#<- 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 🤍💙

[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.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

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,,,

[railingsofsorrow]

New Traditions

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: you bring him coffee from his favorite coffee shop, he brings you your favorite blueberry muffins. it's a silent routine you've established with one another. but maybe, just maybe, you'd like something more than coffee and muffins during work hours. and maybe, just maybe, he'd like that too. 

or. . . in which this is a sequel to this blurb. 

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

w.c: 4K

warnings/content: spencer & reader being a Simp ™ for e/o; discussion regarding addictions and intoxication; expectations being uphold; friendly banter; I love you but I'll never admit it trope (hang tight with me); self-doubts; language; fluff fluff fluff; making out.

A/N: I guess this can be read as a standalone but it'd make more sense if you read this one first. enjoy! 

navi

masterpost

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When Spencer arrived in the Bureau that morning, he did his usual ritual: place his satchel on his chair and retract immediately to the pantry to make his coffee. He couldn't function without it. Actually, he was pretty certain no one in his team could function in the morning without any type of caffeine. Some of the times, when he was the first to arrive — it's rare, Hotch is always there — he'd prepare a coffee pot, fill up his mug, add seven sachets of sugar and cream, and leave it there for whoever wanted it. 

It was the same thing every day. His routine was drab but he liked it the way it was.

Spencer wouldn't consider himself a person inclined to changes. Everybody knows that and everybody is used to it. But he's accustomed to it. He's came around to the fact that life comes with lots of surprises and unexpectancy, even if he's not fond of it, he's gotta take it and stop whining about it. 

You were the change that made him not despise surprises that much. Your arrival at the BAU was one of the best choices the department made. To the team. And to him, of course. Not that he'd ever tell you that. 

It changed how he felt listened. He was used to being brushed off by his co-workers whenever he started rambling, so much so that he begin to contain his urges to spurt out statistics in random conversations. Then, you came along and actually paid attention to what he was saying in these moments. In every moment, precisely. 

You wouldn't stop asking him about the history of the movies and the snacks they were selling during that night at the Korean Festival. It was a week ago. He wished he could come back to that day and see your mesmerized face as he explained details of the culture. 

He had so much fun. He didn't do it a lot; hanging out. Being with people was totally tangent to his comfort zone. Spencer cherished his alone time. The silence, the peace and the no-need-to-pick-up-on-social-cues part — he was really bad at the latter.

But he loved spending time with you. He'd like to do it more often. If only he was able to stop hyperventilating and shaking whenever he thought about asking you out. 

Not as a date. As friends. Because that's what you were. 

Definitely not as a date. 

That morning, when he arrived at his desk, a coffee sat upon it. Remember those changes he mentioned? Yeah. This is one of them. You started bringing him coffee from his favourite coffee shop near Quantico. And it was his exact order. 

He felt his heart swell every time he'd see your messy handwriting in the cup holder. 

“Did you know that Mr. Oscar Wilde had a photographic memory? He was able to remember long passages and then effortlessly recall them later. That reminded me of you. Although I'm sure you certainly can remember three entire books from the 1st page to the last one and quote the whole thing. Wilde would be jealous, Spence.”

Ps: I know photographic memory and eidetic memory are two different things, it just reminded me of you :)

Since the beginning of the week you had this little thing going on. He didn't know what it was, he didn't know if you knew what it was. But you'd bring him coffee with random curiosities and he'd bring you blueberry muffins with quotes from your favorite poets. 

“What's that smug grin for?” His neck snapped up at the voice, Derek was sipping on his coffee with a curious look. He was sizing him up. 

“Nothing.” Spencer smoothly covered your little note with his hand and took a sip of the beverage. Eyes shutting in delight. Fuck. How can you do everything right? This is perfectly sweetened. “We got a case?” He mentioned Penelope walking straight to the conference room, distracting himself from the obvious profiling Derek was doing. 

“Yeah.” Derek clicks his tongue against his palate, tilting his head. “Pretty boy...”

“What?” Spencer gave him an innocent look, grabbing his stuff. “We should go.”

Derek chuckled behind him, “You're not slick, Reid. I can see it!”

“What are you talking about?” He shrieked out, taking a seat across from Emily while carefully placing his cup on the table. Garcia was already preparing the images to detail the case. 

Derek pointed at him and mouthed I see you before sitting down beside Hotch, JJ taking the seat at his right. The middle of his forehead twitched slightly when he didn't see you. Were you late? Did something hold you up? No. You had brought his coffee, you must be—

“Morning, Reid.” 

He just had to look at his side. Your soft smile greeting him. He's going to have a great day. 

“Good morning,” he replied, the corner of his lips quirking up when he saw the brand sticker on your coffee cup. Seems like it wasn't just his favorite place anymore. The little bag inside his satchel didn't have a chance to meet your hands yet, he'd usually put beside your computer as soon as he arrived. 

He'd have to give it to you later. He knows you don't like having any breakfast in the morning. But you still shouldn't spend the day on coffee and an empty stomach.

Fortunately or not, it was a local case, so you didn't need the jet this time. You ended up stuck in the Geographical profile while everyone else head down to the ME's office. Penelope abandoned her cave to keep you company. 

“Hey,” she called out, not looking up from her laptop. By the long time you knew your friend, if there was one thing she could do, that thing was multitasking. Don't fool yourself thinking that she wasn't paying attention to everything that's going on around her just because she's focused on something else. Sometimes, you convicted yourself that she was a robot. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes lingered on the board before you drifted to her. “What's up?” you questioned while picking up your water bottle.

“Is there something going on between you and our resident genius?” 

Luckily enough, you hadn't drank anything yet or you'd probably have choked up with the accusation. 

“What do you mean?” You guped down the water quietly, feeling your neck heat up. Now, she was looking at you, a smirk dancing on her features as if she knew something you didn't. 

“You and Reid.” She kept on typing, and clicking clicking clicking. “What happened in the film festival. You went together, right?”

You hummed, turning back to the triangulation process you were trying to finish. There was just one area missing, you couldn't see the pattern but you had a hunch. 

“So, what happened?” 

“We watched the movie. What else is there to do in a film festival?

Penelope clicked her tongue together, “Uh-uh. I see what you're doing. But watching the movie doesn't give you that stupid smile you have plastered on everytime he's around. And you brought him coffee, I noticed. I saw it.” Well shit. “Not to mention that's not the first time you do that either, missy.” She was pointing her sparkly pen at you and you had to hold yourself back from laughing. That was a threat in Penelope Garcia's style. 

“Friends can treat each other, Penelope.” 

“Sure they can,” she nodded vehemently. “Just as people on a relationship do as well.”

The heat lifting up your neck was enough for you to curl into yourself in the chair. You pushed a photo into her hands, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I need you to find info about this guy, please. Brian Englebert, I'll go... I have to... yeah.”

Penelope's giggling was the last thing you heard as you left the room. 

Falling in love is like a drug addiction. 

According to some researches, falling in love with someone gives you the same sensation as feeling addicted does; the release of euphoria and triggering of brain chemicals like dopamine, oxytocin, adrenaline and others. Ergo, the more time you spend with this person, the more addicted you will become. 

Spencer knows all about addictions. How it can affect your brain and your life in general. He's also aware that if you just ignore it, without the rightful treatment, it will just proceed to get worse. 

Ah, there's also that. Spencer is awfully good in ignoring things. Pretending they aren't there. But when something is imbedded into his brain, continuously causing his synaptic connections to go haywire, he can't just keep ignoring it, can he?

Because looking at you from the bullpen entrance, happily eating your muffins as you surveyed some files in your desk... that made him feel something. That made his heart to want to burst out of his chest. How is this possible? Why is his face heating up? Why is his mouth dry? Is he about to die?

“Wilde was also considered a genius back on his days. I believe that he would also be considered a genius today given his literary accomplishments and the way he spoke loudly about banned topics.” He gulped down the rock in his throat while licking his dry lips. You looked over your shoulder, mid-bite into the muffin when your eyes crinckled up by your smile. At him. You were smiling at him. Were you happy that he was there? Or was he being a nuisance by interrupting your snack break? 

He couldn't stop talking and when he was about to begin another monologue, you cut him off.

“You don't believe in the genius terminology, do you?” You spoke, politely cleaning the corners of your mouth with a napkin even if they were perfectly clean. “You've mentioned it before.”

You pay attention to what he says too. How could he not fall for that?

“No,” he says, quietly sitting down in a chair that you had pulled closer to yours. “The methods to classify someone as a genius usually refer to high IQ or when one has great accomplishment in science or related areas.” He declined when you offer a muffin to him, a smile spreading around his face. “There's a lot of people who have made great accomplishments in many other areas, like music or art. They don't get the same recognition though,” he shrugged, fidgeting with his satchel. “I just think it's unfair.”

You nodded, thoughtfully, “That makes sense. I hadn't thought through this perspective yet.” Your attention lowered back to your desk and he thought he had lost your attention until you pulled up a blue post-it. His face reddened immediately. “No other word makes my mouth as tender as your name.” You recited, a warm feeling embracing your heart, when your eyes locked with his, you exhaled softly. “How did you know? I never mentioned this book to you, nor the author.”

It was your favourite book from all times. You had found it in an old bookstore on your hometown, it was your last purchase before you moved away. It's the last memory you made there. You never spoke about it. It's kind of the secret you keep to you from someone you no longer knew but craved once in a while. 

“You have it with you all the time,” Spencer said timidly, eyes nervously shifting away from your gaze. “You—You were reading on the jet once and I saw the title and I always see it on your bag when you're fixing it in your desk and—” after a sharp inhale, he started gesticulating with his hands. “Not that I go through your stuff or anything! I saw see it really quick I didn't even touch—”

“Spence.” 

“... because it's not mine! And it would be really impolite for me to do so—”

“Spence?”

“I swear I'd never purposely go through your stuff, Y/N—”

“Spencer,” your tone was soft but stern, at least to convey you needed him to stop talking without sounding rude. His lips clipped shut and his cheeks were pink with shame. Rambling. You finally got tired of it, he was waiting for it to finally happen— “Hey. I didn't imply that you went through my stuff,” you said calmly with a smile lifting the corners of your mouth, reaching out to him with your hand. You waited until he grasped yours, a silent request for consent to touch him since you knew he wasn't very fond of it. “I'm just kind of... flattered? That you pay attention. I didn't know I was interesting enough for you to notice these things, Doctor Reid.”

“You're the most interesting person I've ever met.” 

He didn't realize until it was out and then he looked down at your hands in embarrassment. You chuckled softly, playing with his fingers on yours. He's so lovely.

“You're the most interesting person I've ever met, too, Spencer.”

He blinked up at you, surprise traveling across his features. “I am? Me?” 

Fondness embraced your orbs just as your heart hammered in your chest. Spencer. There's so much you don't know. So much that you've no idea. . . 

“Mhm.” You hummed, pulling one of his unruly stands behind his ear. Spencer almost melted when your hand grazed his cheek. “You, Spencer Reid. You've no idea how much I learn with you every day and how it amazes me, don't you?” 

Spencer was out of words for the first time in his life. 

Your finger trailed down his cheek, the middle of your forehead creasing slightly. “You're amazing.” But you don't know that. You don't realize that. Why?

Air didn't reach his lungs and Spencer felt like hiding and never letting go of you at the same time. Oh, it's been so long since he felt like that. . . It was almost too great to love someone that was good to you. A healthy love — Yes, it is love, he admits it now. He can be a fool no more — It seemed foreign. The idea. Spencer never thought he deserved much than what he had and what he received. But maybe, maybe he did. Could he deserve you? 

He decided to be bold. “You—” but Aaron Hotcher cut him off and all his courage went down the drain. Seems like the universe wanted to joke with him. He was a fool, afterall. 

“Go home,” Hotch walked by, pointing at the manila files on your desk and then at you and Spencer. “Get some rest, the two of you.” 

When you looked around, there was just you and Spencer in the bullpen — and Anderson, because you were sure he never really left the precinct. You'd find all of his stuff somewhere in the pantry — Everyone must have gone home, already. The Bureau was slightly frightening when it was a deserted island. It reminded you a lot of a liminal space. 

You obeyed your boss. By the time you cleaned up your desk, Spencer was gone. Disappointment taking over your features. Well, what did you expect? It's not like it was his obligation to wait for you. He wasn't your boyfriend. He wasn't your anything. You had no right to put expectations on him.

Stepping into the parking lot, the cold breeze immediately involved your body. Too bad you had chosen to wear a tank top exactly today. It was warm in the morning! 

“Did you know that approximately 28 million people read poetry in America?” You jumped in your spot, gasping at the silhouette beside your car where you were about to get in. 

Spencer gave you a little wave.

“You...” a relieved sigh escaped you, shoulders descending. “You scared me, Spencer.”

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, pulling at the strap of his satchel. “Ehm, t-this number doubled up in the age range of 18 to 24. It's proven that—uh, social media actually helped the growth of these numbers. It pushed people's interests into poetry a lot more.” 

You stared at him in complete bewilderment. Your mind was working fast to seek out an answer for his rambling, but you were so confused that you just stayed quiet. And he gave you a grimace. 

“I'm being weird.” Spencer nodded, “I know. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay—”

“I'm just trying to tell you something— ask, yeah, ask you something but that's what came out. I am so sorry. I should go, yes, I should—”

You leaped forward, surprising even yourself from the move. You had grabbed his wrist and quickly retracted your hand. “Sorry.” you apologized, biting your lip. “I— you can ask, Spencer. I was just a little confused.”

He let out a long sigh, his hands were shaking and they were starting to sweat too. But he told himself that this is when he stops being a fool.

“I'm a mess.” Yes, great way to start. “I'm a mess because I don't know how to stop talking. I don't understand social cues — I'm actually getting better at that — and I'm still scared of the dark. I have to sleep with a lampshade on. That's embarrassing.” his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was holding his shoulder strap. “I'm not great at letting people be there for me because I've been taking care of myself my whole life, I don't see the appeal in letting anyone in, it's too much work. My brain doesn't stop, I'm always thinking and it tires me out. Sometimes I wish it all went silent. I don't have a favourite book, I've read many great ones and I find it unfair with the authors to just choose one. So I don't.” For the first time since he started talking, he breathed in. You took a step forward, expecting him to just crumble down in front of you. Where was he getting with this? You wanted so badly to hug him but you didn't know if he wanted it and you weren't given an opening to ask. He didn't let you. “I don't know how to love.” That made you frown. Before you could retort, he carried on. “I've learned there's no pattern for it and people are different everywhere. I can't plan it, I can't see the numbers. I can't control people because they aren't meant to be controlled.”

Your eyes softened. “No, no they aren't, Spence. And it's okay, you know? You don't have to plan everything.” you finally spoke as he let you. But he didn't seem to be finished so you remained quiet. You didn't expect him to take your hand in his, to which he chuckled nervously at your startled reaction. 

“But I think... I think I'm starting to love you.” What was breathing? You never learned. “I'm not sure if that's the right thing to say when I'm trying to ask you out—”

“You want to ask me out?” The failed tone made his face fall and you shook your head vehemently, pulling him towards you. “That's not how I meant it! I just— God, Spencer. Do you want to give me a heart attack?” you exclaimed. “I wasn't expecting this.”

He frowned, looking down at your hands to avoid looking into your eyes. “What were you expecting?”

“Rejection,” you said, earning a look of confusion. Then, enlightenment and them disbelief. It was cute to watch him tech the conclusion. “It was a clear setting in my head so I never tried.”

“Why would I ever reject you? I've lov— I've had a crush on you since the moment you stepped into my sight.” Spencer added, covering his slip-up but you noticed it. You didn't comment on it, you'd wait for the right time. “Do you—does that mean that you feel the same?”

A breathy laugh left your lips. “Oh, Spence.” you approached him slowly, hand raising to his cheek. He leaned in, eyes fluttering shut and you smiled. “I feel more than the same. I feel everything for you.” And I'm starting to love you too.

His eyelashes tinkled against your hand before he lifted his gaze to you, he was trying to avoid breathing just like you were. Afraid this moment would be lost in the wind by a single action. Spencer's eyes drifted down to your mouth.

“Can I—”

“Do it.”

Your lips didn't crashed together. They met in the middle, carefully joining into one space. It didn't felt as if you've been waiting for this — the both of you — it was a perfect pace. That until your body was being pressed against your car and his hands were roaming all over you. You needed to breathe, as much as you didn't want to.

“Hi.” You whispered, cracking a smile as you stared down at his swollen lips. Your hands pressed against his chest. 

He sighed, burying his face into the croak of your neck. “Hi.”

A chuckle made your body shake slightly and his hold on you tightened. 

“You just kissed me like that and you're suddenly shy?” You teased, fingers caressing the back of his neck. “Is that all an act to make me fall for you? It's working.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled with a shake of his head, leaning back to meet your eyes. You studied the glint in his hazel orbs with a warm feeling spreading on your chest. “I've just— I've wanted to do that for a long time.”

You quickly peck his lips, cupping his face as your features turned serious. Even if you couldn't stop smiling. 

“I've wanted to do that just as long, Spencer. Trust me.”

You know when wine makes you less inhibited? A few too many glasses can make you less serious, less controlled. Alcohol causes the oxytocin levels of one's body to increase, which is why people tend to feel more confident and comfortable while drunk. Spencer understood now all of those researches that talked about how being in love can make you feel as if you're drunk. Because he was drunk and he was completely addicted to you at that moment. 

“Ask the question, Doctor Reid.” You traced the tip of his nose and chuckled as he scrunched it.

“Ask what question?”

“The one you came after me for.”

“Oh.” you were able to feel his fingers nervously shifting against the exposed skin of your tank top. “I... Mhm.” He gulped, gaze meeting yours apprehensively. “Would you like to go on a date... with me? You don't have to say yes. Don't feel obliged to because—”

“Because you just took all my breath away?” You learnt that you loved to make him blush. “I'd love to go on a date with you, Spencer.” you said softly. 

His eyes widened in surprise, “Really?

“Yes.” you assured him, tucking a curl behind his ear. “So, is there another film festival I don't know about?”

His eyes brightened in excitement and you knew he was about to talk your ear off about something. And you couldn't wait for him to start. That was something you could easily get addicted to: his ramblings and his kisses. 

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A/N: anybody recognise the book quote on the blue post-it? 👀

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sources: [1] [2]

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taglist: @lilyviolets

[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."

[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!)

[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.

[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.

[frankenkyle19]

Hii can I be shipped with a Evan Peters character???

My name's Sophia/Sophie, I'm plus size and 5'2. I have hazel eyes and brown hair. I love watching movies from my childhood, it brings me a lot of joy.

I consider myself a poet and a singer although not officially, I say I'm fairly talented lol.

I have BPD so I have a lot of mood swings and need someone to be there for me. I stand up for what's right, and people's rights.

I like to read, at least I'm starting to.

Hope that's not too little, I keep forgetting to add things when it comes to these sooo 🧍🏻‍♀️ anyways tyy

this was difficult and was tied between two but… I ship you with JAMES!

He’d love your humor and although he himself is more serious than humorous, he’d like to keep you around to crack a joke here and there. Just to calm him.

He’d compare you to old Ancient Greek sculptures and trace his fingers across your body for hours, completely mesmerized. Would adore your thighs and say that if god did exist, he sculpted your thighs just for James himself. your eyes are also another of his favorite things. Since they’re a bit lighter than his dark brown/almost black eyes, he finds himself staring into them a lot. As if he was staring into your soul. Says your eyes have so much emotion and description in them and always says they look like little pots of honey

he’d absolutely adore reading your poems and listening to you sing. He’d probably want to put you by the bar some nights to sing to the residents, just to show off your talent and remind them that you’re all his and how lucky he is.

He wouldn’t be the best at comforting, but for you he’d try. He’d know when your moods would change, some part of him just being able to tell, and he’d become a bit softer and patient with you, trying to ease you. He’d also give you space if you asked for it. Anything for his goddess. With you he’d kill a lot less, finding it didn’t bring him as much joy as it used to. You are his muse now, and he finds that he doesn’t need to kill as much to satiate his dark urges. He’d rather spend time with you.