#it’s earthy and like calming to me idk

[razor-sweet]

best girl

[appocalipse]

heyy if ur taking requests could u maybe do like bestfriends steve + reader where steve, eddie, nancy and robin have to pick up reader from a party and she’s like REAL drunk and just idk super clingy w steve and doesn’t wanna not be touching him. maybe eddie, nancy and robin all make fun of him for it but they acc find it rly cute.

thank you for your request! ♥♥♥ | 2.2k words

"Stevie!"

You collide into him suddenly, nearly knocking him back a step or two with the force of your momentum; there's a smile on Steve's face when you look up at him through eyes that are more than a little hazy with inebriation. You're drunk. Probably way past drunk, if the way the world won't seem to hold still is anything to go by, but you don't care. There are other things vying for your attention—like how warm he feels against you, how safe he makes you feel, how pretty he looks from up close...

"Whoa," Steve says as you lean even further into him and loop your arms around his waist in a tight hug. "How much did you have to drink, exactly?"

He doesn't mean it in a mean way, which is why you grin up at him from where you've got your cheek pressed firmly to his chest. You can feel his heart beating under the palm of your hand now, a steady and calming rhythm that soothes something inside of you.

"Dunno," you reply, grinning stupidly when you catch sight of maybe three copies of Eddie Munson standing off to Steve's left; all of them have identical amused looks on their faces. "Might've had, like, a couple..."

Steve sighs deeply, though there's no exasperation or disappointment to be found in his expression when he tilts your face upwards to look you over properly. You just beam dopily at him, because he's so pretty right now you don't know what else to do.

"Dude," Eddie speaks up, drawing Steve's gaze away from you while your own attention goes back to pressing yourself even more snugly into him, "she is totally sloshed."

You frown, shaking your head in fervent disagreement.

"Am not!"

"Sure you aren't, sweetheart," Eddie agrees placidly, but you get the impression he doesn't really mean it.

Before you can point this out, however, the blurry shape of Robin Buckley steps forward. The room is dark with flashing strobe lights and smoky with incense and cigarette smoke, but you'd recognize her voice anywhere.

"Who let you drink this much?" Robin asks as she lifts a hand up to brush some hair back from your forehead.

It's oddly soothing and so you lean into the contact with a happy hum. Robin and the others laugh — but then again, it sounds kinder than mean, the kind of laugh that bubbles up when you find something unexpectedly endearing, and so you don't mind as much as you maybe should.

"Nobody," you mumble as you press your face into the side of Steve's neck and take a deep breath in; his scent is the same as always, earthy and warm with an underlying hint of that stupid spray he likes to use sometimes. "I'm here alone. 'Cause Steve here blew me off for you guys, but that's okay," you say, even though, to be fair, it sort of isn't true — he didn't blow you off.

"Hey," Steve starts, sounding half-indignant and half-apologetic all at once. He's got an arm around your shoulder now, supporting you and keeping you upright, which makes you want to tangle yourself up in him completely. "You didn't tell me you wanted me to come hang out with you tonight!"

You sigh mournfully against his skin, feeling wistful all of a sudden. It's true. You hadn't told him. That was partially due to the fact that you had been trying to prove to yourself that you weren't so desperately and helplessly infatuated with him that you needed his presence constantly, but that plan had obviously backfired on you spectacularly.

"No," you mutter unhappily as Steve moves the two of you towards a nearby couch. "But I missed you. Don't wanna miss you."

Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, who are watching the two of you with expressions of varying degrees of amusement, exchange looks. Steve pretends not to notice, probably because he knows he won't like what they have to say if he hears it, and instead guides you down onto the cushions next to him. "You're drunk."

"You're pretty," you reply without hesitation, even though you're very clearly changing the subject. "It's unfair, y'know?"

You hear Robin snort, followed by a quiet thud like someone's just been slapped on the arm, and you know it's her who laughed, and that it must have been Nancy who'd shut her up. You don't know where Eddie is; you're not even sure when he wandered off, to be honest. You're too focused on Steve and the way his face looks under the colorful flashing lights.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too widely at your comment. His eyes are bright with laughter when you meet his gaze and nod confidently. "How do I get 'unfair', exactly?"

"'S all in the face," you say matter-of-factly, your own fingers trailing down his cheek in an almost absentminded gesture. "Kinda makes it hard to think about anything else sometimes, if I'm being real here. Like, it's not really fair, 'cause then what are we supposed to talk about? Oh, oh—and then there's your hair!"

"My hair?"

Robin wheezes somewhere behind you, which would have made you giggle if you were still paying attention to the people in the room besides Steve, but you're not.

"Mmhmm," you hum, your eyes running over the soft brown locks on top of his head. "Love it. Wanna touch it all the time. Y'see, Steve? You see? This is why it's not fair at all. And, and—" you trail off here for dramatic effect, squinting at him theatrically before leaning closer with your hand cupped to the side of your mouth, as if you're about to share something private. "—the way you make my insides feel? So, so unfair. Totally your fault, buddy."

"Wha-" Steve croaks out, looking alarmed and caught off guard by your drunken confession. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh," you regain your serious tone, frowning at him in a somewhat bemused manner when he continues to gape at you. "Not 'sposed to tell you. S'not the rules."

Eddie barks out a laugh somewhere off to your left, but Steve ignores him. "Rules?"

"Yeah, 's against the rules, dummy," you say, like he should've already known that. "Gotta follow the rules! Duh. Steve."

"Yeah, Steve, duh," Robin pipes up, earning herself a glare from Steve as well as a smirk from Eddie. "Oops, sorry. Please, continue."

"Can I touch your hair? Like, please, 'cause I might die if I don't, 'kay? If that's okay. Gotta test the theory. Just a little bit, though." You can tell by his expression that he wants to laugh, and that he's also mildly worried that you've lost your mind. "Please?"

Robin, Eddie and Nancy have their hands clapped over their mouths to contain their laughter. You're too drunk to notice, but Steve narrows his eyes at them in warning. "Yes," he says. "Just—yeah, go ahead."

With a little noise of excitement, you reach out to card your fingers through his hair. He smells really good — like clean laundry and fresh pine trees — and the feel of his hair in your palm is exactly what you had imagined, though you're loathe to pull your hand away now that you've felt it.

Steve goes unnaturally still as you press your face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, a move he should have expected but didn't, and you sigh happily when the scent of his cologne hits you full force. He's like a living, breathing, cuddly teddy bear, you think, a combination of warmth, softness, and comfort all rolled up in one gorgeous, handsome, unobtainable package.

"You're warm," you mumble, feeling like you could fall asleep right now. "So, so warm. 'S like you've got a space heater in your chest, 'n that's like, so awesome."

He blinks a few times, momentarily speechless as he tries to come to terms with the fact that you are, in fact, drunk enough to be saying whatever the hell comes to your mind. "Uh, thanks?"

"Smell nice too," you murmur, hugging him tighter to you. "Like, wow. Love your hair, like, love love."

His cheeks are burning hot now, his heart beating erratically in his chest when he notices Eddie staring at the two of you with a knowing gleam in his eye. "That's—thank you, but, hey, come on now," Steve says, his voice faltering a little. "Let's get you home, okay?"

"I don't wanna."

"Don't you wanna sleep in your bed?"

You pause, considering his words, and eventually concede that, yes, your bed does sound lovely right about now, so you give him a brief nod in response. "I guess, but can you come too?"

He chokes on air, but manages to play it off by clearing his throat. "What—to your bed? No!"

"Why not?"

Steve shifts a little under your intense, alcohol-addled scrutiny; he feels strangely guilty, as though he's letting you down by saying no. "Because you're drunk?" he says, feeling flustered and unreasonably nervous all of a sudden.

You scrunch up your face in a pout. "Oh, that's a dumb reason."

Steve chuckles and you sigh happily again, because you love his laugh and everything else about him, and he seems to realize this, given the way his expression softens. "Come on, you drunkard. Let's go home," he says gently, tugging on your arm in an attempt to get you to stand.

You resist at first, shaking your head stubbornly as you hold onto him. "Can't. My legs don't work anymore. They're all wobbly."

Steve closes his eyes for a moment, huffs out a soft laugh, and you can't help but grin up at him. He's so pretty that, like, how is that even allowed? How can you be around him and not spontaneously combust or something?

"Well, what if I carried you?"

"Like a princess?"

Steve looks at you with an expression you can't decipher — it's halfway between incredulous and endeared, and it makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.

"How romantic," Nancy observes.

"So long as she doesn't throw up on him," Eddie adds, nodding sagely in agreement.

"Oh, I hope she does," Robin says, with a devious smile, "he'd deserve it for being such a coward."

"I'm...right here, guys, and I can still hear you." Steve finally says, throwing them a scathing look that only makes them laugh. "If you're not going to be helpful, you can wait in the car."

"As if," Eddie counters.

Steve opens his mouth to tell him where exactly he can stick his opinions, when you grab the front of his shirt and drag him closer.

"Steve," you say, the smile falling from your face as a sudden thought occurs to you. "Are you mad at me? Because I can go home by myself. That's okay."

"Hey, no," he replies softly, "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. Not ever."

"'Sweetheart'? Really?" Eddie mutters to Nancy, who elbows him in the ribs when he doesn't lower his voice in time. "Ow, okay, okay—just saying. Don't want them to keep dancing around each other forever, is all."

"I'm not dancing," you tell him, completely unaware of Eddie's snickering, "I don't have any shoes on, Eddie. Wouldn't be able to dance without shoes on. Silly."

"My bad," Eddie says, his lips twitching with badly concealed laughter, "forgive me."

Steve scowls at him before turning his attention back to you, his face so close to yours that you can momentarily feel the tickle of his breath against your skin. "Okay, come on," he says, "up we go."

And then, in one swift movement, he slides his arm under your knees and scoops you up into his arms. You let out a squeak of surprise and automatically wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

"Oh, oh, oh," you say excitedly, "you really are gonna carry me."

"Told you so." Steve adjusts his grip on you and makes his way towards the exit. "Are you good? Am I hurting you?"

You shake your head slowly, grinning as you stare at him from a whole new angle. "No," you tell him, feeling much more awake than you were moments before. "This is...this is like, actually kinda cool."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you repeat, smiling shyly back at him. "Feel like a real life Cinderella now. Whoa, you're, like, super strong."

"Yeah, Stevie, you're 'super strong.'" Eddie teases, waggling his eyebrows when Steve sends him a quick glare. "Aw, don't look at me like that. It's cute. The two of you."

Nancy doesn't tease like Robin and Eddie do. She walks behind Steve, making sure to stay a couple steps behind to give the two of you some privacy. Even so, when you look over your shoulder to make sure nobody's listening, she gives you a wink and a small thumbs-up that makes you smile.

The parking lot is filled with teenagers all wandering aimlessly in groups, so it takes Steve a while to navigate his way through the crowd. By the time he finds the spot where he parked his BMW, you've grown drowsy enough to rest your head on his shoulder.

Eddie immediately pops open the door to the backseat, slapping it a few times as he looks over at Steve and grins. "Hurry it up, lover boy," he drawls out, "she looks half-asleep already."

"She's fine," Steve shoots back, frowning in annoyance when Eddie and Robin both pretend to yawn exaggeratedly, "shut up. I hate you guys."

[dinsbeskar]

Wicked Game (Sauron/F!Reader)

He knows he shouldn't covet you, that he is above such earthy things as love. So why does he stalk you in the forests you call home? It's love at first sight, and the feeling is mutual; or:

Sauron engages in some light stalking and gets the girl somehow.

Prequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Wicked Game / Beautiful Stranger / Iris

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

Warnings: 18+! Smut, fluff, lil bit of angst, P in V sex, fingering, licking/biting. Sauron!! He's super creepy, sorry, idk what to say, there's some stalking, some creepy behaviour, he's a bit unhinged. Love at first sight!! Like babe it's been an afternoon, calm down. Anyway we move fast!!

A/N: bro is head empty, no thoughts, down bad in this, sorry!! in this house we subscribe to the 'elves fuck once and they're married for eternity' idea, so there's that tiny spoiler for you!

Word Count: 6.2k!

Mairon was already old when he met you, unfathomably ancient in fact, wandering Arda and beholding the power of creation, amongst other things. He was sure he had already experienced everything there was on the physical plain, but you would prove him wrong indeed. When the first Elves awoke, he felt a pull, like many of the Ainur, to see the new life that now roamed the forests and plains they had sung into being. He was not the first spirit to stumble across the peoples of Middle Earth, and he would not be the last. Watching your people dance and sing and create gave him new inspiration to take back to Aulë's forge, to bring order and balance to your lives as he saw fit, for who could know better than he?

Today was a feast day, when all of your people were out in the forest hunting and foraging, mirthful song filling the glades as you ran barefoot through the trees, breathless with laughter and exertion, carrying a basket of berries meant for the evening's festivities. Pale golden light streamed through the leafy canopy, dust motes floating in the rays and sparkling like the stars above. You looked around for your companions, a little far off beyond the thicket you had picked through for its fruit. Unperturbed, you continued, hearing the silvery sound of water flowing somewhere in the vicinity. A drink or a dip was almost certain, you thought, to refresh you and your companions before the feast, but you would find it first and save them from searching. Soft birdsong and rustling leaves accompanied by a warm breeze made for the perfect setting; how could you wish for more?

He makes a great effort to be silent, not wishing to frighten you, unsure of how his sudden appearance might affect you. After all, you hadn't heard him the countless times before, why should you now? He matches your footsteps, remaining in step with you behind the trees in the merciful shadow, careful not to disturb the undergrowth, picking carefully through the wildflowers that scent the air. Your pointed ears prick up at a rustle in the trees, and you snap your head round to investigate. He darts behind a gnarled oak tree, holding his breath and awaiting your discovery. You smile and shake your head softly; what could you possibly be afraid of in these forests, your home for decades? You continue following the sound of the stream up ahead, ignoring all other sounds in the forest now, much to his satisfaction. How innocent you are, how much you need his protection, for what would you do if there were forces that wished to subdue you or do you harm? The glint in his eye grows as he draws closer, still choosing to remain hidden from you. He could use his powers to disguise himself, to stalk you unnoticed almost hand in hand with you, and had done on a few occasions, close enough to smell your soft hair, even to take a few strands for himself, but somehow he likes this better, imagining you the innocent prey to his stealthy predator, a thrill at the though of catching you rushing through him as quickly as he pushes it away. He only wants to watch you, to know you, to observe, nothing more. What interest could you possibly have in one another beyond curiosity?

The first time he saw you, many moons ago, you'd been surrounded by your fellow Elves, dancing in harmony in a field of wildflowers, sweet music in the air. He hadn't thought much of you at first if truth be told, you were all very much alike; all fair and graceful, joyful and innocent. It was only when the music picked up, your dance became faster and more frenetic, that an Elf with long golden hair had tripped and fallen, disrupting the rhythm, leaving all your companions giggling at her misfortune. He too had laughed at her stumble, grateful that the music covered his sudden outburst, but then he noticed you, with your hand outstretched and a comforting smile to greet your fallen comrade, who shook herself off while you picked stray leaves from her hair. She seemed unhurt, and no one else was concerned, already having resumed their merriment, but you held back a moment to check she was well. He was instantly captivated, itching to reveal himself and carry you off, to protect the light within you, or consume it wholly. The tiny semblance of self-restraint he had left held him back, told him to wait and observe, to absorb all he could about you; the idea of you rejecting his advances was intolerable, triggering waves of nauseous anger throughout his being. No, patience would serve him, and so he had waited, oh so patiently. Your kindness had, and would, be your undoing.

Illuminated up ahead is the stream you've been chasing; it's small, barely a trickle, but you follow it regardless. The water is cool and clear and refreshes your worn feet, and you lift your dress to keep it clear as you pad down the river bed, feeling the sandy mud between your toes being washed away as you lift your feet into the current. The light is beginning to fade now, you know you should turn back, but you're sure there is a pool nearby, and it would feel so good to swim a little before getting back to the others. They could share in it tomorrow, but today you could bask in some sweet time alone.

He has been following your softly trodden path in the mossy forest floor, but when he reaches the water's edge, it vanishes. Cursing, he casts about, searching for a hint of your next steps. He had only stopped for a moment, distracted by the way your hair catches the light, your graceful smile, the way your dress flows over your frame. A fleeting thought of taking that same dress off you, the image of you pliant underneath him, all had left him breathless, frankly caught unawares, still unused to the urge to get close to you even after all this time, and the strange feelings that coursed through his fair form that he had never experienced before setting his gaze upon you. He had passed a few golden afternoons like this - perhaps many if he were ever honest - watching and waiting for you, but every occasion felt like a lifetime, which for Mairon was indeed no understatement.

Frustration coursed through him, filling the pit of his stomach with a strange churning at the thought of losing you; it was a feeling he couldn't quite place, nor come to terms with. These mortal forms were not for him, he decided, the lack of clarity in these feelings was suffering enough, and he turned to leave, embarrassed now that he had let it get this far. It was a foolish errand, carried out once too often, following you through the forest with no thought but to see what you would do if you only turned around, saw him, embraced him-

A sharp crack rang out through the trees as he snapped a branch under his feet in his haste, all thoughts of moving in the shadows abandoned as his self-admonishment moved him to run, to leave now before he could become entangled with you. But as he scolded himself for his lack of self control, he heard you call out.

"Who's there? Did you find me? And here I was, hoping for some peace," you laugh, expecting your friends to join you as you wade in the crystal clear waters.

Your eyes widen and you stare at the stranger who appears as if from the shadows themselves, a small smile gracing his face. He is ethereal, and frankly you have never beheld a being more beautiful, but for the first time in your life, a small voice deep in your mind advises caution.

"I didn't mean to startle you, young one," his smooth voice reaches your ears and sends tingles from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

"You didn't," you lie, after a long pause, not wanting to discomfort him any more than he seemed to be. Blood rushed to your face as he regards you intensely, as if you'd met before.

"Were you looking for something? The pool perhaps? It is a warm day, I couldn't be too surprised to find someone else had the same idea." You gesture to yourself with your skirts around your waist, legs submerged.

He steps closer, still regarding you, his smile widening. You had said something right apparently, and you couldn't shake the feeling of satisfaction that his lovely smile gave you; as long as he kept looking at you like that, you felt you might be content forever, such were the tender pangs your heart suddenly felt in his presence. You didn't even know his name, and so immediately you ask.

"I have many names," he articulates carefully, eyes on yours, unblinking.

"So what name should I use for you?" You ask teasingly, beginning to step out of the water, wringing the edges of your skirts out.

Unthinking he stretches out his hand, and as if on instinct, you take it, not needing the assistance but immediately grateful you took it. His hand is warm and strong, and encircles yours comfortingly, fitting perfectly. A wave of some strange feeling overtakes you, a heat beginning in your abdomen, flowing through you. You've never experienced it before, but from what you have heard from your married kin, it might be called lust.

Your face feeling hot now, you look away, anywhere but at this beautiful stranger, and notice a small dark stain blooming on his shoe. Your eyes widen and you drop to your knees to look closer, unheeding of the change in his stance as he takes you in from above. What magic could you wield over him in this position, he wonders.

"You're hurt, my lord," you motion to his foot, and he realises that in his trance, the branch had broken his sole and pierced his flesh. The pain had gone unnoticed until now, your spell over him seeming to soothe any ill in his body or soul, but now that you'd pointed it out, he winced and cursed this body of flesh and bone, so easily vulnerable to the perils of mortality, even if his fëa was not.

"Come, let me look at it, it might be serious," you beckon him to follow you to a fallen tree trunk, lying oh so conveniently on its side, as if waiting for two lovers to take their seats on its bark. He stands awkwardly, watching you, his brow furrowed as if he had no idea what you have planned, before you laugh and pull him to sit. Without ceremony, you strip him of his shoe and examine the wound.

"That is a lot of blood for such a small wound," you murmur, tracing the arch of his foot. You find yourself touching his skin a fraction too long, and without looking at him, you straighten and go back to the pool.

His eyes never leave you, even as you avoid his gaze, ripping a strip of gauzy fabric from your dress and wetting it, before hurrying back. Almost imperceptible to the average observer, your hands shake, but he is not the average observer, and he has observed you for quite a while now. You're nervous, he realises with a tiny smirk, and it thrills him, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. All these new feelings this body gave him, they don't appear to cease evolving while you're this close, close enough that he feels your breath on his skin and nearly gasps. He needs to pull himself together, but try as he might, alas, your kindness was intoxicating. He had known such goodness in Aman when he'd dwelt there with his kin, if you could call them that, but his recent company was somewhat lacking in that department.

You sit back on your haunches and look once more at the wound, now nearly clean and seemingly smaller than it had been. Shrugging to yourself, you carefully dab away the blood that still drips onto the ground beneath you, soaking into the moss and ferns; you don't notice how they seem to brown and wilt with each drop.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" He asks, quick to notice your confusion, eager to distract you from the plants at your knees.

His lady, that did sound delightful. You know it is a manner of speech, but for a moment it is rather blissful to imagine it, the lady to this gracious lord.

"I think I might have overestimated how badly you were injured, it seems to be only a scratch," you reply, still a little bemused as to the disproportionate amount of blood. How were you to know that he could heal himself with nary a thought.

You start to pull away, but he is reluctant to let you go so soon, wishing for a moment it had been a serious matter, that he would require all of your gentle care and undivided attention for the foreseeable future, kicking himself that he didn't allow the wound to fester and bloom. He casts about for any excuse and uncharacteristically lands on a weak one.

"Your dress, my lady, how can I make it up to you? After all, your efforts ought not be in vain." He knows how to ingratiate himself with most folk, and makes the most of his skills to do so, but there is a tiny part of him now that actually feels he owes a kindness in return. It's an alien notion, and he attempts to brush it aside, but as he lingers in your presence, he realises that he would sooner abduct you from this glade than let you leave him, and if a kindness is what it will take, then he will fulfil it.

A small crinkle appears in your brow, then you glance down at the torn hem and chuckle.

"It is nothing, my lord, easily fixed, and anyone would have done the same." You graciously reply.

The way you look up at him through your lashes, his heart skips a beat; he didn't even know it could do that.

Your small nervous smile becomes radiant, beaming even, as you bask in the glow of the dappled light illuminating his face. You realise you don't want him to leave just yet, inexplicably drawn to his presence, and you cast about for any reason at all that would keep him here.

"I'm afraid your shoe is a little wet." To your credit, it actually is wet, full of blood, but in an inexplicable act to scupper his departure, before he can react and you can elaborate, you find yourself holding it on the water's edge.

Your hands move faster than your brain, and you drop it into the shallows, looking him dead in the eye.

For a moment, all is still between you, and you bite your lip, your mischievous grin suddenly uneasy as your mind catches up with you and you consider what in all of Middle Earth you just did. This is a total stranger, an ethereallly beautiful one at that, and you have no idea how he will react to your escapade. You straighten and wring your hand a little behind your back, awaiting a wrath that would never come.

"It would appear it is very wet, my lady." And he throws back his head and laughs long and hard, a sound that you want to elicit from him again and again.

When you are lying entwined together, many years and hardships later, he will ask you what you were thinking, and as ever you answer him honestly: you only wanted him to stay, however you had to do it.

With a playful laugh, you retrieve the sodden shoe and shake it off, before holding it out to him. He can still leave, you think, but it will be mighty awkward.

He takes it, throws it behind him, kicks off his other shoe, and shrugs off his robe. Your mouth falls open a little and you lick your lips unconsciously, as his frame is revealed, taut and lean, through his thin shirt. He rucks up his trousers and joins you in the shallow water, shivering a little at the sensation.

Instinctively, you outstretch your hand to steady him, and he takes it without thinking. His touch soothes any nerves you had and sparks a fire that seems to trail up your arm and end in your aching chest. You hadn't noticed you were holding your breath and slowly exhaled, careful not to alert him to your sudden onslaught of sensation. He considers you for a moment, smile tugging at his lips, seemingly fascinated by where you are joined, fingers entwined. And then he has a mad idea.

The tension in the air is cut by a sudden splash of water on your face, and as you clear your eyes, you realise he was the one that had thrown it. He had seen many an elf play-fighting in the water all the time, throwing it at one another joyously, victory seemingly determined by who doused their opponents the most. He had never partaken, obviously, but now inspiration took him, and you had made the first move with his shoe, but now as he watched your face screw up with indignation, water in your eyes and hair, he wasn't so sure it was the right jest with which to entice you.

For a moment you are dumbfounded. This stranger, whose name you still didn't even know, whom you'd only met in the last hour, had started a water fight.

Seemingly affronted, you snatch your hand away and make to leave, turning your back to him. His face falls and he realises this was probably not the way to win your affections.

"My lady, I-" his apology is cut short by an armful of water to the face, as you reach down into the pool and swing as much as you can in his general direction in one fell swoop.

Cackling with triumphant laughter, you can't help but feel a little sorry for him as he stands there absolutely sopping wet, eyebrows in his hairline, looking positively flabbergasted. Unfortunately for you, his eyes narrow as he realises your subterfuge, and the game commences.

It is over soon enough, the two of you emerging soaked and giggling like children, having run rings around each other and giving as good as you got, both of you thoroughly avenged. As you both wade back to shore, he takes your hand and holds it in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, I present the victor of the battle-"

He is interrupted by the both of you breaking down into breathless laughter once again, two strangers no more.

On the sandy bank, he climbs out first, and awaits you, but you hold back.

"What should I call you then, my lord, unless that is what you prefer to be named?" You have to ask, needing introductions now you had so thoroughly beaten him in battle, never mind your fascination with him, the overwhelming urge to pull him close.

"I have many names, my lady, and you have not yet told me yours," he replies, almost but not quite frowning at you, confused as to why it really matters, why you would need to know who he is after having passed such a pleasurable afternoon together.

"You first, I asked you before and you avoided the question." Your expression is now serious; why would he want to conceal himself from you, after you had passed such a pleasurable afternoon together?

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I have many names, but the one I prefer," he holds his breath a little, still unsure as to how you might receive him, "is Mairon."

After a long pause, in which he considers fleeing, or possibly burning the forest down, your expression brightens as you mull over his name, feel it in your mouth, wonder over the meaning.

"That is beautiful," you murmur, "the admirable? You must be something wonderful to have earned such a name, my lord."

Relief washes over him as he realises his true name must not yet be known in these parts; rumours and slander would not colour his attempts to woo you after all.

His gaze softens as he watches you taste his name on your tongue, and he has a sudden aching longing to know what it sounds like when you're on your back and breathless under him. Surely nothing could be sweeter.

"And you, love, what am I to call you?" He is so struck by you, he barely notices the crucial detail that slips from his lips, but you do, and you regard him with a strange look he can't place.

Love, he said, so casually and so delicious to hear, your breath hitches and for a second the world spins. You've only just met this man, if he is even a man, and he uses such pet names as if you've known each other a lifetime.

"Amarië, that's what everyone calls me." You had almost forgotten he had asked, and it was only the silence between you that reminded you to answer.

"Goodness. A fitting name for so virtuous a maiden." He steps closer, still on the bank, oh so tall above you, the light through the trees illuminating him from behind, leaving his features in shadow.

Of course, he already knew your name, and had always thought it fitting. Indeed, it was one of the reasons he had hesitated to approach you, for surely one so good could not possibly want nor need one such as him, despite the ache in his heart that told him you were his to take, the rest of Arda be damned. He knew his purpose in Arda was a valiant one; his methods, however, he was aware they were... contestable.

Your face grows hot at his compliment, and you look down and away, anywhere but at his gaze, currently fixed on you, intense and contemplative. He gently lifts your chin, seeming to study your every feature, every nuance in your expression until he sees what he desires.

A shadow passes over his face, before he tightens his grip and finally pulls you from the shallow water. You stumble a little, but he is right there to catch you, strong arms around you as your free hand is crushed between you, pressed against his chest. His eyes are dark, scaring you and thrilling you all at once, like a wolf studying its prey before their total annihilation. Then he takes your face in his hands and claims your lips, as if he's finally satisfying some dark long-held urge, and you cannot help but melt.

It is as if he has done this a thousand times before, teasing you with his tongue, demanding entrance to your mouth as if he wants to drown in you.

Electric tingles spread over your skin everywhere he touches, from your neck where he grips you softly, to your lips he has claimed for his own, to your waist that he refuses to yield from his embrace.

He is unrelenting, refusing to let you come up for air, even as you claw at his arms for release. Finally he seems to realise his mistake and pulls back, lips swollen and parted in pleasure. You take a deep breath, chuckling a little as you do so.

"You are no Elf, my lord Mairon," you remark, righting your dress and smoothing your hair where he had wound his fingers.

With a slightly apologetic smirk, he nods. "I am something far greater, my love, so from time to time, I might forget such... intricacies."

In this moment, you feel as though your heart might burst, wanting him close, touching you, encircling you. But a shiver travels down your spine as the little voice whispering warnings becomes a scream, beholding him not as an ethereal being sent to ravish you, but a danger to ruin you. It was all too brief and you shook it off, for how could this beautiful creature ever mean you harm?

Evening becomes night, and you migrate from the tree trunk to the forest floor. Nestled into him with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you share the basket of berries that will surely be missed at the feast of your kin, and talk for hours about everything and nothing. He tells you of his work, that he is a smith and loves nothing more than to create beautiful things, but he has never had more exquisite inspiration than you.

He seems to know just what to say, soft words whispered only to please you, and all you want is more. He traces his fingers up and down your arm, across your collarbone, into the shell of your ear, idly mapping every inch of you.

He doesn't press you further than gentle touches and tiny kisses peppering your skin. Perhaps though he is no Elf, he is aware of your people's customs, that to give yourself to him in body would be to make the two of you one forever, body and soul. You're not so sure that isn't what you want, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless; after all, you have only known him an afternoon.

It takes all of his self-restraint to suppress the urge to take you here and now, after all, who were you to stop him? But he wanted you when you were ready for him, mind, body, and soul, and he was willing to wait, even if it took an age. Admittedly it would be a difficult wait, he muses, as he realises the close proximity of your body to his is having an unexpected effect on him. He shifts position to avoid you noticing how hard he is just from touching you, and he prays to any of the Valar who might have an ear for him that his wait for you will be swift.

You twirl a tiny flower idly between your forefinger and thumb, gazing up at the heavens, your other hand wrapped in his. You are such exquisite inspiration, he muses, smirking as he realises he can have you after all. He sits up, making you groan, robbed of his warmth.

"What are you doing, love?" You complain, taking a slightly petulant tone that makes him chuckle.

"You'll see, patience is a virtue," he reaches out with his closest hand and smoothes your hair, gesturing for you to lie back down.

You kick your feet a little, suitably admonished but impatient still.

"Come back to me, I had just got comfortable, and you've ruined it now!" You laugh at him, his back turned to you so you can't make out what he is doing.

You sigh long and loud, earning an affectionate chuckle, before you lay back down and close your eyes. It is but a few moments later that he grasps your hand and pulls you up to face him. When you see what he has readied, you gasp, tears pricking your eyes.

Purple irises grow with literal wild abandon in these fields and you had always loved them, weaving them in your hair and stitching their image on your garb. In his hand, perched on his fingertips as if it is the most precious thing in creation, is a tiny iris in full bloom, its slender stem wound and plaited into a ring, with its gorgeous indigo flower crowning it like no diamond ever could.

He is on his knees in front of you, ring in hand, and for a second you cannot quite put the pieces together. You have known him a day, if that? It is a beautiful gift, but can you accept the deeper meaning behind it, that seems to lie in his expression, if not his words.

"It is beautiful, my lord," you sigh, "I think I shall require your aid in putting it on, it is so delicate after all."

Your heart aches at his wide smile, the crinkle of his eyes as he wordlessly slips it onto the fourth finger of your left hand, which surely he cannot know would mean-

"I would make you mine, my love, if you would have me," he murmurs, heart beating out of his chest, sentiment momentarily making him soft and weak for you.

So he does know the significance, and in an instant you feel as though you've been doused in liquid fire, nerves tying your stomach in knots, regarding his gift on your finger with equal parts trepidation and excitement.

You close the space between you and grasp his face with both hands, claiming his lips for your own, fingers travelling to his hair and over the pointed tips of his ears. He moans deep in his chest and pushes you backwards into your makeshift bed, peppering you with kisses until all your skin is ablaze.

"I am yours," you breathe, words so soft he might have missed them, had you not whispered directly into his ear, clutching his neck and whimpering as he maps every uncovered inch of you he can reach with his lips.

He groans, a noise so guttural it surprises you in the best way, sending a wave of arousal to between your legs. He rolls his hips against yours, and you feel something hard against your mound, through all the layers of fabric between you.

The stars blaze above you, hot and bright, but they have nothing on the way he makes you feel. You have heard of love at first sight, but never thought it might happen to you, that it was rare enough if it happened at all.

His hot breath trails down your neck to your collarbone, and his clever fingers work to unlace you from the fabric shielding you from his gaze. He stops a moment, breathing heavily.

"Tell me you want this -" his silver tongue licks your ear and sucks at your neck. "Tell me you need this."

His gaze is so heated, and his voice rough with arousal, that you clench your legs together to relieve that ache that has been building there since you met him. It seems like forever ago now, impossible that it has not even been a day.

"I need you," you hiss, desperate for any touch he'll bestow upon you. "...I'll always need you, now that I have you, I can't let you go."

Your words shatter the last remaining resolve he had not to ruin you, and he takes you as his own. Stripping every inch of you until you are bare before him, desperate for his skin on yours, he wraps you in his arms, legs entwined with yours. The violent urge to claim you was not satisfied, but he would have plenty of time to show you all of him; tonight was your wedding night, and you deserved what gentleness he could provide.

He runs his fingers through your slick, fascinated by how wet you are for him. Perhaps these mortal forms were not so bad after all.

You moan his name and beg for more, though you cannot possibly know what you are asking for. His lascivious grin sends tremors through you, a swooping feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you there is no going back now.

He loosens himself from his trousers, shucks them off almost clumsily in his haste to be inside you. He is beautiful, you reflect, as you take in his bare torso, his strong legs, and all the flesh in between. His size shocks you a little and you wonder how he plans to use it.

He sees your eyes widen and immediately covers you with his body, kissing softly at your neck so to better hear your tiny sounds of pleasure. In time he will make you scream, he vows.

"It's alright, love," he reassures you with a soft smile, "I've got you, I won't let it hurt."

His fingers move in comforting circles in the small of your back, at the apex of your thighs, across your mound. He gathers the slick from your entrance, readying himself with a stroke. He is already so painfully hard, but he has to come inside you, no way will he waste his seed on the forest floor.

He holds your gaze as he lowers himself to between your thighs, wrapping your legs around him.

"Pull me to you, love, make me yours," he pants, cock straining at your entrance, waiting for you to take the plunge.

It's like standing at a precipice; the fear of falling is so closely tied to the fear of jumping. But you bite your lip and dig your fingernails into his back, tighten your calves, and pull his lower body into yours.

You want to scream, the stretch is too much, he is too big and he's hitting somewhere delicious inside you that makes you see stars. He doesn't move, letting you feel all of him, relishing in you taking him like the good girl you are.

"Well done, love, so good for me, you feel so fucking good," he exhales, towering over you while the moon illuminates him from behind, leaving his expression inscrutable.

His fingers on your abdomen are so soothing, the stinging stretch you felt disappears, leaving only white hot pleasure in its wake. You begin to move your hips against him, aching for more friction, more skin on yours, you'd take anything he would give you.

At first his movements are slow and rhythmical, as if you are made of glass, but your impatient whines encourage him to release himself upon you, snapping his hips in time to your thrusts against him, endlessly surprised but thrilled at your eagerness to please him. He has chosen so well.

The intensity of the moment gets the better of both of you, and before long you are chanting his name in his ear, chasing your inevitable ruin on his cock.

He comes first, much to his eternal embarrassment, unable to prevent spilling inside you as your tight cunt clenches his flesh. You feel him pulse inside you and it tips you over the edge, a silent scream on your lips as fire overtakes your flesh and leaves you drowning in him.

For a second, you behold each other as you truly are, not in body but spirit, and it terrifies you; you see something black as the darkest night throwing off flames that lick at your being, triggering that sick swooping feeling in your abdomen again. He is enthralled by you, bright and radiant like the morning star, and he wants to coat himself in your light, drink it in and burn all of Arda until there is nothing but the two of you in the cosmos.

His attentions to your neck slow and he leans back to look at you in all your glory, radiant under him in body and soul, as you lazily trace his hips with your fingers, coming down from your high and needing nothing more than to be held.

"You did so well, my love, so good for me," he whispers as he releases you from his grasp, laying you down beside him and pressing himself against your back with his arm slung over your torso possessively.

Your eyes begin to droop with the lateness of the hour and the exertion of your wedding night, and while he murmurs in your ear how much he loves you, how proud he is of you, how much he needs you, you take his hand and sleepily press a kiss to his palm. You snuggle in closer as he draws his robe around the pair of you against the night's chill, and slowly drift off, a smile on your face even in sleep.

He gazes at you adoringly, murmuring sweet nothings as your body relaxes into his.

"Beautiful girl, only mine," his voice is so soft yet somehow it finds you even as you begin to slumber. "My sweet wife, we will know peace together, I swear it to you."

He wants to claw inside his own chest and pull his treacherous heart out with his bare hands, for surely that pain would be easier to bear than this. He curses himself for being so weak, and you for being so tempting, before closing his eyes to join you.

He thought by having you, possessing you, that these feelings might be assuaged, that the urgency he felt to be near you would fade, and he could move on from this unique torment. Alas they had increased a hundredfold, and he swore on his fëa itself that no harm would ever come to you, that he would cherish you all his days.

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

No, I don't wanna fall in love with you

[velarisdusk]

Gentle Remedies

Day 13: Medical Play | Elain x Reader word count: 1k author’s note: so like.. idk if i did ANY of this justice, this one was one of the harder ones to write bc i never really write elain, and im not really into medical play but i thought it’d be interesting to try. it was fun to write though :) ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

The dimly lit room was filled with the soft, flickering glow of faelights, casting gentle shadows that danced along the walls. You lay on the bed, feeling a mix of discomfort from your illness and a peculiar anticipation. Elain moved around the room with a practiced grace, her presence calming and nurturing. The soft rustle of her dress and the delicate clinking of glass bottles added to the atmosphere of quiet care.

Elain approached with a cold compress, her hands gentle as she placed it on your forehead. “This should help bring down your fever,” she said softly, her fingers lingering on your skin with a soothing touch. Her voice was tender, but laced with a playful edge. “I��ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

You managed a weak smile, your voice barely above a whisper. “I am capable of caring for myself, you know. You don’t need to play healer.”

Elain’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she met your gaze. “Well, I have a duty to make sure you’re not just feeling better, but thoroughly cared for. Wouldn’t that make me your healer?” Her tone was light, but there was an unmistakable edge of seduction in her words.

She moved to collect an herbal tea she’d prepared, the sway of her hips as she walked slow and deliberate. “Let’s see if this helps with your symptoms,” she said as she brought the steaming mug to your lips. The aroma was rich and earthy and just what you needed. Her proximity was intoxicating, and the warmth of her breath on your cheek was both comforting and arousing.

“You might need more than just tea to feel better,” Elain continued, her voice dropping to a soft, sultry whisper. “A thorough examination might be what you need.”

You looked at her with a mix of curiosity and eagerness as she began to untangle the blankets around you, revealing your nightgown bunched up around your thighs. Her fingers moved gently but deliberately, every stroke feeling like part of a carefully crafted routine. They brushed lightly along the exposed skin of your legs, tracing soft, teasing circles that sent shivers down your spine. She smiled, a slow curve of her lips, as if fully aware of the effect she was having on you. “You’re tense,” she remarked, her voice slipping into something smoother, more commanding. “I’ll have to take care of that.”

She reached for a vial of oil from the bedside table. The scent of lavender and chamomile filled the air as she uncorked it, letting the calming fragrance wrap around you. Elain poured a small amount into her palm, her gaze never leaving yours, the heat of her eyes a sharp contrast to the cool oil that met your skin,

Her fingers worked methodically, massaging the oil into your skin with soothing pressure that was anything but innocent. Her touch lingered in places that made your pulse quicken, the pads of her fingers pressing gently into your thighs, your hips, and further up. You weren’t sure whether to sigh in relief or gasp at the growing tension.

Elain’s smile deepened as she noticed your reaction. “You’re responding well,” she whispered, her voice soothing. Her fingers ghosted along your ribs, her thumb grazing the underside of your breast. You shivered, a mix of fever and the thrill of her attention, and she smiled in response, her fingers never faltering as they explored. 

“I need you to trust me,” she said softly, but there was a command beneath her words. “If we’re going to get you feeling better, I’ll have to be thorough.” She paused, leaning closer, her breath hot against your neck as she whispered in your ear, “Very thorough.”

Her fingers trailed lower, tracing the soft curve of your abdomen, her touch light as a breath. “You know,” she mused, voice dripping with the kind of teasing intimacy that made your heart race, “herbal remedies can only do so much. Sometimes, it’s a matter of easing tension… and letting the body respond naturally.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat of her attention even as the coolness of her hands contrasted against your feverish skin. “Is this part of the treatment?” you asked, your voice a little hoarse, but carrying a note of playful curiosity at her advances. 

Elain’s lips curved into a smile, her eyes never leaving yours. “Oh, absolutely,” she replied, her tone sweet but laced with something darker, more intimate. “Would you like me to continue?”

Despite the fever, you managed a soft laugh. “I’m not sure I’d ever forgive myself if I stopped you.”

Her fingers stilled for a moment, and then she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m not done with you yet.” Her hand slid lower, fingers skimming the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You gasped at the coolness of her fingertips, the contrast between that and the heat that pulsed low in your belly. 

“Elain–”

“Shh,” she soothed, her thumb circling higher, teasing, as if testing your resolve. “Let me take care of you.”

The slow, torturous build of her touch finally led to where you needed it most, her fingers slipping beneath your underwear with a confidence that made your breath hitch in your throat. Her gaze never left yours, her eyes dark with intent as she pushed past the fabric and pressed her fingers against your center, slick and ready for her.

“See?” Elain murmured, her lips brushing against your jawline. “Your body wants me to make you feel better.” Her fingers slid between your folds, teasingly light at first, exploring, until she found just the right spot. Her thumb circled your clit in deliberate, agonizingly slow strokes. A broken moan escaped your lips, hips jerking involuntarily toward her touch as pleasure pulsed through you, your body arching to meet her rhythm.

Elain’s smile deepened, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes as she watched your reaction. “You’re so good for me,” she whispered, dipping her fingers lower, pressing into you with a slow, deep thrust. 

You gasped, your hips arching into her touch, your fever all but forgotten in the haze of pleasure she was drawing from you. 

“That’s it,” she cooed, her fingers curling just right, hitting the spot that made your entire body shudder as you cried out. “I told you… I’ll take care of everything.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @anneas11 @mrsjna @lilah-asteria @randomgurl2326

[blushyeleven]

tickletober - DAY 27

picky

…………………………………………………….

this fic includes age regression!!

summary: y/n age regresses and is all little and isn’t the biggest fan of vegtables, that is until renee promises her with the reward of tickles.

characters: lee!littley/n, ler!renee

warnings: age regression, tickles

a/n: I chose this from another list because I had a better idea, also renees favourite nickname is ‘angel’ because of her album, snow angel. idk it was just adorable to me and this fic nearly made me smile and it’s just so ahhhh

𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵

you curl up on the couch, clutching a plush blanket and watching cartoons. it’s been one of those days where you feel smaller, softer, and somehow, all your favorite shows seem even more colorful. renee notices right away, giving you a warm smile and making sure you’re as comfy as possible. she drapes an extra blanket over you, making a cozy little cocoon, and asks, “how’s my little one doing? hungry for dinner?”

you nod a little bit with the same adorable smile you always gave her when you were a lot smaller, “hmm.. how about chicken nuggets chips and peas?” well, the first half was promising.. but when she mentioned the small round chewy green things you scrunched your face in in displeasure. “vegetables?” you whine, looking up at her with a pout and that twinkle in your eyes that she could almost never say no to, almost. she chuckles softly, brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

“yes, veggies. I know their not your favourite but tell you what, if you eat all of them, I’ll give you tickles after” she promised, her tone playful, genuine and sweet. it was a knowing fact that if she dangled the promise of tickles Infront of your face, it was practically a free pass to convince you to do whatever.

you perk up immediately at the thought of tickles, excitement bubbling up. “really?” you ask innocently and excited, forgetting about the dreaded vegetables for a moment.

“really” she nods, laughing. “now you sit tight and keep watching your show. i’ll call you when everything’s ready sweetie.”

you settle back in, occasionally glancing toward the kitchen, listening to the soft clinks and clatters as renee prepares dinner. before long, she calls you over, and you make your way to the table, eyeing the plate with caution, using your fork to push around the peas, your tounge pushed part your lips, not liking the look of them.. and imagining the horrible earthy taste they leave in your mouth. no kid should ever have to be forced to put up with that unpleasant taste. renee sets a gentle hand on your shoulder and says, “remember our deal, okay? tickles if you finish up.”

despite your initial reluctance, the thought of tickles makes the veggies seem a little more manageable, and you begin eating, one bite at a time. renee sits next to you, chatting in that calm, comforting way that makes everything feel just a bit easier. soon enough, you’ve finished your meal, giving her a triumphant , proud smile.

“good job baby” she cheers, clearing the table as you hop back to the couch, happily returning to your cartoons.

a few moments later, renee joins you, a mischievous glint in her eye. “hmm.. since you did such a good job.. I think it’s time for your reward” she asks, reaching over to lightly poke your side, just lightly starting off with a few prods

it was milliseconds before you erupt into a fit of adorable and squeaky giggles, laying on your back, the ticklishness somehow even more intense. it always did when you were in your little mindset, every sensation and emotions was always heightened, making tickles all the more fun and enjoyable. “hehehehey!!” you giggle out adorably, in the childlike and innocent tone that renee always adored. you wiggle around and kick your legs, not even attempting to escape as the whole time you have the silliest smile on your face. but renee’s gentle fingers follow, lightly tracing over your sides, her fingertips lightly dancing over the sensitive skin. “rehehehenee! it tihihickles!” you squeak out, curled up underneath her touch, making you a-pear a lot smaller.

“oh, i know angel” she chuckles, her wriggly fingers crawling up to your ribs, only making your giggles increase as they are filled with nothing but happiness and delight “you just love tickles, don’t you cutie?”

you can barely answer through the squeals, twisting and squirming under her touch. but never in agony, more of an instinct. “nohohoho!!” you fake protest with a smile, just deliberately being cheeky because it was fun. “no?” she echoes with a smile “are you sure angel? because I think you do! they make you so happy and always get you so giggly and I love it!” she speaks with a genuinely sweet voice, absolutely loving how adorable you got in your little space.

“nuhuhuh uhuhuhhh!!” you deny again, the cheeky smile still prominent on your face, I mean, there was no doubt about it, you loved tickles and both of you knew that. it was just fun to deny it and be mischievous about it. “oh really? not even when I do this?” and in that moment her hands dip under your arms, her fingers gently clawing at the skin underneath. electing more squeaks and adorable noises to follow out of your mouth. “HAHAHA NAE!!” you shriek, calling her the nickname that you always did, especially when you were little. it was her personal favourite. your giggles intensified as your legs began kicking more. your armpits always being unbearable and ridiculously sensitive, and renee knowing this she rarely ever spent to long tickling you there whilst you were regressed, not wanting to overwhelm you as it pretty much sent you into a frenzy, every. single. time. “awh, aren’t you just the cutest little thing ever?” the blonde rhetorically asked, seeing you curled up with the widest stretch of a smile on your face as the endless giggling poured out. “HEHEHAHAHA!!” your nose scrunches up, your arms clenched to your side in a half hearted attempt to block out her tickly fingers from being let in.

“is that too tickly baby?” she asked to which you nodded and she scooped you up, placing you in her lap as her fingertips then moved to your stomach, scratching softly as your shirt bunched up beneath her fingers, your giggles never ceasing, but not being as powerful as before. “eeek! bahahahaha!!” your head rested against her chest, every sound that escaped your lips was practically music to her ears and she longed to hear it all the time. so innocent and adorable.

it was only when your little laughs became more spaced out and breathless when she haunted, retracting her fingers to instead brush out the lingering hairs on your face and tucking your hair behind your ears. your face warm from all the laughter as a few giggles still remained aswell as your smile. the familiar tingly feeling rushing through your body. she then lightly rubs your stomach with her fingers, to remove the phantom tickles, but even this small movement was enough to tickle you as you tense a little, causing reneé to look down at you with a smile of her own. her arms embracing you as you were in her lap, wrapping around you and securing you there.

“you okay after that angel? that was quite a lot of tickles” she asks, her voice soft as she cradles you. you nod, still smiling. “y-yeah! thankyou nae!” you reply sweetly, causing the blonde to coo, “always sweetie”

she pulls you close, wrapping an arm around you. “i love taking care of you baby, it’s like the best blessing I could ever ask for” she whispers, cuddling you closer and you feel your heart swell with warmth. “I- I love you nae” your little innocent voice spoke up “I love you more, my sweet little angel.”

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 12

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 12: Ghost in the Machine

Chapter Summary: You and Dieter go on a date while grappling with the past, present, and future.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 8.7k+

Content / Warnings: alternating pov, insecurities, mirror, angst, fluff, acting career things idk, awkward/nervous speech patterns, cocaine use, past infidelity, suspicion, dissociation, argument, abuse mention

Notes: Chapter title from "Ghost in the Machine" by SZA featuring Phoebe Bridgers. Howdy! If you want the taglist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. If you want a link to the spotify playlist for this chapter, let me know and I'll send it to ya.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Every window in the house sits ajar, welcoming a warm cross-breeze that tickles your skin. It carries an earthy scent from further up the hill, giving faint whiffs of sage and dirt. 

Dieter moseys around the house in his boxers, voyaging between his kitchen sink and potted plants, watering can in hand. He mumbles sweet little affirmations to his green dependents, checking in with each in a hushed voice, saying shit like, “Now, how are we doing here? Thirsty?” or “Looking great today,” or “Wow, someone needs a haircut.” 

From your place nestled into the couch, you alternate between watching him and studying the white wisps of steam that swirl off the surface of your coffee cup. 

This morning, while peaceful, has you feeling off-kilter. Your mind keeps wandering to the interview with DIRT. To your mom. To Dieter. 

Overnight, the dust began to settle in your mind, providing more clarity. Details started to surface shortly after you woke. Things you heard yesterday, but didn’t understand or deem important in the moment. 

Like David’s statement: “Dieter has had a lot of big changes in his personal life this past year as well, with his divorce to Anika, and the scandals surrounding it.”

Like your mother saying: “He had a problem with drugs, you know, big problem, had other women, too,“ and, “I know he has a cocaine habit, and that he cheated on his wife, does that sound like anyone else?”

Like Dieter saying: “No, I definitely deserved that.”

In each still, calm moment, they replay. Every time you look at Dieter and your heart aches with love and adoration, your memory blindsides you with this information. 

Is your mom right? Did he cheat on Anika? 

Or is she just trying to drive a wedge between you?

Wouldn’t he have told you when he had the chance?

You know you could do a web search to look into it, do your own research into the matter. Hell, you could even just fucking ask him. But the prospect makes you itch. 

Because what if she’s wrong and he thinks you don’t trust him? Or, worse, what if she’s right? 

Fuck, what if she’s right? 

Your blood starts to buzz hot and rapid through your veins. You look around for an escape hatch and see a bookshelf, then set your coffee cup down to approach it. 

Among knickknacks and a few small plants housed on the solid oak shelves, you find titles you expect to see, like 1984 by George Orwell, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann, and at least a dozen art reference books. You also find a few things you weren’t expecting, like Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, half a dozen Julia Quinn novels, and, most importantly, a first edition of Betty Crocker’s Picture Cook Book. 

You pull the cookbook out and examine it, running your fingertips along the frayed corners of the faded red hardcover, then flip it open, asking, “Why do you have this?”

Dieter looks up from an unruly Monstera, “Have what?”

“This cookbook,” you answer, padding across the living room’s black and white striped rug to show him. 

He frowns as you hold it up, shaking his head, “Must’ve been Annie’s. She left some stuff behind when she moved out.” 

“My grandma had this one,” you murmur, glancing up at him, “Is—is it ok if I look through it?”

He scoffs and shrugs, “Not like she’s coming to get it,” then returns his attention to the Monstera. 

You settle into the couch, thumbing through the yellowed pages, reading recipes, tips, and instructions compiled for housewives of the 1950’s. Dieter finishes grooming his plants and plops down at your side, curling an arm around your shoulders, “Betty giving you any inspiration?”

“Fun fact: Betty Crocker isn’t an actual person,” you smirk, turn the page to the section on custard pies, and inform him, “In the 1920’s, a flour company noticed they got a lot of homemakers requesting baking advice, so they adopted the moniker Betty Crocker as a pen name for the people who answered the questions.”

“Huh,” he blinks, “Interesting.” 

“Listen to this,” you flip to a dog-eared page towards the back of the book and start reading from it, “If you’re tired from overwork, house chores you’re bound to shirk, read these pointers tried and true, and discover what to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Tips for housewives who are fucking miserable,” you tell him, then read another excerpt, “Get outdoors every day. Take a walk, do some gardening, take the children for an outing, or pay your neighbor a short visit,” and another, “Harbor pleasant thoughts while working. It will make every task lighter and pleasanter. Notice humorous and interesting incidents to relate at dinnertime, etc.”

“Jesus,” he mutters.

You want to tell him that the page was bookmarked. Its connection to the spine, well-creased. Referenced often. The comment lingers at the back of your throat. 

When you backtrack your place in the book, trying to resume your study on custard pies, a white index card slides from between two pages.

“Oh,” you pluck it out and furrow your brow at the ingredients, measurements, instructions printed in a precise script, “It’s a recipe for banitsa. You ever had this?” 

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s like a flaky cheese pastry… phyllo, feta, yogurt,” you murmur, then glance up at him, “What do we have going on today?”

“Reservations at 7, and Darlene’s gonna stop by later, but other than that,” he grins and shakes his head, “Nada.”

So, the two of you smoke a joint on the patio while Lincoln picks up the called-for ingredients Dieter doesn’t have on hand. After Lincoln drops them off, you sanitize the sun-drenched quartz of Dieter’s kitchen countertop, all sparkling rainbows in the light. Dieter spreads a paint-splattered drop cloth across the no-man’s land between the dining room and kitchen, sets up an easel, equips it with a canvas, then rolls a little yellow file cabinet out next to it. 

He puts on a mix of music described as roller-rink 1978. As the funky tunes play over the sound system wired throughout his house, you attach a bread hook to his matte black stand mixer and sift bread flour into its 7-qt bowl. 

Then you go to work. 

You concentrate on the task at hand in each given moment, taking it step-by-step. Measuring, mixing, and kneading. Trying not to think too long about the romance novels lining the bookshelf, or the recipe’s delicate handwriting, or the dog-eared page, or Dieter’s baited breath after he recounted why he and Anika split, or your mother saying, “I know he has a cocaine habit, and that he cheated on his wife, does that sound like anyone else?” Or David Alterman asking, “Do you worry that those patterns are bound to repeat themselves?”

Instead of these things, you try your hardest to occupy your hazy, pot-laced brain by separating the dough into equal pieces while humming along to ABBA and Elton John and Electric Light Orchestra. 

When the recipe calls for the dough to rest for an hour, you clean your workspace, throw together the banitsa filling, and wash the dishes. 

Then the timer tells you: seventeen minutes left. 

You turn your attention to Dieter. His bare feet move fluid from side-to-side, paintbrush flitting between the palette and canvas as he lip-syncs along to “Hollywood Swinging” by Kool & The Gang. A grin stretches across your face. 

They cannot be right about him. This is not the kind of man who has affairs. No fucking way. This man is an angel. 

I’ve been fooled before. 

You banish the thought with a quick shake of your head, then try to distract yourself by asking, “Do you still see ghosts?”

He looks up at you, then back at his work-in-progress with a shrug, “I don’t usually see them per se, it’s more like a, uhh… an understanding. Or a knowing, I guess. Like a picture in my head with a feeling attached to it.”

His features twitch animatedly as he talks, accenting his words, dark eyes glancing between the canvas and your face. 

“It’s like… have you ever had intrusive thoughts?” 

“Have I ever,” you snort.

“It’s like that,” he explains, “Like a flash of something. Not like that kid in the Sixth Sense, seeing them fuckin’ uhh… walking around and shit.” 

You hop up onto the kitchen counter and inquire, “Where’s the most haunted place you’ve been?” 

Dieter pauses mid-brushstroke and scrunches his face up as he thinks about this, resuming when he says, “Well, hotels are always the worst. They’re so transitive, you know, all this energy coming and going constantly. And the people stuck there… they usually went intending to have a good time, a vacation or party or whatever, and something happened to them. That, or… they went in with an intention not to come out and succeeded.”

The implication unfolds in your brain, and you nod. 

“Either way they seem to have unfinished business,” he shrugs and squints at the canvas, smudging paint with his thumb, “Usually they’re harmless, so it’s pretty easy to ignore,” he pauses here, clears his throat, then continues, “But in terms of the worst vibes I got, like, uhh… how scared it made me feel, it was definitely Ethan.”

Blood drains from your face and extremities, leaving you cold and dizzy. 

“I—I thought—wait, really?”

He squints up at the ceiling, like he’s re-evaluating his statement, then levels his eyes with yours with a nod, “Yeah. At first, at least. Like the first night I was there, I felt him and it was,” he furrows his brow and drops his gaze to the floor, “Dark. Really fucking dark. And I was already in a bad way, y’know, I went to your place straight from the airport and you were—”

“A fucking disaster?”

“A beautiful trainwreck,” he corrects with a persuasive smile. It falters as soon as he continues, “And I just had this big fight with Annie about the divorce and, uhh, stuff, and hadn’t used blow in a day or two, just… not great,” he swallows, then shakes his head, “I think maybe… he could sense that about me. It was a warning. I remember knowing that’s what it was.”

“Oh,” you breathe. Look down at your hands. Start picking at your cuticles.  

“It was hard to stay. So… I left.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad. I’m sorry. I mean, he told me that he liked you—”

“It got better, really, love. It’s fine,” he assures you, then frowns, “Wait, he told you he likes me? Did you ask him about me or something?”

“Well, yeah,” you drop your gaze to the floor, “I just wanted to—I don’t know, see if he approved, I guess.” 

His head jerks back and he blinks, “Oh.” 

“Yeah—he, um, told me that he always liked you,” you tilt your head at your dangling legs and chuckle, “Told me you were a triangle guy.” 

Dieter lets out a light puff of laughter. 

“He asked if you make me happy,” you tell him, so quiet it’s almost a whisper, then look up to study his reaction. 

He pulls his paintbrush from the canvas and stares at you, his eyes soft and searching, “And?”

A soft scoff flees your lips, and you say, “Of course you do, Dee.”

“Yeah?” 

This crooked smile spreads across his face and makes your heart ache. 

“Obviously,” you chuckle, grinning in return. 

Dieter seems to think about this, pink tongue rolling along his bottom lip as his eyebrow quirks. He sets his palette down on the little yellow file cabinet, drops his paintbrush into a cup of water, then crosses the room towards you. 

The way he looks at you seems to take a physical presence on your skin, making you shiver before he even reaches you. When he does, his hands slide up your bare legs, fingertips dipping under the hem of your jean shorts. His hips nudge your knees apart. 

You hook your arms around his neck as he tugs you closer, brushing his nose against yours, “You make me happy, too.” 

He kisses you, gentle for only a moment before your tongues meet. 

It’s so soft and wet it makes you gasp. A rumble sounds from his throat and his grip tightens. You arch your back, balling his shirt in your fist

He guides your hand to the bulge in his sweatpants, “Do you feel that? How happy you make me?” 

“That’s pretty fucking happy,” you grin, wrapping your fingers around his girth, over the soft fabric. You start to work him and he tosses his head back with a moan. 

Your lips meet his again, finding depth. It’s a slow heat, the way you take your time with his cock in your grip and your tongue in his mouth. Drives him crazy. His breaths carry strained groans that tickle your throat and make your cunt throb. 

When you roll your thumb against the damp spot in his sweatpants, he gasps, “Fuck–”

You hook a finger under his waistband, “I wanna see it.” 

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles, pausing to drag his tongue against yours, earning a whimper from you, then says, “Any time, any place, he’s all yours, baby.”

And right when he starts to pull down his pants, the front door swings open. 

You both jump and look towards the noise. 

In walks Darlene, cell phone pinched between her ear and shoulder, talking to someone on the other line, “Yeah, I just got to Dieter’s house, I’m going to tell him—Yeah, I will—Ok. Ok.”

Dieter rearranges himself and meets your eyes, murmuring, “To be continued,” before turning to approach her. 

“Yep, bye,” she tosses her phone in her designer bag and sighs, looking between the two of you, “Did I interrupt something?”

Your mouth gapes open. You shake your head and hop down off the counter, “We, um–we–”

Dieter cuts in, thank fucking god, responding, “No. What's the news?” 

Darlene raises an eyebrow at him, then you. She leans back against the dining room table and crosses her arms, “Well, I raised hell at DIRT. David Alterman is on disciplinary leave. The interview will be published without the phone call tomorrow. So… we will see what happens.” 

“Oh, that’s good!” you grin, glancing at the back of Dieter’s head, then to Darlene, “Thank you so much. And—and I’m sorry, you know, you had to deal with that.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Darlene nods, flashing you a wane smile, then looks to Dieter, “Can I steal you for a sec? I have to talk to you about something.” 

He clears his throat and nods, “Yeah,” then follows her outside. 

You release a little chuckle and smile to yourself. 

The timer goes off. 

Dieter slides the door closed behind him, following Darlene around the centerpiece of his patio: a sprawling oak tree. He looks up into it as he trails behind, admiring all the twisted innards of the beast. When they step out of its shade and into the hot afternoon sun, he grimaces. 

She plugs a cigarette between her lips and lights it, asking him on the exhale, “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” he takes a step forward and leans against the steel railing, peaking over the edge to look down the cliffside. 

“How’s she doing since yesterday? That was a fucking mess,” Darlene leans on the railing beside him. 

Dieter scrunches his nose up, shrugging, “Kind of hard to read, I guess. She seems fine. But–but I don’t know, she’s just,” he pauses here and frowns, “I think I would be freaking out if I were her, you know? But she’s not? And I don’t know what to do about that.” 

She flicks her cigarette and raises her eyebrows, then sighs, “Actually, Dieter, that’s what I wanted to talk about with you.” 

“About what? Lua? What about her?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you serious about this girl?” 

“Jesus Christ, Darlene,” he groans, dropping his head, “Yes, I’m fucking serious. I wouldn’t be doing all this bullshit for just anyone.” 

“It just seems like there’s a lot you haven’t figured out. Maybe some things you haven’t discussed,” she takes a drag and looks him up and down, “What if I got some intel that says she’s still selling drugs?”

He plays along, inquiring, “What kind of drugs?”

“Edibles. Pot brownies, shit like that.”

“I’d say your intel is bunk. She’s straight.”

“Well, I looked into it,” she blows a plume of blue smoke out into the canyon, “She has no online presence, no license, sells out of her apartment—I mean, it fucking reeks, Dieter. How’s she able to make enough to live in that area with no marketing?”

“She doesn’t make a huge profit. I mean, this month I helped her with rent—”

“You’re fucking kidding me. So she’s using you—”

“No, she’s not. I had to beg her to let me help. It’s not like that,” he maintains, shaking his head, “I mean, who’s your source? Why are you even looking into this?” 

“I don’t trust her, Dieter! Something isn’t right, it’s not adding up.”

He pushes off the railing and pushes non-existent sleeves up his forearms, “Let’s say you’re right, and she’s selling edibles,” he stops for a beat, then scoffs, “Who fucking cares? Fucking pot brownies? Who gives a shit.”

“Movie studios care. The public cares. Doesn’t matter if it’s crack or pot, she’s a fucking drug dealer.”

“She’s not a fucking drug dealer, Darlene,” he snaps.

She stares at him. Takes a drag off her cigarette. 

He kneads his neck, shifting his weight from one foot, to the other, before throwing his hands out in exasperation, “I need you to just believe that, for once, someone loves me and is good for me. Please.” 

Darlene’s lips purse, “That’s what you said about Anika.”

“That—that’s different,” Dieter drops his gaze to the ground. 

“Is it, though?” she blinks at him, “You swore that was it, that she wasn’t a gold digger, and yet… now she’s ex-Mrs. Dieter Bravo. Walked away with almost half your estate in return for not selling your secrets. She’s a rich woman now.”

“Yep,” Dieter sighs, skidding his toes against the mahogany deckboards, “I’m just a big fuck up, you got me there.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she asserts, “I just want you to really think about this before doing anything… rash.” 

“I’m not going to run away and fucking marry her the first chance I get, ok?” he sneers, “Just—chill the fuck out.” 

“Dieter, let me be perfectly honest with you,” she drops her cigarette and crushes it with the toe of her beige pump, “I worry it’s more than you just being cunt-struck again.”

His head jerks back and he scoffs. 

She lowers her voice to a pleading tone, “Look, you’re falling headfirst into a serious relationship with this girl, she used to deal drugs, there’s all this shady stuff with her business, and… I just—I worry, are you, you know… are you ok?” 

“Am I ok?” he repeats the question, drenching it with incredulity, “What the fuck do you mean, am I ok?”

She studies his face, crossing her arms. A meaningful tilt of her head tells him everything he needs to know. 

His jaw gnashes from side-to-side and he shakes his head, “I’ve been clean for months, Darlene, because of her.” 

“Alright,” she raises her eyebrows and blinks, “Good.”

“Do you believe me?”

Darlene shrugs, “If you say you’re ok, you’re ok.” 

Bullshit.

“I am,” he confirms, his voice firm and final. 

“Great,” she nods, then pulls out her phone and looks at the screen, “Alright, well, I’ll keep an eye on things after the interview drops and let you know how it goes.” 

She stomps past him, the click-clack of her heels echoing out behind her, and exits out the side gate. 

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, shaking his hands out at his sides, rolling his neck as he starts towards the glass patio door.

Dieter walks beside you as the hostess leads the way through the busy restaurant. Everything around him is white noise. It doesn’t matter at all. 

All that exists is his palm on the small of your back. His whole universe has boiled down to you, right now, draped in this white, flowing chiffon dress that Kelly picked out for tonight. You, all starry-eyed and dolled up, gawking at your surroundings because you’re just so damn excited to be at another fancy-schmancy restaurant.

Earlier today, while wrapped up in his sheets, you told him all about the menu, and haute cuisine, and French culinary history, and Escoffier. He closed his eyes and held your warm body in place next to his, content to listen to you chatter on as long as you’d allow him.

He loves that about you. How passionate you are in everything you do. How you slow to appreciate beauty in things like snowstorms, and layers in croissants, and even the subtle timbre of a cello woven into his favorite song. 

“Listen close,” you told him when you pointed it out, “It’s fucking incredible.” 

He did. 

He felt the chords vibrate through him, resolute and melodic. It gave the music new meaning, and he couldn’t believe he’d never noticed it before. He notices every time he hears it now. 

But that’s what you do. 

Everything seemed so fucking boring before you. Meaningless. You opened his eyes to what was right in front of him and gave it new life. Gave him new life. 

The hostess comes to a stop and gestures to a square table, laying a menu on either side of the white linen. You sit across from him and meet his gaze, face all lit up with that gorgeous fucking smile that makes his chest tighten. 

“Do you have a strategy in mind here?” he asks, leaning forward onto the table, rubbing his hands together, “Food, wine, dessert, the whole nine yards?”

“I love that movie,” you comment mildly, “Bruce Willis is hot.” 

He raises his eyebrows. 

“What?” you laugh.

“Bruce Willis, really?”

You study him, clearly very entertained, “Why, are you jealous?”

He scoffs at this, “No—I’m just saying, though, he’s never even been nominated for an Oscar—”

“Oh, well in that case,” you roll your eyes and let out this dramatic sigh. 

Dieter laughs and shakes his head, “Wow.”

“Ok, but really,” you turn your attention back to the menu. As you survey it, you tilt your head back and forth thoughtfully, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. A mischievous smirk plays on your lips and you ask, “Did Darlene say we were allowed one glass or one bottle of wine?”

Dieter taps an index finger to his chin and grins, “I recall her saying bottle, don’t you?”

“Mmmm, yep, now that you mention it, I’m like… 99% sure she said bottle,” you agree conspiratorially. 

He smiles up at you, but his breath hitches when something behind you catches his eye. 

Or, someone, rather. 

A bright tangerine dress tight around her petite, curvy frame. Loose chestnut curls flowing down her back. Glowing brown eyes locked onto his. A small smirk plays on her plump, shiny lips. 

His spine straightens and he mutters under his breath, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” 

You frown and follow his gaze to Lilly Stokes just as she pushes her chair back and starts towards the table. 

“Dieter, hiiii,” Lilly croons, squeezing his forearm, “How are you, Pookie? It’s been a minute.” 

Dieter watches your eyes flick between Lilly’s hand on his suit jacket, and her face, and Dieter’s face. He watches the gears turn. The light bulb turns on. Your eyebrows shoot up and you meet his gaze, then immediately drop your eyes to the tablecloth. 

“Fine,” he answers and leans back in his chair, pulling his arm from her grasp.  

Lilly glances back at her table, then to Dieter, “I’m here with Jay—you remember Jay, right?” 

Dieter blinks at her, thinking, “We’ve been inside you at the same time, of fucking course I remember Jay.”

But what he says is, “Yeah.” 

“Oh, duh,” Lilly waves off the obvious, then wets the seam of her mouth, eyes dragging along Dieter’s body, “We should merge tables so we can catch up.” 

“Oh, no—” Dieter shakes his head and gestures to you, “We’re—”

Lilly finally seems to notice your presence and turns towards you, “Oh my god, Dieter, she’s so cute, are you two on a date?”

“Yeah,” he meets your eyes for a moment before telling Lilly, “This is Louella.”

“Lou-el-la,“ Lilly repeats, enunciating each syllable like she’s trying to commit it to memory, “You don’t mind, do you, beautiful?” 

You stare at her for a beat like you’re trying to figure out what she’s asking, then stammer, “Me? Wh—I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s ok if we join you?” Lilly nods, batting her false eyelashes. She asks this in a condescending way, slowing her words down like she’s asking a toddler. 

Your throat croaks as you look from her, to Dieter, who’s mentally pleading, “Please no,” then back to Lilly, “Uhh—I mean, sure?”

He deflates as Lilly calls Jay over and pulls out a chair. You mouth, “Sorry.”

Jay Blackburn, who looks like a poor man’s Alexander Skarsgård but six inches shorter, saunters over, a lopsided grin plastered on his smug face, “Bravo. Long time no see.” 

“Yeah,” Dieter responds, shifting in his seat at the reminder. 

Across the table, you gnaw away at your bottom lip, eyes downcast, your bubbling excitement replaced with this raw, nervous energy. He soaks it up like a sponge. It trickles down his backbone and seeps into his bloodstream as he wrings his hands together. 

“Who do we have here?” Jay asks, dragging his eyes along your body, drinking in your beauty with zero fucking shame. 

Dieter’s jaw clenches and cocks to one side. His leg starts to bounce. 

“I’m Louella.”

A warm smile crosses your face and you extend a hand to him. 

Jay takes it in his like a baby bird and presses a kiss into your knuckles, then releases you, “Jay Blackburn.”

“Oh—um, nice to meet you,” you say, glancing at Dieter, then at Lilly, “And you are?”

Lilly bristles at this, huffing a little before her mask of sweetness goes back up and she responds, “Lilly Stokes.” 

“So nice to meet you,” you look from her to Jay, “Are you guys actors, too?” 

“Um, no,” Lilly lets out this half-chuckle, half-scoff, “That’s so funny. No. Well, maybe someday. But for now I’m just a makeup artist, content creator, brand ambassador for Wowie Zowie Cosmetics, and model,” she counts each role on her fingers, then adds as an afterthought, “Jay is a wellness guru.”

You furrow your brow, “Wellness… guru?”

“Lifestyle coach,” Jay corrects, “Shepherding people to wellness through mindfulness, yoga, and nutrition.”

Dieter rolls his eyes. 

“Ohhh,” you nod, “Wow, you’re both, like, really popular on the internet?” 

“I have over 10 million followers,” Lilly advises, “So, yeah.”

“She didn’t know who I was, either, if that makes you feel better,” Dieter teases, casting a smirk your way. 

You wince and shrug, “Yeah, I, umm… live under a rock, I guess. Sorry.” 

“I like that,” Jay says, still eyeing you up like you’re a piece of fucking meat, “It’s refreshing. We should all be so lucky to be sheltered from the world in such a digital age.”

You raise your eyebrows, “I mean, I read the newspaper every day, so I’m very much aware of what’s going on in the world—“

“Right, but,” Jay starts.

“—Just, you know, stuff that matters.” 

A stunned sort of silence falls over the table for a moment, then laughter erupts from Dieter’s throat. You grin at him, and Jay must think you were kidding, because he joins in on the laughter. 

“You’re funny,” Lilly flashes this smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, then lets out an exasperated sigh and looks around, “Are we going to get some fucking service here or what?” 

Throughout the meal, you remain quiet. 

You don’t share your thoughts on the cuisine, or the wine, or the world-renowned chef. Your face stays painfully neutral as Lilly and Jay dominate the conversation, going on and on in a masturbatory fashion about their busy lives. 

More than anything, Dieter wants to tell them to fuck off. He wants to tell them that neither of you fucking care about subscribers or algorithms or sponsorships. He wants to comment on the restaurant’s heavy-handed use of bear décor and kiss you and tell you he loves you. 

But Darlene’s warning to be on his best behavior rings in his head. 

Despite this, the one bottle of wine you agreed upon is easily negotiated up to two. 

After the plat principal is cleared from the table, Lilly leans towards Dieter and asks “So, what’s new with you? We haven’t heard from you in, what,” she turns to Jay for confirmation, “Months?”

“Summer, I think?” Jay supplies. 

“Yeah,” Dieter nods and looks up at you, watching the way you wiggle in your chair and look down at your lap. He shrugs, “I’ve been keeping busy.”

“I see how it is,” Lilly pouts, glancing between his eyes and mouth, “Pookie gets a girlfriend and forgets all about us.”

Heat rises to his face. Every muscle in his body clenches. A hundred violent images flash through his head. The words shut the fuck up wrestle their way up his throat. 

“How did you all meet?” you ask, plastering on this polite smile. 

Lilly combs her long fingernails through her hair, “I met Dieter at some fundraising gala last year.”

Dieter’s leg starts bouncing. He leans his elbows into the table and presses his closed fist against his lips, watching you absorb this information. But he can’t get a read on you. 

“She introduced us,” Jay nods to Lilly, “Yeah, we were at this party, it was fucking wild—”

“Lua doesn’t wanna hear about that,” Dieter cuts in, dropping a hand to the table.

“It’s fine, Dee,” you chuckle, then take a big swallow from your wine glass. Unconvincing. 

Jay ignores Dieter’s protest, “It was one of those nights where everyone got very well acquainted with one another, if you know what I mean.” 

Your fake smile twitches. 

“Sounds… hot,” you offer. You empty the remaining pinot grigio in your glass down your throat. Dieter mirrors the action, taking the wine like a shot of hard liquor. 

Lilly sips her martini and lets out this wistful little sigh, “Soooo hot.” 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you announce as you push your chair back, then hurry away from the table before anyone else can respond. 

His blood boils. 

He glares between Jay and Lilly, well aware of the slew of insults percolating at the tip of his tongue, held back by his awareness of the public eye surrounding them.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Lilly says.

Dieter grits his teeth and warns, “Lillith—”

She waves him off and starts towards the bathroom. 

“Dieter,” Jay smirks, tilting his head, “You seem upset.” 

“What an astute observation,” Dieter mutters, crossing his arms over his chest, “Fucking incredible.“ 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Oh, fuck off.”

Jay raises his eyebrows, “So we’re touchy, ok. Is it because I told the story?” 

Dieter says nothing, just grinds his teeth together. 

“She doesn’t know about your more salacious hobbies, I take it?” 

“She sure as fuck does now,” Dieter grumbles, “Thank you for that.” 

Jay scoffs, “What, is this your first date or something?”

“No.”

Jay hums and takes a sip from his cocktail. 

Dieter shakes his head. Scrubs a hand over his face. 

Then he sits up and points at your empty seat, “If she’s going to hear about that shit from anyone, it should be me. Not some fucking ghouls just trying to get a rise out of her.” 

“Then why didn’t she hear it from you?” Jay questions, pausing a beat before he sighs, “You know, you gotta own your demons, man. It’s not my fault you didn’t tell her—”

“Yeah, I fucking know, ok?” Dieter snips. He leans his elbows against the table, looking towards the women’s bathroom, “What’s taking them so goddamn long?”

Behind the roar of the flushing toilet, you hear the bathroom door open, followed by the sharp click of stilettos against ceramic tile. You open the stall door to find Lilly leaned up against the marble slab countertop, pulling a tiny silver canister from her clutch. 

She looks up at the mirror and makes eye contact with you, “Hey, girl.” 

“Hi,” you smile politely and approach the sink. 

While you wash your hands, you watch Lilly through the mirror as she cuts two thin lines of coke right on the countertop. She fishes a short straw out of her purse and holds it out to you, “Do you want any?”

The ghost of cocaine’s allure sends your heart racing. It’s tempting, but you decline. She shrugs and leans over the counter. You look away and hear the two deep, short breaths through the straw. You swear you can feel the rush vicariously. 

She sits up straight and keeps one nostril plugged closed, taking a few sharp inhales, making sure she got it all to the brain. Her eyes flutter and throat hums with contentment, “Fuck, that’s good. You sure you don’t want any? 

“I’m fine,” you assure her, but don’t go to leave. You lean one hip against the sink and cross your arms, “Did you and Dieter, like… date?” 

Lilly releases a chuckle, a sniffle, then rubs a fingertip against the white marble countertop where her blow was cut, “Oh, no. We fucked, like, a lot. But no, we never dated per se. It was more of a fuck buddy arrangement. No biggie.” 

She scrubs her finger against her gums, then turns to the mirror to assess her appearance. 

“Was that while he was still with Anika?” 

“Well, yeah, that’s how it started. He asked if I could be their third,” she sniffles a few times as she examines her nostrils, “I know Kate Ridley was seeing them for a while, but that must’ve fallen through. Anyway, we all fucked around and it was fun. I brought Jay with a few times. Then Anika got turned off or something, she didn’t wanna get together anymore. Jealous I think, probably. He reached out to me for some one-on-one time.” 

The information hits you like a slap in the face. A kick in the gut. A fist closed around your windpipe, squeezing tighter and tighter.  

You can’t breathe. 

“And of course I said yes. It doesn’t hurt to cozy up to a guy like him, with his connections and all. Good career move. Plus, he’s so good in bed. Fucks like an animal,” Lilly giggles, “Not that I have to tell you, right?”

Your face heats and lips part to respond, but she continues without regard. 

“If you ever wanted a third, I’d be happy to step in. Jay, too, I’m sure of it. He was checking you out. You’re hot, you know, in a non-traditional kind of way. How long have the two of you been going out?”

She stares at you, waiting. Your throat croaks and you hear yourself say, “A few months, officially.”

“Oh, are you two, like, serious?” 

You bring your hand to your throat and nod, “Yeah.”

“Weird,” she murmurs, “After what happened with Anika, I thought he was done trying to pretend he was like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like… monogamous, you know. He told me he’s a free spirit, doesn’t want to be tied down by one person ever again, all that. Then he disappears and re-emerges in a supposedly serious relationship, no offense, but it’s just confusing.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, frowning down at the floor, “Well, maybe he changed?” 

“The man is almost 50, I doubt that,” she scoffs, checking herself out in the mirror, then glances over at you, “Or, I mean, maybe? Hopefully?” 

You nod solemnly and swallow the knot in your throat, “Should we go back?” 

“Sure,” she shrugs, then leads the way out of the bathroom, into the dining room. 

When you meet Dieter’s eyes, his annoyed expression goes slack. You lay one hand flat, palm facing the ceiling, balling the other into a thumbs up on top, and raise both hands. The signal he taught you back in your apartment before this clusterfuck started: Help. 

Once seated, you keep your eyes low, trying to keep the steady hum in your chest from amplifying. Everything seems fuzzy and out-of-focus.

It’s too much. Too much noise. Too much information. Too much change at one time. You want off this fucking ride. You want to be home in bed, hidden under the covers where no one can reach you. 

“We should go,” Dieter announces from far away. 

Your body is cement. Limbs frozen. Lilly’s words play on repeat at a deafening volume: 

I thought he was done trying to pretend he was like that.

He’s a free spirit, doesn’t want to be tied down by one person ever again. 

“Oh, come on, Pookie–”

“Stop fucking calling me that,” he growls, then softer, in your direction, “Are you ready, love?”

You nod, then look from Lilly to Jay, your smile wavering, “It was nice to meet you both.”

Dieter leads you past blurry tables of shiny, well-to-do patrons, his hand at the small of your back, burning through your dress. You can feel his gaze glued to your profile, trying to assess the damage. You can hear the words queued up behind his closed lips. 

A restaurant employee holds the door open for you. The cool night air kisses your heated, buzzing skin. 

“Hey, are you ok?” Dieter asks, his thumb working against your spine. 

You look down at the sidewalk and open your mouth to tell him, but it’s all a jumbled mess at the base of your tongue. Fire rises up your throat and tingles behind your eyes. You just shake your head and smother the sob in your chest. 

Tears bloom in your eyes and drop to the cement. You croak out, “I’m fine.”

He scoffs. 

The valet rolls up in Dieter’s cartoonish, pea soup-colored two-seater and tosses him the keys. 

Once inside, you clasp the seatbelt. Grip the leather upholstery. Stare out the side window as the landscape starts to move. 

“Louella” he coos, glancing between you and the road. 

The car clunks a little as he shifts gears. You grip the seat tighter. Watch the city lights fly by. 

He tries every once and a while to talk to you, but you can’t make yourself respond. 

You’ve been here before. 

You know what happens if you make a sound. If you vocalize the protest in your lungs.

What happens next is acceleration. 

Car horns. 

Impact. 

Those vacant black eyes. 

Darkness.

The second the car pulls into Dieter’s garage, you’re unfastening the seat belt. 

When he shifts to park, you yank on the door handle and scramble from the vehicle. 

The entryway door slams in Dieter’s face as you kick off the stupid high heels you never would have picked out for yourself. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” his voice booms through the house when he opens the door. 

By now, you’re halfway down the hall, making a beeline to his en suite bathroom, leaving a trail of jewelry behind you like breadcrumbs: the left earring, the right earring, bracelets, a necklace. All these brilliant ornaments Kelly loaned you to make you look more refined.

Dieter’s footsteps sound from a few paces behind as you turn into his bedroom. 

“Louella, come on. Why won’t you talk to me?”

The edge his words carry make your heart jump and your feet move faster. You hurry into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you.  

He jiggles the handle, “What the fuck is this? Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask. 

“That I slept with Lilly and Jay?“ he scoffs, “I didn’t think it mattered who I fucked before you—”

“That’s not what I mean. You know that’s not what I mean,” you press your forehead against the door and squeeze your eyes closed, “When I asked you what happened with you and Anika, you said the two of you grew apart. That—that she was resentful—like it was her fault–”

“Open the door so we can talk about this,” he says in a low voice, “Please, baby.”

You shake your head, whimpering, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

The door handle jiggles again, “Come on, Lua, open the door.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, just unlock it—”

“Answer me.”

“GodDAMNIT–” 

A hard thud shakes the doorframe. 

You jump back and yelp. 

“This is so fucking stupid,” he seethes, “Lock yourself in my fucking bathroom instead of talking to me. You realize how fucking stupid that is, right?” 

He hits the door again. You scramble away from it, watching the doorknob rattle. 

“Stop it, Dieter,” you cry out, backing yourself up to the wall, “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring you?” he scoffs, his words still steeped in red, “Do you really think I would fucking hurt you?”

You slide down the wall and collapse into a pile, covering your head. All you can hear are your own shattered breaths. 

A few quiet moments go by. 

When his voice comes again, it’s a plea. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

You look up at the door and sniffle, wiping your eyes. 

“I—I wanted to tell you. I mean, I was going to tell you. I swear to god. It’s just,” there’s a soft thump against the door, and you can picture him on the other side, forehead pressed up against it, “Do you know how hard it is to admit that you’re a piece of shit?”

You don’t say anything, just watch his still shadow beneath the door. 

“Do you know how hard it is for me to willingly show you that? I mean, fuck. How–how are you supposed to trust me now?” 

What follows is silence. Broken up by occasional sniffles and wet, labored breaths. Your chest aches.

Slowly, you rise to your feet and pad across the cool tile floor. 

When you reach the door, you don’t say anything, just press your palm against the barrier where you think his heart is. And you swear, if you concentrate hard enough, you can feel its steady rhythm.

“How are you supposed to love me now?” he whispers, “You won’t even look at me, Louella.”

Your eyelids clamp shut and you take a deep breath. Then you step back and turn the doorknob, pulling the door open. 

And there he is. 

Dieter Bravo. The man you love. 

His eyes all puffed-up and red-rimmed, cheeks streaked with tears. Every handsome feature laced with remorse. 

You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his suit jacket. He envelops you in a warm embrace and squeezes you tight. 

“I’m–I’m sorry for yelling,” he tells you in a hoarse whisper, petting your hair, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I lost it.”

You swallow hard and rub his back, a silent kind of reassurance. 

“I would never hurt you, Lua,” his voice cracks, “I’m not him. I’m not him.”

Instantly, tears flood your eyes. 

“I know, love,” you croak out, pulling him closer, “I know.”

Dieter kisses the crown of your head with reverence. Then your forehead. He tilts your chin to face him dead on, grazing his nose against yours, “Wanna talk about this more in the bath?”

You nod and weave your fingers through the curls at the back of his head. His lips meet yours, lingering for a tender moment before he pulls back and makes his way over to the soaking tub. 

While you wash the makeup off your face, he fiddles with the water temperature and crumbles a magenta bubble bar in the stream. The sweet scent of blackcurrant fills the air. You glance up in the mirror and see him shucking off his suit jacket, eyes trailing down your spine. His breath heats the nape of your neck when he draws close and unzips your dress, his movements gentle and slow as he slides it off your shoulders. 

The dress falls at your feet. You turn to face him, murmuring, “Look up.”

He does, and you set to work on his shirt buttons. When you’re halfway down his chest, he asks, “Will you tell me what she said?”

“She, um,” you pause to bite down on your bottom lip, then sigh, “She told me you and Anika would fuck around with her and sometimes Jay. Then, you know, just her.”

He hums in acknowledgment. 

You reach the end of his button-down, then spread the shirt apart. As he takes over tugging it off, you ask, “Was that something that you wanted, or…?”

“We both wanted to try it,” he shrugs. Your hands move to his belt buckle and you unfasten it. He continues, “Thought it would reignite that passion. It was fucking stupid because it just made us both jealous.”

He pauses to kick off his slacks, then ushers you face the mirror again. You watch him unclasp your bra and toss it aside, glancing up when you recount, “She said you didn’t want to be tied down by one person ever again.“

He nods, diverting his gaze, “Yeah. Well, that’s true. I didn’t,” then his eyes return to yours, “But then you came along. Fucked up all my big plans to be lonely and miserable forever.” 

You can’t help but grin. 

He casts a backwards glance at the tub, “I think it’s ready.” 

Dieter gets in first, groaning as he lowers himself into the bubbles. You sit on the opposite side and tip your face to the ceiling, stretching your legs across him, then sink down to your shoulders. 

The water burns your skin a little, but you like it. It feels real. 

“Hey,” Dieter rumbles. 

You swivel your head down to look at him, but can only see bubbles.

“Holy shit,” you giggle, then sit up and meet his eyes, “What?”

“Come here, doll,” he reaches out to you.

You slide your feet under the water and crawl over to him, closing your eyes as you lay your cheek on his shoulder and relax against his body. He wraps his arms around your waist, snuggling you like you’re his favorite teddy bear. 

One of your hands occupies itself by absentmindedly tracing the edges of his jaw. The shell of his ear. That one silver hoop earring he refuses to part with. Your nails work into his hairline and play with his damp curls. 

“Were there others?” you ask him. 

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, then he admits, “Yeah. A few. Just hookups, really. Lilly was the most consistent, and that was still, you know…”

��No strings attached?” you smirk. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why did you do it?” 

Your spine arches as he draws a big breath in, then releases it, “All the reasons I said it didn’t work. That was true, you know. I was gone a lot. Filming, meetings, press stuff. A few days here, a week there. There was one stretch where I was gone for two months. I’m not drowning in work or anything, but it adds up. I don’t think she realized that being with me meant being away from me that often. And. Yeah. 

“At first, it upset me a lot. I thought she would be supportive and loving. Compassionate, you know. But she turned so cold when she was mad. Completely ignored me. Acted like I didn’t exist. Even when I begged for her reassurance, for her to show me she still cared and noticed me, but she wouldn’t react. I felt like a ghost. It-it kind of reminded me—”

He pauses here for a moment, holding his breath, then releases a soft, sad chuckle. His Adam’s apple bobs. When he starts again, his voice is watery. 

“It reminded me of what it was like for me growing up. If I didn’t please my dad, he would ignore me completely. I would act out, be loud, push him until he exploded. Because then… then at least I knew he could see me. It was something, you know?”

You blindly cup his cheek and graze your thumb against his beard to let him know you’re listening. He nuzzles into the touch, a small rumble sounding from his throat. 

“Maybe I was acting out with Annie? Or maybe just trying to… fill that emptiness, loneliness. Or numb out. Forget that my wife didn’t love me anymore. I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter. I started using again. Heroin, oxy, bars, morphine, adderall, booze. Whatever I could get my hands on, really. But blow has always been my favorite. It makes me feel…”

“Powerful?”

“Yeah,” he says, “Yeah. Powerful. And with other people I actually felt… desired. Plus, they were both a rush. I felt alive. When I was home I was hollow. I stopped groveling for her affection when I started fucking around. Neither of us wanted to work on the hard things. The whole fucking thing, you know, it metastasized. And—and our relationship died.” 

“Fuck,” you grimace. 

Dieter cranes his neck to look at you, “Too bleak?”

“No, it’s not that,” you tell him, “It’s just… familiar.”

Adrenaline spikes your bloodstream. Your mouth opens to say more, then you close it and hold your breath. 

He rests his cheek on your head. Squeezes you a little tighter. Like he’s prodding you so say more. 

“Do I make you happy?” you ask him. 

“Do you make me happy?” he repeats, disbelief raising his voice an octave. 

You nod.

“I told you earlier,” he kisses your hairline, “You make me so happy, Louella.” 

“But will you feel the same tomorrow?” 

“Obviously,” he lets out a little snort of laughter like he thinks you’re kidding. Silence settles. His body seems to tense and he adds, “Really, love, I mean it.”

Your teeth catch your bottom lip. Brows lace together. Then you ask, “What about a month from now?”

“Don’t do that, come on—”

“A year from now? Or—or longer, even—”

“Lua,” he huffs, then pulls you up to face him. His eyes are soft and pleading. He brushes his knuckles against your cheek, “Look, we won’t be happy every second of every day. You know why?”

A sharp pain radiates across your chest. You wince and shake your head. 

He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes and says, “Because it’s fucking impossible. If we do this thing right, which I fully intend to, sometimes we’re going to be scared, and frustrated, and–and we might want to take an easy way out. But I’m telling you that I will not do that. Because I love you.” 

You search his face and only find sincerity. Your stomach flips in a freefall so violent it makes you gasp, “Fuck, I love you.”

He smirks, gaze flicking between your eyes and lips, “And I’m going to love you tomorrow.” 

Your heart skips. Heat creeps up your neck. 

He cups your cheeks and locks his eyes onto yours, “And the next day, and ten years from now, and all the way until my next fucking life, ok?” 

“Ok,” you nod. Tension liquifies and drains from your body. The corners of your mouth upturn and you ask, “What then?” 

“What then?” he snorts, shaking his head with amusement, “What do you think? Hmm?”

You grin and shrug, pressing the tip of your tongue to your front teeth. 

His eyes drop to your mouth and he pulls you in for a kiss. When you part, he murmurs, “I’ll fucking find you in the next life and fall in love with you all over again.”

The words electrify you. You hook your hands behind his head and press your forehead against his, “Promise?” 

“Cross my heart,” he murmurs, and kisses you again.

[hayatoseyepatch]

hello sam pam (happy 500!!!)

want the full experience so i am on anon ( why was it was so hard to describe myself)

personality: she/her, intp, stem major. likes: spring, the beach, green apples, bears, cats, woody&earthy scents, short nails, indie games, peppermint tea, silver, watches, blue tights (that i recently got), smiskis, pineapple pizza. dislikes: the rain, food that's too hot, cherry flavored things, calling, wearing socks to sleep, card games. pet peeves: slow drivers, people who eat with their mouths open, talking during a movie, people who cut in line

fandoms: ive read/know all of the fandoms u listed except love&deepspace

tropes: so many but i will list fake dating and drunk confessions

type: someone easy-going and can take things slow

icks: people who cant hold a convo

idk what else...i will await ur verdict judge sam 🫡

Hi there undercover mootie ( ˶˘ ³˘(ˊᗜˋ)!♡ I hinestly saw your trope and ran with it, I had so much fun. I hope you enjoy! MWAH

I'm gonna pair you with Jo Togame from Wind Breaker!

⤜♡→ Jo Togame is more caring than I feel people give him credit for, we see it through his interactions with Sakura and Choji. He hangs onto your every word loving to talk to you about your interests. He loves just talking to you. He too hates someone who he cant just talk to. So the both of you could spend the longest time just talking, its ow he fell for you in the first place, getting to know you through your words and quality time.

⤜♡→ If you’re looking for easy going look no further than Togame. He is perfectly content to just enjoy your company. He doesn’t need much or have to have anything extravagant so long as he has you by his side that’s all he truly wants. Whether its just taking a stroll along the beach or sitting at home contentedly watching you play one of your indie games. He’s happy as long as he’s with you.

⤜♡→ I’m so glad you brought up earthy/woodsy scents because that’s exactly how I think Togame smells. Just this comforting scent of the outdoors not too powerful or overpowering, just a nice amount that you can smell as he holds you in his arms.

You blink the sleep from your eyes at the sound of your phone ringing, checking the clock you see it reads close to 01:30 am. Who could possibly be calling at this hour? Checking the contact you see that it was Jo. It was unusual for him to call you at this late hour, thinking something was wrong you scramble to answer it. “Jo is everything okay?” It’s silent on the other line, only for a moment before you hear his voice on the other end. His voice comes out slurred, obvious he had been drinking. “Babesss” He drawls, Togame always had a habit of calling you countless pet names. “Why aren’t you here, where are you?” You could hear the pout in his voice. Togame, the usual calm and collected one of the bunch tended to get a lot more loose when he drank, it was always amusing how especially clingy he became when it came to you. “Jo its almost 1:30 in the morning I’m in bed.” You can hear his whine, trying your best to stifle your laughter. “Well get out of bed, I miss you, come here. I wanna kiss your face.” That was new. You felt your face grow warm with the intentions behind his words.

As you were taking a moment to recover from his words, there’s a significant amount of fumbling on the other line. Sako’s voice rings through, definitely more sober. “I’m sorry about that we’ve been trying to keep him from waking you up.” You hear a lot of movement on the other line, no doubt Sako avoiding Togame’s confiscation of his phone, hearing his voice once more. “Sako, you ass give me the phone, I wanna talk to her.” To which Sako just lets out a burdened sigh. You giggle, shaking your head as you pull yourself out of bed. “It’s fine Sako, let me come take him off your hands, you guys are at the auditorium right?” After he confirms, you quickly grab your letterman, heading out the door to come pick him up. Once you arrive, you can see him perk up immediately, rushing over to you instantly. He wraps himself around you, placing a good bit of his weight on you as hangs off you, the impact knocking some of the wind out of you due to his large stature.

He smiles, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “I missed you.” He mumbles, works slurred into your skin. You had a feeling it would take quite a bot to pry him off of you and he would be deeply regretting his actions in the morning with the hangover he no doubt would be having. After some minor convincing you managed to get him to leave with you. Taking him back to your apartment, you gave him some water and painkillers to try and prevent his head from splitting when he awoke. As you went to go set up the couch for yourself for the night, you feel his grip on your wrist, he tugged you into the bed with him. His body curling around your own. “Don’t leave me.” His words were so pleading, he was hanging on to consciousness as it was, so you decided to stay. He smiles as he rested his head on your chest. “I love you, I hope you know that. Wanna be with you for the rest of my life.” His words trail off and within moments his breathing evens out before soft snores fill the room. You lay there in shock from his words, but knowing even in this state that he meant them. You just hoped he wouldn’t be too embarrassed when you returned his confession in the morning.

[glazeflower]

Because I see people do this I'll just fo it to

Characters and what they smell like

From different fandoms because why not i have actually ideas for them and otherwise it will be short if i did them separately and me no like Ft. Simeon,Kaeya Alberich,Amber,Kamisato Ayato, Arashi Narukami, Tatsumi Kazehaya, Tsukasa Suou and Riddle Roseheart

Simeon

It's a mixture of a faint smell of Ink and tea

It depends what he just did either writing or having tea with Luke

But most of the time its mixed

But you would smell tea more

Sometimes mint and sometimes herbel

Its always a good surprise when you smell his scent

Helps calm you down

Kaeya

A strong ass scented cologne

That you can smell after he walked past 5 min ago in the streets of Mondstad

But when your alone

You can smell the scent of wine that's been scented deep into his clothes

Mostly red or dandelion wine

And maybe the strong ass cologne too but less

Idk how to explain 😭😭

If it were an AU he would smell like Axe body spray

I'm sorry

This is no Kaeya slander or something i legit love him pls don't attack 😭😭

Amber

Depends on situation

If she just came back from a mission that requires her to use her vision

Then she smells like something burned

She smells like burned grass

But if she did her patrol with a glider then she smells like air, fresh air

But normaal days with no such situation then i think

A light smell of sweet flower parfum

Very nice to smell

Ayato Kamisato

Fancy cologne that's expensive

Also the smell of ink but stronger

When he has days off which are VERY rare

He smells flowery fresh idk how to properly describe it

When Thoma or other servants get's him milk tea

He will smell like it faintly

A bit like brown sugar

Very pleasant

Arashi Narukami

Depends on her mood a minty cologne that smells very faint or flowery parfum during Knights concerts

Goes often for the second option

When on normaal days off

She will smell very sweet and flowery

Has may scents in her collection but loves the sweet smelling once the most

When hugging her and sniffing her scent she smells like she just went to a flower field or flower shop

Very comfy

Tatsumi Kazehaya

A bit earthy little bit minty cologne when on stage

When in days off old books

Idk why he just give that vibe

You can't deny old books smell the best! Argue with the wall

Tsukasa Suou

On stage he has a fresh smelling cologne

Kinda like a cucumber and green tea combo

On off days he smells like tea and sweets

Cakes, tarts, parfait and etc

And like sweet tea

He smells like he just came out of a bakery/cafe

Maybe he did...

Riddle Roseheart

Old books

A bit of ink

Roses. 100%

And lastly pastries and tea

I think it's pretty clear on this one

I think this is all for now I hope you like it tbh i didn't know most pf the terms for scents. I also didn't know the word for mans parfum was called cologne. You learn something new everyday Uhm anyway i hope its accuraat hihi...

[jitterbugjive]

the mention of caffeine on the tea commission form actually made me think of sth: do you know anything about caffeine and its effectiveness for ppl with ADHD???

obvsly everyone's brains are a little different and its hard to make generalized statements, but for example - i had this acquaintance who talked a lot about his tea culture at home and how he only noticed after moving out that the amount of black tea he used to drink while living with his family would basically medicate his ADHD all by itself, more or less

meanwhile i have personally never felt like caffeine does anything for me, except maybe send me to the toilet or make me feel like my heart is gonna beat thru my ribcage. i've also heard that caffeine in tea is different from caffeine in coffee? and my experience is mostly with the latter, so idk how that plays into things

sorry for the super long ask :'D basically, i've just been wondering for ages if caffeine really does nothing for me, or if i'm just bad at noticing subtler effects, and if some amount of caffeine consumption could actually help me regulate my brain chemistry. it's a super big and complicated topic ofc, but if you can share any insights or personal experiences at all, i'd super appreciate it

I do find that tea caffiene VS coffee does have a difference, coffee feels like it hits harder like punching you while tea is more like shaking you

And different tea has different kinds of caffeine too, like green tea is milder than black tea while mate (mah-tey) tea is considered a good alternative to coffee where it has the kick but not the bite and crash.

As for how caffeine affects ADHD that is for sure a thing but it varies from person to person. Most commonly reported is that caffeine actually makes ADHD folks calmer or even tired, but some types can really wire them up in a bad way. For me, energy drinks make my body energized while my mind crashes, coffee keeps me calm and alert, and tea gives me mild energy and calm (tho black tea can sometimes give me jitters if I drink too much). It's a very mild effect when I drink tea but is effective. Sometimes caffeine will make me more tired though, and I've heard other folks say it's a gamble too where it might perk them up or it might make them conk.

Catnip tea is something to consider for ADHD as well, it's not caffeinated but has calming effects that have been reported to be effective for some ADHD folks. You can find some places online that sell it, it's really just a type of mint so it's not as weird as it sounds. It has an earthy flavor that I enjoy. I need to get more when I have more room in my tea cabinet.

[esculentevil]

What made you start shipping Thorinduil?

O hey! Thanks for the ask! ^^

Um, basically, when I first watched The Hobbit like 10 years ago? x'''D I really liked Thranduil but literally fell asleep during the other parts of the movie (yea I literally woke up just for Duil x'D) so shipping wasn't a thing for me back then which is why I'm so late to things

But that's not the question!

(Going under a cut cuz this got stupid long xD;;;)

At first, I just wanted to ship Thranduil with anyone--cuz he deserves love, damn it--so I just looked up ALL the ships [and yes I got scarred by a few... not mentioning which but it happened] and I actually started with Elrond, believe it or not, cuz who DOESN'T want to see the two hottest elf dads find love and comfort in each other.

This same idea is what led me to at first be good with Barduil because it's literally two hot dads but one's an elf and the other's a human. After like a week or something of reading fics for them and seeing pics (cuz, at this point, I was still working with just the first movie and what I remembered from the second when I watched it a decade ago) I actually found myself temporarily confused because in some fanart Bard and Thorin look pretty much the same (both short males with dark wavy hair and beards) and I got them mixed up a lot lmafo until I realized the best way to tell them apart is the beard thickness and Thorin's braids vs Bard's half-ponytail thing...

Then I saw THIS by @rinnirrinnir and I just... Q~Q

I suddenly remembered that this HAPPENED: Thranduil has always been Thorin's weak spot--he trusted and believed in this person so much that when he DIDN'T come to their aid that day his whole WORLD just... sort of fell apart (and not even because of Smaug but really because the person he put so much faith in just walked away and I imagine it must have been like watching your hero leave you--tho I doubt Thorin would ever admit that)--to the point that, even 100 years later and even with his company seeing him as their king and even with all his barbs and insults and blames and ire, he's still soft and in love and so easily rendered VULNERABLE by Thranduil that his elf sees right through him during the whole interaction even tho it's literally been like 200 years and Thranduil shouldn't KNOW HIM as well as he does; but like the same is also true for Thranduil because Thorin not only ignites his elf's own ire, forcing him from his calm and distant iciness to get all passionately up in Thorin's face, but also, literally, (re)opens his old wounds--his SCARS--and seriously for Duil to do that, to drop his walls--his illusion of perfection--like that...

Idk, as soon as it clicks that they've been vulnerable with each other CANONICALLY and that all their arguing really stems from this... "Once I trusted/relied on/believed in you and you let me down" and "Once I had hopes that we could build something beautiful together but reality reminded me that I'm old and ugly and not good enough (for you) so I thought it best to let you go when I should've held you" type thing... Pretty much any other pairing for Duil seems... bland?

And just the idea of them finally RECONCILING with each other and becoming the loving couple they could totally be >v<

Also, no lie, half the appeal of this is how well Thorin fits Mirkwood: like, he looks so lovely with all his earthy browns and metallic grays and lake blues accentuated by Thranduil's forest like he was MEANT for it... and you KNOW Duil would deck him out to highlight that--how well his dwarven mate actually fits into his beloved home--and, really, for all that Thorin fought to get back Erebor, I think him and Mirkwood would actually be a good fit because Thranduil's Halls ARE underground enough to satisfy a dwarf's need to be buried while still being open enough for an elf (which Erebor is NOT; seriously)

There's also the family situation--cause one of the appeals of Barduil, for example, is them banding together to parent their four kids--which: first of all, The Thranduil and Dis Sisterhood; second of all, Legolas (plus all his adopted siblings) and Fili and Kili as brothers (kinda, I know the dwarflings are Thorin's NEPHEWS but still) learning to be all kinds of mischievous shites together~; third of all... Thranduil sharing what he's learnt since the Last Alliance about fatherhood and childrearing with Thorin, Thorin validating all of it because he can see how strong and skilled all of Thranduil's kids are (even if they're all struggling at least a BIT with emotional displays because they've all been wounded somehow and rendered reserved--which Thorin could probably help with cuz canonically he's skilled af at getting Thranduil to come out of his icy shell and FEEL again; so: chances are he could easily do this with any elf, including Duil's kids), Thranduil getting farther validation by bonding well with Fili (because Fili strikes me as the more understanding of the two AND, since Legolas is the youngest elf of all Duil's kids, Fili being a big bro with him despite their ages [which make Fili much younger than Las] seems like it'd totally happen and be so flipping cute if it did~ >v< Duil would also totally love seeing that as Fili's Thorin's Honored Heir and if THEY can get along then there's real hope for the north's future) and eventually Kili (I could see him being more influenced by Thorin and his centuries of hatred [born out of his betrayed love] of Duil and, if you wanna keep the [annoying] romance plot he has with Tauriel then he'd probably also resent Duil for that too before realizing Thranduil literally cut all ties with his adopted daughter so she could BE with Kili even if their love story is so painfully contrived it hurts), and Thorin actually being adopted by all the elflings Duil adopted plus Las plus his few humans (let's face it: Aragorn is so Duil's too; that's why he's also Las' babysitter: they're really brothers lmao) PLUS all the Elder Elves that see Thranduil as both their king AND their son (because they adopted him and Oropher back when they first arrived after the fall of Doriath--some even taking on the role of grandparent) so suddenly Thorin goes from having just his sister and sister-sons left to having numerous parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, kids, etc-- Just: the family dynamics that could happen here are so sweet.

ANYWAY

The long and the short of it is really the throne room scene and realizing what their actions in that moment really meant~

Thanks again for the question! =D Remembering this was really fun All my love~!

[writethrough]

Can you write a little scenario where Malcolm falls asleep in the office and when he starts having a night terror, the reader is the only one who can calm him down and lull him back into a peaceful sleep? I actually recently did this with a friend of mine who has ptsd- all I could think of to do was hum a song, and she woke up a while later and was like 🥴 "wow that was the best nap I've had in a while". And she thought it was just her being at my place with me, and I didn't have the heart to tell her she had a nightmare, because that was the one time she didn't remember it. 😭 Also I think I might be in love with her, idk how this ask ended up as a confession

Hum Me Something Soothing

(Malcolm Bright x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Mention of nightmares

Word Count: 571

A/N: First of all—HOLY SHIT! Second of all—I hope you don’t mind that I used your confession as inspiration for this. I also need an update. Did you tell her? What’s going on? I am fully invested in this saga and am shipping it so hard! And thank you for the request and for being so patient! I really hope you enjoy it!

Working with Malcolm Bright was a little like working with a cross between a child and a German Shepherd. He was duty-bound and protective, mixed with unpredictability and chaos. Also, like a child, he would run himself until exhaustion. However, you couldn’t blame him.

These cases had kept the entire precinct up for the past few days. Really, it was a miracle Malcolm was finally sleeping. Gil basically had to lock him in his office and order Malcolm to nap on the couch.

He’d been in there an hour now. You sat at your desk beside the window into the office, your view of Malcolm partially obstructed by the blinds.

You leaned back to stretch and noticed movement from inside. Malcolm seemed to be curling in on himself, his fists clenched and sweat glistening on his forehead.

Your heartbeat picked up. You knew about the nightmares and how secretive Malcolm was about them. So, as calmly as you could, you slipped in and shut the door, kneeling beside him.

You weren’t entirely sure how to soothe him. All you could think about was how you wanted to comfort him. Then you remembered that song your parents sang to you before they tucked you in. They always switched off every line or so, and it never failed to lull you to sleep.

With a deep inhale, you hummed that song as you stroked his hair off his face. The creases in his forehead slowly smoothed out, and his hands and shoulders relaxed.

His hair was soft beneath your steady touch, and he still smelled of his cologne even after being here all day: earthy and sweet. You rarely saw him vulnerable like this, and a selfish part of you wished you could keep him this way. Maybe then he’d find a little peace.

A few minutes had passed, and he had yet to fall back into that terrible space in his mind. You carefully rose and retreated back to your desk. Hopefully, he’d sleep a bit longer.

Finishing your reports was simple enough. A half-hour later, you were ready to take your turn on Gil’s couch when Malcolm emerged.

He walked over to the chair against the side of your desk and sat.

“Good nap?” you asked, closing out your computer.

“Best I’ve had in a while.” His brow furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out why that was when he had slept on Gil’s couch a few times already. It never held back the nightmares before.

You kept a neutral expression. You didn’t want Malcolm to know. Best in a while. You were happy to let him believe he had a dreamless sleep—he deserved that much.

“Maybe I should take it for a test run then,” you joked, meeting his gaze. 

Malcolm let out a small laugh. “Guess it depends on if you want a stiff neck.”

You scrunched your nose. “I’ll pass.”

He chuckled again and checked the time on his watch.

“Want to go grab a bite? I’m starving,” he asked, looking at you through his lashes.

You nodded. “Diner down the block?” You both stood.

“Their burgers sound great right now.”

You walked to the exit side by side, waving goodbye to your coworkers. As Malcolm held the door open for you, you gave him a small smile in thanks. 

And at that moment, looking into his soft eyes, you realized something.

You were in love with him.

[smol-stardust]

Good kinds of tea for me to try??

I’m glad you asked, please, sit down while I ramble away about my beloved known as tea :)

(Disclaimer: some of teas I’m thinking of might be specific to brands I can get here so sorry if one piques your interest but isn’t available) Long list ahead

Herbal Teas:

Mixed Berry Teas

Rose hip tea

Honestly any fruit tea haha

Chamomile

Apple chamomile warm fuzzy happy feels

Apple Cinnamon

Lemon Zinger: cold relief and soothing zingy taste beloved

Sleepy Time: soothing minty and just calm

Candy Cane Mint Tea

Gingerbread (holiday tea) high in cinnamon and very calming and soul warming :)

Pomelo Tea If you can get like a jar of pomelo, and mix it with water or black tea it’s kinda sweet and tangy. And, sore throat soother :)

Caffeinated

Lavender White Tea (iced) it has a bit of a slight oily feel that’s hard to get used to at first. But if you like the scent of lavender you’ll like it.

Genmaicha (brown rice and green tea) it’s kind hot an earthy taste, not everyone’s cup of tea, but one of my personal favourites. Also boosts impunity and had many gut & health benefits :)

Strawberry black tea or green tea (make your own and shove in the fridge) 2 tea bags got 1L of water, add some lemon slices/juice and strawberry purée or juice (or pineapple juice :)

Peach Green Tea

CHAI CHAI CHAI!

^ Add some milk and cinnamon too if you want :)

MATCHA try osuicha (thinner, less thick and strong) first if you’ve never tried matcha

(but also… uh, white stores sell like one type so stick with about one to two thumb sized scoops) SORRY FOR THE SHADE! it’s kinda true tho

GREEN TEA (do not leave your teabags in past 2 minutes, gets bitter at that point)

Oolong (taste is strong. Not for everyone) have with milk and brown sugar tho! It’s good that way too :)

Rooibos with a dash maple syrup

Classic Orange Pekoe/ English Breakfast with milk

MISC CATEGORY

ICED BARLEY TEA (grew up on this stuff in Taiwan haha ) idk if they sell that stuff here, but I love the light sweetness and it’s got this cooling effect (hence why it’s a summer drink)

WINTER MELON TEA. sweet kinda syrupy Taiwanese must have. Sorry…I doubt you could get it overseas, but look out for the condensed chunky block forms at Asian markets maybe? To cook a batch at home

Anyways, long tea ramble!! Try some out and hope you like them :)

[darlingpwease]

shh shshshsh– im happy you do like my writing tho :))) you sound like my friends like that, but it's pinching with them lol

Oh, well I guess we do all do different things for 'me' time. My brain usually shuts off when I do those things lol,, I'm glad that what you do is helps shut off ur brain for a bit :)) I do hope ur work isn't too stressful (I couldn't even forget it rn even if I tried 😒) was it really in yesterday's post?? The only thing I can think of that was somewhat smooth was the Yuuta addiction thing???? Idk–

(I feel like I've aged 10 years because of this haha :')) /hj I know that some of the group members wouldn't be pleased but I'm to drained to really care atm. Good news? We managed to do quite a lot yesterday and now we're just organizing everything. Bad news?? We're all super fucking exhausted and are still stressing that we have a very short amount of time for post. bunny face?? I do, but when you go around being too sweet, of course I get at least a few from you >:(( /t)

I slept in so I think thats a good thing, right?? Once I finish this I'm gonna sleep as much as I can.

...ah... WORM???

I do try to be flexible lol, but I really do like that!! I love when colors mix together well, but things such as earthy tones, nude tones, pastel ones, just soft and/or nature-like colors in general I guess?? are some of my favorites. But I really like different shades of them too,, I also like how they all can correlate to some things or match with things as well, I could go on lmao /neu What?? Of course not!! Do I have to reiterate what I said??? /ht

I can't tell which one would be worse <//333– probably the first one times a trillion well of course I'd stay with the box. I think dying in it would be unsightly tho

-panna cotta

ajshjs don't shush me!!! i'm in great sadness, fruitcake wrote to me again, ahahah, do I have to read and be touched again??? how awful :(((( 🤨🤨🤨 look at him, he looks as if he immediately switched from an anxious mood to a complacent one🤨 that is, it's not pinching with me??? I, I feel betrayed; I will try to follow their example!!! obviously, someone (ex. cocotta) react to the method of punishment more than to encouragement, which is very contrary to what the modern school of management says, you know? it's outrageous 3:<<< /t /hj

... you doing??? my brain calms down only when I don't allow anything to analyze or reflect,,,, If I have to communicate or think about myself, it's always making plans and calculating the best moves — especially if it's games or future... on the other hand, I think if you used your brain more, you would be more tired & would understand the principle of sleep, — and would be taller, — so your brain is more of a curse😔 /t /j [work in the sense of "brain activity", not in the sense of "somewhere where they get money or work experience" — I can still afford the life of a rake😋 not counting volunteering, donating blood, working with some documentation...] (I could say the same about our past messages, but given your forgetfulness, I'm afraid I have to make sure that you remember that you sent me a message yesterday🤨🤨🤨) ... wow, is that your social skills & hint recognition getting... better?😦😧😯😲 impossible...... /t /hj /pos

(apparently, now you're the senior sibling instead of me, huh? /t /j well... but this is the experience of working in a very short time. most deadlines at work will sound like "when did we have to do work?" "yesterday," so it's good if you get that kind of experience early, even if it's, um, not the best way to get it</3 just make sure you're not trying to go ahead of the engine and rest, okay? don't make me crawl out of the blanket to carry you there<//3 yes, a bunny face. when you look with frightened innocent eyes, as if you are trying to convince everyone around you with a more temperamental personality to "attack" you; I'm sure when you're nervous and scared, you make that face ://// /t /hj me? sweet? didn't you tell me I was a 'rotten crumb'? so fickle, so fickle~ don't blame me when we both know it's you too sweet<333 /t)

... does this mean that you will sleep 'a lot' or 'a little'??? because in your case, it has a lot of interpretations, even if I'm sure that this cocotta brain probably assumes "a lot" — I know how cunning you are, I can't let you slip like that ://///

you were caught by the tail of course!!! don't you remember how you agreed to become a worm~?<3333 /100% srs & 100% gen hehehe silly forgetful panna cotta >:3333 /t /j /nsrs

... peacemaker<///333 yes, yes, I realized that you are harmless and accept and love any color & shade, stop being so sweet</3 I myself am about to start caries from you</333 /t /j /nsrs pastel shades and gold are the best honestly but what about snails?🤨🤨🤨 what did you say? what won't you say when you have someone??? I can't trust your words — what if I kiss the already taken panna cotta??? I can't be an 'other crumb', I'd rather be not-kissed and lonely, but proud</33333 /t /j

because it's not one of them!!! I know you don't mind, hey, don't be shy<333 we haven't sorted out your clothes yet and the fact that people are naked under their clothes, so don't be so timid, we still have so much to discuss<3333 /t /j wrong. none of them. you didn't pass this test 3:<<< ??? ??? ??? ??? ??? ??? why??? aren't my pocket and my hands better??? I'm going to recognize this as tyranny and insubordination, besides the fact that you've already shown how unfaithful you are!!! 3:<<<<<<

[lilhwahwa]

😳😳😳😳😳😳 i know someone who fits your description so well omgg. He’s the quiet one in his friend group calm and down to earth, nostalgic and poetic , he doesn’t work in the legal field but his insights are very just and he’s very eloquent (not in a manipulative manner). He is passionate about politics and stands against any type of injustice! He’s a Capricorn so the earthy vibes are accurate 🫣 he’s close by and shares the same culture as me as well as his friend group and people I hang with. Even the physical description is accurate he has dark hair and skin but light eyes , he works out and has broad shoulders too with a soft / feminine face.

I felt he’s not very interested but some ppl said he is? But def seems like he’s slow

Idk if it’s him but felt I needed to give this feedback bc it just matches with this person I know it was very scary!!

Might very well be… I was torn with the light and dark features bc they’re were balanced. He’s a person with very true and rightful? Opinions. He’s very calm and earthy. From your feedback.. it seems to be him…

[starryoong]

|— ୨|୧ [ get to know me tag ] ୨|୧ —|

tagged by @bbyquokka (thank you !!) ‹3

1. Birthday?

October 16th!

2. Favorite color?

green and brown, especially sage/olive shades and a good earthy brown... mmm yes

3. How tall are you?

164cm (again, shut up snowy, I will jump up and bite your ass.)

4. How many pair of shoes to you own?

hmm, three? a pair of trainers, a pair of winter ish boots and my trusty pair of slippers.

5. Favorite song?

I always answer these with my current one, so Treacherous (Taylor's version) by Taylor Swift! One of my two favourites by her.

6. Favorite movie?

I honestly don't know? I haven't watched a movie in so long because my attention span goes feral.

7. Who would be your ideal partner?

someone who would challenge me, but still be a comfort place. I'm gonna be real sappy and say that Binnie would fit the role..

8. Do you want children?

nope, I've never wanted them ever since I was a wee kindergartener. It's just never been something I've wanted?

9. Have you gotten in trouble with the law?

nope.

10. What color socks are you wearing?

grey wool socks with little black moose on them hihi

11. Favorite type of music?

My favourites are definitely indie (especially scottish indie, take Vansleep for example, my beloved) and generally I find myself leaning more into anything that has solid rhythm sections, especially bass lines. There's just something about a bangin bass line, man..

12. How many pillows do you sleep with?

Usually one, but since I tend to move a lot, I fold it so it's double if it's not the right™️ height haha.

13. What position do you sleep in?

99% of the time I end up on my stomach with one of my legs up in some angle. Yes, I am aware that I'm very attractive.

14. What don’t you like when you’re sleeping?

I get so fucking stressed if there's movement or blinking lights around me when I'm trying to relax.

15. Have you tried archery?

no, but I wish!

16. Favorite fruit?

peaches <3

17. Are you a good liar?

depends? I don't like lying, but I also don't get the point in being brutally honest all the time if it's a taste thing and it doesn't really matter? Idk

18. What’s your personality type?

INFJ-T (twinning with bestie Aragorn hihi)

19. Innie or outie?

innie

20. Left or right handed?

right

21. Favorite food?

I like sushi and taco a completely normal amount. I vibe with food as long as it's not too spicy or hot (temperature-wise) and the textures are right™️

22. Favorite foreign food?

Sushi and taco, hehe

23. Are you clean or messy?

Usually? A very clean person. I love cleaning and tidying as it calms my anxiety, but when I hit my depressive episodes? Yeah, you can easily spot it from the state of my apartment.

24. Most used phrase?

slay

25. How long does it take you to get ready?

usually like 5-15 minutes?

26. Do you talk to yourself?

not really? not unless I'm really scared and have to physically remind myself of my checklists etc

27. Do you sing to yourself?

all the time.

28. Are you a good singer?

idk? I used to sing in choirs and weekly one-on-one training from 4/5 to 16, but I'm pretty rusty these days. I have a goal to join a choir again this year 🤞🏻

29. Biggest fear?

two potentially very triggering topics that I'm not gonna air out on the internet. oh and also eels. cannot stand the fuckers.

30. Are you a gossip?

oh god, I hate gossip culture so much. I come from a town where everybody knows everybody and I hate it.

31. Long or short hair?

short

32. Favorite school subject?

norwegian, english and psychology

33. Extrovert or introvert?

a massive introvert ;-;

34. What make you nervous?

anything involving people. the fact that I am an adult supposedly able to take care of myself when I feel like a traumatised eight-year-old still.

35. Who was your first crush?

I didn't really do crushes, but I remember wanting to be paul waaktaar-savoy so bad

36. How many piercings do you have?

none right now! I've had my nostrill, septum, vertical medusa, medusa, smiley and earlobes pierced before, but I took them all out to heal last year. I wanna start fresh this year, bridge and some ear piercings are on the list.

37. How many tattoos do you have?

I've genuinely lost count.. A lot <3

38. How fast can you run?

very slowly.

39. What color is your hair?

a weird mix of semi-blonde, brown and my natural brown-blonde-grey ish colour.. idk man.

40. What color are your eyes?

blue/grey

41. What makes you angry?

mostly societal injustice. atm, I'm fucking fuming at the national healthcare system in my own country for refusing to offer non-binary folks help because we're not "trans enough".

42. Do you like your name?

I feel disconnected from both my deadname and my new name. Slowly unpacking that with my therapist. Starry feels more like a safe space though.

43. Do you want a boy to girl as a child?

I don't want children, but if I were to have one - it would honestly not matter. I would try to treat them as genderlessly as I could until they could choose for themselves, so it genuinely doesn't matter.

44. What are your strengths?

right now, I don't feel like I have any tbh. but normally, I think I try my best to make people feel seen and heard?

45. What are your weaknesses?

we're not gonna open that door right now

46. What’s the color of your bedspread?

white with brown/red lines

47. What’s the color of your room?

where I am now, white. in my apartment, light grey.

I'm too tired to tag anyone right now, but feel free to say I tagged you if you want to do this! 🫶🏻

[pop-punklouis]

Hi Hope!

Happy happy birthday!! IDK if it's still your birthday, bc it is in my timezone and that's all I think I'm right on, but still. I'm a little sick so I only got round to this now 😭 I hope you have/had a wonderful day and I hope the year ahead brings you the bestest things and everything you can dream of 💞 and I definitely hope you find time to relax not just in this holiday season but throughout the upcoming year.

Re: shows. I see your point, and I do think it was kinda random that suddenly everything in the upside down is connected to ONE villain and it's a little complicated trying to make that connection. But I also kinda liked finding that out and spiraling over it what can I say I'm easy to please 😩 HOWEVER I think they could've done more with the mind flayer and esp the connection to Will like he deserves his moment I hate how they kinda just dropped it and I'm begging next season to revisit it. Season 2 was TOP TIER sigh.

Re: degree. As Louis said, faith in the future, y'know? I'm sure things will fall into place for you even though the uncertainty can be very scary. I FEEL you with the aspiring to me a mountain mama thing pls I keep saying I wanna disappear to like a remote island or something and live in peace 😩

Nooo that sounds so chaotic rip I hope your gifts are arriving in time etc some of my stuff is yet to come and I've just accepted my fate 💀 and we have a fake tree, we bought a gorgeous new one this time, chucked the old one. Never had a real tree :( so wouldn't know what it's like but it sucks that you couldn't get a real one this time especially when you're used to having one always :(

Re: color palette. Are you me?? Those are deadass the colors I'd pick for me too. I love earthy tones, I love all shades of green, and mauve, maroons. But also love muted shades, like pastels but with that grey tinge so it's even duller idk it's very calming to me.

Question for the day: who would you say inspires you?

Hope you have a wonderful day/night love ♥️

~🌱

HELLO BABE so sorry i’m late answering this rip it’s been….. so hectic the past few days 💀 but i’m finally free so!

thank you for the birthday wishes means a lot hope youve been well! does it get cold where you live? it’s freezing here in georgia. the coldest it’s been in years like 9 degrees or something and we’re all just bundled up on the couch watching christmas movies lol

re: shows: PLEASE season 2 will always have my heart and i’m hoping they give will the main character energy he so rightfully deserves in the final season and end with him conquering the upside down as a full circle thing 👐🏼

and oooo that sounds nice. i’ve gotten used to our fake tree and the lights that came with it have a remote where you can change them and it’s nice and soft to just sit and watch ✨ are you doing anything tomorrow for christmas with your family? we’re having a dinner but otherwise it’s going to be pretty relaxed. might get waffle house for breakfast with my dad per tradition!

re: color palettes: pls it just means we have taste 💅🏼 the best color palettes to gravitate towards if i must say so myself 👐🏼 and ooo the grey with the pastels does feel more calming i agree

hmm what inspires me? i think my younger self. little me. she is what has driven my choices and behavior and just how i live life the past few years. i live for her. how about you? 💕

with it being officially midnight here: hope you have a very happy and warm christmas love u holiday pal!!! 💋