#don't be shy to request!

[wonie-not-wony]

hey! just wanted to ask do you write for ‘07 liners?

Helloo!! Yes ofc ^^ if you want to request anything, you are free to do so! 🤍

[sincerelybubbles]

ok shy bau reader and the team finally managed to get her to come a rossi dinner party so she can meet the rest of the team families that she hasn’t met yet, maybe after her first date with hitch and the team realized quickly she softened very fast with the kids and jack and her just seemed to click really fast and jack had her talking more than any of the team has so far… hotch is star eyes

hotch x shy!bau!reader \\ Dinner and Delights

Warnings: brief mention/allusions to Christianity. Otherwise, fluff! More insight into what Aaron is thinking :) I got very carried away, I hope you enjoy <3

"Woah hot stuff, where are you going so fast?" Morgan intercepts you with an arm around your shoulder as you attempt to slip out of the BAU unnoticed. "Hopefully to get ready for our big dinner plans?"

It's not that you don't want to go to one of Rossi's famous dinner parties, you're just afraid that your sub-par social skills would be noticeable by tenfold in a more casual environment.

At work, you can hide your quietness by talking about the psychology of the unsub, your specialty as a licensed psychologist. You can pretend you're not hiding in your shell when the team is all laughing and talking about personal lives by quietly listening while pretending to read your maps and journals. You can observe them and spend time with them, because you do truly love them all at this point, without feeling bad that you prefer to listen over talk.

And that's really it - you prefer to listen to them. You would say you've all but warmed up to all of them. You like Morgan's teasing, Emily's stories, Reid's rambling, Rossi's sarcasm, and Hotch's...

Everything, but the thought snaps you back to the present before you can dwell on memories of a sweet date in a dark restaurant.

"Of course," you succeed, nodding and sending him a tight-lipped smile.

"Hey," he slows you down and stops in the hallway, turning you to face him gently before lifting his hands in a placating gesture as if you were an animal he expects to run. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with but I promise none of us are trying to lead our little lamb to slaughter. We know you're quiet," the admission embarrasses you and makes you feel guilty pleasant that he sounds so gentle about it, "and nobody minds, I think it's cute and I think the rest are just happy our other genius isn't as vocal as Reid."

Your nose scrunches at the small dig and you open your mouth to protest at putting Reid down to lift you up.

"And look at that! Another thing we all love - you're quiet but won't let anyone say anything about the other behind their back. You're a good person, we all just want to spend some less-intense time with you. So, go home and doll yourself up, and get ready to see Hotch wine tipsy. We all know that's your main motivator." Morgan winks at you and moves quickly down the hall and away from you, laughing, before you can protest.

He's not wrong, though, and you shake your head as you move toward the elevator.

You end up on Rossi's doorstep, choking the neck of a bottle of expensive wine between two sweaty palms. Your heart is in your throat, nerves humming in anticipation.

Your team cares about you. Nobody expects you to be anything you're not. Gentle affirmations meant to soothe over your skin in gently lapping waves erupt into steam; like water hitting lava rock. You're too tense, too worried about not saying enough or too much; saying the wrong thing or saying the right thing only once and never living up to the expectation of repeated occurrences.

"Hey," Emily says from behind you. You turn to see her jogging up to stand beside you, brushing off her pants and adjusting her jacket. "You brought wine!" She cheers happily, reaching past you to turn the nob and open the door.

She gestures you inside, making no comment about your obvious hesitance. With her by your side, your nerves are calmed. Aside from Aaron, she's the easiest for you to be around. You don't feel any expectations with Emily. She doesn't talk too much or too little, doesn't push, doesn't ever send a pitying look when you opt out of activities outside of work.

"Château Lafite," you say to her, lifting the wine and shaking it gently in the air as you walk inside.

"Oh! Fancy wine."

"Wine?" Rossi asks, rounding a corner. He's dressed slightly more casually in a soft sweater and jeans, drying his hands off with a pristine dish towel. "The more the merrier, bring it in here."

You follow his gesture back into the kitchen, leaving Emily to go to what you presume is the living or dining area.

"Where did you find this?" Rossi asks, taking the wine from you to examine it and letting out a low whistle as he appreciates it.

"Just my local winery," you say, neglecting to admit that you go there often enough that the owner leaves the nicer stuff behind the counter for you.

Lonely nights crave wine, twisting them into lovely things you can appreciate. You enjoy your own company after years of quietly observing others. You've learned how to observe yourself, too, after all of these years.

And, even though you don't quite realize it, the self-awareness carries like confidence. That's what Aaron sees in you: observant eyes darting across a room and noticing everything, understanding flickering before anyone else catches a cue, deft movements across the paper while taking notes, and swift motions always with a purpose.

It's what he sees now, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans while he leans in the doorway of Rossi's kitchen, watching you. How could he not? You're a lovely creature, always begging for his eyes to settle on you for another second, and then another.

He knows the moment you realize he's in the room, minutes before Rossi. You stand straighter, tilt your chin lower, and are aware far before you tilt your head to the side to send him a soft smile. He returns it before Rossi can catch him. It's a warmth he wants to reserve for you.

"Dave," he interrupts the other man's monologuing about the wine he's sure you already know all about, "Jack would like to know if he and Spencer can use your chess set when he gets here?"

"Of course, I'll get it from my study." Rossi leaves, passing you the wine and gesturing to the opener.

Aaron steps in before you can start the process of opening the wine. He doesn't quite know why, but he wants to do it for you. He finds himself wanting that more and more recently: to do simple tasks for the sole purpose of you not having to do them. Opening doors and pulling out chairs are simple gestures that he did with Hayley, but he wants to do sillier, smaller, things, too. Straighten the pens on your desk back into their cup, reorganize the files on your desktop, untangle the wires of the headphones he really should reprimand you for using at your desk, open a damn bottle of wine he can't pronounce the name of but that he heard you say so gently to Emily as you walked in.

"Jack's here?" You ask, handing him the wine and crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter to watch him work.

He relishes how your eyes focus on his arms, pupils dilating, as his muscles work under his thin henley.

"Yes, I have him this weekend and he likes to spend time with Reid and Garcia."

He has to step closer to reach above you to get the wine glasses. He could ask you to step aside, tuck his hand against your waist to move you himself, or simply walk into the next room to grab the glasses sitting on the table. But, instead, he tucks one foot in between yours, puts one hand on the back of your head to guard it from the cabinet, and opens it to find the nicer crystal there.

Your breath hitches across his neck and he remembers the chaste kisses he's given you before. Nothing serious, nothing has been yet because he's waiting for you to lead him into that, but tantalizing nonetheless. He steps back to pour the wine, standing closer to you than he started.

A little for you, passed gently, and then a little for him. Dave could pour his own glass.

You take the wine and sip it slowly, tongue darting out to taste before you sip. He's reminded of communion as a child. The blood of christ, sacred, something to be tasted but not meant to satiate. Reverence in a sip, devotion in a small act.

He wants to give you the same thing. The desire hits him in the sternum, suddenly, leaving him winded as he watches you lower the glass. Your eyes are locked on his, you haven't seemed as hesitant about holding his gaze recently - something that makes him melt - and he wonders if you can feel how he wants to take care of you. How he wants to show you the same force that water uses to carve canyons. Persistence and pressure, time and care. He's willing to take his time, he's filled with the same patience as everything all together in nature. He's a rabbit perched on its hind legs, sniffing the wind for safety before darting forward; the bird hung in flight between beats of wings, the whisper of wind carrying small seeds miles away to wait and watch the growth. Wait, wait, wait, however long it takes, he's there. For you.

It's a strong feeling to fully realize in David Rossi's kitchen, but he's grateful for it, anyway.

"It's good," you comment softly, eyes smiling.

"Is it?" He asks, setting his glass down and retaking his spot nearer to you. He misses your warmth. "Can I?" He asks, brushing his fingers across your jugular before cupping your cheek.

"Taste the wine?" You tease, eyes flickering to his glass. The gentle jest pulls a chuckle from his chest. Another thing you've become more comfortable doing around him. His blood and bones sing at how familiar you can be with him.

"Yes," he says in a breath, dipping his head down to brush his lips against yours.

And you're reciprocating - you've always reciprocated, enthusiastically, just never in the pressing way you are now. You set down your own glass to hold his arms in both of your hands. Fingers dig into his arm as you sigh and open your mouth, new lands to explore, tilting your head back to grant him full access.

"Daddy?" Jack asks and Aaron pulls away, a man parched and staring at an oasis in the middle of a desert, before Jack can round the corner. He doesn't go far, though, hand traveling down to the small of your back as he turns.

"Jack?" Aaron replies, waiting for him to come around the corner.

"Hello," Jack says, stopping in the doorway and looking up at you with wide eyes.

You've met him a few times before, always in passing, but you still smile warmly and wave at him.

"Hi, Jack."

"Do you know how to play chess?" Jacks asks. Aaron smiles at the eagerness on his son's face.

"Yes, I do. Would you like to play?"

"Yes please!" Jack jumps forward to grab your hand, pulling you into the living room before you can react.

You go easily, though, following him with a gentle laugh that warms the coldest parts of him. Pieces of him he doesn't think have seen the light in years brighten at the sound. He's heard you laugh before but something about the sight of you laughing because of Jack illuminates needs that he didn't even know he had. Needs you're meeting before he can feel the yawning desire of them.

He follows, unable to resist the desire to see you two interact over and over again. You're setting up the board, listening to Jack chatter on, nodding intently.

[zorrasucia]

can we get your take on the trapped inside the fridge trope? enemies to lovers vibes between reader and carmy? pls and congrats on 300 followers

Hello, Anon! Thank you ☺️💜

And yes definitely! I went for a version where they get trapped a week or so before opening night - I love Carmy with all my heart but he would be absolutely unfuckable that day lol

Send a request for my 300 followers celebration! 🥂

Michelin star chef Carmen Berzatto had already gone through two of the stages of grief after finding out that you two were trapped inside the walk in fridge. He had loudly declared 'this can't be happening' about twenty times, trying the handle over and over: denial. Then, he slammed the door with his fists and palms, cursing at the top of his lungs, screaming his throat raw for no one to hear: anger.

"Fucking manchild," you mumbled under your breath while he screamed through the phone, trying to get "the fridge guy" to get you two out.

You had been training at the kitchen of The Bear for the past couple of weeks, preparing for their opening, and your opinion of Carmy was less than stellar already.

"The fuck were you still doing here anyway?" he barked, like he had suddenly remembered you were there too.

You sighed.

"You asked me to stay, Chef," you emphasized. Was it mature and productive to play the blame game? No. But you were exhausted and cold and tired of Carmy's bullshit. "You asked me to re-label the produce because the tape was torn, not cut."

Carmy looked at the containers right in front of him, his gaze vacant as one tattooed finger traced the edges of torn out tape, one of the last few you had left to replace.

"Right," he exhaled. He seemed to have tired himself out. "What time is it?"

You checked your phone. "Quarter past midnight."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, fuck," you agreed, crossing your arms to stay warm.

Carmy looked at you, his blue eyes fixed on your face as a shiver went down your spine.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Just fine. Freezing myself to death is all," you snarked.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then quickly removed his chef whites, and offered them to you.

"I'm fine," you repeated but then a second shiver went through you. "Thanks, Chef," you accepted reluctantly. The fabric was warm from his body, smelling of aftershave and sweat - manly. You wished you didn't enjoy the scent as much as you did.

He put hands in his pockets, keeping warm now that he was only wearing his t-shirt. Your eyes studied the tattoos on his arms and hands trying to guess the meaning or beauty behind them, stubbornly refusing to break the heavy silence between you.

His phone chimed.

"It's, uh, Tony, the fridge guy," Carmy said. "Says he can be here in an hour."

"Plus however long he takes to get us out," you guessed. Carmy nodded. Then, he shivered.

Fuck.

You couldn't believe you were going to suggest this.

"Want a hug?" you offered, looking down.

"Mmm?" Carmy cocked his head, genuinely confused.

"I said, do you want a hug?" you repeated, arms uncrossing. "You're freezing and I'm freezing and we've got at least an hour and a half more of this bullshit."

He stood in silence for a whole minute.

"Alright."

He moved closer to you, hands by his sides, completely still, waiting for you to make the move. There was something endearing about it, you thought as you laced your arms around his wide shoulders, solid muscle under your palms. You were practically the same height, his curls tickled your cheek.

"This okay?" you asked.

"Yes, better," he agreed reluctantly, his voice vibrating through your chest.

You felt like you were holding a statue. Maybe it was a good thing - it would be a little fucked up if the Carmy Berzatto was eager to hold you tight and touch your body. However, a part of you, the part that loved his smell and liked the look of his arms, kind of hoped he would hug you back.

"You can hold me, if you want," you whispered.

He took a step closer and wrapped his arms around your waist, his exhale caressing your neck.

You stood there, in silence, for a while, unnaturally still. You rubbed your thumb over his shoulder for a bit, it made it feel more like a real hug and less awkward.

All of a sudden, Carmy cleared his throat and moved away.

"You okay?" you asked.

He turned his back to you, hands on his hips.

"I, uh, yes, I'm fine," he replied, voice choked up.

"I'm not going to report you to HR or anything, if that's what you're worried about," you mumbled, suddenly feeling very guilty. "Or if I made you uncomfortable-"

He shook his head. "No, no. It's not your-" he stopped himself.

"My f-fault?" you finished, shivering again. The cold seemed to double down now that his body wasn't shielding you and you wanted him back where he was.

"It isn't. It's just been a while," he ended cryptically, glancing over his shoulder towards you, face flushed even with the cold, rearranging his apron to better cover his crotch. And suddenly you understood. You didn't make him uncomfortable, if anything he was too comfortable in your embrace.

"Oh."

"Yeah," he looked up at the ceiling.

"Chef, it's fine," you tried to reassure him. He huffed incredulously. "It is."

Carmy ran his hands through his hair. You followed the lines of muscle you could guess under his t-shirt - it was a distracting sight. You were flushed down to the neck, warmth invading your belly, and it was way past midnight...

"Chef?" he only gave you a tense hum in response. "Can I help?"

"With what?" he replied brusquely. He was angry, again. He was hard for you and angry - why couldn't he just pick one?

"Never fucking mind," you rolled your eyes. "I was going to offer you a quick fuck but if you're going to be insufferable about that too then I guess you can will your boner away and die mad about it," you spat.

Carmy turned towards you with dark eyes.

"You weren't," he denied roughly. "Why would you? You weren't."

"Because I think you're hot and it feels nice being desired," you shrugged.

This wasn't about being in love or some bullshit, you had known each other for two weeks and you were pretty sure he hadn't really noticed you for most of that time. He was horny, you were willing, and you were both cold as fuck.

He took two steps and suddenly he was in your space, forehead almost touching yours.

"Would you still?" he asked simply, his breath tickling your lips.

"Yeah," you exhaled.

"Even with me being insufferable about it?" he insisted.

"Well, then I guess you better make me come," you dared him.

"Okay."

"Okay."

Carmy grabbed you in his arms and kissed you hard, cornering you against the shelves, his body warm and eager against yours. You ran your fingers through his hair, a little greasy from the day, but still soft and addicting to pull on. He groaned into your mouth. His nimble fingers untied his apron and yours, breaking a bruising kiss to throw them on the floor. He didn't attempt to remove any other piece of clothing.

"Not sure you've got your priorities straight," you sassed when he started kissing your neck and touching your breasts over your shirt.

He angled his hips so that you could feel his cock hard against your center. You moaned.

"Don't I?" he teased right back, smiling into your skin.

"Fuck you," you said without bite, panting as he ground his hips against yours. "Shouldn't feel this good," you mumbled hazily.

"Hmm?"

He seemed lost in it, breathing hard into the skin of your neck, the tips of his fingers tracing cold lines on the small of your back, his palms squeezing your ass greedily.

"It shouldn't feel this good to dry hump in a fucking walk-in," you finished your sentence with a breathy laugh.

Behind you, the shelves were shaking with the steady rhythm of Carmy grinding against you.

His blue eyes searched for yours. "I said I'd make you come. And I will," he panted. "But it's been a fucking long while and I need you to be good for me, okay?" His hands held your hips even tighter.

"Yes, Chef," you exhaled, holding on to his shoulders, opening your legs, and letting him use you.

His movements turned desperate, messy thrusts and low grunts as he stared into your eyes and chased his pleasure. He was breathing into your open mouth, drunk on lust, pupils blown.

"Let go. It's okay, let go," you said, one hand caressing his face.

Carmy let out a sharp groan and closed his eyes, holding you tighter as he came down from his high.

"Fuck," he exhaled on the side of your face, spent. You liked that he sounded soft and needy.

"Not so angry now," you teased, fingers carding through his hair.

He laughed and kissed your cheek, your jaw, your neck... His fingers unbuttoned your trousers with ease, and his right hand went inside your underwear unceremoniously.

You hissed at the cold.

"Kind of glad you didn't get me naked, actually," you admitted with a smile.

"Seems like we both enjoyed it just fine," Carmy goaded when his index traced your folds and found you soaking wet.

You couldn't come up with another biting remark, not with his finger inside you and his lips crushing yours. His thumb caressed your clit, doing lazy circles while his index curled inside you.

"Fuck!"

"Good?" he asked.

"More," you pleaded, becoming needy and monosyllabic, arching your back when his middle finger went inside you too.

Carmy swallowed your moans, humming encouragingly as you rode his hand.

"That's it, that's it," he whispered when your pussy started squeezing his fingers.

"Fuck, like that," you whined, rolling your eyes, fluttering around his knuckles, squeezing his shoulders, feeling a wave of pleasure leave you breathless.

You held him tight as you felt the aftershocks, a little confused that he hadn't removed his hand yet but enjoying the feeling of fullness.

His thumb pressed on your clit again, sensitive after your release but still electrified. You let out a low moan.

"I can stop," Carmy offered just as his fingers arched inside you again, making you roll your eyes and shake in his embrace.

"Don't stop," you begged.

It was quicker this time. He had you figured out and ready, pliant under his touch, one leg hoisted over his hip as you unraveled for him.

"Yes, like that," he mumbled as your hips started moving with a will of their own, your pussy tight around his fingers, everything turning white and hot for a moment. He kissed you through it - messy and open mouthed, enjoying your undoing almost as much as you did.

There was a couple of minutes of beautiful silence between you, just your heavy breathing interrupting it.

He kissed the side of your face as he took his hand out of your underwear, wet to the palm. He cleaned it thoroughly with one of the dish towels he kept at the sides of his apron. You blushed at the sight.

"I can wash that for you," you offered.

"No, need," he said, tucking it inside his pocket. His blue eyes took you in completely. "Thank you, Chef."

You nodded, biting your lip.

The fridge guy arrived shortly after that. You two spent the small hours of the morning sat on the floor, not talking, not arguing. Carmy's hand shielded your face from the bright sparks of metal cutting metal.

Things would go back to normal. He would be insufferable in the morning, no doubt, screaming and demanding, losing his mind over torn out tape. But you could enjoy this, having him soft and tired, his arm around your shoulders, knowing well what his fingers felt like three knuckles deep inside you. 

[crumpet-doodles]

Yo!! Coming back with part two: Lunar sweaters!!!

Once again tried to follow canon designs-

Old model (Lunar 1) is MO-0YKK-6BQ7-WGVG

New model (Lunar 2) is MO-3PNH-DHR6-LPYP

Thank you for the absolutely amazingly positive feedback on the first BloodMoon sweater!!! More to come soon!! :]

THE FUCKASS BOW TOOK SO LONG TO MAKE AHAHAJSJBSDBDB-

[cresentagere]

𝕯𝖆𝖞 𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖘!

𝔖𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢⚘

₋ଘcᵣₑₛₑₙₜₐgₑᵣₑ

[psychopomp-imps]

How about some sexy Striker? ;)

[daily-smol-silm]

Your art is adorable, and I really enjoy seeing your designs for the Silm characters! If you are still taking submissions, would you do Mîm, please? But there's no pressure; I completely understand if you'd rather not.

Day #86 - Mîm

Awww ty!!

No problem! Mîm (Or, at least, his portrayal in the Czech musicals) is one of my favorites :D

[ancientbygone]

Buy My Art Prints Now!!!!!!!!

[biggunblazer]

[thecafewithcats]

Req: plz draw my oc voidlynn? :3

Ofc!~ here she is~

[etherealamoeba]

So yeah, hi, this is a bit random, but do you by any chance still have those Koisenu Futari files hanging around? I found the sub files but I'm dying for the raws, the stuff available online has atrocious translation ;___;

Sent you a message! If anyone needs access, I've got the english sub files separate and embedded in the vids + the raws btw! (reminder to always share the link privately with others!)

[fromdawntiltwilight]

I want to draw Wyll with someone's OC/Tav/Durge. Dm me (or reply here) and I will try something cute and lovely for you 🖤

[dgiterart]

Alright you all! 👊Give me someone to draw!👊

Comment who you want me to draw next and i will put them on a picker wheel and choose one randomly 😃🎨🖌

(and also.... check out my blog while you at it🙂😃)

[aghastro]

I'M CLOSE TO 500 FOLLOWERS not there yet but just a handful away which is 500 to me, which is also a lot of people to me!

As per tradition I like to take art requests as thanks for tagging along on my art blogging :) Send me an ask or reply, and I'll make an artwork ya wanna see. Your character? videogame character? my character? just an abstract concept? Go for it

[lostsomewhereinescapism]

Draw a crazy rabbit monster pretty pls ❤ 😁

Apologies for the fact that it took a long time to respond. There were some personal difficulties, as well as the reason for the delay was that I probably didn't understand the context and didn't know exactly what to do, so I apologize again if something is wrong here, or if you meant something else! Nevertheless, catch this creature.

[mmiillk]

Thank you so much everyone for 400!!! (And the sweet comment on my f! Donnie fake screen)

More art will be coming soon 🫶🫶