stop watering, and his ears to stop ringing. he can't do anything. not with the way you looked so pretty on top of him, especially after making him release so intensely in your mouth.

"xavier," you repeat as you cradle his face, making his dazed eyes meet yours. "when was the last time you drank water?"

"water?" he pants. "i'm not sure. why do you ask?"

"well," you show him your fingers. he gulps, flushing a deeper shade of red. "this tells me you haven't been drinking enough water."

you get up to retrieve some water from the kitchen. xavier whines at the loss of contact. although he tries to stop you from leaving, you easily slip out of his weak embrace (he literally got his life sucked out of him; cut him some slack). after you reassure him with a kiss on his forehead, you open the door. "i'll be back soon."

he responds with a whimper before closing his eyes. before he knows it, he falls asleep.

not even five minutes have passed when you return to the room, a glass of water in your hand and a packet of vitamins in the other.

"xavier?" after placing the items down on the nightstand, you sit on the bed to admire the view. there he is, sleeping soundly with his shirt unbuttoned and pants unbuckled, his chest slowly rising up and down and his cute nose scrunching every so often. you almost feel bad when you wake him up. almost. as much as you like watching your boyfriend sleep, he needs his water and vitamins, considering how much energy he uses to fight wanderers.

"wake up, xavier," you coo. "you need your vitamins."

he stirs, peeking one eye open to look at you. cute, you think. "i'm too tired, angel." he whines before closing his eye again. "i'll have some later."

"come on," you chuckle. "at least drink some water. you're dehydrated."

hoping to keep him awake, you litter his face with kisses, repeatedly pecking his adorable features. his droopy eyelids, his button nose, his fluffy cheeks, his moist forehead, his small chin—not a single spot is missed.

his little laughs repay your efforts. before you can continue your bombardment of kisses, his arms wrap around your shoulders, successfully pinning you down to him. you're surprised by how quickly he replenished his strength.

"you're trapped," he points out cheekily. "now we can both sleep."

"xavier," it's your turn to whine. "you need to drink some water. besides," you try to get up but fail miserably due to his tight embrace. "you need to scoot up, and i need to lay down properly if we both want to sleep." still no signs of letting you go.

you sigh before poking at your boyfriend's waist, causing him to yelp.

he immediately lets go of you, rubbing the spot you just touched. taking the chance to escape, you stand up and reach for the glass and vitamins.

"meanie," he pouts. "i thought we agreed to not tickle each other for today."

"that's because you try to tickle me all the time," you retort playfully, opening the packet of vitamins. "besides, i only tickle you as a last resort. unlike you, i'm nice." you pop the vitamin in your mouth and bring the glass to your lips.

"as if." he yanks up his pants and crosses his arms. "last time i checked, being nice means letting your boyfriend sleep peacefully," he quips as he turns away from you, hoping his grumpy little act will coax more kisses from you.

instead, a hand comes into his view and grasps the sheets. furrowing his brows, he shifts back to ask what's wrong but is startled to find your face hovering above his. 

"angel, what—"

you press your lips into his, your free hand gripping his chin. on instinct, xavier opens his mouth, expecting your tongue to greet his. however, his eyes widen when he feels something pour in. oh. he greedily swallows the water and vitamin, his fingers weaving into your hair.

you pull away abruptly, a drop of water trickling down the corner of your lips. before he can say anything, you grab the glass of water and drink from it again, your hooded eyes never leaving his. xavier groans at the sight, his chest heaving for the third time today. and it's barely afternoon. oh, you're going to be the death of him.

he's sure of it when you return to his lips, water flowing into his mouth so sensually as his tongue reaches out for more. this time, you rest your entire body on top of him, allowing him to grab at your hips and thrust upward, desperately rubbing against your clothed core and seeking any type of friction that could relieve him of this growing desire you satiated with your mouth less than ten minutes ago. he never wants to drink water alone ever again.

“a-angel,” he moans when you pull away again. “why?” 

“you need more water, xavier.” you tease with a lick of your lips. “gotta make sure my boyfriend is hydrated, ya know?”

with that, you go to stand up and reach for the glass. however, the room spins as xavier pins you down, your positions switched and your wrists restrained above your head. your eyes widen, realizing you might've pushed your boyfriend too far. 

"angel," dark, cerulean eyes burn into you before glancing at the glass. “that's not enough water.”

rafayel

(heads up, reader doesn't have to be mc but they know about rafayel's identity as the sea god and he calls you his beloved bride)

Yeah, white tippy-toe summer, I make him go dumb, duh

He doubled down on that text, says that I'm the only one

rafayel isn't sure how he got here.

you, on top of his bare chest, nibbling at his neck and dragging a finger down his clenched abdomen.

"c-cutie," he stammers. "someone might see."

he's not wrong. you're at the beach after all. but it's a private beach, one the artist rented for a date. so really, what's the harm in pinning your boyfriend down in the sand and showing him how much you appreciate him?

"you're the one who said this place was private, raf." you giggle before sinking your teeth into him, eliciting a moan. "besides, we both know why you suggested a date at the beach. don't tell me you forgot." you trail your finger along the waistband of his swim trunks. he jolts, his half-lidded eyes meeting your misty ones.

of course, he didn't forget. but considering the current, scandalous situation he's in right now, his memory is a bit hazy. as you twirl the drawstring with your index finger, rafayel bites his lip and tries to remember how exactly he got here.

last thing he remembers is you excitedly texting him about your package coming in.

a package, pft. no big deal, right?

wrong.

he almost dropped his phone when you sent him a picture of the package, more specifically, you wearing its contents.

a gorgeous two-piece swimsuit in the color of his hair. fuck, lavender has never looked so good on you. the way the tight, skimpy fabric hugged all the right places, making you seem so so malleable. the way you posed in front of the mirror, your face bridling with innocent excitement but your body positioned so so temptingly. shit, he hopes this exhibition ends soon because his slacks feel suffocating all of a sudden.

it wasn't long before he spammed you with a hurricane of texts consisting of flattering emojis and praises about how you're the only one he'll ever love (dramatic but heartwarming) and how he would love to take you on a date at the beach as soon as this stupid exhibition is over so you can swim in your new set to your heart's content (totally not because he wants to see the real thing).

yeah, now he remembers. he got himself into this situation. you even tried to stop him.

"uh," he recalls you hesitating through the call. "aren't you tired from your exhibit?"

"nope," he immediately answers, causing you to raise a brow. "not at all, cutie. i'm in tip-top shape. what better place for us to test your swimsuit than the beach?"

"us?" you repeat amusingly. "since when was testing a swimsuit a two-person thing?"

shit, he got caught.

"raf," you giggle at his silence. "if you want to see me wear this in person, you can always just ask, you know?"

"w-what?! no!" he acts as if you insulted his artwork. "i just thought it'd be a good opportunity for us to go on a date and to test the quality of your swimsuit! what if one day you go into the water and it gets untied or something? what if i'm not there to protect you from prying eyes? you can never be careful enough with swimsuits, especially shipped ones!"

"uh-huh," you drawl skeptically. "i'm sure a triple-knotted bikini will SOMEHOW get untied by the waves."

"come on, cutie," rafayel whines. "i know a perfect, private place! i'll even bring the food, the blankets, everything! please?" (he purposely emphasized "private" because no way in the seven seas is he going to let anyone look at you in a bikini)

you sigh before observing yourself in the mirror once more. the bikini DID look good, and you DID buy it for future swimming dates with rafayel. might as well, right? besides, you can't say no to him, especially when he begs so cutely like that.

"fine, raf," he remembers you giving in with an endearing sigh. "send me the address of the beach once you're done. i'll stop by your place to pack your swimming trunks."

and here you are, resting on top of him and drawing figure eights with your fingertips IN his swimming trunks.

he would laugh at the irony if it weren't for your provocative actions. you were the one who brought him his swimming trunks, and now, you were the one making him wish you didn't bring them so he could see how pretty your fingers looked right next to his—

yeah, he definitely got himself into this situation. he has no one to blame but himself for his predicament. it's his fault he's currently twitching and throbbing underneath you as you breathe into his neck and tease doodles into his thighs.

"oh fuck, cutie—" rafayel jerks his head back when you suck on his adam's apple. your mouth felt so good. you felt so good. 

after pulling back with a 'pop,' you trace the red mark with your free hand, admiring your artwork on your artist of a lover. unfortunately for him (fortunately, really), this causes him to squirm uncontrollably. the simultaneous stimulation from your right hand on his thigh and your left hand on his neck was just too much for the lemurian. he swears he's this close to bursting all over the sand like a messy, wet bubble. 

suddenly, you stop, withdrawing both of your hands from his body. 

"c-cutie?" he lifts his neck to look at you but finds himself confused as to why you're sitting up. though, his confusion is quelled when you reach behind your neck. 

oh. 

your hands come into view, each one tugging on the strings of your top.

oh fuck. 

he doesn't even see your top fall. no. he's completely frozen (and hard) when you lay back down on him, smushing your now-exposed chest into his abdomen, allowing him a view that brings roses to his cheeks. (he can feel your nipples rubbing against him).

"oh, god of the tides," you purr with a smirk as you press your ear into his chest, relishing in his rapid heartbeats. "you promised you would test this swimsuit with me." before he can deny your reminder of his mistake from the earlier call, you grab his hand and bring it to rest against your swimsuit bottoms, causing his breath to hitch. "won't you make good on your promise?" 

rafayel swallows shakily before nodding. 

"anything for my beloved bride." 

zayne

doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, reduced to this.

Mm, yeah, I make him lose his cool

Yeah, I make him go mmmmmm ah! ah!

a red-faced mess, losing his cool in a rocking chair, thanks to his lover shaving his chin on his lap.

his lover, who just so happens to be wearing a nightgown, a silk, sapphire nightgown with lace ruffles and ribbons that drove the man insane.

to make matters worse (better), your bare thighs were on either side of his hips, caressing and stroking him whenever you would move to shave his chin.

don't even get him started on the fact that you're sitting right on top of his crotch. he prays to any merciful soul out there that you don't feel him growing down there-

he inhales sharply when you reach behind him for a towel, your chest mere millimeters from his face.

"you okay, zayne?" you ask with faux concern.

"yes," he clenches his jaw. it's taking him everything to not dive in and lick, suck, bite—anything��to relieve him of this torment. "please hurry."

"hurry?" you pout with a tilt of your head. "but why?" you lift his chin to wipe some excess shaving cream. "do you not want me to shave you?"

"no, darling. it's just—" his hands fly to your waist for stability when you place the towel back in its place. shit, every time you lift yourself onto your knees to reach behind him, the chair moves more and more, resulting in a pattern where when he leans back, you press into him, and when you lean back, he presses into you. it's not helping that this pattern deliciously resembles a certain rhythm in bed.

"it's just?" you repeat to him, stroking his jaw to inspect for stray hairs.

he doesn't say anything. how can he? he can't just spill about how badly he wants to kiss your sweet lips, squeeze at your delectable chest, rip your enticing nightgown apart, and take everything you have to offer. no, he can't. not when you approached him so innocently with a cute smile on your face after he came home, asking if you could shave him. (he almost fell to his knees when he saw what you were wearing). not when you look so beautiful gazing at him from above, handling his skin with addictive yet gentle touches, and glowing underneath the moonlight from the open windows. shaking his head, he grips your waist with renewed resolve.

"it's nothing," he closes his eyes. "please continue." he would rather drink alcohol than misinterpret your innocent intentions.

except there was nothing innocent about your intentions at all. you admit, it's fun to tease zayne like this. the way his lips would chase after your fingers whenever you traced them, the way his eyes would falter whenever you leaned in, the way his breath would hitch whenever you moved your hips, oh it all made you feel wanted. and who could want more than a gorgeous, capable doctor who looks at you as if he's going to die if he can't have you?

you. you want more. you WANT him to have you, take you, right here on this rocking chair. you thought teasing him with a few shifts of your hips and some purposeful closings of distances between his face and yours would relay the message. but no. he's either completely oblivious or has the will of a steel that's been fortified ten times over. because even though he's made it incredibly clear that he wants what you want (his blushing cheeks and shortage of breaths are hard to miss), all he's done is sit there and take your teasing.

you frown, retracting your hand. what's it going to take for doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, to give in?

a lightbulb flashes in your head.

"hang on, i missed a spot," you lie, lifting yourself up once more to reach for the shaving cream next to you. "i'll make this quick."

and with that, you slam your hips down.

he groans out loud, eyebrows furrowing and fingers tightening around your hips. he still hasn't opened his eyes though.

"are you sure you're okay, zayne?" you ask innocently, twisting left and right. "i'm worried about you."

"w-why," he starts hoarsely, his fingers gripping for dear life, trying to stop you from moving so damn much. "why would you be worried?"

"oh, i don't know," you smear shaving cream all over his jaw before trailing your fingers down to his neck. "you just seem so…" you slowly trace a heart on his collarbone, eliciting a pretty gasp from him. "out of it."

zayne's eyes jerk open, glaring at you with unprecedented focus. you smile cheekily before pressing yourself deeper into him, eager to bear witness to what he'll do and say since he finally opened his eyes.

though, your smile doesn't last long. in an instant, his hands pin yours behind your back, causing your back to arch and your lips to part.

"i'm starting to think," he secures your wrists in his right hand and brings his left to his face, wiping away the mess you made. "you're doing this on purpose."

you grin. finally. he finally got the message. unable to hide your excitement, you lean in next to his ear and whisper, "what are you going to do about it, doc-tor?"

he inhales sharply, yanking your wrists.

"perhaps," he growls. "it's time you get a taste of your own medicine. prescribed by yours truly."

[kentoavenue]

grateful - gojo satoru

"whatever you're thinking of, save it for tomorrow. go to sleep."

you release a heavy exhale, before pulling your arm from under your pillow and flipping over, eyes meeting stark blue ones.

you've always been mesmerized by how sky-like his eyes are, but even more so when even with the lights off, they still manage to glow. as if heaven itself lied behind those orbs.

satoru is blessed, you think. but you feel even more blessed than him for being the only one who gets to see him like this—so at peace and laid bare for you.

"you're not asleep either," you reply with half-lidded eyes.

you're tired, sure, but there was no way you'd find sleep anytime soon. not with the war waging in your head right now.

"tell me what's going on in that beautiful head of yours," satoru says, bringing his hand up to tuck back a lock of hair behind your ear. he rests his hand there, too.

you suck in a quiet breath, not sure how to proceed.

ever since he came back, you've been holding him more dear than usual, afraid he'd slip past your fingers again. you don't tell him that, though. sure, he knows it anyway, but saying it out loud seems like it'd jinx everything to hell again.

"i'm thinking of you."

he blinks up at you, silver eyelashes fluttering against his eyelid. god, he's beautiful.

"what about me?"

you should be grateful.

grateful that you have the strongest as your other half. grateful that he doesn't need to look over his shoulder. grateful that you never had to truly worry if satoru was going to make it home some nights.

grateful that unlike most other sorcerers, satoru never had to walk hand-in-hand with death. grateful that death hasn't knocked on his door even when the world fell to chaos. grateful that he's still here with you, breathing and warm and alive.

but you're not grateful tonight. not with the battle he's announced in several hours.

you don't want to say it, but you say it anyway, "don't be a hero."

a silent pause, before, "baby, you—"

"no, let me say it, satoru. i have to say it out loud," you whisper.

his hand leaves your cheek and slides down to rest above your waist. you relish the feeling as much as you can, commiting to memory the weight and warmth of it. you wish you two could stay like this forever.

"okay," he nods, shifting closer.

it's quiet enough that you can hear your own heartbeat, maybe even his, and you hope he can hear them too.

"i would never tell you not to go and save megumi," you start. you hesitate for a moment, but continue, voice quivering ever so slightly. "but you have to remember your life means just as much."

satoru's listening, but doesn't say anything. instead, his hand finds yours and he brings the back of your hand towards his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"thank you for worrying about me, but you can stop now."

"are you hearing me, satoru?" your fingers grasp his tighter, a silent demand for his full attention. he gives it to you. "i'm asking you to please come home tomorrow night."

"i will, baby." he plants a quick kiss on your nose. "i'm the strongest, or have you forgotten?"

you clench your jaw slightly, wondering if you believe him or not.

you decide you don't. not enough.

but you're not going to ask him to promise you anything either. not when he already carries so much burden alone. not when you know how easily promises get broken as of late.

"i just—." you pause to look at him, really look at him. and you pray to god that you remember each and every delicate feature of his. every flaw, every dip, every scar. "i just want you to remember that i love you, always. and i won't make you promise it, but i hope with every piece of my soul that i see you tomorrow. and the day after. and the day after that, too."

satoru huffs out a short laugh, lips pulling apart to form a smile.

"you underestimate me, again." he plants another kiss, to your forehead, now.

"i'm not," you murmur.

"yeah, you are." he raises both your hands, fingers intertwining in the air. "you're underestimating my abilities, you're underestimating how much i love you, and most of all, you're underestimating the lengths i'd go to just to come back home to you."

it's not often that the satoru gojo shows raw emotion, but... here he right now doing so. he's offering you his still beating heart in his hands—and you take it. you swear you'll keep it safe with you forever.

"just—when you're out there, remember i love you, more than anything."

you're holding satoru's gaze intently, before his' drop to your lips, then back up again.

"and i love you even more than that, my girl." satoru presses one last kiss, to your lips this time. “i’ll make it home to you, i swear it.”

[cobaltperun]

Congrats on the 500 love!! You deserve so much more❤️

Can I request a drabble or something really short of Lost!Tara and Reader where Tara is about to pick up the kids from school while R is out of town doing CEO stuff and comes to surprise Tara and the kids at school but all the people are drooling over r cause she is still in her ceo attire but R only having eyes for Tara and her kids while ignoring literally everyone else. (It's alright if this is weird and you don't wanna write this.)

Lost (Side - 2) - School Visit

Tara Carpenter x female Reader (Request)

Summary: After a brief business trip all you want to do is surprise your family and pick them up from school. (Set between Lost 29 and 30)

Lost masterlist

Word count: 0.8k

If there was one thing you absolutely loved about your job, it was that most of it could be done from home, which meant that you could maximize the time spent with Tara and your children. Both you and Tara worked from home, with fairly flexible working hours, so you never missed anything in Zack and Susan’s lives. The twins were so used to having both you and Tara at home that they actually got a bit fussy up until like two years ago when either of you was gone for more than a day when work did demand you to actually go somewhere. So, there were still some occasional business trips you needed to leave them for. This one was supposed to be four-day long, but you managed to get everything done in three, so here you were, fresh from the airport and checking the time as you rushed to the garage.

You still had time to drive to the school and pick the kids and Tara up, as long as you didn't waste time. So, while still dressed up in your navy blue three-piece suit with a white button-up shirt underneath you jumped in your car and got going.

It's been years since Tara drove a car, seeing as you being home most of the time meant she didn't exactly need it, so that meant she wasn't exactly keen on driving for the first time in years with the twins in the car. And they were still just seven, so you picked them up from school, either driving or walking there depending on the weather. And the weather today was great for a walk, but you wouldn’t make it on time if you chose to walk.

When you parked on the school's parking lot you noticed people coming out of the school with their children, so you were just in time. You saw the three of them immediately. Tara, holding Zack and Susan's hands and laughing with them as she listened to them telling her about their day, and you paused. No matter how many times you got to see the scene in front of you, you were always mesmerized, thankful for the family you wished for all your life, though you didn't quite know it until Tara brought it up for the first time.

"Mom!" Zack was the first to notice you and he let go of Tara's hand and ran toward you, with Tara and Susan still surprised to see you walking to meet them in the middle of the schoolyard.

"Easy buddy, watch your step," you easily lifted the boy up and hugged him.

"Mom!" Susan got over her initial surprise and you dropped to your knee so she could run into your arms as well.

"Sue," you went and kissed both of your children as Tara walked over to you and kissed your cheek as you got up with the twins now in your arms.

Tara looked you over, her eyebrow rising a bit. "Baby, maybe you should be more considerate," she smirked cheekily and traced the collar of your suit.

"Hmm?" you tilted your head a bit.

"Let's just say it's good I'm no longer jealous," she whispered, though she still leaned closer, her hand going up and sliding around your neck, just a tiny bit possessively. “Some people are drooling,” she shot glares at several people and she wasn’t subtle when it came to the ones blatantly ogling you.

"Just a bit possessive?" you chuckled and finally looked around. Some people were staring at you, and you guessed the suit you were wearing did show off your muscles a bit more than your casual clothes did. You just didn't notice all the attention you were getting until Tara pointed it out.

Tara did though. Not that she was attracting any less attention, hell, more people were looking at her, seeing how beautiful she was that was hardly a surprise. "Just appreciating what others can only look at," she smiled, winking at you.

"Mommy/Mom!" Susan and Zack complained, making you and Tara laugh, and just like that all the stares were forgotten. It didn’t matter, they could stare, as Tara said, that was the only thing they could do.

"Okay, okay, sorry about that," you apologized.

"How about we take you on a picnic this Saturday as an apology?" Tara offered, it was a bit of a habit the four of you formed, at least once a month you all went out for a picnic and the twins loved it.

They looked at one another before grinning widely and nodding. And with the twins now happy and willing to forgive a tiny display of possessiveness you lowered them down and walked over to the car with your family.

A/N: Come on, you know I had to write a Lost request before most of the other requests, and Anon, you have no idea how thankful I am you requested this! 😁😁💙💙 Also, thanks!

Lost masterlist

Taglist: @alexkolax

[acourtofmusings]

Penumbra - Series Introduction

pə-ˈnəm-brē : a space of partial illumination between the perfect shadow on all sides and the full light; a grey area

Pairing: Azriel x Reader Total Word Count: tbd

Summary: The inner circle has been sorely lacking a well-versed scholar, and luckily for them Y/N happens to bump into Nesta at a local romance book lovers convention. Her arrival comes just in time to flank reports that an ally of the Night Court is plotting something world-shattering. Despite every warning bell going off in her mind, she offers her assistance and finds herself enveloped in a dangerous game. Everything is at stake, and Y/N finds herself with a whole lot to lose when a certain Spymaster steps out of the shadows and into her light.

A/N: My falling-asleep fantasy scenarios have been extra intriguing recently, so naturally I'm turning to the world of fanfiction. For now, enjoy this teaser.

Chapter One (coming soon)

If there had ever been one thing that proved itself a constant in your life it was your need for the concrete. Black or white, those were the options. But ever since you had found yourself intertwined with the rambunctious group sitting with you in the large VIP booth at Ritas, things had steadily been muddling up into a daunting shade of grey. You smile at the sound of Cassian's boisterous laughter and take another sip from the drink you have been nursing for the better part of an hour. Nesta's calculated gaze lands on you from her place next to her mate.

"Y/N," she purrs, "You feeling okay?"

You nod and set your drink back down on the tabletop, tracing the rim with your finger. Your gaze begins a slow sweep across the other members of the inner circle, all sucked into their own individual conversations.

"I'm fine, Nesta. Just...taking it all in."

She lets a corner of her mouth quirk up, her subtle version of a well-meaning smile. "You'll get used to the noise eventually. They can get a bit caught up in themselves, but they mean well. Give it time."

Your gaze eventually settles onto the brooding spymaster who is currently nursing a double scotch on the rocks with the same level of disinterest as you. Shadows curl lazily over his shoulders, framed by powerful wings that are tucked tight against his back. He's leaning back into the cushion of the booth seat, listening to Mor's umpteenth dramatic tale of the evening. The movement of his shadows camouflages the swirls of black ink peeking from underneath his button down, and you take a moment to try and decipher what parts of the mesmerizing display are alive and which are tattooed. You fail miserably, reminding you again just how much you can't stand the nuance that surrounds this group of powerful fae. You force your eyes back over to your new friend, who now holds a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

"Perhaps you should put down all of those ancient texts and become a spy instead."

You furrow your brow at her suggestion.

"Why would I do something like that?"

She chuckles to herself and pulls her own glass to her lips, finishing the remainder of the brightly colored drink. "You certainly enjoy starring just as much as he does."

You feel heat creep across your neck as you realize you were caught, and hope the swig of your drink that you take is enough for her to think it's a flush from the alcohol. You twist your face at the taste and shiver slightly as the burn runs down your throat.

"Thats what you get for ordering the well liquor," Nesta teases, "Rhys would happily add you to his tab if you stopped being so fucking stubborn. And don't think that amusing display gets you off the hook with me."

Cassian's wings perk up, and the nosy general turns to the two of you. "What display? What did I miss?" He leans down and speaks not-so-lowly into his mate's ear. "Is she finally relaxing? The both of you are way too boring for my taste right now." You feel heat burning up the sides of your neck and flooding onto your cheeks. Maybe your nervousness was coming off a bit standoffish, but you hated to think it was affecting anyone else's evening.

Cassian flags down a waitress and points between you and Nesta. "Excuse me miss, these two need to catch up. Get me two of something good and strong, please." He looks to you and wiggles his eyebrows "Add it to the High Lord's tab."

You begin to protest, looking apologetically to the waitress. "Oh, no thats okay, you really don't have to--"

"--add it..." Cassian insists, "to the High Lord's tab." The waitress smiles and nods, walking away to input the order. Cassian winks at you, smiling warmly. "You're sitting with the big boys now, sweets, no need to shy away from it. Rhys has money coming out of his ass, might as well put it to good use."

Rhys hears his name coming from his intoxicated brother and also turns his attention to you, violet eyes dancing with the same wicked amusement that often adorns Nesta's gaze.

"Ease off Cas," he chides, "I'm not that rich." The High Lord of the Night Court smirks. "Relax, Y/N, I'm not worried about what you spend on my account tonight. Or any night, for that matter. You're doing us all a massive favor, it's the least I can do."

You breath a sigh of relief and smile gently at him, and he returns it before looking back over to Feyre and Amren. Perhaps things were grey now, but maybe with enough time they could sort themselves out. Maybe you could actually find yourself settling into the rhythm of this group. As you feel yourself ease up, the waitress comes back with two bubbling cocktails.

A pair of hazel eyes train intently on you from the opposite end of the booth, marking your conversation and body language with acute awareness. Your timing was too coincidental. He had an odd feeling about you, one that his shadows seemed to enjoy egging on with their consistent pleas.

Need to know more. Let us learn more.

Azriel took a sip of his scotch, gaze still locked onto your form and only half listening to the tipsy giggling of his friends around him.

[covetyou]

send in the clown

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: clowns, dubcon, unprotected P in V, anal play, grinding, titty play (clown motorboating), drug use, hotboxing, the shoes stay on, unconventional use of grease paint word count: 4.1k summary: You lose your scarf on a visit to the carnival. Send in Dieter Bravo - washed up actor turned circus clown.

A/N: Happy Halloweekend, friends! Originally this was going to be some dark evil fic with a murderous clown and some non-con, but basically I can't do that. So here you have washed up actor clown Dieter instead, and he's going to rock your world. You're welcome.

This is not inherently scary, but probably something to avoid if you really hate clowns. It's essentially just clown porn. I'm not sorry.

10 points to anyone who can spot the Oscar.

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Want Dieter at the carnival, but don't want the clowns? Check out Candy by @secretelephanttattoo

Loud noises and knives and fire and bodies bent into strange shapes.

It sounded more like a horror movie down on paper, but the lights and music were dazzling, amazing, turning something terrifying into something beautiful.

You sipped too sweet drinks and munched on overpriced snacks as you watched on with your friends, laughing and gasping with them as the sights before you unfolded. A tiny woman bending herself over backwards, shooting apples off of people's heads with a bow and arrow clenched in her delicate feet. A couple swinging through the air, no wire in sight, fabric fluttering along behind them as they flew. Sword swallowers, fire breathers, acrobats, magicians, clowns.

Clowns.

You were mesmerized by it all, taken in so completely, that when you all stumbled out after several hours and made your way home, you didn't even notice you'd left your scarf until you moved to pull it off as you stepped in your front door. They weren't in town for long, things like this never were, so you turn around and head back to your car, driving back the way you came until the big top comes back into view.

It had been almost an hour since you left and the parking lot was mostly empty now, save for a few cars closer to the entrance. The sign was no longer illuminated, but lights shone brightly from inside the gate as a handful of people bustled around, packing up for the night.

You make your way to the ticket booth, spotting a grizzly old man with a toothpick between his teeth closing up, pulling a small box filled with ticket stubs and loose change out from the desk.

"We're closed," he grumbles, not bothering to look at you as he turns the key, locking the booth, and stomps away.

"I know," you shout, feet squelching in a wet patch of grass as you stumble after him. "I lost something, left it here. Do you have a lost and found?"

He stops, eyes you up, then sends you inside, directing you to an open sided tent. You walk in semi-darkness, listening out for the shouts and jokes of the cast and crew ending their day.

Two people sit there, feet up on a box and cards in hand. One has a threadbare sweater thrown on over a skimpy lyrca outfit adorned in sequins, the other looks like he could have been in the audience if it wasn't for the peak of tattoos from the top of his hoodie and across his hands.

They don't notice you standing there, so you clear your throat. Sequins is just about to play a card, but halts mid way through the movement and looks up, raising his painted on eyebrows at you.

"We're closed," Tattoos repeats, not bothering to turn to look your way.

"I lost a scarf. Was told to come here," you explain. You just want your scarf back.

Sequins slaps the card down on the box then sits back, eyeing you up and down just as the grizzled old man did, crossing his toned arms over his chest. "What's it look like?"

"Woolen, red and brown kind of checks. It's pretty big, almost like a blanket?"

Tattoos scoffs, finally turning to look at you. "Oh yeah, that one. Bravo the Clown took it. No one ever comes back for shit they lose at the circus, toots. If you want it back you're gonna have to go ask him."

"Okay, and where can I find this Bravo the Clown."

They send you off to a trailer on the other side of the camp. You hear their laughter as you turn your back and walk away, squelching back through patches of wet grass that hadn't been boarded over.

The trailer is worn and old, a colorful tarp covering the front window and stapled into the ground. "Bravo" is scrawled on the door in sharpie, scribbles of other color around it so it looks like the name has exploded from the door. There's a faint light from inside, and you can hear music playing, but there's no answer when you knock.

You try the handle, the door opening a crack before jamming. You tug harder, and the door swings open, nearly knocking you down onto the wet ground.

Smoke billows out. You almost think there's a fire when you smell something earthy and herbal. Definitely not a fire.

You call out over the music, a repetitive carnival jingle, and when there's no response, you climb up the few steps and step foot into the trailer of Bravo the Clown.

It's dark inside, the smoke barely cleared and the tarp masking any light from outside in a red haze. The herbal stench in the air is thicker inside, covering the stale musky smell of sweat and dust.

When your eyes adjust to the dark through the haze of smoke, you see the place is a mess. Wigs of all shapes and colors are thrown haphazardly onto a crooked shelf on the wall, something shiny hidden behind a puff of rainbows. Shoes litter the walkway, and clothes and costume pieces are strewn over a bench seat. There's a patch where it looks like someone has been sitting, and next to it, your scarf, screwed tight into a messy ball and pushed down into the rest of the clothing.

You approach, going to grab your scarf and leave, when you're distracted by a long mirror sitting to one side, a worn chair in front of it. There's a vanity where brushes and pallettes are thrown, pots of grease paint left open and discarded.

You drag your fingers across the worn wooden vanity. Picking up one pot of paint - a vibrant white - you are moments from swiping your finger across the pristine surface when a gruff voice startles you.

"What the fuck?!"

You spin, paint falling from your hand and clattering to the ground. Stood there is a half man, half clown, joint perched between his lips, makeup smudged over his face. His hair is sweaty, sticking up at all angles, wig nowhere to be seen. You cast your eyes down him. An oversized striped shirt is pulled open, graying undershirt beneath on show, sweat stains at the armpits and a wet patch on the hem. His red pants are unbuttoned, slung low on his hips, his suspenders unclipped at the front and hanging down low behind him. Large shoes jut out from the bottoms, bulbous and curving slightly upward.

"What the fuck are you doin' in here," he says from around the joint, throwing his hands up in the air.

You stumble over your words, stuttering a few times before you can spit it out. He looks at you like you're stupid, like you're the one with paint smeared over your face.

"I- I lost my scarf. They said you had it, I'm sorry, I-"

"What? Do you think breaking and entering is okay because I'm a fuckin' clown," he yells, pulling the door closed and slamming it hard when it gets jammed again.

He stalks toward you, blowing a puff of smoke into your face, making your eyes water, before he flops down into the worn chair in front of the vanity. It creaks as he stretches back, the tip of one of his too big shoes running up your leg.

"Do you think stealing is okay because you're a clown?" you retort, hands on your hips, shaking your head in disbelief. You never pictured your evening ending in an argument with a half-dressed clown.

More smoke puffs from his mouth as he laughs at you, face contorting strangely as he smiles with a down turned red mouth smeared across his own.

"What're you going to give me," he says, pulling his shirt off and throwing it onto the pile on the bench.

"What?"

He takes another long drag on his joint, and lets the smoke billow from his lungs before he sits back and replies. "For the scarf. What's it worth to you."

You watch his hand stroke down his belly, past the wet patch on his t-shirt and down to the front of his pants. He adjusts himself, rolling his hips as he palms his cock through the fabric.

You swallow a lump in your throat. Maybe it's the smoke going to your head, the haze of the room making you feel stuffy and floaty, clouding your judgement. Or maybe you've always had a fucking thing for clowns, you flithy b-

"Anything," you say, before you can stop yourself. He laughs, throwing his head back as he flicks ash onto the floor.

"Then take that coat off and come here. Show me them pretty tits."

You unbutton your coat, throwing it onto the bench with your scarf. You look down, thick sweater obstructing any view he'd have of your chest, and decide to yank that off too, pulling it over your head and discarding it with your coat. You take a deep breath, lungs filling with smoke and the sweaty smell of Bravo the Clown, before you pull down your tank top and bra, pushing your tits out of their cups and exposing them to the cold air.

"Can I have my scarf back now?"

"No! I want a closer look," he pats his lap, visible tent now forming in his red pants. "Come sit down on Bravo the Clowns lap, sugar tits," he says with husky laugh.

You shuffle forward trying not to trip over his shoes as you wonder how you'll perch on his lap with his knees spread so wide. You don't have long to think when he grabs you by the hand and pulls you onto him, your knees straddling either side of his thighs on the chair. It creaks and groans, and you shift on him, terrified the old chair is going to collapse with the weight of you.

He takes a final long drag from his joint, before snuffing it on the vanity and blowing the rest of the smoke into your face. You cough and splutter, blinking back watering eyes, when two large hands come up and grab your tits, massaging them as your chest heaves.

"Nice."

You blink again and look down to see him smiling at your tits, nodding as he massages them. He squeezes them together, watching as the skin squishes and puckers under his fingers. His hands are rough, fingernails painted with chipped polish that glitters in the dim lighting of his trailer. The grimace painted onto his face a stark contrast to the man underneath having the time of his life.

He's entranced, looking at your tits as he squeezes them. Painted fingertips come and pinch your nipples, pulling at them and making you gasp. Your back arches as he tugs, jiggling both as he pinches and laughing as they ripple with the movement. Your hips shift forward, nudging the hardness in his pants, and you fight to still yourself and not grind against him.

Before you know it, he's mashing your tits together again and shoving his face between them, rubbing the scruff of his jaw across your delicate skin, smearing paint all over your chest. He breathes in, and you feel him start to nip and suckle at your flesh as he rubs from side to side, burying his face in you as you push your hips down hard onto his cock.

As quick as he started, he flops back with a sigh, letting your tits fall heavy from his grasp. He smiles serenely as he looks at his handiwork, white and red and blue smeared into a mess of lavender across your tits.

"Think you liked that as much as I did," he taunts, gesturing to where your crotch sits flush against his stiff cock. "Shame you're in so many fuckin' layers." He runs a hand up your thigh, pinging the thickness of your tights against your leg before fingers play with the edge of your skirt where it's bunched around your thighs. He tugs it higher, pulling it to your waist.

He slides his hands back down, thumbs tracing down the front of your tights, teasing the apex of your thighs. One hand holds you there, stopping you from rocking into him again, whilst the other slides between you, rubbing broadly over your damp, covered crotch.

You close your eyes, letting him massage your pussy with his large hand, the sensation muted by so many layers. You rock into his palm as you float along on his lap, lost in his heavy breathing and the monotonous music still jingling along in the background.

He starts muttering, playing with the waistband of your tights, looking for a better way in, a way to get to your cunt that means you don't have to get off his lap. Your eyes snap open, you watch as he shrugs, a wicked smile pulling smeared makeup across his face. He pulls at your tights, gripping in both hands, tearing the fabric and exposing your inner thighs and panties to him. You can't help but moan as you feel his hand find your bare skin, and push against the wet front of your panties.

He lets out a low whistle, he'd barely touched you and you're dripping, grinding against his hand. "I can do one better than my hand," he says, waggling his eyebrows and looking down to his crotch. He's fully hard now, tent more impressive than the big tops outside.

Before he can say another word, you're reaching for his pants, pulling the zipper down and fishing out his rock hard length. He pulls both his arms back holding them up in mock surrender.

"Woah, woah!" he laughs.

You start to stroke his cock, pumping up and down, drawing the precum dripping from his tip over your palm and down his length with each stroke. He's watching you as you play with him, teasing his tip, reaching down into his red pants with your other hand to stroke his balls. They're heavy in your hand and sticky with sweat, but you squeeze them as you jerk him, making him groan, throw his head back and grip the arms of his chair.

Your pussy is cold without his hand, neglected. You don't want to let go of the weight of him, so you rub his tip over the front of your soaked panties, dragging it over your clit and applying pressure as you circle it with his head. You need more, more friction, so you hold him against you, rocking your hips against one side of him as your palm holds him to you in the other.

"Oh, hell yeah. Are you gonna come just from grinding on me?!" he says in disbelief, listening to your desperate moans as you jerk him against your pussy.

"No," you gasp, watching a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face over the layer of greasy paint. The look of him alone is almost sending you stratospheric - the hair, the paint, the sweat - but the friction against your pussy isn't enough. "I want to put it in me."

He looks like he's won the lottery, wide eyes and thrilled face covered in paint nodding back at you, gesturing down to his dick as if to say help yourself.

You yank your panties to the side as you rock your hips into his cock, still holding him tight to you. Your slick pussy glides up and down his length, his head rubbing directly over your clit with each cant of your hips. You're moaning, wiggling on him as he watches straight down at his cock gliding against your bare cunt.

"Do you have a...?" you say, looking around the room for anywhere where he might stash a condom.

"Nope," he says, popping the P. "If you want it, you gotta take it like this."

You don't even consider any other option, you simply plunge your two middle fingers deep inside you, gathering your slick before smearing it around yourself and down the other side of Bravo the Clown's cock. You raise up on your knees, the chair creaking again as you move, and tease him against your entrance before taking him inside you.

"Oh, Bravo," you moan as you sink down onto his cock.

"Thank you, I'm here 'til Tuesday," he jokes, miming a bow from where he's seated. You bet he uses that on everyone. You soon wipe the smug grin off his face when you lift up and slam back down onto him, moaning his name once again before you begin fucking yourself on him in earnest. "Fuck."

"Dieter," he whines as you bounce on him, chasing a high that seems so out of reach with the high already muffling your head, "Name's Dieter."

"Dieter," you groan, bottoming out and groaning as you rock your hips over him, his cock seated deep in you.

"Fuck yeah, that's it," he grunts, clown shoes planted flat on the floor giving him leverage to pound up into you as you meet his every thrust. The chair is creaking, the trailer shaking, your lavender colored tits bouncing with each pound. His glazed over eyes watch them bounce in front of his face, a frown knitting his brows together and creasing the paint slathered on his skin as he tries to focus on your jiggling breasts. You think you see him go cross eyed as he tries to look at both of your nipples at once.

You're about to reach your hand down, circle your clit and bring yourself over the edge when arms wrap around you pulling you toward him, face falling into his neck. You can smell him more strongly here, the smell of sweat and weed clinging to him like a second skin. He holds onto your ass as he pounds up into you, pulling your cheeks apart. From this angle you can feel the grind of his hair against your clit with every thrust, and you muffle your moan into his neck.

"Ohhhhh."

"Gonna have to give me more than that, ain't been long since I last came," he huffs into your ear as he pulls you apart. You can feel the slick smear of grease paint on the side of your face.

There's another loud rip, your tights being torn again, this time from behind to expose more of your ass. He slows down the roll of his hips into yours as he pulls you deeper, and deeper, letting you grind down onto him even easier, the rub of him against your clit almost perfect now. The feel of his throbbing cock deep in your pussy, rough hands pulling your ass open and the scratch of his pubic hair on your clit feel so good, but you can't quite get there, whatever end you're trying to reach chased away by the fuzz in your head.

You whine from his neck, shifting your hips, trying to see if another spot would work better. Bravo - Dieter catches on and you hear his voice rumble from his chest as you rock on his lap.

"What's your favorite color?"

Now hardly seems like the time to get to know each other, but you humor him. "Blue," you breathe, rubbing your nose against his cheek, the smell of grease paint strong.

"Blue it is."

One arm lets go of you and you hear something on the vanity. You keep rocking your hips, still so close but not close enough. He brings his hand back and you gasp at a foreign sensation between your cheeks.

It's thick and slick, swiping smoothly across your asshole. You moan and gasp against his face, halting your movements and lifting off him a fraction. He laughs, swiping his slicked finger back and forth over your ass, circling the tight ring before dipping a fingertip in just as he pulls you back down flush onto his cock.

It's intense, and you moan so loud Tattoos and Sequins can probably hear you.

"And that's improv," he says, grunting as he picks up the pace of his thrusts again.

"Fuck, more," you beg, as he slips more of his fingertip into your ass, fucking you hard now as you grip his neck and bring your face in line with his.

He laughs at you, panting with the effort of fucking you. "Oh you're freaky, I like it."

"Watch who you're calling a freak, clown." Your grip his neck, holding on for dear life, unphased by the spread of his face paint onto your own skin.

Both arms are wrapped around you, one feeling at your entrance where he pounds into you, creamy slick coating his fingers with each thrust, the other between your cheeks, finger hooked into your tight hole. His finger tugs at you with each bounce onto his cock, stretching you and making you feel fuller than you are. You tilt your hips again, clit colliding with his thick hair, gridning against you, and you see stars glitter around your vision. They're so close now, the haze in your brain diffusing the light as it draws closer and closer.

"Hnnnng, I'm so close," you groan, rubbing your nose against his.

"Fuck," he mumbles as you pull his mouth onto yours. You kiss him, moaning and grinding against his lap, his tongue flicking against the seam of your lips just as the stars align and burst in your vision.

You come with a deep groan into his mouth, clenching tight around his cock as he frantically pounds up into you, hips stuttering as sweat drips down his face. You feel him start to twitch and then his cock is slipping from you, the remnants of your own orgasm fading as his cock slides against the outside of your cunt and spurts thick ropes of cum up against his belly, catching the already damp hem of his t-shirt.

You sit, faces together, panting for a moment, kissing him again just before he slides his finger from your ass, wiping the slick onto your exposed skin. When he looks down at his spent cock, he groans and huffs.

"Not again. I like this shirt."

He tuts at himself, flopping his arms down and looking around for something to tidy up with. He gives up, instead grabbing a tin from the vanity, popping it open, and starts to roll another joint on his chest.

You take that moment to climb off him, covering your pussy with the scrap of fabric of your panties, tugging your skirt down and your tank top up to cover as much of you as you can. The paint on your chest will stain, but you'll think about that later.

You throw your coat back on, not bothering with your sweater or the mess on your face, when Dieter addresses you again.

"Don't forget your scarf."

You roll your eyes, casting an exasperated look at him only to see him looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You take your scarf, unbunching it and immediately sticking your hand in something wet and sticky. Even in the darkness, you can tell it's almost definitely cum. You look over to Dieter, disgusted look on your face as he shrugs his shoulders.

"If I'd known you'd come here begging for some of this," he gestures down his slouched body, "I never would've done that sweet cheeks. That one's on you."

"You're an ass."

"I'm not an ass, I'm the one and only Bravo the Clown." He spreads his arms wide, looking obscene with his flaccid cock hanging out of his bright red pants, belly covered in cum and face paint smeared all over his face. He places the unlit joint between his lips and you walk past him, pushing open the door to his trailer and stepping outside into the clear air. You take a deep breath, head already feeling clearer when you turn back, a question on your lips.

He's stood at the door of his trailer, tucking his cock back in, looking even crazier now that your head is clearer.

"The music?" you ask. It'd been playing this whole time, the same tune over and over.

"It's called method acting, sweet cheeks," he says with a wink, lighting his new joint and tilting his head back to expel a plume of smoke into the night sky.

You laugh, you can't help it, the man is a caricature even of himself, but there's something so intoxicating about it.

"Goodnight, Dieter."

You walk back to your car to the tinkling of fairground music and Bravo the Clown's raspy laughter.

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[yourelliewillms]

Heyyy so I just discovered your works recently and I was wondering if you don't mind writing an Ellie with a fem reader who is latina and works as a makeup artist please? I just think the idea doing Ellie's makeup while sitting on her lap being so cute and being on my mind 24/7 currently- no pressure though <3 (Sorry for the awkwardness this is my first time requesting something 😭)

doing ellie's makeup !

sfw, fluff, reader is latina !! (i'm not sure if i did this well bc i'm latina but i didn't want this to fall into stereotypes or smt like that😭😭) alsooo i made a little playlist with songs that i think ellie'd love (argentinian songs, sorry that's all i listen to 💔💔 if you have any recommendations pls tell me !!! and if you don't speak spanish lmk if you liked any of this songs just because i'm curious <3)

ellie's favs !

☆ persiana americana - soda stereo

☆ tus ojos - los cafres

☆ tu geografía - indios

☆ prófugos - soda stereo

☆ 743 - miranda!

☆ ritmo y decepción - miranda!

being a makeup artist means you have to practice all the time. new styles pop up on the internet everyday and you have to catch up on them.

every night, when you're finally home after a long day of work, you'd put all your makeup on the table, sit in front of the mirror, put on some music (specially those songs in spanish that ellie loves) and start letting your imagination flow as you try to create a new and unique makeup style.

hours practicing, you're too concentrated trying to do that graphic eyeliner you've been seeing in all the internet to notice that your girlfriend has already arrived from her work and is on the other side of the door probably getting comfortable after her busy day.

she's in the kitchen having a snack to get her energy back but as soon as ellie hears the music coming from your shared room, she'd drop everything she was doing and open the door to see you just a few inches away from the mirror trying not to mess up your eyeliner.

ellie looks at you for a few seconds and immediately starts "singing" the spanish songs (she's just mumbling but she manages to pronounce some of the words because you've been teaching her spanish since you two met). the way she blows kisses at you from the distance not to ruin your makeup just melts your heart and you blow the kisses back at her.

"can i admire you from here?" ellie definitely loooves sitting on the bed behind you and look at you from the reflection of the mirror. she's with her mouth half open and her eyes follow every move you do, that she even forgets to blink. she's just mesmerized.

you turn around and show her the final result and her face lights up. you close your eyes as she examinates every little detail of your makeup and quickly steals a little peck from your lips resulting into you two giggling and stealing little kisses from each other finally getting the physical contact you craved throughout the day.

"would you..." she mumbles "would you like to practice with me?" her eyes locked with yours and her cheeks turn crimson matching the red lipstick stained on her lips from the kisses she stole from you earlier.

the excitement you feel can't be hidden at all as a wide smile spreads on your face. you quickly sit on the bed beside her but her hands reach your waist and you feel her arms lifting your body just enough to make you sit on her lap.

your eyebrows rise and your face turns all shades of pink. you are used to that kind of behavior of hers although it always makes you feel those butterflies inside your stomach.

before starting, you decide to change the music to one you know she likes. you've made her listen to all the songs in spanish you've heard in your entire life so she has a few favorite ones.

your hands brush her cheeks caressing them before grabbing one brush in your hand and start doing her eyeshadow.

"what color is that?" ellie asked with her eyes closed. she couldn't see the makeup you were using for her eyes. that wasn't the most important thing right now but she wanted to catch up with you.

"gris" you answer in your mother tongue chuckling for yourself as you see her confused facial expression struggling to remember all the words you've taught her in spanish.

"hm..." she hums but she has no idea what it means "brown?"

you giggle "gray."

"yeah, i was going to say that. you didn't let me finish."

after a few minutes, you finish doing her eyeshadow. it was a more dark style since you know that's her favorite, it's not like she asked you to do it that way but you just wanted to do something that she'd like wear.

when she opens her eyes you almost melt at the sight of the green in her eyes being highlighted by the color on her eyelids. gray eyeshadow with sparkles and black eyeliner that added that sexy detail to her look.

she smirks at you when she notices you are totally distracted by her gorgeous eyes. she's right though, your mind is completely blank and the moment her hands squeeze your thighs you go back to reality.

"so pretty" you whisper before planting soft and sweet kisses on her lips.

the moment you have to put her lipstick on, you already know it's going to be the hardest part of the makeup. she's wouldn't stop mumbling the songs, talking to you and laughing when she was supposed to stay still.

as soon as you finish putting her lipstick on, you move your head back to take a look at the final result and all you can see is a bewitching but totally messy makeup on her face that makes her look more kissable than ever.

you can't even let her see the final result because you've already kissed every inch of her cheeks, forehead and nose and now she's covered in the red lipstick from your lips.

HI ANON SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WAIT TOO MUCH 😭😭 i hope you liked it though <33

i didn't know how to end this, i feel like it's weird but that was the best i could do,,,

[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

Masterlist

Part 10 - Lilith

Fingertips lightly trailed across her face. Over her eyebrow, down the side, across her jaw. Light as a feather they traced the bridge of her nose and she sighed. He used to wake her up just like this when they first got together. Featherlight touches across her skin. With a sigh she cracked one eye open, peering up at him.

"What are you doing?" she grumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

"Just looking at you." His voice was soft, mesmerized.

"Why? Weirdo."

With a sleepy sigh she reached her arms above her head, stretching. The two of them had spent hours talking, completely wrapped up in each other, before she finally passed out. They had talked about everything. From what had gone wrong and their own parts in it, to everything that had been right and what they'd done and accomplished in the last five years. That last part she had done most of the talking, with Noah just lying there, listening, asking the occasional question. She had tried to turn the conversation to him and he just kept circling it back around to her.

"Have you seen yourself? You're fucking perfect."

Lilith quickly pulled the blanket up over her head, hiding herself from his view as the blush erupted on her cheeks. There was no slow build up to it. Never had been for her. And she absolutely loathed it and how easily he could still make her blush.

"You're so stupid," she laughed. "I'm a mess!"

The blanket was flung off of her and his body covered hers instead, his head resting on her chest. His long arms wrapped around her, squeezing tightly. Should she still be here with him? Probably not. There was still a lot to figure out. But she would be lying if she said she hadn't missed this. Being woken up just like this most mornings.

"I don't know how to fix what I did." His voice was quiet, muffled against her chest.

"Maybe you can't." She ran her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp.

Maybe there was no fixing anything. Honestly, she wasn't even sure she wanted anything fixed right now. Or ever. Mended, sure. But fixed? What would that even take?

"Tell me what to do."

"I can't, Noah."

Lilith sighed, shifting a leg to wrap loosely around him. How many times had they laid exactly like this, just existing together? The exact position they found themselves in every time he had come back from tour. After every argument. Every minor disagreement. They would lay together just like this and shut out the entire world. Her heart aches at the memories, breath hitching.

"Do you work today?" He shifted, pressing his lips to the valley between her breasts. Soft and innocent.

"No."

"Stay here with me today? We can watch whatever you want. Order delivery." His soft, pleading voice nearly broke her heart. Something about the way he asked. Like he needed her with him.

She chewed on her bottom lip, mulling it over. What harm could it do to just spend the day with him? He really wasn't asking much. But still, part of her was unsure.

"Please? Can we just pretend? Just for today?"

His voice cracked, and any resolve she'd had before vanished. The Noah she now knew was different than the one she had known before. Vulnerable. Didn't hide what he was feeling. It was a bit of a shock, but also kind of refreshing. She couldn't count all the times he had hidden himself away from her rather than just letting her in.

"Yeah. We can do that."

Noah gripped her tighter, kissing that spot just between her breasts again before settling. That had always been his favorite place on her. Right there on her chest. Without fail his head always found its way to rest right there. She couldn't help but laugh at the memory of the first time he had done that. The way he had snuggled right in, kissing all over her chest.

"What's so funny?" He grumbled at her.

"You've changed but not that much. Always gotta have your head on tits."

"Come on! They're boobs! And they're great ones!" He laughed, tipping his head up to look at her. "But here," he moved one hand, placing it over her heart. "Right here I can hear your heart beating and that's far more comforting than you think."

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[tinkerleaf]

HII I REALLY LOVE THE WAY U WRITE ITS SO COMFORTING SMH

and since ur request are open id like to ask going to prom but whit fyodor this time

ofc feel totally free to ignore no pressure :D

have a nice day or night <33

Prom with Fyodor!

Thank you so much!! I'm so glad you're here! This one is a little short, and I apologize in advance. These are kind of based on my experiences with my southern senior proms lol. I hope you like it! I will be writing more for fyodor soon I just haven't gotten to him yet. Words: 477 Genre: fluff Warnings: none Pairing: fyodor/reader Tags: @estelera11891

Fyodor wasn’t one for large crowds or blaring lights, but for you, he would do anything. He wore small earplugs hidden under his hair so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed with the loud music. He kept you close to him, a possessive hold making it clear to everyone who your date was. He never went to Prom, so he didn’t know how these things were supposed to go. This was completely new to him.

“Why are they playing the most random genres of music?” he asked after hearing slow country immediately after Beyonce.

You smiled, “It’s really just a mix of popular songs from this year.”

He couldn’t stand the music. He thought this event would be more like a gala, so you could imagine his surprise once inside. He didn’t know how to dance the way you normally would at a high school prom. The whole hands-on-the-shoulders thing most people did was weird to him.

He definitely believed you two were the best dressed at the venue, and whispered little remarks in your ear regarding others’ fashion choices. “I’ve never seen such a suit so loud…”

Laughter erupted from you, “That’s pretty tame compared to what I saw last year.”

“You have a pretty smile.” His eyes stared deeply into yours, his thumb gliding across your bottom lip.

When the two of you are sat out on the patio, he has an arm around your waist. He loves to talk when prompted, and your friends loved every bit of his thick accent. Anyone could get mesmerized by his soothing voice. You could listen to him for hours.

He liked getting to know your friends. Meeting the people you hung out with meant a lot to him, mainly because he wanted to ensure that you were around safe people. Listening to you interact with them was entertaining, even if there were things he didn’t quite understand.

Towards the end of the night, he wanted to do more for you. Prom seemed like such a drag compared to the other events he’d attended, so he took you for a late dinner by the ocean. There was no one else around, aside from the few violinists. This was more his pace, and he hoped it was good for you as well.

“Why don’t we dance, myshka?” He stood up and held a hand out to you.

You nodded.

“As much as I love to show you off, there’s nothing I love more than to have you like this. All to myself.” His hands moved across your body as you moved with him. His touch is so gentle when he places a kiss on your cheek. You melt into him.

Normally, you would find this stuff to be tacky, but not with Fyodor. He knows how to treat you with class, making you feel like the only one in the world.

[unofficialsapphire]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Muichiro x Reader

This is dedicated to our Birthday Girl @mistymxxn enjoy your day 💙

You flutter your eyes open as soon as you felt someone gently squeeze your nose, blinking a few times you see Muichiro looking at you closely.

"Mui!" you exclaim, sitting up frantically, covering yourself with duvet as a blush creep up to your face.

"It's 4am Mui! How did you manage to get in?!!" you whispered, anxiously yelling at him. This is the first time Muichiro has seen you in such a state - with a slight drool leaking from your lips and your disheveled hair, clearly showing you had a rough night's sleep. You become worried, considering that your family is likely still fast asleep at this hour.

Muichiro smiles and messes up your hair gently. You swat his hand away, annoyed. 'Why are you here?' you ask, remembering how he didn't wish you a happy birthday at yesterday's early celebration.

"Come on," he murmured, grabbing your hand eagerly. "I'm still in my pajamas, Mui!" you exclaimed, trying to pull your hand back as he began to drag you out of bed. He slowly released your hand. "Get ready quickly," he said, smiling brightly. You rushed to take a quick shower and prepare for the day.

Apparently, Muichiro had ask your family's permission to fetch you early in the morning for a morning breakfast and he'll take you to your uni right after.

You were about to reach for your bicycle when Muichiro stops you, "Nuh uh, your gonna ride with me on my back" motioning his bicycle that was park in your lawn.

"But I can ride my own bike, Mui!" You try to protest, shaking your head fervently. However, it's as if he's not even listening to you and forcefully brings you closer to his bike. As you stare at the seat he pats for you to sit on, your heart starts racing. You've always ridden your own bike whenever the two of you hang out, and you've never once ridden on his back. You know from experience how difficult it can be to balance on a bicycle, and it's making you extremely anxious.

"We'll be fine, I promise," he said, lightly tapping your nose after noticing your scared expression. Now fully equipped, he puts matching knee and elbow guards on you.

"I can put them on my own Mui" You lightly tap his hand to grab the knee guard but he shook his head.

"Let me take care of you, today is your special day birthday girl" He cheerfully said as he wink at you, smiling brightly.

"Happy Birthday love"

You smile shyly, "I've been waiting for you to say that since yesterday" You confess, blushing slightly.

"I'm sorry, but I really wanted to wish you a happy birthday on the exact day," he said sweetly before giving you a warm hug and gently kissing the top of your head. You couldn't help but feel your heart melt at this tender gesture. "That's alright, Mui. Thank you so much," you whispered shyly.

He pulled out from the warm embrace, lightly tapping your nose "let's go"

You both reached your destination in about 30 minutes. You felt guilty for making Muichiro ride his bike with the extra weight, assuming he must have been exhausted.

"I'm sorry" you said quietly as you got off.

"what?" he looks at you, eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

"It's a long ride, we could have just took a taxi"

"Shh. No worries! I actually liked it when you hugged me from behind," he teased, amused by your blushing face. "Let's go." With enthusiasm, he quickly spread the blanket on the ground and sat down, pulling you close into his embrace.

You didn't know what he was planning until now. The realization hit you when he tilted your head towards something ahead of both of you, and your eyes widened.

Sunrise.

"Woah" you finally got to experience watching the sunrise, and Muichiro made it happen for you! Taking in the incredible sight before you, you couldn't help but be filled with awe. It was absolutely mesmerizing!

You happily rested your head on his shoulder, a beaming smile spreading across your face as you blissfully soak in the beautiful scenery and cherish his comforting presence. You can't help but express your gratitude with a heartfelt 'Thank you'.

You felt him plant a sweet kiss on the top of your head, a gentle smile playing on his lips, and he couldn't help but say, 'You're always welcome, my love.'

You indeed spent the rest of the morning there, enjoying the breakfast that he cooked for you. As promised, he accompanied you to your class and patiently waited until it was over.

The day ended with another surprise, Muichiro standing there in semi formal attire, holding a bouquet for you.

He took you back to his place, where he had meticulously designed the lawn with an abundance of petals, and adorned it with balloons in your favorite color. Additionally, he had strategically placed light strings all around, creating a romantic and enchanting atmosphere. The sight was truly breathtaking.

He asked you softly, 'May I have this dance?'" He handed out his hand for you to accept, and you gladly accepted it, draping your hands over his neck and allowing him to place his hand on your waist. The two of you swayed around, enjoying each other's presence as he hummed quietly.

He truly made your day special.

"Happy Birthday"

"I love you"

I just wrote this on the way home today 😅

[foolstower]

Pomegranates & Brunch

Elliot x reader (Stardew valley)

A/n: obsessed with the dew rn

Pomegranates.

A peculiar little fruit that you didn't much care for until you moved to Stardew valley. Cracking one open you could see it's ruby red seeds gleam under the sunlight. Maybe he'll come by today. He'll ask, how are you? With a smile. His voice carries with the wind and draws your attention each time. You try to say something different each day. Hoping one of the topics will keep him around longer than usual. But it's always ends the same.

You give him a pomegranate. Like you have everyday this fall.

Picking two more pomegranates from the tree, you gingerly place them in the woven basket you were using to harvest all of your produce today.

It's been two seasons since you moved to the valley and you never would have guessed that the tree growing on your property would bear such beautiful fruit. When you first got here you noticed this tree was one of the few well kept things on the property. You soon found out that one of the valleys locals had been making trips out to the farm since he'd moved here. He said it was the only place close that he could get pomegranates anymore, so he'd come out and make sure the tree was doing ok. He came by when you moved in to ask if he could buy the fruits from you since you'd be living there from now on. You'd told him not to worry about it, he was more than welcome to stop by in the fall and take as many as he wanted, it could be a way of thanking him for keeping it healthy for so long.

but it was only half the truth. You were mesmerized from the moment you met him. He can take whatever he wants.

Continuing on to the barns, you promptly gave you're cows some amaranth you had stored away and a pat on the head. Then you made your way over to the coops to gathered eggs. Maybe you'll make breakfast this morning? Fresh eggs didn't sound so bad with a side of toast and some bacon. Your stomach started growling just thinking about it. That's what happens when you skip breakfast in favor of brunch to get things done early. You tried to ignore the slightly queezy feeling in your gut and continued on. The plan was to make a trip to Pierre's for some more pumpkin seeds before you notice a ginger head at the entrance of your farm.

You started your slow trek towards him, basket heavier now that it contained more items and the heat was sweltering. He looked more casual today, in a beige knitted sweater and jeans. His demeanor seemed more lax too. Did something good happen?

The breeze felt amazing once you made it to the steps of your home. Elliot met you there and you both took a seat together. You placed the basket down next to you and couldn't stop the yawn that released now that you'd finally relaxed.

"You look absolutely exhausted. Are you alright?" He asked, concern laced in every word. You turned to face him, and smiled. He was right, you were in fact extremely tired. The only thing keeping you going was a coffee break you had an hour ago.

"I'll be ok. I skipped breakfast this morning, but I was actually about to go inside soon and cook up something." You said. You looked at the eggs and milk in your basket and briefly fantasized about what kind of omelette you could make. When you looked back at Elliot he was staring at the basket too seemingly deep in thought. You quirked a brow. What's he thinking about?

"If its ok.. will you allow me to cook for you today?" The offer floated around in the air for a minute while you triple checked if you heard that right. "Listen, I know I mostly use these hands for writing but I'd like to think I'm a pretty good cook too." He said confidently. "Plus you've been a pleasure to be around since you got here. Let me thank you." He added, voice borderlining a teaseing tone. You blushed at that but more at the fact that he would be coming into your house. You can't remember if it was clean. Did you wash the dishes? How could he cook if the dishes are dirty... Oh well if anything you can just clean as he cooks. Plus how could you pass up a home cooked meal from the man of your dreams?

"Ok! I think I would like that actually." You say finally convinced. Standing up from your spot on the steps, you make your way toward the door. You leave the watering can next to the porch and pick up the basket. "Sorry if my place is a mess." You half mumbled as you grabbed the door knob and opened it up.

"Algae literally grows on my floorboards y/n."

"Touche."

Upon entering your home you noticed that the dishes were in fact dirty but it wasn't a mountain by any means. There were still clean pans and other utensils to be able to cook effectively.

"You have a very welcoming home, it's definitely yours." He admired, observing the various pieces of art on the wall and potted plants scattered around every possible area. It was cute.

"Thank you. I've always loved these things and didn't know I would find so many gems in the Valley." You fondly think of the traveling merchant. She's introduced you to so many things since being here.

"I wish I would've known, there's so many things I've seen that would fit perfectly in here." He thought back to all the things hes seen that's reminded him of you since meeting. You're so nice and he's been wanting to return the favor for all the gift you've given him. "Sorry I got sidetracked, two fridges? Which one should I use?" He questioned.

"I keep most things in the big fridge but if you need something else check the mini fridge." You told him as you picked up the sponge near the sink and lathered it up with soap. Turning on the faucet you started washing the spoons and forks. Elliot came up to the right of you and after a few clicks from the gas stove, it lit up. He placed a pan on top of the burner and then started to gather his ingredients from the fridge. He already looked handsome without trying but seeing him in the coziness of your home, cooking for you, made him undeniably more attractive.

You looked back at the dishes in your hands and started washing the plates. Thoughts of what it'd be like to have him in your life doing this everyday danced through your head. A soft grin sat comfortably on your face. You could hear the soft clinks of a metal fork hitting the bottom of a glass bowl as he stired eggs, milk and other seasoning into the mix. You didn't notice that he had tied his hair back into a loose ponytail and rolled his sleeves up to his elbow.

You put away the last dish and dried your hands. The kitchen was starting to smell delicious as he chopped up some spinach to put in the omelette that he had cooking in one of the skillets. Bacon was now sizzling on a second pan and a loaf of bread sitting to the side to get toasted later. You put on some coffee and grabbed two red cups from your pantry. After waiting about a ten minutes, poured two cups and placed them at the kitchen table and took a seat. A book sat on the table that Elliot had given you a few weeks ago. When you had first gotten 'Camellia Station' you were non-stop reading but as summer ended and fall began you had gotten too busy to wrap it up. Taking a sip of the coffee, you grabbed it and opened it up to where you had left off. There were only a few more chapters until the end.

It wasn't long before a plate was gracefully placed in front of you. An omelette that took up half of the dish, a few pieces of bacon, and two pieces of toast with butter spread on top. Green leaves were mixed into a soft fluffy yellow, freshly shredded cheese oozed from the center. You closed the book and sat it back in its place.

"Wow Elliot... This looks amazing!" You cheered. Your stomach started growling on cue as Elliot sat down in the seat opposite of you. A soft pink coated his cheeks at the compliment making you gush on the inside.

"It's not a problem at all, I hope it tastes as good as it looks." He nervously chuckled. He'd never really cooked for others since moving here. With no kitchen in his cabin and no one to really cook for there was never a need to go out of his way to do something like that. But after all you've helped him with he hoped that it came out at least ok.

You cut into the omelette a took the first bite. His hopes came true. The omelette was perfectly cooked, seasoned, and the cheese melted perfectly. You would dare say this is the best damned omelette you've ever had.

Elliot was pleased with what he saw. The look of pure satisfaction on your face was all the thanks he needed to be able to dig into his own omelette. His wasn't as perfect as yours was, considering his was the practice trial before making the the other one. It was still just as good however.

Though Elliot wasn't lying when he said he was making this breakfast to thank you for hanging out with him, he was also here to thank you for something else. Within the time span of knowing you he'd never experienced such a rush of creativity. Before he knew it he'd written a whole book by the end of summer. That very same book was now being recognized worldwide and he thought he should come clean about how exactly he got the idea for this novel.

"That was so goooood." You sighed looking at the empty plate Infront of you. Your stomach that used to be churning was now full and you felt like you had enough energy to power you into tomorrow.

Elliot chuckled softly and took a sip of his coffee before sitting it back down on the table. "Thank you, I'm glad it was to your liking." He glanced at his also empty plate as you picked them both up and took them to the sink. He debated how he should even bring the topic up. So many ways he could say this but none of them sounded right for you.

"Elliot, you ok? You seem deep in thought." You prodded. He had an elbow on the table with his cheek resting on the back of his fingers. His brows were knitted together but relaxed once his gaze landed on you.

"Im fine but if I'm being honest I did come here with other intentions." He said his olive green eyes stared at you for a second before continuing. "I need to confess something to you." He admitted.

Taking your place back in your seat, you gave him a questioning look. A confession?

"Oh? What about?" You said trying to hide the nervousness in your throat.

"Well, you've been a great inspiration to me, and I did come over today to thank you but not just for hanging out with me." He said gesturing to the book sitting on the center of the table. "Camellia station. It's a book I always had a general idea about. I knew how I wanted it to go but I never knew how to take it there." He said picking it up from the center of the table. "it actually wasn't until the beginning of this year that I was able to find the motivation to write it..... It was when I met you." He stated, Absolutely loving the scarlet that coated your cheeks at that last bit.

"When you met me?" The only thing on your mind.

"Yes, I met you and your presence brought a wave of complex feelings that helped me write this novel." He confirmed. He flipped to a page in the book and read one of the paragraphs aloud.

"Gozman had never met someone quite like Clara before. She had a certain allure that had her on his mind night and day. She was a hard worker with a kind soul and took time out of her busy life to always chat with him when he travelled. He doubt she knew considering she was a busy woman. But whenever he'd book his flights he'd always try and book her's. She brightened up his life a little and he found himself wanting to be around her more and more each passing moment." He read to you. His voice was soothing and deep. You stared on in wonder. Confused on where this was going but liking it none the less. This is the longest he's stayed around before and you don't mind one bit.

He closed the book and held it in his hands, reminiscing all the other lines he wrote with you in the back of his mind. His muse, you were a drop of fresh water that allowed his creative soul to blossom again. In his mind he would never be able to really make up for just how much you've truly helped him.

"You were the one on my mind when I wrote that paragraph. When I think of you, I get unusually creative. You've really helped me open up more as a writer and describe things in a way I never have before." He said. "I'm sorry if this is coming on too strong but I think you know what I'm trying to say. Don't you y/n?" He said taking your hand in his, he gently rubbed the top of your knuckles. This definitely wasn't his plan when he came over but here was no backing out now.

"Do I know what you're trying to say?" You asked. Half a tease and also genuine. Now was not the time to make any wrong assumptions. But how wrong could the assumption be when he's rubbing comforting circles into your acheing hand? He smiled.

"It means I like you. I haven't known you for even a year, yet you've inspired one of my greatest works. You're charming and I can't help but feel invigorated when you're around." He gave you're hand a comforting squeeze as you stared at him in disbelief. "I didn't come here with a bouquet but I would be honored if you'd be mine." He finishes looking up at you.

You're a mess. You don't know what to say, not that you don't accept his confession but how do you react to that? You're heart was racing so fast that the adrenaline was making you shake a bit. This made Elliot look at you with a bit of worry. Maybe he did come on too strong?

"I-im sorry I didn't mean to-"

"I love you!!" You blurted out. Immediately you covered your mouth you can't believe you just did that but you saw how worried he looked and that was the quickest way you could think to dissolve those fears. He looked at you shocked, not even he expected such a bold proclamation from you. You quickly gathered yourself and continued. "I think I knew I liked you too when I started obsessively harvesting pomegranates to give to you. I didn't know how else to convey my feelings for you, but knew you loved these fruits so I took extra care of the tree and harvested it's fruit everyday." You said finally confessing your feelings to him as well. You both relaxed. You stood up and headed to the woven basket where the pomegranates you picked this morning still rested and picked out the biggest one of the two. You made your way back and stood in front on Elliot, offering him the fruit.

"I don't have a bouquet either. But you can take this pomegranate from me again today, as a sign of my affection for you. Like it always has been." You softly stated to him. He took it from your hand and softly set it on the table next to the book before standing up and holding your hands, his right hand trailed up your arm to cradle your face.

"I love you too, my skills with words are unmatched but I can't think of any ways to properly tell you thank you enough." His hand gently slid down your cheek slightly and his thumb traced over your lips. "Allow me to show you?" He whispered. You answered by closing the gap. Your lips melted together like they belonged to each other. Your hands made it up to his chest and his made their way to your hips. He gave them a firm squeeze and backed you up against the table. A soft sound escaped the back of your throat and he lifted you onto the table. your arms were wrapped around his neck and he had a hand still on your hip and the other on your thigh when you finally broke the kiss. You both sighed trying to catch your breathes. Red dusted both of your faces, he definitely wasn't going home anytime soon.

"You're gonna stay and cook dinner too right? I can make it worth your while." You said hand coming down to trail suggestive circles on his chest. He blushed but softly laughed.

"Anything for you my dear, anything you want."

[introverted-and-unhinged]

Idea: I’m craving a new tattoo while in marauders brainrot and thinking about the hc I saw that James would have slutty antler tattoos. Inspo pics from Pinterest. Somehow it turned into this exchange between Sirius, James, and Regulus.

A/n: I have my own head cannons and a myriad of ways I think about and imagine the marauders era characters, ranging from classic and commonly accepted Jegulus/wolfstar tropes and ideas to super unpopular (seriously I think I’m the only one who feels this way) ideas. If you don’t like what you’re reading, stop and scroll on. I’m trying to get back into writing because I enjoy it, so if you don’t support that please just keep your fingers still. 🫶

Content: suggestive but not smutty, like one curse word, mentions of needles and piercing skin (I really hate making these lists, so don’t get used to this if I keep writing and posting.)

wc: 1239

*Barely proofread and written in like an hour.

James winced as the tattoo needle grazed across his right hip bone and made its way slowly up toward his lower abdomen.

“The second half of a symmetrical tattoo hurts more because we tend to amp ourselves up for the first side, making it easier to take,” Sirius says dabbing at the excess ink on James' warm, reddening skin.

“Then, you get a moment of relief before the artist – that's me,” Sirius pauses to throw a wink James’ way, “starts on the next side, and suddenly it feels way fucking worse.”

James nods slowly, looking down at the 8-inch long stag antler taking form on his right hip and stomach under Sirius’ hand movements. Sirius is being very meticulous about ensuring the right side matches the already outlined and detailed left side perfectly, and James has no choice but to watch the needle jump in and out of his own flesh, mesmerized. Somehow, watching the needle like this lessens the pain to a dull discomfort.

“I think part of it is the length of the session, too, Pads. My shoulder piece didn't take nearly this long. Might be some fatigue setting in.”

Sirius’ mumble of agreement was drowned out by his brother, Regulus, chiming in about how they had been there quite a while. After all, he'd had to listen to the two of them gossip for nearly three hours while finishing up with his last client of the day.

“What tattoo is James getting that was so important you had to come in on your day off when I was supposed to have the shop to myself, anyway?” Regulus adds.

“I'm glad you asked, actually,” Sirius retorts, taking a break from inking James' skin.

He turns off the tattoo machine and sets it down before patting at a slightly ticklish spot on James' abdomen with a damp paper towel, causing him to wiggle a bit.

“I'm finally getting my animagus tattoo,” James chirps with a shining grin. “Stag antlers that rise from my waistline up along my ab lines!”

“Because you just had the shop to yourself last week,” Sirius continues, ignoring James' explanation. “And he wouldn't have had to come in today if you didn't make him cancel his appointment last week for said ‘private booking’ or whatever,” Sirius quips with an eye roll.

In place of an explanation, Regulus steps toward Sirius’ tattoo station with his head cocked to the side and brow quirked. He peers over his brother’s shoulder to look at James as he’s lying along the black leather table. The older boy’s sweatpants are pulled dangerously low on his hips, the faint remnants of a summer tan present still despite it being early December.

Along both his hips and branching out across his abdomen to create a sort of pathway to his happy trail, sit a pair highly detailed antlers. The one on the right still to develop a couple more kinks and sprouts from Sirius’ needlework before it’s complete.

Regulus let's out a low chuckle.

“How long have you been planning this one exactly?”

James turns his head away from Sirius to look at Regulus as soon as the elder Black switches the machine back on and lowers his gaze to the work before him.

“6 years at least, since I became ‘Prongs’, ya know?”

Regulus nods once.

“And did you happen to tell your sister about the design? Or the appointment?”

This question throws James off, not only because he can't figure out how it’s relevant but also because he can't place why Regulus would be inquiring about what his girlfriend discusses with her brother. If they were anything like he, Sirius, and Remus are, then Regulus should know everything she says, does, or even thinks about. Right?

The confusion shines bright on James’ face. It's almost like Regulus and Sirius can see the gears working overtime, threatening to fall apart and start a smoking fire between his ears.

“I'm going to assume you did tell her,” Regulus begins. “And I'm making that assumption because I'm also assuming that you did something to piss her off last week around your birthday. Am I right?

James nods, the confusion only spreading across his features. He opens his mouth to explain, but Regulus cuts him off.

“Whatever you did, I sure hope you regret it.”

“Finished!” Sirius calls.

He's doing one final wipe down of the finished artwork when Regulus delivers the final blow.

“Because your punishment for whatever you did seems to be that your sister managed to convince me to get your tattoo appointment cancelled in favor of her own.”

Sirius’ jaw drops.

“The private booking?”

“Was really just me giving my girlfriend a free tattoo, yes.”

James’ and Sirius’ face fall simultaneously, and they share a hurried look.

“What was the tattoo, Regulus?” He asks tentatively.

A breathy sighs makes its way past Regulus lips as he glances at James' tattoo one last time before Sirius covers both hips with a second skin for healing and protection.

“Relax, she didn't steal the design.”

Sirius and James let out a breath of relief. With his nerves calmed, Sirius is able to start cleaning up, but Regulus doesn't stop.

“She just stole the placement, kind of,” He waits a beat for a reaction from either of the other two men. “It's pretty sick if I can say that about my own work. Two serpentine dragons that twist and curve up from her ass-”

“Please don't talk about tattooing my sister's ass,” James interjects, and Regulus rolls his eyes before continuing.

“Across her hips and up onto her lower abdomen just a few inches shorter than your antlers there.”

The shop falls silent after Sirius drops his trash into the bin. He slides the latex gloves he's been wearing for hours off his hands and moves to rinse the leftover powder from his fingers. Accompanied by the sound of running water, he and James process what Regulus has just told them.

“My sister hijacked my tattoo appointment to have her boyfriend tattoo symmetrical dragons in almost the exact same placement I've been talking about getting work done for years?” James asks to clarify.

Regulus nods. Sirius shuts the water off, grabs a fresh paper towel to wipe his hands, and then speaks.

“And how is that a punishment for James?”

Both James and Sirius look at the younger Black heir expectantly while James finally pulls his shirt back down and rises from the table. Regulus glances back at the spot the other man had just been occupying.

“The punishment is that it was a private booking, so no one else was allowed in the shop…” Regulus trails off.

“Yeah, but James still got the tattoo?”

“Private bookings allow for special requests.”

“Special requests?” Sirius and James ask in unison.

Regulus remains silent. They all allow the sound of cars passing by outside to fill the emptiness.

“ThespecialrequestwasthatwefuckonSirius’tattootable,” Regulus rushes out in one breath.

He's quick to grab his keys and make a run for the car when James and Sirius both catapult themselves away from the table and toward Regulus, eyes locked on his very wringable-looking throat.

“We agreed no sex in the shop,you arsehole!” Sirius shouts after him, before shooting his own boyfriend a suggestive look.

“I know my car is here, but we could still call Moony to pick us up.”

James and Sirius both scramble to find their phones.

[nateorr2425]

Spider-Man Across the Spider-Verse is my favourite movie by a mile, and has been ever since I first saw it back in summer 2023, it goes without saying that the animation is outstanding however I always get mesmerized by the music, characters, Plot, Easter Eggs and songs. I not only think that this is the best superhero film to date, but also, the greatest animated film and personally, the best film ever made.

Next is Ferris Bueller's Day Off has always been a favourite of mine since I was around 10 and my dad showed it to me, along with Breakfast Club, It's a great comedy, has a good simple story and has a diverse cast of characters that makes you appreciate each and every single one of them.

Kung Fu Panda 2 is my third favourite since it does a nearly impossible task now adays which in my opinion has only been done by two films, Across The Spider-Verse and this one, which is, making a sequel that is better than the original. I think that the villain in this film is a lot more of a character in terms of not just being a villain, he feels real and the lesson in this film is a more important one than the first, I think Kung Fu Panda 1-3 is the best animated movie trilogy but I'm sure that will change once Beyond The Spider-Verse releases, and I don't count Kung Fu Panda 4 as part of the franchise.

Baby Driver is a great film that has a stacked cast but the reason I love it is because it uses music in such a great way, it doesn't just have music playing in the background of an action scene like 90% of other action blockbusters, it's main character, baby, listens to music while driving because he loves it and every song that is used, is used so well in it's scene.

Big Hero 6 is my favourite Disney film because it is so emotional and exciting and entertaining in only an hour and forty two minute run time. It's jokes, action and villain are all great and the sad scenes are so well done that even a fully grown man will shed a tear.

[soldierboysdoll]

Just a few headcanon for my SPN DR because I'm bored like hell

(Don't be rude abt my english please, it's not my first language)

– He loves when I listening old musics, like House of the rising sun from The Animals, or Wicked games from Chris Isaak, even though he often mocking with me bacuse of that. It's only teasing.

– Didn't let me drive Baby. He said: "Sorry hon' but I ain't gonna let you hurt my baby" and I'm fine with that, I know I'd probably do that.

– Loves when I wear his old T-shirts, but never let me wear his jacket.

– Once I tattooed a little 'D' initial between my breasts and he always kiss it several times when it comes to intimate moments.

– I love the smell of him. He always smells like leather, motoroil, Palo Santo and cheap detergent.

– When I first show my wings to him, I tore a feather from it and gave it to him. He keep it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

– He was in shock when he first saw the wings and mesmerized when I show him that if he held it in front of the sunlight it's shinmering with a golden light. He was so shocked, he just stared at them for a good half an hour not even speaking.

– When we first met, he was annoyed at Cas that he bought another burden on them, but he actually started to like me when he wanted to corrupt me to drink whiskey and I told him that I made the recipe of the whiskey and incepted it into a random dude's mind.

– The forehead kiss is our trademark. A kiss on the forehead is known to be a symbol of loyalty and trust. Dean knows that angels are loyal to God, but he wants me to be loyal to him and him to me.

– When things get too stressful, Dean and I just take a trip to the nearest waterfront. In the middle of the night, standing in the silence, we just cuddle, me wrapping my wings around him to keep him warm. He would never admit he was cold.

– Unlike other angels, my eyes glimmering opal, so he bought me a necklace with this mineral from a witch for Christmas.

– I had just discovered Spotify, when Dean sitting next to me, started kissing my neck. A playlist of Lana Del Rey started between the heavy kisses and touches. Even the whole making love thing were strange to me, but I bacame much more liberated from Lana's music, it gave rhythm for the whole act. *And yes, my eyes lit up like **that** when... ;)*

– Maybe it's too cliché, but he got an angel wing tattoo on himself because of me. He hates all angels except me, Cas and Jack. He traveled alone to California, where I showed up to him for the first time. He walked into a seemingly trustworthy tattoo studio and came out with two tattoos. With an angel wing ‐ which he made sure they decorated it with golden details - and baby's license plate. After all, we are his two greatest loves.

– I have not visited the Earth many times, but the arts have always captured my interest. I painted Baby for Dean's birthday, which he put on his wall.

– I was wounded by an angel blade during a hunt. Dean has been afraid to use this weapon ever since, because he's afraid he'll hurt me with it, even though he's very good using blades and knifes.

– He knows I love when he has beard, so he shaves less often.

– ALWAYS have cherry and coke flavored Haribo in the glove-box.

– Sometimes he let me pick the music, then grimacing and complaining and whining the whole time during it until I have enough of his bitching and let him pick his music.

– Secretly singing almost every Avril Lavigne song in his mind when I listening that.

– Quickies in baby.

– Quickies almost in every places he gets horny.

– Our love language is mocking and teasing each other and cuddles. Lots of cuddles.

– He can't sleep if I wasn't there for some reason.

– Sexting. A lot.

– He loves when I send him nudes, and has a folder in his phone about them what he titled with just a little angelwing emoji.

– Calls me 'angel' even though he knows I hate it.

– Polaroids of us in baby.

– Let me help when he fix the car, but only because he loves when I gets dirty by motoroil.

– Buy me pads and chips when I'm on my period, but give it to me with a lot of complains and mocking. He loves taking care of me though, even have an extra heater pad what he could heating in the car in his bag in case if I have period cramps on the road.

– Teach me how to clean guns, but always do it for me to make sure it's safe to use.

– He loves my cooking. As soon as he tasted my cooking the first time, he never wants to go to a diner.

[forcebookish]

Do you re-read your own fics?

What's your fav fic you wrote and why?

What's one of your favorite lines you've written?

Is there something you've written you would never want your family to see?

Do you have playlists to listen to while writing?

hello jaime thank u :3

2. Do you read/reread your own fics?

totally, 100%. unfortunately, i read my own fics more than i read other fics lol i also kind of have to because i have certain prose/phrases that i tend to default to, and it's good to every once in a while be like "ok i've used that in like two other fics maybe i leave it out of this one" fjkdsjglds

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

hmmmm, i honestly don't know. maybe Extrême or a compelling argument since i reread them a lot (idk what to tell u, i like blow jobs). i don't reread my old ones as much anymore, but more than I could ever promise holds a very dear place in my heart. honestly, i think the weight in her heart will be my new favorite once i finish it, since it's both so fluffy and angsty 🤌 sometimes it gives me a hard time, but it's REALLY fun to write!

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

am i allowed to say the whole of rukia's death scene in twihh? i wrote, like, three drafts and i'm really proud of it. if not, i've already cited this line in an earlier ask meme as one of the first that i wrote for make my heart tremble, but i do really love this: [...]Top pulls out the razorwire wit he never thought he’d choke Mew with[.]

i also really like this passage from thirty minutes:

Mesmerized, Force marvels at Book’s reflection in the mirror. Watches his eyelids flutter, the sweat drip down his cheek, his cock dribble onto the floor. Fawn skin flushed, blooming with pink petals. Bitten lips, swollen and sanguine.

i actually think my favorite lines are from one of my WIPs right now? i love anything that has a poetic play-on-words, alliteration, or a specific rhythm to it 👌👌👌👌

26. Is there something you’ve written that you would never want your family to see?

i answered this in my last ask, but the tl;dr is all of it lol

11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics?

if they're really long or if i have a deadline i have to meet, yes. otherwise, i'll just have a ship-specific playlist or put one song on repeat for hours 🤣🤣🤣

thank you for dropping in!!!!!!!!!! 💖💖💖

(fanfic writer asks! go on! ask me!)

[cokemato]

Not a Star

(Lyney x Reader)

1k word count

You like him but does he

Written by a poor writer, with poor vocab and poor grammar🥀 (basically my first time writing, sorry in advance for any ooc)

Written while listening to this song 🔽 (totally irrelevant)

How beautiful the stars are, at this hour of the night. They glow together, embellishing the dull night sky. But in contrast to the billions of stars accompanying each other in the sky right now, you sat by yourself, on a greeny hill somewhere outside of the Fountain of Lucine.

Before you came to Fontaine, you used to watch the stars too in Sumeru. It reminded you of your faraway home, but now it reminds you of a particular someone. A charming blondhair magician in Fontaine.

Lyney.

How the two of you met is nothing but destined. After all, Lyney is the greatest magician in Fontaine, so it's only a matter of time before you heard about him. You'd attend his magic shows whenever there is one, and somehow you are always starstruck by his magic tricks. It was until the third time you attended his shows in row, that you got picked as a lucky candidate for one of his performances.

It was a disappearing box magic. But instead of asking you to enter the box and make you "disappear", Lyney entered the box with you, much to your surprise. It was the first time the both of you talked, and also the first time you got to see him that up close.

So while Lyney's sister, Lynette, who's also his assistant continues the magic outside the box, Lyney talks to you inside the box.

"Greetings, I'm Lyney, the greatest magician in all Teyvat! I'm sure you've already heard of my name, but may I know your name, gorgeous?" Till this day you still remember the violet eyes of his, filled with confidence and charm.

"If you're feeling nervous, may I?" He offered his hand for you to hold. But for some reasons, the presence of the magician and the warmth radiating from his hand only made your heart beat faster.

You can't recall what happened after that. All you remember is Lyney brought you out of the box while still holding your hand, and a round of applause and cheers were heard from the audiences. After that magic show, Lyney gave you a VIP card that allows you to sit at the front row during his performances, and since then you've always attended his shows, except today.

To be exact, you did attend his show today, but you left in the middle of the performance after seeing a volunteered candidate clinging onto Lyney's arm. It happened all too suddenly that even the magician himself did not expect it. Even though he reacted swiftly after that by stopping them with the reason that it'd affect his magic trick, you couldn't stand to continue watching and left the show. The thought of another person being intimate with Lyney distresses you and you know deep down the reason why.

"Look who I just found, gorgeous. What are you doing here by yourself?" Lyney's voice came from behind. He slowly walks up to you, before sitting down next to you.

"The stars in the sky, they're pretty." You didn't answer his question, and instead focused on the stars still. Lyney noticed it but did not ask.

"They are indeed pretty. But interestingly enough, I know something that's even prettier." You look at him, puzzled. And the next thing you know, Lyney snaps his finger and a rainbow rose appears on your head.

"Your eyes. They're so pretty I always get mesmerized by them- Oh no, I think it's happening again right now!" Lyney puts his hand on his chest as a response, showing the effect of your "mesmerization".

If it were any other day, you would've laughed at his act. The magician always has his ways of cheering you up, but not today. Today, he's the reason why you're down. Seeing you mood remains unchanged, Lyney's expression goes from cheerful to worry.

"The magic show today... you left before it ended. May I know why?" Lyney looks at you, his eyes filled with concern after failing to cheer you up. He's unsure of what has caused your sudden departure, but he knows it has something to do with the magic show.

Should you tell him? You're not sure. Perhaps in his eyes, you're none other than another audience, or what they call "fans". Nothing more, and nothing less. After all, you're just an ordinary person who lives an ordinary life. To think for a second that the great magician in front of you may have liked you... is something you dare not to do.

"The magic show today, it made me realize something. " You finally said.

"You're the great magician Lyney, and I'm just one of your thousands of audiences; Like a sky filled with billions of stars, and I'm just one of them..."

"You're not a star." The magician's words caught you off guard, and for a split second you felt as if your heart is being clenched tightly. So, you were never even a star in his sky, how pathetic of you.

"I see. Sorry for assuming." You stood up and decided that it's time to leave before embarrassing yourself more than you already did.

"Wait... " Lyney quickly got up and held your hand, before realizing what he's doing. But he doesn't let go. He looks at his hand that's holding yours, before turning his gaze to meet your eyes that he's always told you were like topaz, precious, pure, and lovely. As a gentleman like himself, Lyney never touched you without asking for your consent. Instead of his usual gentleman and somewhat flirty self, right now he's being nervous and uncertain, just like how you were when you're in that magic box with him. But that uncertainty soon fades away as he continues talking.

"Apologies, what I mean to say is, you're not a star, because..." He pauses and smiles softly at you.

"When you sat under the stage, no matter how many audiences there are, you always stand out and catch my eye. When you left the stage, no matter how much time has passed, you stay in my mind."

"So I wondered, what are you exactly, inside my heart? But looking at the night sky tonight, I think I found the answer now."

The magician caresses your cheek and looks into your eyes with his violet eyes filled with none other than your reflection.

"You're my moon."

And have always been.