#whisky pairing chocolate

[spiritsrituals]

whisky and chocolate pairing – A natural combination. Both are produced from minimal ingredients and yet through an almost magical process give rise to a complex array of heady aromas and flavors.

Visit:- https://spiritsandrituals.com/spiritual-signatures/whisky-chocolate-pairing/

[moonstruck-muses]

TASTE OF HEAVEN | nsfw

SUMMARY: You're head over heels for your boyfriend, if only you could realize the truth he's been hiding from you about his true nature. (Minimal plot)

Pairing: vampire!jake x afab reader

minors dni!

notes: this is, without a doubt, the most self indulgent thing I've ever written. I also can't remember if/when the last time I wrote something so explicit was. You can thank Josie (@pprodsuga) for that.

word count: 6.1k

content descriptions under cut

would love a reblog and comment <3

content warnings: fingering, oral sex (receiving), descriptions of blood, hypnotism/minor gaslighting, unprotected sex/creampie

<3 <3 <3 <3

He sits by the window, still in his suit from earlier. One long leg is crossed over the other as he swirls a dark liquid around in a whisky glass. He’s pensive, and the moonlight and city lights streaming in from the floor to ceiling panes cuts across him like he’s in a photographer’s studio, waiting to be captured in time. He’s distant from everyone and everything, lost in another planet. But every time you see him, you swear he was taken out of a painting, his beauty breathtaking. It’s a mesmerizing spell you can never quite seem to break.

Every time you’re alone with Jake, you feel like you’re dancing around something untouchable. It’s just hard to pinpoint what exactly. After all, for all intents and purposes Jake’s the perfect boyfriend. He always listens to you intently, cocking his head to one side with a grin. He’ll wrap you in his arms and won’t let you go the whole night while you sleep, and sometimes when you’ve been texting him all day complaining about work, you come home to a delivery order from your favorite restaurant at your door. But sometimes, it feels like he’s unreachable. His gaze will wander off, or he’ll look like there’s something weighing on him—deep and pressing. But you’ll ask about it and he’ll perk up, waving it off as just being tired. Just like now. 

You hadn’t even realized you were just standing there staring, but Jake Sim’s preternaturally keen senses already pick you up at the edge of the room. He looks away from the cityscape, and immediately, his gaze softens when he catches a glimpse of you. You decided to surprise him earlier, when you couldn’t resist the soft pink lace and silk of the slip you saw at the store. Your cheeks go pink when you see the way his gaze practically devours you, as he so lovingly takes in every curve and detail of your body. 

“Is it too much?” You ask shyly.

“Too much?” He responds a little breathlessly. “Baby, no, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.” He sets down his glass as  you pad over to him. He pulls you onto his lap, nuzzling your neck. You smile, relaxing into the familiar warmth of his embrace. 

“What were you thinking about?” You ask playfully, gently placing your arms over his shoulders. His signature mischievous smirk spreads across his face and he squeezes your sides. 

“You, of course. I’m always thinking about you.” He responds in between soft kisses at your neck, and although you’re not quite sure if that’s the truth, tonight, you’ll take the affection. You gently cup his cheeks and lift his head so your eyes meet. You think you might drown in the chocolate pool of his gaze. A smile has replaced the the distant look from his earlier state, like the sun pouring light out after a heavy rain, the sight of you enrapturing him. It’s your favorite part of him, the pure warmth that always seems to radiate from him and all the love he has to give.

“Isn’t that so sweet,” you purr, and you slip a hand down the front of his chest, and start to twirl his tie around your hand, before pulling it taut and leaning into to press your lips to his. Jake groans, low and hungry as you slip your tongue into his mouth, and he grips you tight against him, kissing you hard enough that you forget what oxygen feels like. When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless, lips wet from each other. You can already feel the wetness pooling at your core, and you’re still clinging to Jake’s tie like it’s your lifeline. 

“I think you’re made of sugar, spice, and everything nice,” You tease in a low voice, before pressing a kiss to his nose. 

“Y/N” he whispers. The desire dripping from his voice, like a wine glass overfilled, threatens to undo you then and there. Before you can speak, Jake stands, still carrying you in his arms and you let out a small “Oh!” Of surprise. He looks down at you with a grin. He’s always enjoyed catching you off guard, and you’ve seen the way he lights up at everyone of your smallest joys. It makes you tumble off the cliff a little more every time you see him, and you’ve realized at this point, you’re so deep in the haze of love, you don’t think you could ever come out of it. 

He sets you down on his bed, the soft cotton of the sheets enveloping you, and you reach for him again by the tie, pulling him down, hungry for his kisses. He cups the back of your head to steady himself, smiling into the kiss before he pulls back. “You seem to be so fascinated by this, I’ll give it to you.” And in one graceful motion, he’s tying your hands above your head to the headboard with the tie, and you’re pretty sure there’s already a stain  underneath you just from that. He throws off his blaze and undoes his shirt, button by button, and you gaze over him hungrily, obsessively. You remember the first time you slept together, and how gentle he was as he took his time learning your body.  Now he knows the tricks, he knows what makes you tick, and he’ll take his sweet time, no matter how torturous it is to you. 

You groan when you see his bare torso and he licks his lips. 

“How and why are you so perfect?” You whine, ready to skip the foreplay and get straight to the point. 

“Now you know how I feel princess, when I look at you.” And he climbs on top of you, one hand grabbing your wrists, and the other slipping underneath your nightgown, gripping the skin of your waist as he goes in for a kiss. Your knees come up and you grip his sides, and you can feel his smile even though the kiss. He drags his lips down your jawline to your neck, and he sucks and nips at the soft skin, causing you to gasp from the sensation. 

“Hold still for me, okay?” 

“Okay,” you squeak out, holding your breath in anticipation. Your train of thought abruptly breaks off as searing pain tears its way through your neck. You can’t help the scream that rips its way out of you, and Jake’s hands tighten around your wrist in comfort. Moments later the hot pain ripples off into sweet ecstasy, his venom flooding through your veins, leaving you dazed and on cloud nine. He finally pulls himself off your neck, and with your hazy eyes you see his satisfied grin as his fangs flash, covered in blood. 

Your head spins in confusion as you try to piece together what's happening, but primal desire wars itself against the fear trying to clock itself in your head. Jake just smiles down at you, raking his gaze over your body, drunk on the first taste of his indiscretion. 

“You’re so fucking sweet, it’s taking everything in me not to drain you.” He gives you another gentle kiss, and every time the heat of his touch dances across your skin, you see stars behind your eyes. His fingers press into your soaked panties, eliciting a loud moan from you as he rubs the thin fabric, friction rubbing against your most sensitive spots. The blood loss and the venom from his fangs make everything feel loose, like a dream that will shatter with one tap of the glass. Jake loves seeing you this disarmed, knowing how easily you catch him off guard on the daily. It was a dance he’d done with you so many times before—even if you didn’t know it. He could always pick you up at the corners of his periphery, trying to analyze him, break him down, see past the curtain when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, but he always was. He could just never let you in. Truth be told, he had been wanting to come clean about his secret for a while, he just didn’t know how to approach it. He had wondered if you would be scared, if you would leave and call him a liar. Earlier he had been building up the courage to stick to his guns, that this time, he’d let you stay with the truth in the morning light. In this moment, though, he wanted to keep you by his side forever. 

He sits back on his thighs and gently removes the soaked fabric of your panties. His fingers easily slip across your soaked folds, your arousal already trickling down your thighs. He leans down to give you a quick kiss, clearly already pleased with himself. He catches your whine in his mouth, the heat and tightness in your stomach and between your legs rising. He gently soothes you with two of his fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, the sound of the wet squelches filling the room as you’re practically spilling over with arousal, so wet your entire pussy is absolutely slicked in it.

“It’s too much, it’s too much!” You whimper, feeling dangerous close to tipping over the ledge.

“It’s okay pretty girl, you’re doing so good for me. Just let yourself feel good.” He works his fingers harder and faster, pressing into the sweet spot deep within you as he hovers over you. You start to shake, labored pants escaping you, and it only urges him along faster as he rubs your clit with his thumb. You feel the heat rise between your legs, the tightness in your stomach hitting a breaking point in its tension. Your hands yank against the hold of the tie and you cry out “J-Jayeun!” as you cum all over his hand, eyes rolling back as adrenaline rushes through your body. 

Jake can’t help the breathy, flustered, laugh that escapes his mouth as you use his other name, and he keeps rubbing even as you cum, making your hips buck as the pleasure rises, the first tide of it dragging you under.

“That’s right, ride it out my love, ride it out baby girl,” he coos at you, until you’ve collapsed down into the sheets. He pulls his hands away finally and then sucks on his fingers, lapping up every last drop of you, mixing your cum and blood in his mouth, making more of a mess of himself.

“Shit. Every part of you is just a delicacy,” he whispers as he goes in again at your neck. Just one taste isn’t enough for him, he wants all of you—every last drop, every last vein. He wants to taste you from your neck down to your thighs, to rip through muscle and bone, and if he could consume your soul, he’d be hungry for it too. 

You’re already wiped from the first orgasm, that when his fangs sink into the bruised flesh of your neck, it takes a moment to register the pain. You cry out again, and he holds you tight to his body, even as your hands flex and writhe trying to get free. But again, the familiar heat of the venom easing its way into pleasure starts to override you, and you lose your struggle. Jake sinks his fangs in a bit deeper, and you feel him breathing heavily against you. His erection presses against you, digging into you through the fabric of his slacks. You let out a soft pained moan and he quickly rips himself off. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, you’re just— oh shit.” He presses a gentle kiss to the wound, where blood trickles down the side of your neck. “Are you okay, Y/N?” He asks frantically. Your eyes flutter and you look at him through your droopy lids. 

“Mmhm…want more..want you,” you mumble. He stare at you a bit bewildered, before breaking off into a relieved laugh. “You want more?” 

You nod, each movement making you dizzy. “I want you,” you say again. 

“Me?” He pretends to be shocked, but he’s already undoing his pants. His boxers are already stained with his precum and he wastes no time in getting them off his body, discarding them to some corner of the room, before leaning down over you and peppering your face with kisses. 

“I promise, I’ll take such good care of you,” he whispers into your ear before nipping at the lobe.

His mind flashes back to when you two had first met. It had been through a mutual friend, and at first he had been uncertain. Of course loneliness had pervaded every corner of his existence, the kind of partnership he sought was just a phantom of a memory. He had always blurred the lines of love and desire, lust and romance. It always ended catastrophically-pitchfork and curses and stakes, and his own broken heart to mend over and over again. Jake knew that getting his hopes up like that would just end in crushed desires, fantasies desecrated to ash. And then you came along. You with your perfect hair, and your perfect smile, and your perfect laugh. You would make a witty comment, the kind of snark that cuts through stone, followed with a blush and a shy smile because you always worried you took it too far when you blurted out something before you could reel it in. You, who despite your tough girl act, was the softest soul he had met, always making room in her heart for another person in need of a friend. You who took his own battered heart into her hands, and grew a home with him. You with never evening passion and life. You, who, when he asked about your past loves, had said you didn’t know if you had ever felt true love before. And you, who when he had asked what you wanted in a relationship, gave him a wry smile and a kiss before whispering into his ear “Obsession.” And so obsession he had given you, obsession that had fostered itself as a spark in him and blossomed into a raging fire that consumed him day and night. Obsession that he had planted in you with every kiss and every bite.

Jake leans up and slowly, luxuriating the taste, he sings his fangs into your wrist. You buck underneath him and he squeezes his legs against you, his veiny cock pressing hard against your abdomen, leaking precum all over your bare skin. He drops down and presses a kiss to your forehead, your nose, and a soft one to your lips, your chin, and the center of your throat, before he drags his tongue down the base of your throat. He keeps going, across your chest, and circles your nipples, nipping and sucking at them until they’re peaked and you think you’ll orgasm right there. But each wave of pleasure is cut through with the searing fire as he sinks his fangs into the side side of each breast. He goes lower, placing his hands under your lower back as he grips you tight and slides his lips down your stomach, and down to the wet and heated mess between your legs. His tongue slides just past where you want relief the most, and it stops at the most sensitive part of your thigh, exactly where it meets your hip. He presses soft kisses to your skin, his strong hands coming down to keep your legs spread as he so sweetly licks the left one, priming it before he bites at it. You wail out his name, and the sounds of agony only make him harder. He does the same to your right leg, holding the other leg tightly so you don’t try to shut them. He doesn’t stop until the intoxicating scent of your blood, rust to you, and like golden nectar to him, has engulfed him entirely. The dark red streams of it run freely from every one of the punctures down your body, like you’re a sacrificial lamb left at his altar. Jake looks up at you and a primal growl escapes him. He can’t help but be turned on by the way you shake and tremble, arousal, pain, fear, desperation all mingling in a sweet scent that makes him want to lose control. Your blood pumps strong and hard through his veins, he’s drank enough of it that it’s more human blood than he’s had all year. His humanity starts to crumble to the predator that lies in slumber deep within him. He needs you, to own you, to make sure you are his, and the only thought in your brain, the only words on your tongue, morning, noon, and night are Jake Sim. 

Tears stream down your face, and in comfort, he kisses your clit, licking and sucking your core, while his hands gently massage your breasts pausing as he roughly pinches and grabs at your nipples. You moan and throw your head back, body aching for Jake to be on every single cell of your skin. His tongue slips inside you, sliding around the warm walls of your center, and your legs lock around his head, the frame of the bed creaking as you pull at your bonds. Jake takes his time, even though he wants to see the instant gratification of you orgasming now. Every sound from you is music, and every drop of your arousal hitting his tongue as he moves his mouth around your slit nearly spurs him into a frenzy. His fingers start to work slow, sadistic circles at your clit while he snakes his tongue in around your slit. Jake lets out a feral groan as he works his way through you and is met with you grinding his hips against his lips and tongue, trying to get him deeper in you. He can’t stop, wanting all of you and as you lean into him it makes him want to go insane. Jake’s hands snake under your thighs, forcing you open wider as he laps at you harder, angling his head so his tongue can hit the golden spot deep within you.  You jerk under his touch, unable to reach for him as your wrists are still firmly tied about you. He’s so fucking hard he can’t take it. He ruts into the bed, desperate for pleasure, but trying to hold out for you as long as he can. He wants to feel your pussy closing down around his cock, tight and warm. He wants to pound into you so hard you can’t make any noise except those desperate little mewls completely submitted to him.He’s been too greedy tonight and already taken more than his fair share of your blood, but he wants to draw this out of you for as long as possible, to coax out orgasm after orgasm, until you’re nothing but a fucked out, droopy mess. 

“F-Fuck, Jake, please, please, please, please,” you blubber out. You can practically feel the blood pounding through every single one of your veins as you fuck yourself harder against him. 

He pulls back, licking his lips, eyes gleaming. 

“Please what?” He hums knowing how close he is to breaking you and relishing it. He’s dreamt about this moment for so long. About what it would feel like to let go of all faculties and ravish you like the monster he is. 

“Please I want you to fuck me,” you gasp out, trying to suck in air as the dizzying rush of his tongue subsides. You’re drunk on the way he feels against every part of you, and every second he isn’t on you or in you is agony—even though every second he is makes you feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Say my name,” Jake says roughy, going back for a stream of light and soft kisses at your inner thigh that nearly makes your eyes roll back into your head. You try to compose yourself enough to speak, but the words keep dying on your tongue. 

“Say my name and I’ll fuck you,” he teases gently pressing his lips to each of the bite wounds on your thigh. 

“J…Jake please! Jake please I’ll do anything,” you scream. He presses one last rough, messy kiss to your slit, smiling through it with satisfaction as he laps up as much of you as he can.

“Good girl,” he croons before pulling up and pressing a kiss to your lips. He takes his cock in his hand and positions it, although he’s already soaked with precum, he rubs it along your center before sliding in. 

“Shit!” He groans, at the same time as you let out a breathy “Fuck!” His arms come down on either side of your head, as he gasps pathetically. You’re so warm for him, you fit so perfectly around his cock, he could stay like this forever. The rush of it all goes to his head and Jake almost loses it then and there. He starts to move back and forth, gently at first, giving you a moment to adjust, but you start roll your hips against his and the friction makes him let out a guttural sound. 

“You’re desperate aren’t you?” Jake rasps into your ear, burying his face in neck for a few moments, before he needs to pull back. He can't have this over yet. On the way back, he ghosts his lips down your collarbone and chest, before closing his lips on one of your already erect nipples and sucking on it, taking a moment to lap up some of the remaining blood from his previous bite. He sits back up, watching you squirm with the tease, and lifts a leg of yours over his shoulder, and then slides  one of the pillows under your lower back. Jake starts to move faster, harder, deeper. You can feel him bottoming you out, and you swear you’ve never felt this full in your life as your body gets pushed down into the soft comfort of the pillow. He looks down at you, and presses a hand to your stomach, grinning to himself where he can see the bulge of his cock thrusting into you. He speeds up again, entranced by how fully he’s overtaken you.

“Fuck you’re taking this so well, princess” he pants, and you can only manage erratic huffs and whines beneath him, feeling him pressing up and into your center. Every time he rams into you, you feel it in every cell of your body, rattling your brain in your skull, every muscle and bone and sinew practically pulling itself apart. It’s overstimulating, it’s overpowering, and it’s glorious. Jake takes your other leg and puts it over his other shoulder as well, holding your legs in place with a gentle hand around your shins,�� and the sound you make as the new angle hits the perfect spot is practically animalistic. A sly smirk splits itself across’s Jakes face as he looks down you, huffing as he doesn’t stop rolling his hips. 

“Oh there it is, isn’t it?” He teases before lowers one of his hands and starting to rub circles on your clit without breaking his pace. 

“It— mmm, fu—ahh!” You try to piece something together, but your eyes have already started to glaze over as you get cock drunk on the sensation. Jake throughs his head back and lets out an airy laugh. He loves nothing more than the sight of your pleasure, and getting you off is a drug to him. 

“D’ya think you can cum? Come on baby girl,” He urges, almost pleading. “Cum for me,” his voice sounds so distant yet like it’s right up beside you at the same time. The second orgasm is slower and deeper, being pulled out of you like a thread unspooling. You feel it in your head first, before it flutters down through you stomach, and you arch your back, mouth open in an “o”, and for a moment you lose all sense of time. As the stars rearranged themselves in your eyes and you felt the euphoric unravel of the knot inside you, you wonder how many times you could relive the first sin, if it meant staying in this heaven forever. Jake’s eyes nearly roll back into his head as he feels you clenching and shuddering around his cock combined with the prettiest face he could ever dream of you making. He throws a hand forward against the headboard to steady himself, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

“Fuck, Y/N. You don’t eve know what you’re doing to me right now.” He whispers hoarsely, and you’re too fucked out to even process what’s happening, only knowing that your body aches for him, for him to stay near you, on you, in you.

He reaches up and easily undoes your binds, You gasp, too weak to move as your arms collapse beside you, the silk tie fluttering to the side, but you don’t have a moment of reprieve as he flips you over and begins to ruthlessly pound into you from behind. He has an arm wrapped around your front, holding your bloodied neck against his forearm, while the other steadies itself against your lower back. You let out an incoherent cry as you feel the full force of his length deep inside you. Your hands grip the silk of the sheets hard enough that your knuckles are white, and your vision starts to twin and blur at each impact. 

“Jake…Jake…Jake!” You cry out, your body starting to crumple beneath him.  The sound of wet skin slapping into each other fills the room. Jake watches with a hunger as his dick slides in you, savoring every time he sees his length pull out and slam right back into your sopping cunt. It’s so pink and puffy,  just begging to take more and more of him. He moves his arm from your throat, and wraps your silky hair around his fingers, pulling your head back as he tangles his knuckles in your strands. You arch back, looking up at the ceiling, as your body is shoved forward with every single pound of his hips. You can feel him start to get close, that hum of tightening muscles and carnal desires reaching its peak until there is no you and him, just pleasure intertwining you both. 

“Flip—me over—baby,” you manage in between his cock ramming into you. “I wanna look at you when you—“ You don’t get to finish the sentence, as he wastes no time in fulfilling your ask. He’d do anything you say, it didn’t matter how you asked. He pulls out just long enough to flip you over, and that brief moment of separation is agony, right before he inserts himself back in. You reach up, and lace your hands through his hair, pulling him down into a messy kiss, catching each other whimpers and moans in your mouth. You move your body with his, bringing your legs up to lock them around his legs, and you squeeze your knees around his sides. He whimpers, brain short-circuiting as he feels you force yourself even tighter down around him, your cunt practically squeezing around his cock,  not a single inch of your skin not pressed together. It’s the final nudge he needs to let himself go. 

“Oh fuck Y/N, Oh fuck baby, I’m gonna—“ He break off in a shudder, as he finally lets himself have his release. His hands come crashing down on either side of your face as he falls down on you, pressing his face into your chest, as his body shakes and twitches, cum spilling out of your hole as he fills you up. You hold him tight, nails digging into his bag, as you feel inside you the way his body practically vibrates with it. This was the sermon and the worship, and you think that you could love this god of a man forever.

Jake stays there for a minute or two, letting the sound of your rapid heartbeat calm his heavy breathing down. 

“Mmm, fuck,” he whispers. “I’ve made an absolute mess of you. I’m so sorry, I was too rough, wasn’t I? “S’okay,” you mumble back, your words starting to slur together as the exertion of the night is settling into your bones. 

“Let me clean you up,” he says softly, and pulls out. He gently sweeps your hair from your eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead. The high of it all has started to wear down leaving nothing but a buzz in the back of his head. When Jake looks at you, part of him still yearns for more, but he knows it’s the blood talking. 

“Don’t go,” you whisper, still in that post coital haze. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jake reassures as you presses a soft kiss to your lips, and though he knows he’s comforting you in the moment, he’s making a promise to himself. “I’ll be right back okay? Don’t fall asleep.” Jake quietly pads off to the bathroom, where he starts to run the water in the tub until it’s warm enough. He comes back, and scoops you up in his arms. You cling to his neck, resting your head against his chest, until he gently lowers you into tub. The warm soapy water feels heavenly against your aching muscles and bloodied skin, and you let the water soothe your tired body. Jake kneels down next to you, and he takes a wash cloth, gently wiping off the blood from your bruised skin. He looks up at you through his thick lashes, lips pursed together as examine you for any sign of anger or a deeper sign of hurt. 

“You’re lying to me,” You mumble as you slowly come back to yourself. Jakes blood runs cold, as he realizes the ruse is falling through. He swallows, hard. This was the truth he had been promising for weeks—no months now, that he would confess to you. Would you say it? Those damning words? And harder still, would he own up to their truth? 

“Lying?” He asks softly. 

“I don’t feel right, Jake” you whisper, looking up at the lights in the bathroom, focusing on them to keep yourself present.  His stomach sinks. His venom is slowly wearing off at this point, and he knows if he tells you the truth now, you’d remember it in the morning. 

“I was too rough with you, I’m sorry,” he says in a tight voice, the emotions all bubbling up.  

“No that’s not what I meant,” you say slowly. The truth is right there, dancing at the tip of your tongue, you just need to find the right way to piece the puzzle together. 

“No I…I know,” Jake says haltingly. He avoids your gaze, knowing if he meets you eye to eye he won’t be able to swallow the truth. “It’s not what you think though, I just…I can’t lose you, okay Y/N? I don’t think I can do this without you.”  You tilt your head, your stomach starting to knot itself together.

“I won’t be going anywhere,” you gently try to reassure him. “But I just…that didn’t seem like…you.” 

Jake sighs and closing his eyes, setting the washcloth down as he grips the edge of the tub har enough that his knuckles go white. 

“You don’t know that,” he says hoarsely. He’s supposed to be a shell of a human, a monster masquerading as some sentient being, but this love has unravelled him, and without you holding the threads of himself together, he doesn’t know if he can pull himself tight again.  He’s never felt so human as when he’s with you, and after centuries, he forgot the way that love had always consumed him, the way that he sometimes didn’t know how to hold space for himself because he had always filled himself up with love for everyone else. 

“This isn’t the conversation to have right now, but I promise I won’t let anything ever happen to you,” Jake says softly, unable to form the words he needs to say in the moment. He feels your hand sliding under his chin, tipping his head up so he’s forced to look at you. There’s a look he doesn’t recognize in your eyes, one that makes him feel like a stake is being driven through his heart. 

“Jake, baby,” You say your voice cracking. “I can’t keep playing this game with you. Please. I want the truth, so I can work around it with you.” 

Jake closes his eyes, pulling his head away.  It’s hurt in your eyes. It’s hurt and longing and love. The look of somebody who’s asking you to keep them with you, of somebody who realizes that the person they love and trust most in the world doesn’t feel the same for you. He thinks that if he could cry right now he would. What has he done? He’s beyond teetering at the ledge, he’s dived head first off this cliff, and he’s scrambling for a foothold right now. 

“Okay,” Jake promises. “I’ll tell you everything in the morning. I swear it Y/N. Just…give me tonight, yeah? It’s a lot.” You sigh, lowering your head, and the droning in your head starts to overpower the semblance of focus you had pulled together right now. 

“Fine.” You agree, but the anxiety of whatever waters you had waded into had started to rise. Jake finishes washing you up in silence, gently massaging your shoulders and arms, and when he’s done he drains the tub and wraps you up in a clean towel. He disappears for a moment and comes back with clean pajamas, helping you shimmy into them before picking you back up here and gently laying you back down on the bed, wrapping the blanket around you.  He goes around to the other side of the bed and settles himself in, drawing you close to this chest, and setting his chin on your head as he wraps his arms around you, anchoring himself to you. 

“We aren’t done here,” You say with a tired glance up at him. “I won’t let you forget this,” you say trying to muster the most stubborn tone you can. 

“Tomorrow,” he promises with a soft kiss to your forehead. “Just sleep for now.” 

And you’re not sure if you can believe him, or if his words are coated in sugar white lies, but you’re too exhausted to argue, so you let yourself be carried under his warm touch to the comforting folds of sleep. Jake looked down at you, already snoring softly curled up in his arms against his chest. He forced his heart to beat every time you were together like this, forced himself to maintain the illusion that he was alive just like you, no matter how much it exhausted him. You looked so angelic  even if you looked so frail after the night. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in your familiar scent. He had memorized every line on your face, every place where the corners of your mouth wrinkled when you smiled, and the way your nose scrunched when you laugh. He memorized the map of your veins, the path of your freckles, the secrets you whispered in his ear at night and blurted out in the car, every single way you’ve ever given yourself to him. And he hates himself for not being able to give all of himself to you.  He couldn’t bear to lose this. Not again. So Jake leaned down and whispered in your ear,

“I’m so sorry my love.” 

And bit you ever so gently at your neck. Your squirm in your sleep, but it lasts for a moment as you go still in his arms, the wound closing as he ran his tongue over it. 

“Forget the truth of tonight,” He whispers into your ear, a command spoken somewhere from deeper within him, a darker more ancient place. Immediately, the knot between your brows smooths out, your lips curling up in a peaceful smile as the magic takes hold. 

Tomorrow, Jake promises himself as he rubs a hand over his face. Tomorrow, I’ll tell her the truth. And thus the dance begins again. For tomorrow, and tomorrow’s tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that, as many eternities as he could have.

[avis-writeshq]

05 — enchanted

summary: “please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, no use of (Y/N) warnings: alcohol (reader gets drunk lmfao), jealousy, slight miscommunication, austin (aka: bartender girl from s4), special mention to special people wc: 4.9k a/n: everyone say thank you @astrophileous for beta-reading MWAH ilyvm zara <33 SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Although you haven’t been a part of the BAU for more than one year, it didn’t stop you from maintaining the connections that you had in all your years of working there. Sure, the scheduling times could be better, but that didn’t stop the team from spending their rare day off to spend time with you. After all, the adjustment of seeing you every day to once in a blue moon was a difficult one to make. 

O’Keefe’s has been the main victim of the team’s shenanigans, its doors open for the seven members of law enforcement, all eager to get their hands on some well earned rest and relaxation. Drinks are passed around the booth and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Derek get his ‘groove thang on’ with a few girls in the bar. Today is one of the rare occasions when the team didn’t have a case, an even rarer day when the team didn’t have to take on any new or incoming cases. 

“How’s life treating you?” Emily asks cheerfully, sipping at her strawberry daiquiri. You gather that tonight is one of those nights.

You smile, sipping at your own beverage of choice. “Good! Way less stressful than working at the BAU, that’s for sure. And the hours are good, too.”

JJ snorts from beside you. “Yeah, well, can’t say I’m not jealous. How’re the kids?”

“I can’t say much because of confidentiality and all that, but they’re doing well. A lot better, thank goodness but it just goes to show the aftermath of the things that you guys deal with. I mean, I still think about all the victims we’ve helped and it sucks that we can’t do anything to help them further.” You finish your tangent with a long sip of your drink before leaning back against the booth. “Anyway, how are you guys?”

Penelope comes shuffling past carrying a series of cocktails, her absolutely monstrous platform heels not aiding her in her slightly tipsy task. “Do not even get me started on work. No work! None! We’re having a fun day. Ergo, no work talk.”

You laugh in response, moving to the side to allow her room to sit in the booth. “No, Penny, you’re right. No work talk.”

The drinks are dispersed and your gaze shifts to where Spencer is standing, laughing awkwardly as he tries to follow along to Derek’s dancing and socialising. He looks incredibly out of place in his brown argyle sweater vest, navy tie and freshly pressed slacks, and he pulls at the collar of his shirt. 

“Nah, Spencer could definitely be a ladies’ man if he plays his cards right. And I mean that literally,” Emily says, bringing you out of your daydream.

Your head snaps in her direction, trying to calm your facial features and microexpressions. Regardless of your attempts, after a year of not practising, you don’t do as well as you hope. “What?”

JJ grins at you, her eyes lighting up knowingly. “We’re just talking about who’s the biggest hotshot in the BAU.”

“Wouldn’t that be David?” You ask meekly, your finger swirling along the edge of your glass. You had met David Rossi on occasion, once by accident when you were having a night out with the girls and the other during a proper introduction two weeks later. “Didn’t he have, like, five wives?”

“I had three thank you very much,” Rossi intervenes swiftly, holding his glass of whisky on ice. 

“Sorry, my bad,” you respond jokingly, snickering as he shakes his head and stalks over to where Hotch is sitting and drinking his rum. 

Penelope lets out a loud laugh. “I think we’re forgetting the obvious: our very own Chocolate Thunder.”

“Well, fine,” Emily drawls, waving a hand dismissively, “but Spencer has that innocent vibe to him, y’know? The kind of guy women go crazy over.”

JJ clicks her fingers in remembrance. “Didn’t a bunch of prostitutes try to pick him up in that one case?”

“What?” You ask again, albeit a little shrilly as you try to dismiss the surprise in your tone. 

“He didn’t take them,” Emily says quickly in an attempt to ease your discomfort. “But he did pick up a girl a few months ago. Austin?”

Penelope nods at that, putting down her cup. “Oooh, yes! I remember her. He showed me a picture. She’s pretty.”

“I mean, he did pick up Lila too.” JJ reminds the team, shooting you a sly smile. “You remember her, don’t you?”

You force out a laugh and bite the inside of your cheek in the process. “Yeah. Who’s Austin?”

“I think I still have a picture!” Penelope says, brandishing her phone from her coat pocket. She types something in before sliding it in your direction. “Pretty, right?”

Austin is certainly pretty, even in the uncoordinated selfie Penelope shows you of her and Spencer. He’s slightly out of frame, his lips set into a sweet smile while Austin practically glows. Her brilliant green eyes flash in the camera and her dark hair frames her face perfectly. She and Spencer are close in the photo, with him holding the phone clumsily and she has a hand on his arm. 

“Uh huh,” you murmur distractedly, averting your gaze from the photo as an ugly feeling creeps into your chest. “Really pretty.”

Emily looks at you curiously. “You didn’t know about her?”

You shrug in response, the smile on your face insincere. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about Spencer.”

The group exchange a couple glances at your tell-tale body language, watching as you scoot past Penelope and out of the booth, making your way to the bar. You’re all too grateful for a reprieve from the teasing as you order another drink and take a seat, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Your mind goes through all the interactions you’ve had with Spencer over the years. Were you really that foolish to think that he would feel that way for you? Maybe you were reading too much into it, you try to reason, running your fingers through your once styled hair. Maybe, in some stupid and twisted way, all of Spencer’s interactions were platonic.

You scoff inwardly to yourself. Right. Because picking someone up at two o’clock in the morning is entirely platonic. Sleeping in the same bed as someone because of nightmares is totally normal between friends. In any case, you could have sworn that he–

“Trouble in paradise?” 

An unfamiliar voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and you turn to the man who takes a seat beside you. “Uh… something like that.”

The man hums, a smile on his handsome features. His dark brown hair is fluffy and, in its own charming little way, suits him. He reminds you a lot of Spencer, with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles along with the timbre of his voice. He’s also very different to Spencer, especially with his sweater that has a bright orange pumpkin on it, paired with a matching orange scarf. A pair of red tinted sunglasses hang on the neckline of his sweater, and you doubt that it would do much good to block the sun.

“I’m Matthias,” he says good naturedly, beaming. “I’m with my sister, Laura,” he explains, gesturing to a lady sporting dyed auburn coloured hair, and she waves with a matching smile.

You introduce yourself, pointing to the booth. “My friends are over there.”

Matthias nods, undeterred by your company on the other side of the bar. “Let me buy you a drink.”

*** 

After what felt like hours of dancing (it was really only fifteen minutes), Spencer and Derek make their way to rejoin the group. The feeling of sweat matting his skin is one of many reasons as to why Spencer hates dancing. That, and the fact that there were far too many people on the dancefloor. What’s worse is the fact that he’s sure that none of them have ever heard of the word ‘deodorant’. He cringes at the thought of all the germs that could be festering on his skin as he sits at the booth, his eyes shifting to wear your bag lays haphazardly on the red cushions. 

“Where is she?” He asks instantly, turning to Emily and placing your bag so that it’s in a safer and less hazardous position.

She hums, pointing in the bar’s direction. “Getting a drink. She’s just cooling off.”

“Cooling off?” Spencer echoes, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean she’s ‘cooling off’?”

Penelope offers an apologetic smile, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. “We… might have told her about Austin?”

“You what?” Spencer can barely believe his ears as he looks at the group incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

“We didn’t mean anything bad by it,” JJ says hastily. “We didn’t think she’d react like that.”

“React like what?” Spencer’s voice is strangely stern, his eyes narrowing as he turns to the rest of the team. “I don’t like Austin. She’s nice but I don’t like her.”

Derek’s brows lift in surprise and confusion. “Did you go out with her after the case?”

Spencer’s ears burn in embarrassment and he turns to his friend in offence. “I asked her for help. I don’t like Austin like that. I needed advice.”

“Advice,” Emily repeats, turning in the direction of the bar. “You mean about…?”

Spencer doesn’t stay long enough to head the rest of Emily’s sentence or to answer it, making his way over to you are. Part of him wishes that he stayed put, especially when he sees what you’re doing. In an instant, his nose is scrunched up in distaste as he spies the random stranger chatting you up. His eyes lock with yours and he relishes in the way they light up as you wave him over.

“Hi,” he breathes, standing beside you. 

“Hi!” You gush, beaming at him. “Saw you on the dancefloor.”

“You’ll never see it again,” he says honestly, stealing a sip of your drink. It tastes like vodka and the strawberry lipgloss you use (he only know what it tastes like because of its very on the nose packaging: a giant strawberry. He wishes he knew for other reasons).

You laugh, bright and loud, before you gasp excitedly. “Oh, Spencer, this is Matthias! He’s been keeping me company.” Then, you lean closer to him, your voice a very exaggerated whisper as if the person you’re talking about isn’t in the seat next to you as you tell Spencer, “he’s a director.”

Matthias waves off the statement, chuckling along. “Nothing famous though.”

“He’s a liar,” you tell Spencer enthusiastically. “Did you know he went to New York University? Crazy, right? Like, the school of arts or something. Oh! And he’s also from Vegas! You two are so alike.”

Spencer nods half-heartedly as he tells you, “you know, I went to MIT and CalTech.”

“Well I know that, silly!” You say with a drunken laugh, poking at his cheek. You turn to Matthias with a proud grin before reaching for a shot. “Spencer’s a genius. He’s a super smart genius.”

“That’s what ‘genius’ means, angel,” Spencer reminds gently, prying the little cup away from you. “No more. You’re drunk and we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Your face falls and your lips curl into a frown. “But Spencer I’m thirsty!”

“You have water in your bag,” he prompts, squeezing your shoulder and helping you off the barstool, not paying this Matthias person any mind. “Okay? Let’s go back to the others.”

You nod eagerly, stumbling a little as you wave goodbye. “Bye, Matthias!”

“Uh huh,” Spencer dismisses, leading you back to the table by the small of your back. He leans a little closer to murmur in your ear, “why did you leave the others?”

You shrug dismissively, leaning into his side. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, angel, it does,” he says carefully, “tell me?”

You huff in your own clumsy drunken way. “You should ask Austin. Or go pick someone else up. Emily says you’re turning into a ‘ladies’ man’.”

Spencer resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. “I don’t like Austin,” he tells you in earnest, holding you close to his side as you stumble back to the booth. “I mean it, angel.”

“Bet you call everyone angel,” you grumble under your breath. “Bet you let everyone call you ‘Walter’ too.”

“No,” Spencer says immediately, a hand on your waist. “I only call you that. Besides, why would I let someone call me by my middle name if it isn’t you?”

You huff again, slumping in the booth as Penelope shuffles inward to give you more room. Your arms cross over your chest in annoyance and frustration and  you turn away from Spencer’s direction. He doesn’t need to be a profiler to know that you’re pissed off at him. Somewhere in your hazy drunk mind, you’ve made it out as him being the bad guy.

Spencer shoots the other girls a pointed glare, gesturing at you as if to say ‘This is your fault’ because, in reality, it is. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t be mad at him. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself drunk with some random guy who went to New York University. Spencer mocks Matthias in his head. Stupid Matthias and his stupidly good hair. Spencer runs a hand through his own growing locks, grimacing when he realises that it reaches his shoulders now. Maybe he should get a haircut later.

“Angel,” Spencer tries again, kneeling down next to your chair. “Let’s get you home, alright? Please don’t be mad at me?”

You mutter something incoherent, not bothering to look in his direction.

“I’m not in love with Austin,” he tells you, his tone a mix of firmness and gentleness. “Really, I’m not. We’re just friends, angel, I promise.”

“Liar,” you mutter under your breath as you get out of the booth. JJ guiltily passes you your bag and you take it out of her hands as Spencer grips your arm with one hand, the other on the small of your back. 

“Not a lie,” Spencer says, walking you to his car. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Not after Lila.”

“Lie-la,” you say bitterly as you get into the passenger seat. “Stupid actress.”

He laughs at that, getting behind the wheel. “Yeah, angel. Stupid actress.”

“You kissed her in a pool,” you continue as you fumble drunkenly with the buckle of the seatbelt. “You don’t kiss me in the pool.”

Spencer’s cheeks burn at your words as he puts your seatbelt on, his fingers grazing yours. “It never came up. Besides, I hate pools, you know that.”

“Germ-y,” you respond knowingly, a silly giddy smile on your face. “I know you the best.”

“Exactly,” he hums as starts the car, his words flowing smoothly as he considers how drunk you are. There’s no way you’d remember this, right? “Why would I find another girl when I have you who knows me best?”

Your cheeks glow with pride at his words and you laugh. “Exactly.”

*** 

It’s late. Far too late and you toss and turn in bed. Your eyes are heavy but your brain won’t shut up, swirling with the memories of the previous night. You’re not really sure what happened after you got to the bar, only remembering snippets of the night. The entire time was a blur: you remember getting upset at the girls (or rather, at the information they were feeding you), meeting someone– Mason? Matthew? You can’t even remember– and then downing three shots. It’s awfully stupid of you, yes but then somehow you got home safe and sound with a note on your kitchen counter from Spencer.

You felt a little silly upon the finding of the note. Of course Spencer would take you home; it’s not like the girls were particularly sober by the time you wanted to leave. Regardless, reading the note made you feel incredibly stupid, more stupid than usual, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself six feet underground. 

‘Hi angel,’ it read in Spencer’s messy scrawl with chaotic lettering and swirly g’s. ‘You’re probably really hungover right now so there’s a Tylenol on the counter and a sandwich in the fridge. Please drink water; I’m sure you’re also severely dehydrated from the alcohol. I know you’re upset at me but please just forget about what the others said about Austin. I don’t like her like that. Be safe and call me when you wake up.’

The note was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, just Spencer being his usual ridiculously lovely self. You didn’t mind that he took care of you, either. It’s more-so the fact that you genuinely could barely remember what you said that him. You’re betting on it being something exceedingly dumb (you’re making a habit of it, much to your own chagrin), especially considering how much you had to drink that night. Maybe you should start abstaining from drinking from now on, especially if Spencer was in the vicinity. 

The note is now pinned securely to your cork board, a pretty lavender thumb tack holding it in place. Your gaze drifts to it for a moment then to your clock and you groan into your pillow. This is dumb. Sleep is dumb. Your clock blinks with the numbers ‘02:01’ in red mocking letters and you resist the urge to scream. After blindly searching for your phone, you step out of bed while rubbing your eyes. 

The lingering question keeps you up as you pace back and forth beside you bed. If Spencer doesn’t like Austin, who does he like? It can’t be Lila. You would have known if they kept in contact. Then again, you had no idea who Austin was so who knows what secrets Spencer is keeping? What if there was another girl? What if your entire friendship with Spencer was exactly that– friendship. You slap the palm of your hand to your forehead. Were you really that stupid?

It’s in that moment when your phone begins to ring. The tune plays through the room and you know it all too well; the Doctor Who theme song that you spent a whopping two dollars and thirty-seven cents on to add it as the custom ringtone for Spencer. 

“Hello…?” You answer quietly, your voice choking. “Walter?”

“Angel,” he murmurs, and you can hear shuffling in the background. “Why are you still awake?”

You hum, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I could ask you the same question.”

He laughs quietly on the other side of the line, scratchy from the lack of sleep. “Can I come over?”

“Always.”

He hangs up after that and you press the pads of your fingers into the corners of your eyes again. You’re exhausted, far too exhausted to be hosting guests, but this is Spencer. How can you ever say no to him? So, instead of sulking around and spending far too long doing nothing, you fashion yourself a cup of tea and flick the lights on. The book you were reading is thrown haphazardly onto the cushions of your couch but you can’t bring yourself to pick it up. 

The jiggling of the door handle brings you out of your little mood, and Spencer lets himself in with the key you gave him, locking it securely and taking his shoes off to reveal his sock choice of the day: one bright green and the other in fuchsia with buttercup yellow spots. He’s wearing a crinkly white t-shirt that hangs over his gangly frame and grey sweatpants. For something so basic, he looks absolutely criminal in it. You pinch yourself as punishment for thinking such a thing. 

“Hey,” he breathes, sitting next to you. He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning a little. “Do you think I should get it cut?”

You laugh, almost spilling your tea. “You came to my apartment at two in the morning to ask what I think about your hair?”

“Yes,” he agrees before laughing, “no! Of course not. I just thought of it.”

A hum leaves your lips as you curl a strand of his hair around your finger. “I like long hair on you. Besides, you’d look good in any hair cut.”

Spencer preens at your words, enjoying the feel of your touch in his hair. “You’re a liar. I know what I looked like four years ago. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” You insist, beaming at him as you poke his cheek. “You were really cute back then. Like a baby.”

He flushes again at both the compliment and the contact, his mind committing the way you say ‘baby’ to memory. He thinks it again and again; baby, baby, baby. 

“I was not a baby,” He tells you, half in jest. “I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” you quip, the sleep deprivation making your head go loopy. “Barely. Doesn’t matter, you’re still baby.”

Spencer scoffs lightly, poking your side. “If I’m a baby, what does that make you? A foetus? A zygote?”

You let out a quiet scream in protest, whacking him over the head with a throw pillow. “Ew, Spencer what the hell?”

He snickers in response, shielding his face with his forearm. “If I’m a baby and you’re younger than me, you must be at an earlier stage of development. So? Which is it, are you a foetus or a zygote? C’mon, angel, you passed eighth grade biology.”

“You’re an ass,” you chastise jokingly, rolling your eyes as you look up at him. Sometime amidst the commotion he must have gotten closer to you. Your noses are almost touching and your breath hitches in your throat. 

He smiles sweetly, his own cheeks warm and flushed with embarrassment as he maintains eye contact. “I thought I was ‘baby’.”

What the hell? Is this really Spencer Reid? Silly, awkward, nerdy little Spencer Reid? This must be a very convincing body suit and an even more convincing voice altering machine because this is not Spencer Reid. You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks and ears so quickly that it’s enough to make you go dizzy. Maybe you’re a lot more sleep deprived than you thought. 

“Are you drunk?” You croak out meekly as he cages you in, his forearms on either side of your head as he leans you against the couch. 

He laughs– he has the actual audacity to laugh– and he shakes his head. “No, angel, I’m not drunk. You know I don’t drink enough to actually get drunk. Besides, I drove here.”

“You drove here,” you repeat, a little dazed from how close he is. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Almost three now but yes,” Spencer agrees, smiling. 

“You hate driving,” you remind him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Especially at night.”

He hums in agreement. “I do. But I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

You kick yourself internally. ‘Oh’? Who the hell says ‘Oh’? This is it. Your life is over. Maybe you should move to another state. Change your name, shave your head, and get a different degree because you’re almost certain that it’s the end of the line for you.

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle. “I missed you.”

“You saw me two days ago?” You say it like a question and you suddenly feel yourself sweating. It definitely got hotter in here. 

He murmurs your name, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw gently. “I’m so glad I met you.”

“I ran into you four years ago and almost gave myself a concussion,” you say, averting your gaze as you tried to calm yourself down. 

“I’m so glad I met you,” he repeats softly, his nose brushing against your cheek. “Look at me, angel.”

You wet your bottom lip nervously as you look at him, his hazel eyes a little greener in the low light of your apartment. His legs are on either side of your hips and he brushes his thumb against your chin. 

“I want to kiss you,” Spencer says lowly, albeit a little breathlessly, and you can hear hoarseness in his words. “Can I?”

You’re dead. You’re either dead or asleep, that is the only explanation you have for this entire situation. You’re either dead and in heaven or asleep and dreaming. It is that plain and simple.

“What?” You croak out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs. 

“I know you wanted to do it in a pool but I’m pretty sure your apartment gym is closed now, angel,” Spencer says, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can I kiss you?”

The only thing you can manage to do is nod, your eyes flickering to his lips for a split second, watching as the corners of his mouth tug upwards. Your brain barely has any time to comprehend the words he said (since when did you say that you wanted to kiss him in the pool?) because in a rush of confidence, Spencer cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a tantalisingly slow kiss. His eyes are closed and his hands are eerily soft, the gentleness in which he holds you reminiscent of one holding porcelain. 

He pulls away after a moment, his cheeks burning and a smile on his face. You can’t even breathe as you just stare at him, lips parted in surprise. What do you even say to that?

“Thank you?” You manage to stutter out, heat creeping up your neck.

He laughs again, breathless and beautiful, as he kisses the side of your face. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer brushes an eyelash from your cheek, beaming at you as he does. “It’s late,” he tells you, getting up from the couch and freeing your limbs. “You should get some rest.”

“Uh huh,” you respond, your head  spinning. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he says back, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m free next Friday. Do you want to go out?”

“Go out?” You echo, “we always go out.”

“I know.” He smiles at you again as he makes his way to the door. “I meant– you know. We can go out.”

A beat passes and your head is awfully slow, whether from the kiss or from the sleep deprivation, you’re not entirely sure. “We can go out.”

“Great.” He pauses, taking a step towards you before kissing your cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“You’ll–” you gape at him again as he opens your door to leave. “You hate texting.”

He nods, slipping on his shoes. “I also hate driving at night. Your point?”

“Right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course I will, angel,” he promises, “get some rest.”

Get some rest? How the hell are you supposed to get some rest after all that? With one last wave, Spencer leaves your apartment, leaving you hoping that this wasn’t just some thing. Maybe this was the very first page of your story– a very embarrassing start to your story. There is one thing for certain though: Spencer is not in love with someone else.

*** 

It’s a Tuesday when Penelope calls you. You had just finished up with a client when your phone begins to ring. 

“Penny!” You gush, unable to stop the smile from stretching onto your face. “I am stupid, I said ‘thank you’? Who the hell says thank you after someone kisses you?”

“Who kissed you?” Penelope asks, and if you weren’t so caught up in your own tangent you would have noticed that she sounded tearful. 

“Spencer did!” You exclaim, slapping a hand to your forehead. “He’s sitting there and he looks amazing and he smells really good and I am stupid.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Penelope says quickly, and you can imagine her waving her fluffy pen around. “He kissed you and you said thank you?”

“Yes.”

“Well that was very polite of you,” she says, trying to sound happy before her voice cracks.

You frown immediately, taking a seat in the wheelie chair in your office. “Penny? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“It’s about Spencer,” she says woefully, sniffling. “He wanted me to tell you something. It’s not looking good, honey, but– but he wanted me to give you a message.”

“Penny–” You stop short when you hear Spencer’s voice. It’s a recording from his phone, and you can only really tell because of the crackling audio on the other side of the line.

“Is it on?” Spencer asks before clearing his throat. He sounds breathless, his words breaking off at some parts and you know that it’s not from the bad audio quality. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter. If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

Through the recording you can hear a shuffle, like the sound of a sliding door being opened, along with a quiet, “Prep the victim for transfer,” before the recording cuts out, leaving you with Penelope on the line. 

She calls your name quietly, choking on her words. “Are you okay?”

You hang up. 

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[mysteriesmuse]

It all started with Katsuki being dead-asleep and sprawled out and snoring in a way that most people would deem horrendously uncomfortable, and obnoxiously pleasant. Like an overgrown cat.

He was dead to the world until his phone rang. Biceps twitching and flinging awake in the dark Katsuki’s dark red eyes cut across the grey light of his room to catch into the stark blue phone light that was buzzing like crazy. Hands accidentally fumbling as he grabbed it he squinted with a surprised, “fuck.” Why were you calling him? You were 2 years his senior and the resident babysitter/tutor of his neighborhood back in Musutafu. A smart student and pretty girl: one of the only babysitters his parents ever agreed to come watch him. Mostly because your death glare was one that could really rival his own mothers, but also bc Katsuki harbored a little bit of admiration and a crush on you for some time making him actually behave for you.

And as your name flashes across the screen pressed against his cheek he can only remember sitting at the kitchen counters and sharing orange slices as you quiz him for his practical exams. He hasn’t seen you in years. Your voice flits through same as ever, “Hey Katsuki!” He shuffles and sits up closer. His eyebrows peaked — you sound breathy and stressed. “Hey to you too,” he growls. Another whisky giggle, “I know it’s late. I’m really sorry about that! It’s just — well your mother always tells me to call you if I was ever alone at night and I couldn’t think of who else I trust to call. . .” His damn mother did have a habit of telling resident kids to call him in case they were in dangerous situations. A habit she always kept up since he was a kid; always making him walk with you and the other girls when school clubs let out. And now here he was a fledgling hero and Mitsuki was still telling extras to call him — I guess some things never change. Katsuki could hear the faint music of karaoke bars over the phone. Already getting out of bed and rummaging through his drawers for a pair of sweats and hoodie. “S’ okay. Where’re you at right now?” You huff a little sigh, “I’m out at the bar strip on the west side of the city . . . it’s a little chilly.” Katsuki already has his feet in his slides and is heading out his dorm room, “I can hear your teeth chattering from here.” He huffs, “Now what’s the problem?” “I’m just a little nervous . . .” You admonish finally, “Could you just stay on the phone with me, please Katsuki? It’s really kinda sketchy out here.” He grunts, already stepping out the dormitory door and hitting the streets. “I can do that. How’ve ya been? It’s been awhile.” You huff a little laugh, “College is fine pretty mundane to what you’ve been doing. I’ve seen you on the tv and in the news a lot recently. I’m real proud of you Kit-Kat. Your folks are too.” Katsuki can feel his stupid heart leap at that nickname you gave him.

It’s because he used to give you kit-kats every year on white day — which wasn’t really out of the ordinary since you gave him chocolate on valentines, but you gave chocolates to all the neighborhood kids anyways. And despite his parents teasing and his agony you never seemed to think much of it, ruffled his hair and gave him a cute nickname.

He chest swells with pride nonetheless. A particular school event was coming up and he finds himself mentioning it as he spots your form sitting under the bus stop and shouts into the night instead of the phone. “I’ve got my year-three performance showcase coming up next week. If you wanna come watch I can definitely get you tickets next to my folks.” Your eyes go wide and flit over to his figure in the darkness. And the first thing Katsuki can’t help but think is that you look pretty.

Your arms are crossed over your chest and the black corset top you’re wearing. It makes your waist and broad shoulders pop. And as he gets closers he can see that it’s got the lace closures down the sides with cute little bows that you’ve tied. A pair of cream colored trousers and tall peep-toe heels underneath as you rise to greet him. Phone slack in your hand as you stare at him. The black straps of your top dangling over your smooth collarbone as you inhale, “Kats what are you doing here?” Your head of curled hair — he’s never seen you with curled hair before — tilts like a puppy dog. He shrugs hands in his pockets, “Coulda asked you the same.” He says pointedly, you curl in and flush with embarrassment, “How much have you had?” “Only a few. I’m still sober.” You reply with a shiver as you fall into step beside him, “Not as fun as I thought it was gonna be. My friends are still inside.” At this Katsuki feels himself relax he didn’t think this was really your seen anyway. Especially with those friends he knows you’re referring to: the older kids of the neighborhood. “Yeah the rest of them are real pieces of work, babe.” Babe. Did he just call you babe? Dunce face is rubbing off on him. You notice, glancing to look up at him, but he watches you shake your head a little and dismiss it as quickly. “So what’s this showcase that you mentioned Kit-Kat?” He huffs, taking the side closest to the street, “It’s a promotional showcase for 3rd years. Show the pros what we can do, explain our personal philosophy, our ambitions. It’s like a really big resume preview. It’s real important for getting yourself out there to the agencies although I already have good ties to some.” You nod, bumping elbows with him as you dodge a streetlight, “seems really important,” you muse. “I’d love to come if it’s no trouble?” Katsuki’s eyes are glued into your glossy lips while you say that, turning away with the tips of his ears pink as he grunts, “S’ no problem at all. I can get ya’ one tomorrow.” You hum thoughtfully, “it’ll be nice to see you in action up close. I’ve watched your sports festival showings before — it makes me want s’mores.” at this you giggle and lock eyes with him, “I let you do that one time.” Katsuki groans rolling his eyes. “Still the best ones I ever had!” He chuckles nudging you with his shoulder. You beam ear-to-ear and his heart pitters as you loop an arm through his to steady yourself, “I can’t believe we’re both so grown-up now.” And here you go turning sappy on him.

“You know Suki’ I know you’re gonna be a great hero because you’ve always done stuff like this for me. No matter how often others tell you different, you send them to me okay?” And you’re sniffling now, still shivering against his side as you prepare to fight off all the haters he has. He’s matured a lot since his debut, but they don’t say make a good-first impression for nothing. He glances at you intelligent, well-educated, passionate as you are you weren’t gonna put up much of a fight — he still appreciates the sentiment. He grumbles a “thank you” into your hair as he walks you home in the dead of night.

[memories-of-ancients]

Whisky Review Time --- Abasolo Mexican corn whisky

Distilled in a city called Abasolo which is located in Central Mexico, Abasolo whisky is a potent potable that I only recently discovered and had to try. What makes Abasolo very unique from all other whiskies is that it is made 100% from cacahuazintle corn.

Now my favorite whiskey, bourbon is made from corn, but not 100% corn. Bourbon typically has a mash bill of at least 51% corn, the rest being rye, wheat, barley, or some combination thereof. The distilled spirits of corn is very sweet, while the addition of rye, wheat, or barley tames that sweetness. Thus bourbon has sweet caramel flavors but is tempered with dry flavors for the other cereals and the oakiness of the charred oak barrels.

Abasolo is 100% corn and it sure tastes like it. It is very sweet, very light, and it tastes very corny. It tastes like liquid alcoholic corn. Speaking of alcohol it comes in at 43% alcohol by volume. Alcohol burn is very light and well balanced. Another interesting flavor is that it tastes like tequila. It smells like tequila, and it tastes like corn whiskey with tequila mixed in it. Now the whisky is aged for two years in new oak barrels and one year in used barrels. What were those barrels formerly used for? Aging tequila? I would not be surprised. Or maybe it's just a coincidence and the sweetness of the corn mimics the sweetness of tequila. Regardless, this is not like any other whiskey I have ever had. Whereas bourbon, scotch, or other single malts are often paired with dark chocolate, Abasolo seems like it should be paired with lime and salt.

Usually in my old blog when I did whisk(e)y reviews I would do a number ranking, like 1-10 with 1 being bad and 10 being great. I cannot rank this because it is so unusual and unique and I don't know of anything to compare it with.

All I know is that I like it. I rank it good 😋

[jimblejamblewritings]

An Observation of Humankind [thinkpiece number: 1]

Every girlie (nonbinary, women and men of all orientations included) is a type of Marauder and their partners are marauder love interest — fandom version included.

James Girlies:

either like sports or play sports, especially soccer/football or rugby

bad eyesight

defends everyone

himbo and ditzy but we love them for that

fanfiction reader/sharer

have had several short-term but very intense crushes

surprisingly not always high school sweethearts (which yeah odd cause of Lily)

nature bros

calls their journal a diary with no shame

are always outside and can't sit their ass at home for too long

love bouquets

own at least one pair of converse

loves pop music and Hozier

have scaled a fence before

might be able to play the guitar

handwriting could be nicer if they tried

didn't get their drivers' license right away

take their coffee any way that isn't straight black coffee

definitely think all people are hot even if they don't swing that way (think lesbians love Thor)

loved Merlin the tv show

James Girlies love Regulus and Lily people, which means:

cold people, smart people, black cat people, painters, polite people, readers, homebody people, gothic people, hippie people, people with beautiful handwriting, black coffee drinkers, whisky lovers

Sirius Girlies:

dog people and cat people equally

doc martens

loves coffee and tea equally

fanfiction writer/reader

gorgeous handwriting, probably cursive

might know or has had an interest in calligraphy

an astrology and/or astronomy girl

speaks at least two languages

plays an instrument, any instrument... but their parents definitely suggested piano

leather jackets

denim jackets

wears way less black than people think

fantasy nerd and has played dungeons and dragons

was a superwholockian

usually the only child or older child

doesn't smoke but everyone thinks they might

cocktails or whiskey and beer, no in between

virgin till like freshman year of college or later, to everyone's shock

looks like a black cat but is actually a golden retriever

however they could kill you don't get it twisted

has trauma but won't trauma bond

crooked smile and not perfect teeth but gorgeous anyway

perfect hair that is deliberately messed with

motorcycles and vespas and small cars

listens to every genre of music

tattoos (even if just one small one)

journal person

can quote certain movies by heart

unfortunately turned on by sweater vests

fashion girlie

Sirius Girlies love Marlene, Remus, and other Sirius people, which means:

warm people, confident people, tall people, flirty people, musicians, readers, intellectual people, fancy people

Remus Girlies:

sweets lover

probably likes dark chocolate the most as well as hot chocolate

owns sweaters, probably vintage, some handmade by their Sirius girlies

plays chess

can draw

mismatched socks

waits till the last minute to do laundry

is more of a cat person but also loves dogs

didn't have strict parents and ended up giving themselves curfews and discipline and only late realized the reverse psychology

keeps a notebook about everything their partner likes

messy cook in the kitchen

loves tea a bit over coffee

is probably the actual smoker of the group

doesn't make their bed

good kissers

always carries a jacket or wears a shirt under their sweater so they can give it to their partner

can hold their liquor a bit too well perhaps

has trauma and might trauma bond

great fashion sense but will wear literally whatever is clean

Remus Girlies love Sirius, Pandora, and Dorcas (hear me out) people, which means:

black cat looks and golden retriever personality, weird people, people that pour their pain and emotions into their art whether music or painting or drawing, people that take time to care for themselves in the morning, witchy people, smiley people

Peter Girlies (pretend there was no betrayal):

underestimated

asks the most off-putting questions without realizing it

takes a camera everywhere

loves board games

tea drinker all day every day

baker

sends selfies at literally any angle because they don't care

always pays attention to everyone

loves breakfast food eaten not at breakfast

had a ukelele phase

cleanest of their friend group

Peter Girlies love Mary people, which means:

sunshine people, almost always happy, excitable people, pda lovers, carefree topeople

[tessa-liam]

A Marabelle Series...

One-shot, upcoming chapter snippet

Thank you @snoopdogcone for your ask...prompt: First Valentine's Day Date after a big break up!

Choices book: The Royal Romance, book2

Pairing: Drake Walker x Riley Brooks (F!OC)

Rating: Mature

Category: angst/fluff. One-shot, ask/prompt

A/N: not Beta’d, please excuse all errors.

A/N2: CFWC Valentine's Day 2025, prompt: Ouch! - First Valentine's Day after a big break up.

Premise: It's Valentine's Day, Drake is remembering the last fight he had with his now ex-girlfriend, Melanie. Sitting alone in the beer garden, his outlook on life instantly improves when Riley Brooks enters and bumps into him.

As the familiar strains of a Cordonian folk song hummed from the far corner of the beer garden, Drake downed the remnants of his beer and scowled to himself.

He should have known it wouldn't work out with Melanie. Hell, it was Valentine's Day, for Chrissake. A holiday invented to screw with bachelors everywhere. All of the cute little couples strolling by outside with their perfect life. Ugh. If I have to listen to someone ask for an 'appletini', I might just drown myself in that damn thing.

On the one day when his lack of romanticism would be glaringly evident to the rest of the bar crowd, the last thing Drake wanted to do was to be around people. As the dour thought crossed his mind, it seemed that the very world conspired against him.

Just then, another patron bumped against Drake's arm. As the person went to apologize, she turned to him and stopped.

"Drake?" the feminine voice said with surprise. "It's me... Riley."

As he shifted in his chair, Drake recognized the woman's piercing hazel eyes and charming smile. It was hard to forget someone like her, who was bursting with charisma and personality. He knew instantly who she was, but he played ignorant.

"Well, I needed to get out of my apartment..."

"Oh, hey, Riley. What brings you here today?

"And the brew at the bar is free today." Drake smirked.

"Yes, that, and not knowing anyone here besides Melanie."

"Ah, so it is Valentine's Day that's got you so worked up," he grinned, shifting a little on the small stool.

"If I was alone," he continued, "there'd be no difference. I usually make a point to keep myself too busy to even realize it's today, so as not to feel so fucking inadequate and depressed."

"Really, you've found this day a blight upon your lonely existence? Because that's totally not how everyone else on the street looked as they sauntered down the road holding hands and giggling," Riley chided him, doing a spot-on imitation of the most saccharine romantic she could think of.

"This, I would not deny. Clearly, others have the magical ability to connect and establish real relationships with actual human beings. This does not work for the emotionally stunted, who prefer a good bottle of whisky anyway. Their company is sufficient; it does not care who is paying for dinner."

Riley rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her appletini, smiling ruefully at him as she chewed on an ice cube. It felt nice to make conversation with him. They were usually working when she saw him and not really talking about anything significant. She would occasionally shoot him a glance or two, but it wasn't really an equal exchange.

"Maybe I can remedy the issue of no company on the date," she grinned, enjoying their light banter. "But where is the famous Melanie today?"

"Melanie," he started, his mouth turning into a sneer when he mentioned her name.

"Oh shit, did she leave you for the romantic stroll under the street lamp?" She patted him on the back empathically.

"Well, not exactly..." he trailed off, unsure of the word choice for describing his previous romantic involvement.

"Well, I take that as good news for you. What happened, Drake?" She brought her eyes up to meet his, cocking her head to the side. She sincerely wondered why anyone wouldn't be attracted to a tall, dark haired, chocolate eyed handsome gentleman. It must be some serious defects and faults for Melanie to say goodbye.

"When did it end? Or should I say, how long had you been expecting for this to happen?"

Drake had the sinking feeling that he'd managed to summon the relationship proverbial demons into the conversation, but for better or worse, he was starting to really like the company of this clever-tongued woman next to him.

"It wasn't expected. Not by a long shot. It ended about a week or two ago."

She frowned, studying his face carefully for the nuance of regret she detected. When he couldn't meet her gaze, she figured out there wasn't any lingering feelings between Melanie and him. The frown turned back into a wicked little grin.

"Damn," he breathed, looking away from her stare. It was unnerving, being so vulnerable.

"Let me guess," she started, gazing at him with her pale, inquisitive eyes. "Things have gotten bad because of all the witty and intelligent discussions. You've driven each other so crazy that you can't stand being with the other anymore. Sound familiar?"

Drake laughed to himself and swiveled his bar stool to face her, resting his back against the bar. He wasn't going to be the only vulnerable one anymore, not if Riley kept probing like that.

"Actually, yes, it was those witty and intelligent conversations that killed the romance."

"I'll drink to that."

"Seriously?!" Riley looked away, glancing at the array of glasses behind the bar. "What kind of geek dates someone and talks for fun, then ruins everything?"

✨️💘✨️

[brownsugarwrites]

Magnolia.

❥ pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

❥ warnings: none, fluff, suggestive (if u squint).\

❥ wc: 1.5k

It was the hottest day of the summer, and of course, your mother planned for your family’s BBQ to be hosted today. 

Sitting at the vanity, you applied blush to your cheeks, sighing as you gazed at your reflection in the mirror. Setting the makeup down, you put the white bow your mother made for you in your braids before raking a hand through them.

“Honey, the guests are arriving! Come down ‘ere and help me take the food out,” your mother called. 

Telling her you were coming down to help, you slipped on some white heels before leaving your bedroom. 

The sounds of your shoes could be heard as you descended the steps into the kitchen to help bring out the small finger food outside to the garden. 

“You look beautiful sweetheart,” your mother praised, eyes brightening at your attire.

Giving a thank you, you picked up the platter to bring outside.

He watched as you brought the platters full of food out to the garden as everyone congregated. The sky blue dress clinging onto your hips with the white bow holding a bunch of your braids together. 

He knew exactly who you were. One of the sweetest girls in this little town the two of you live in. Watching as you bring out the magnolia bouquet to your mother to show her gardening club friends her newest accomplishment. He would think you’re as sweet as those flowers you're holding. 

Drinking from his glass of whiskey he listened as your father boasted about his oil company and how business was booming as the sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Here's some water, Daddy,” you said coming up to the group of men intruding into the conversation

“How sweet of you, sweetheart, thank you. I'm sure everyone knows my daughter. Just turned 21 not that long ago,” he beamed as he introduced you to all the men. 

Waving shyly, Arthur watched as the sun beamed onto you and a slight orange glow radiated off you. Eyes trailing down to where your pearls sat right above your breasts that were enunciated by your strapless dress.

My, were you a doll to him…Your pink glossed lips with the red blush adorning your cheeks. 

“--and this is Mr. Morgan, sweetheart,” your dad said introducing you formally to him.

“Pleasure to meet you, beautiful,” he said flirtatiously, bringing your dainty manicured hand to his lips as you blushed at his gesture. 

Hearing your dad scoff under his breath, he smirked in response. 

“I'll be back gentlemen. Have to tend to the wife real quick,” your father said to the group of men before leading you away to take you inside 

Watching as you looked back at him as you were being dragged away, he sent you a wink. Feeling your cheeks warm in response you turned back around before walking into the house 

Finishing his whisky, he sat his glass down before going to talk to the other partygoers. 

As the night went on he watched as you sat close to your mother as she mingled with the other wives. You sat idle checking your nails occasionally as you listened to the mothers talk about their sons and how they would love to meet someone as gorgeous as you. 

You looked uninterested and very bored with the conversation at hand. Scanning the garden full of partygoers you locked eyes with Arthur as he drank from his glass.

Looking away shyly you excused yourself abruptly from the group of women before walking away to make your way to the front of your estate. You walked to the front where all the carriages were parked as you walked over to the fountain. 

“���Cuse me, miss,” you heard a deep voice ring

“Oh, well, good evening,” you greeted shyly, turning around to see Mr Morgan descending the porch steps.

Making long strides to get to you, he stopped right in front of you before tipping his hat at you 

“It's pretty dark out ‘ere, doncha think, sunshine,” he asked, looking into your chocolate eyes.

His voice was so alluring you had to fight to keep the conversation alive 

“Well yes, I suppose. I just needed to escape all the gossiping mothers,” you said before giggling. 

As the two of you made small talk he got a generous whiff of the gentle scent of the vanilla perfume oil that adorned your body. The rushing of the wind aids in your perfume filling his nose. 

“What do you do for your work Mr.Morgan,” you asked curiously. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, he thought of a good enough answer to tell you. Knowing your father probably told you something different than what he does to scare you away from him.

“I do a little bit of everything, sweetheart,” he said with a smile.

Giving a ‘hm’ you let it go for now. 

“You mind if we sit down by the fountain,” you asked wanting to take the pressure off your feet that heels gave 

Inviting you to lead the way the sound of the heels clacking on the pavement as you walked to sit on the marbled edge of the fountain before swinging your legs to the side and crossing them. 

Locking eyes with the handsome man in front of you with the scruff facial hair and dark, mysterious eyes you began to grow the slightest bit of nervous. Your father instructed you not to speak to him but here you were in your family's courtyard talking to the man you weren't supposed to be conversing with. 

It was thrilling.

All the men your mother brought around weren't as mysterious as the man sitting in front of you. You wanted to learn more about who he was. 

“Might I say, you’re gorgeous.” he complimented breaking you from your thoughts 

“Why thank you, Mr.Morgan,” you said shyly before playing with your loose braid looking down as your cheeks heated in embarrassment

“You can just call me Arthur, sugar.” he corrected you before putting his hand under your chin so that your eyes could meet again

Gulping in nervousness, you avoided his gaze not wanting to get under whatever spell he was trying to put on you. He was a gorgeous man, and he knew it. You were captivated by him.

“No need to be nervous sweetheart I won't hurt ya” he laughed noticing your wandering eyes before scooting closer to you 

Hearing your breath hitch under your breath he smirked. You were adorable, seeing how you got shy under his gaze made him want to test the waters with you. Not caring what your father had to say 

“Hey, look at me,” he said gently but with some bass in his voice 

Eyes flickering up quickly at him your eyelashes fluttered and you peered into his dark eyes. Bringing his head closer to your neck he laid gentle kisses on your supple skin hearing the low mewls you gave of satisfaction. 

“M’daddy said ‘m not supposed to be talking to you, Mr.Morgan.” you hiccuped.

“I told you to call me Arthur sweetheart and aren't you old enough to make decisions for yourself?” he responded as you felt his breath fan over your neck 

“Well yes, but I dont wanna get in trouble, sir,” you explained before clearing your throat

Grunting softly at you calling him ‘sir’ he asked if you would like him to stop his teasing ministrations 

The thoughts about your father flew out of the window. To hell with him. 

Whispering a no you felt him attack your neck before kissing down to get to your collarbone. Leaving light kisses along it, you sighed in pleasure feeling his soft lips upon your skin. 

Pulling away he looked into your shimmering eyes that captured the moon before bringing your face towards his to kiss you

“Sweetheart are you out here-?” you heard your father's strong voice ring out 

Eyes shooting open you quickly came back to reality before standing up and fixing your dress

“‘M right here Daddy what's wrong,” you asked curiously 

“Your mother told me you’d been gone for a moment. Just was checking on ya.” 

Seeing Arthur still sitting along the edge of the fountain he looked back at you in confusion

“He’s not messing with ya is he sweetheart?” your father asked becoming protective over you

“No, Daddy he's not. He came out to check up on me” You reassured your father 

Giving him a side eye he left it alone before telling you that you needed to come in soon as the party was dying down for the night. Telling him ok you quickly waved him off before going back to Arthur 

“‘M sorry bout that Arthur-” you apologized

“‘'s fine, I should get going, sweetheart,” he said while fixing his hat on top of his head 

Swiftly giving you a kiss on your lips your eyes fluttering in response you kissed him back before throwing your arms over his neck and propping a foot up as you felt his rough hands go down to your hips to keep you steady 

Pulling away, you gave a shy giggle before bidding him goodnight.

“Write me some time, ya hear?” he chuckled before letting you go and kissing you on the cheek 

“I-I will!” you exclaimed with a big grin on your pretty face. “Good night, Arthur!” 

He watched as you scurried as fast as your heels took you back into your estate before looking back sending a shy wave and closing the front door.

[sofasoap]

In your arms

Pairing: Simon “Ghost ” Riley x F!Reader ( OC aka Mini MacTavish )

Summary: Comforting your husband after a nightmare.

Connecting to event of “Death, Comes easily” 

Warning: Mature theme. Nightmare discussion ( related to PTSD ), discussion of death. Angst.

A/N : This was an extension of ANOTHER drabble/comment I wrote a while ago thanks to my midnight muse @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world ( seriously please let me sleep LOL )

Character of Mini MacTavish is from @saltofmercury fic  “The Favorite MacTavish”” which she graciously let me borrow and write bit more expanded universe. Please go read her wonderful story to get bit of background

 “masterlist” for more prequel to this Mini MacTavish expanded universe

You stare up at the ceiling. Eyes wide open. Fidgeting away. 

It’s three in the morning. But you are not sleepy at all. Even after a solid twelve hour afternoon shift. 

Oh, you should add more carrots into the twin’s lunch box….

You started making a mental listing of what you need to get from the grocery store tomorrow. Maybe that will tire your brain out and finally get some sleep. 

That wallpaper is peeling off slightly beside the window… need to get Simon to fix that.. 

Is Johnny and Emma coming over for lunch this Sunday?

Crap the electricity bill is due soon….

Ok, this isn’t working. Your mind is even more stimulated with all these questions and a list of chores in your head. 

Tucking yourself into the armchair beside the fireplace you just rekindled, armed with a generous mug of hot chocolate ( and maybe with a sneaky dash of whisky in it ) you set yourself about getting back into the historical romance novel you started a year ago but never had the time to finish. 

Turn to the left, fluffing up the pillow. Nope. Not helping either. You knew that extra cup of coffee after lunch wasn’t such a good idea.

Letting out a sigh, you finally accepted that you weren’t going to get any sleep that night.

Swinging your leg over the side of the bed, you shuffle towards the lounge chair beside the window, grabbing the hand knit throw over blanket Gaz made for you last winter. Draping it over your shoulder, and quietly slipping out of the room, without waking Simon up, down towards the kitchen. 

The heavy footsteps become more frantic, and you hear room doors opening and closing, and the person in question is running down the staircase. 

Barely three pages in, you heard stomping noise coming from the bedroom upstairs.

You set the book down,looking up, frowning. Is one of the twins awake? But the noise sounds like it’s coming from your shared bedroom with your husband. 

The next second, you saw Simon, shoulders uptight, breathing erratically, with tears streaming down his face. As soon as he spotted you curling up in the armchair, his beautiful brown eyes widened. Mixture of panic and relief evident in his eyes. Your heart aches at the sight. 

Simon calls out to you. Voice quivering, like a scared little child. 

Extending your hands, silently asking him what he needs.

He stares at you for the moment, before slowly moving towards you, kneeling down on both knees, enveloping his large, warm hand around yours.

“… Just want to feel you. Knowing you are here.” He whispered in a deep rumbling voice, tinged with sadness. “That you are real.” his voice broke into a sob. “ That you are alive.”

“ Oh love…” You immediately knew he had one of his nightmares again.  Flash back to the bombing incident. Death of his mother and brother’s family.

“I woke up, I couldn’t find you, you weren’t there in bed, I thought the worst…” grabbing onto your hands tighter as he poured out his fear, “I thought I failed you… Just like I failed my family… I got you killed.. And the twins.. The team…” He buried his face into your lap, trying hard to control his emotion.

It pains you to see him in such a vulnerable state. A side he never shows. Not even to his most trusted team mate.

But here, in front of you, he’s not the ruthless, fearsome Ghost.

Here, he is just Simon Riley, your companion, beloved husband. The men you trust with all your life.

And he loves and trusts you enough to pour his heart and fear out to you. Laying it bare. 

Pulling him up to a stand, giving him a kiss on the lip. “Come on, you should get some rest.”

Leaning forward you place a kiss on the back of his head, whispering into his ears, trying to reassure him, “I am here love. I am not going anywhere…” pulling one of your hands out from his grasp, you stroke his hair lightly, “You haven’t failed us. You saved my life that day. Both of us came home safe and sound to the children and the team at the end, right?”

Cupping his face and lifting his head up, you smiled gently, “It’s all behind us now Simon.” 

“You're not coming to bed with me?”  He asked in a small voice. 

Looking at the fireplace, “I can’t leave it burning overnight. Besides, I couldn’t sleep anyway, that’s why I am down here, reading a book.” pointing to the book and drink, abandoned on the side table. 

“Can I stay with you?”

That is how the twins found the two of you the next morning, sleeping on the lounge, wrapped up in thick blankets, with you cocooned in Simon’s embrace, with a contented smile on both of your faces. 

The sweet twins woke both you and Simon up, with simple breakfast and tea all ready on the table for both of you.

tag:

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@floral-force

@homicidal-slvt

@kaplerrr

@siilvan

[jadeshifting]

— 25 DAYS OF SHIFTMAS (DAY 14)

Cookie Cutters — what are some smells that remind you of your DR? why?

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

the following is the olfactory roll call of my Hogwarts memories—a blend of nostalgia, magic, and just a hint of drama. bottle it and sell it as a perfume; they say smell is more linked to memory than anything else, so take a whiff

— VANILLA SMOKE & SWEET CHERRIES . the indulgent aroma of Mattheo’s cigarettes and his breath, something forbidden that feels like a dare

— PEPPERMINT & DARK CHOCOLATE . stolen moments in the common room with my signature drink, surrounded by laughter and firelight

— WET STONE & MOSS . the dungeon halls, damp and atmospheric, like stepping into a Gothic novel with a better wardrobe

— FRESHLY POLISHED WOOD . the gleam and smell of my wand after a good maintenance spell, as satisfying as a shiny new pair of boots

— PUMPKIN & HERBS . the Great Hall during feasts, where autumn felt eternal

— PINK PEPPERCORN & WOODSMOKE . the luxurious, smoky-spicy scent of my enchanted autumnal perfume that makes me feel untouchable

— VANILLA TEA . study sessions in the library, complete with Astoria’s enchanted thermos that keeps tea just right

— MINT & CLOVER . a brisk walk by the Black Lake on a windy afternoon, when the world seems fresh and full of possibility

— SANDALWOOD & PATCHOULI . the faint, heady aroma lingering around Professor Snape as he sweeps dramatically down the Potions aisle

— AMBER & CEDARWOOD the musky warmth of Mattheo’s autumnal cologne lingering in the air after a late-night study session turned confession

— SMOKE & SCORCHED HAIR . charms class mishaps, when someone almost nailed a tricky spell, but not quite

— BURNING CANDLEWICK & PLUM . the scent of Astoria’s enchanted study candles, perfect for late-night gossip or existential musings

— HONEY ON TOAST . the cheery aroma wafting from the kitchens when i charm my way into snacks with a house-elf ally

— SALTED MIST . stormy nights when the wind howls through the castle, the walls vibrating with the baritone of thunder

— EUCALYPTUS . the crisp zing of Madam Pomfrey’s healing draughts, a scent that screams “you’ve survived, but just barely”

— CITRUS & CINNAMON . the Christmas season at Hogwarts, when even the coldest dungeons feel a bit warmer

— OLD LEATHER . the peculiar coziness of the Slytherin common room, where every chair has a story (or a secret)

— CARAMEL & APPLES . Hogsmeade weekends, where every corner shop seems dipped in something sweet and irresistible

— RHUBARB & TREACLE . dessert at dinner, where my sweet tooth feels seen (and most definitely spoiled)

— ASH & FIREWORKS . post-Quidditch celebrations, when the sky above Hogwarts sparkles

— BASIL-PEPPERED DIRT . the herbology greenhouses, where chaos blooms as wildly as the magical plants

— INK & WAX . sealed letters from home and scribbled notes passed in class

— TART CRANBERRIES . Slytherin Christmas parties, where the decorations are as sharp as wit of the attendees’

— CIGARETTE SMOKE & WHISKY . Pansy and Theo’s contraband corner in the common room, a vibe both rebellious and ridiculously exclusive

— CRISP FROST & EVERGREEN . early morning walks across the grounds, my boots crunching through the frost, the air biting but exhilarating

— SULFUR & IRON . the faint, unnerving tang of ancient magic in the restricted section of the library

— MARZIPAN & SUGAR GLAZE . the impossibly perfect pastries at the Yule Ball, paired with champagne giggles and side-eye glances

— BLACKCURRANT & LEATHER GLOVES . the lingering trail of Blaise, always too cool and impossibly composed

— ROSEMARY & LEMONS . the sharp tang of fresh-cut herbs in the Great Hall, mingling with sunlight pouring through enchanted windows

— RAIN-SOAKED VELVET & WOOL . the cozy, slightly damp smell of cloaks after dashing in from a storm, cheeks flushed with the thrill of it

— BURNING LOGS . the Slytherin fireplace, crackling with an almost smug energy as we lounge and plot futures

— BURNT PARCHMENT . the crispy scent of midnight essays gone wrong, courtesy of an overly ambitious spell check gone haywire

— SEA SALT & KELP . the damp, briny magic of the Slytherin dorms, whispering secrets of the lake just beyond

— MOLASSES & CINNAMON BARK . morning cinnamon rolls in the Great Hall, warm enough to melt the frost on anyone’s mood

— DANDELION & CHARRED ROOTS . the earthy, weirdly comforting smell of brewing my own concoctions (especially the ones i’m not supposed to)

— ALMOND & BUTTERED RUM . late-night holiday treats in the common room, shared over hushed laughter and whispered secrets

˚　　　　✦　��　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Easter Imagine - Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary - Easter in the Ackles household

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings - None - this is pure fluff

Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, Happy Easter! I just wanted to put out a quick little imagine for you guys for this holiday weekend. Side note: As much as I adore the Ackles family, this work of fiction has the reader as his wife and I have renamed their kids because the way I see it JJ, Arrow and Zeppelin only exist in a world with Jenneel. 

You’re woken up bright and early by your three-year-old daughter jumping on you and shouting excitedly. “Mama! Dada! The Easter Bunny come! I saw paw prints! And Eggs!”

Your sleepy husband sits up beside you wiping his eyes, “Careful, Bubba, you can’t jump on mummy at the moment remember.”

She quickly hops over onto Jensen’s lap, “Sorry, mama, I just excited!”

“I know, sweetie, it’s alright. You just have to be careful. So, what was that about an Easter Bunny and eggs?”

“Come on! Come on! Come on! I show you!” Lilliana yells pulling at her dad’s hands. 

Jensen gets up letting her believe she’s pulling him with her little muscles. You follow behind as quickly as you can while seven months pregnant. The joy of your three-year-old is contagious, you can’t help but smile despite how tired you are. Even the baby starts kicking as you follow Lilliana down the hall in the direction of the white powdery paw prints. 

“Dada! Can’t reach! Egg!”

“Where, Lily?” Jensen asks kneeling down to her height.

“On the shelf!”

Feigning surprise, he picks her up so she can reach the first egg. 

“Yummy! Is that for mummy?” you say, teasing. She frowns and then holds it out for you. “Aww baby, thank you, but I think the Easter Bunny left it for you.”

“I can share.”

You lean over and hug your little girl while giving Jensen a loving look over her shoulder. “Thank you, sweetie, that’s very kind of you.”

“Can we look for more?”

“Of course! Maybe you should look for a basket to carry them in,” Jensen says as he places her down.

She immediately runs downstairs ahead of us in search of the basket and more eggs. Jensen wraps his arms around you enjoying your quick moment of solitude before Lily inevitably calls for help and company. “We made a good one,” you say.

“Yep, and soon we’ll have another one.”

“Thank you for handling all this last night by the way, I just didn’t have the energy. I still won’t be able to keep up with her this morning. You mind helping her while I cook us some breakfast?”

“I love being able to do this sort of thing when I’m home. You never have to thank me for being a husband or dad, I’m just sorry I’m not able to do it more often.”

“You’re here as often as you can be. She doesn’t fully understand it yet, but we really appreciate everything you do for this family.”

Jensen pulls you in for a sweet kiss before you’re interrupted by yelling from downstairs. “Mama! Dada! Come see!”

You both laugh as you pull away, Jensen steals one more quick kiss from you before taking your hand and leading you downstairs in the direction of Lily’s yelling.

“What is it, sweetie?” you call out as you see her at the bar with a bright easter basket filled with a little chocolate bunny and a note. You also note the empty glass and bottle of whisky on the other bench.

“What’s it say, dada?” she asks handing Jensen the note.

“It says: Dear Lilliana, I’ve been here today. And since you’ve been such a good girl, I’ve dropped some colourful eggs along the way. So keep your eyes peeled and give it a whirl. Happy hunting, from the Easter Bunny!”

“Dada, help me look?”

“Of course, Bubba.”

“Mama help too?”

“Why doesn’t daddy just help you and I’ll cook us some yummy choc chip pancakes so we can have some breakfast when you’ve found all the eggs?”

“I love choc chip pancakes! Thank you mama! Come on, daddy!”

You giggle as Lily grabs her basket in one hand and Jensen’s hand in the other dragging him off to search for chocolate eggs. You head to the kitchen and start making the pancakes. You watch your husband and daughter giggling and looking high and low collecting eggs as you mix the batter. You love when Jensen gets to enjoy these moments with her; he spends so much of the year traveling or filming and you know how much he misses out on and how much it affects him. 

You finish serving up the pancakes and coffee (and apple juice for Lily) just in time for Lily and Jensen to return with a basket full of chocolate eggs. 

“Look at all the eggs, mama! I found so many!”

“Wow! That’s a lot of eggs! You must’ve worked up an appetite, ready for some pancakes?”

“Yes, please!”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After breakfast you all spend the rest of the day watching Easter-themed cartoons and sharing chocolate eggs. 

Around 5pm you start getting ready to head over to the Padalecki’s for a shared BBQ dinner. Once you get there Lily runs straight over to the boys to tell them all about her egg hunt and haul. You join Gen in the kitchen while Jensen goes outside with the kids to help Jared with the grill. As you walk in, Gen pours you a glass of non-alcoholic wine and then tops up her own glass. 

“How was Easter at your place?” Gen asks.

“Fun, I’m glad Jensen’s here to help out. I would’ve really struggled to make it special for Lily without his help.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Growing life really takes it out of you.”

“Hey, you’re only a couple of months in. Wait till you’re carrying around a basketball and it kicks you all day long.”

“I remember…not looking forward to the third trimester – well I am, but you know what I mean.”

“I do. You need help with anything in here or shall we join the gang outside?”

“I think it’s all handled. The kids set the table before you got here.”

You grab your glasses and join everyone outside. The smell of sizzling steaks fills your nose while the happy laughter from the kids fills your ears. You take a seat and watch the sunset as the kids chase each other around the yard. You couldn’t have asked for a better day with your growing family. 

[spiritsrituals]

Elevate your tasting experience with whisky and chocolate pairing. The bold flavors of whisky blend seamlessly with the richness of fine chocolate, offering a delightful combination of sweetness, bitterness, and warmth for a luxurious indulgence.

Visit:- https://spiritsandrituals.com/spiritual-signatures/whisky-chocolate-pairing/

[ohmytomorrowisthursday]

AOT characters taking you on a date pt. 2

Hi! part one is here 

A lil spice!

Reiner: Idk, Reiner is a hungry man and I feel like he wants a place with a lot of meat lol. Takes you out for southern style barbecue. Loves the low-key vibes and the good food; orders extra corn bread and beans. He is sooooo shy when it comes to his feelings for you  I feel like he would eat so much so that he doesn’t need to talk lol. Likes taking you to his favourite restaurant and seeing you in jeans. I feel like he would love going to a sunset outdoor concert or a drive in movie. Even going to a haunted house, he’d loooove the feeling of protecting you. Wants to hold you to the music, or cuddle you in the car. Physical touch is his love language and he just wants to go somewhere where he can feel your body and make out with you for hourrrrrsss. He cant keep his hands off of you. 

Sasha: ALL YOU CAN EAT. Not sure if its a buffet or like ayce sushi but a place where you can try a ton of dishes and eat as much as you can. Would love making you laugh and playing silly get-to-know-you games. Going to a theme park or fair or anywhere with rollercoasters would be her jam. I feel like she’d love Disneyland but hate how expensive all of the food is haha. Wants to go on rides, eat mini doughnuts and enjoy the fun until you’re both exhausted. Kisses you on the Ferris wheel and buys you both matching merch, like those Toy Story aliens hats. Taking photos in a Photo Booth and end up making out. Hiding behind corners and stealing kisses from each other so no one sees. 

Levi: Every minute of the date is planned perfectly. He has high standards and wants to take you somewhere really nice for dinner, a restaurant where you get multiple courses of food and there’s matching wine paired with each course. Dimly lit with jazz music playing. Has a list of acceptable places and it has to be at one of those. He doesn’t go out to restaurants often, but when he does he goes for a five star experience. Loves seeing you all dressed up, just so he can take it off later. Touches your thighs at the dinner table and is giving you the ‘fuck me’ eyes all night. Loves teasing you and seeing you blush and get flustered. Takes you to a quiet speakeasy after to drink cocktails. My man is definitely a whisky drinker, he is getting an old fashioned or a scotch on the rocks. Whispers dirty things in your ear all night but refuses to kiss you which drives you craaazy. When he drops you off back at home he brushes your hair behind your ear. “I want all of you,” he says before he kisses you. Doesn’t stay because he wants to leave you wanting more. 

Jean: He would be sooooo nervous while planning this date lol. Probably googles ‘romantic date ideas’ because his brain was too anxious to some up with his own ideas. Would pick a nice French restaurant and give you a red rose at the beginning. He’s super blunt and throughout the night he’d say things like ‘you are so hot’ and tell you how much he likes you. Something about him just makes me think he loves classic romance tropes. Like he’d take you to the Eiffel Tower and kiss you under it when its twinkling. Getting a cartoonist to sketch both of you and then keeping it on his wall. Sooo nervous when he asks you to kiss him and he doesn’t hold back at all. Lifts up your chin and look into your eyes kind of kiss. Wants to be your Prince Charming. You tease him about how sweet he is and he gets all red and flustered.

Erwin: I feel like Erwin is a gentleman and wants to take you on a really classy night out. I feel like he’d want to dress up and go to the symphony with you or a charity event at a museum of anthropology, followed by a dinner at a boujie restaurant. Wants to talk about work and your career with him. Would love asking you tough hypothetical questions because loves having really cerebral conversations. Drinking nice Bordeaux and eating oysters and steak. Shares chocolate cake with you after. I feel like he wouldn’t try anything because he’s such a gentleman, but he’d compliment you and kiss your hand. Takes you back to his place for a night cap on his deck. He’d tell you how that he finds you beautiful inside and out and ask for a kiss. He’s slow and holds back but as soon as you say the word, he’s ready to go. Tells you to take off your clothes and loves watching you undress. Loves making your toes curl.

[vanillascentedperfume008]

Why Vanilla Scented Perfume is an Essential in Any Fragrance Wardrobe

Plenty of vanilla scented perfume can learn sugary candy, which could be headache-inducing for some people. If you have a tendency to remain distant from sweet gourmands, this could be the vanilla fragrance for you. With vanilla as a base layer, you get just a touch of sweet warmth. However, it's the minerality and freshness of the salt and floral notes that make this fragrance something I could put on daily.

But should you like a stronger vanilla scented perfume, dab somewhat Vaseline or Aquaphor on your wrists earlier than spritzing this on to offer the fragrance one thing to grip onto and enhance the longevity a lil bit. Inspired by decadent French pastries, this whisks our star note in with wealthy cocoa and zesty orange to create a spicy scent that replicates a elaborate orange chocolate dessert. “Love, Don’t Be Shy” encapsulates the essence of seduction and allure in a single scent. With a blend of orange blossom, marshmallow, and a touch of neroli, this perfume stays sensual and candy lengthy after it hits your skin. Lucky for you, we’re a very sweet bunch here at Well+Good.

Vetiver & Golden Vanilla Cologne Intense

You’d suppose this vanilla scented perfume would depart you smelling like an explosion of flowers because, well, that’s how it’s marketed. Sure, you get a contemporary orchid, freesia, jasmine, and rose scent, however what makes it attention-grabbing (and oh-so-yummy) are the subtle notes of candy vanilla and spicy patchouli. With this fragrance’s rich blend of amber, sandalwood, and vanilla, this scent is a luxurious symphony of sweetness and warmth that lives as a lot as its name—GOLD! It smells divine, deep, and earthy, not too flowery, just a lovely full-bodied scent,” says an IPSY reviewer. With Gold Expressive, luxury isn't just a word—it's a whole vibe.

As MC's former Art Director Brittany Holloway Brown places it, the mixture is a "match made in heaven." Adding cardamom, lavender, and sage provides it much more of a grounding really feel. Personally, I would discover vanilla scented perfume irresistible on a man, but I additionally love wearing it myself whenever I want a little one thing completely different. I even had somebody praise my perfume on the subway while wearing this, so it's going to all the time be a standout in my assortment.

When I spritzed this at my desk, five colleagues requested what I was wearing. Looking for vanilla scented perfume to add some warmth without any sugariness? Vanilla bean is paired with smoky tobacco and smooth rum, to create a heady scent that's oh-so cosy. Think of a whisky-based cocktail, like old fashioned or a Manhattan, in scent form – that's this. This providing from Kayali has hints of vanilla orchid and jasmine that give it a slightly floral edge, serving to to keep it from smelling like food-grade vanilla (IYKYK).

I find this one of many sexiest vanilla scents for date nights out or in, however I may also wear it on a weekday. There are so many vanilla perfumes to like on the market; narrowing it all the means down to which of them are the most effective or those to try first can feel overwhelming. Spray on this celestial hair fragrance and awaken your senses to a cosmic blend of jasmine, orange blossom, and vanilla. Infused with biotin and keratin, it nourishes your strands while leaving a path of strength, silkiness, and divine perfume. Since its inception in 1921, this iconic perfume has epitomized class and class.

It’s light and fruity, however there’s a clean creaminess to the bottom of it that makes it feel refined. I don’t know why it took me so long to buy a pattern of this perfume; I was drooling over the description for years. Notes include tobacco leaf, vanilla, tonka bean, cocoa, dry fruit accords, candy wooden sap, and ginger.

Most Long-lasting: Lush Vanillary

It's subtle and daring yet also actually comforting and acquainted, so it is very versatile in that regard. Vanilla scented perfume takes centre stage on the drydown, supported by cedar and musky notes. The ultimate result is a female scent paying homage to Hugo Boss Alive (reviewed next).

Cosmopolitan participates in various affiliate marketing programs, which means we might get paid commissions on editorially chosen products purchased via our hyperlinks to retailer websites. The very first thing you discover about Sumo Citrus is its size—it’s the most important number of mandarins. Its signature Top Knot®, a bump on top of the fruit that serves as an easier method to peel it. The skin practically lifts off, revealing plump, seedless segments that don’t go away your hands coated in juice and cussed pith.

Another bullseye for many who love a heady vanilla, Byredo's intense amber draws you in with plum and musk prime notes earlier than hitting you with smoky labdanum and white woods. The vanilla note is creamy and never too sweet, and the sillage just goes on and on. Keep scrolling for all one of the best vanilla perfumes, from spicy-sweet takes on vanilla, to contemporary and floral variations. Then I’ll help you decide the proper one for you if you’re still undecided.

Having lived in Los Angeles, California, and Austin, Texas, she has since relocated again to her residence state, Michigan. When she's not writing, researching, or testing magnificence merchandise, she's working by way of an ever-growing guide assortment or swimming in the Great Lakes. My high decide is Mugler Angel Elixir Eau de Parfum as a end result of it’s a well-balanced mix of vanilla, white florals and wooden that works for any season or event. A complex base of tonka bean, vanilla and wooden is incredibly seductive. Fresh and brilliant, the jasmine on the heart of the scent and a robust base of benzoin create depth and assist the extra fragile notes.

“This is my absolute favourite sort of perfume; the vanilla notes are very outstanding, and it total smells like an amazing dessert,” raves an Ipster. So, unleash your inside genius and let your true self shine with this irresistible fragrance. This scent is daring and irresistible, giving off a lingering impression of dark vanilla bean, sandalwood, sensual orchids, and spicy undertones.

If this were the one fragrance I could ever wear once more, I’d be fine with that! Prepare to be addicted to the comfortable scent of Tainted Love, a perfume that leaves a lasting impression and is bound to turn out to be a vital a half of your signature scent collection. In this guide, we’ve sniffed, spritzed, and sniffed once more (you’re welcome) to bring you the crème de la crème of vanilla perfumes. From smoky and seductive to heat and candy, these scents are assured to make you scent incredible—and possibly edible. If vanilla is in with other base notes, it is doubtless you won’t odor too vanillary.

Our vanities are stacked with the most recent and best in vanilla scents, and we’re eager to share our favorites with you. Find our favorites below, all tried and examined by Well+Good staffers. This fragrance is called after certainly one of Christian Dior's favorite desserts, the Diorama Gourmand (details of the actual pastry are a mystery as there are no true information of it).

Vanille Antique is the perfume equivalent of a dark bar, a stiff drink, and an excellent date. It’s sultry, and manages to drag off a heady mixture of vanilla, woods, and musk with out feeling too overpowering. New York City is a melange of plenty of pleasant and ugly smells. However, in Bond No. 9’s world, the town is a golden medley of dewy florals and vanilla. Dave is beautiful for a particular night time out but just nearly as good for a soothing night time in.

The Sol de Janeiro Cheirosa '62 scent "perfectly encapsulates the essence of joyful summer time days," Mary Honkus, a contributing beauty author, told Cosmo. Snag the Sol De Janeiro Bum Bum Cream , and you may be the yummiest-smelling person round. At first, I thought this was simply the corporate model of Warm Vanilla Sugar by Bath and Body Works, thanks to its warm brown sugar and amber notes. This scent has hints of vanilla orchid and jasmine that give it a slightly floral edge, helping to keep it from smelling like food-grade vanilla (IYKYK).

The notes have fruits and flowers, but it’s undeniably a vanilla fragrance. It lasts and lasts, and folks close to you may discover it, however it’s not going to settle into a cloud that fills an entire room. I’ve branched out since then, however there’s still a layer of sweetness and heat supplied by vanilla in the base notes in plenty of fragrances I wear. And I do revisit the vanillas, too, mainly in the fall and winter months.

On the opposite hand, if you want to really scent the vanilla, look for a fragrance with only some different notes within the mix. Also, hold an eye out for different types of the observe, like vanilla orchid or vanilla bourbon. Crafted with a blend of Madagascar vanilla, tonka bean, and heliotrope, “Pure Vanilla” creates a easy but luxe aroma that’s perfect for these who recognize a clean and uncomplicated perfume profile. The emphasis on natural elements makes it a superb alternative for those with sensitivities or a choice for eco-conscious merchandise, too.

While the double whammy of marshmallow and vanilla might sound like a recipe for olfactory tooth rot, this is as a substitute an opulent, enveloping, and really unmistakable scent. It should be no shock that it was as soon as Rihanna's signature eau. Reportedly, demand skyrocketed after Madame Guerlain wore the sensational fragrance on a transatlantic ocean liner, and not a modern vanity was Shalimar-free throughout a lot of the twentieth century. Of course no one can do a decadent, old-school vanilla like Tom Ford. This sumptuous scent conjures the smoking room in a non-public membership, the place whiskey is sipped out of crystal highball glasses in entrance of a roaring fire.

Brooke Knappenberger tests and names Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille as one of the best luxurious vanilla perfume. Brooke Knappenberger checks and names Kayali Vanilla 28 as the most effective total vanilla fragrance. Mugler’s Alien Goddess offers a decadent ambiance built around Madagascar vanilla. The aroma sweetens with the addition of jasmine and bergamot.

Despite its recognition, growing Sumo Citrus is no easy feat. It takes years of expertise to excellent, and California’s Central Valley is the one place in the United States where it’s grown. Even then, farmers face unpredictable weather challenges, which means every piece of fruit that makes it to the shop is a results of careful tending and endurance. Then, one day, my roommate came home from the store with an oversized citrus I didn’t recognize. She told me I needed to try a bit, whereas effortlessly peeling it in a single easy motion—no mess, no battle. I skeptically accepted a slice, wondering what the big deal was.

Vanilla can add a creamy depth to fragrances that makes them rather more wearable. Our favourite vanilla scents are attractive, straightforward to put on, and the source of countless compliments. Keep studying for the vanilla perfumes that ELLE editors and rave reviewers like to wear. Vanilla perfumes are most often regarded as gourmands (i.e., sweet perfumes that scent good enough to eat), however they can be floral, contemporary, tropical, clean—you name it. If you realize you hate a sickly-sweet scent but like the warmth of a vanilla note, opt for a vanilla perfume with a lot of recent citrus or bright florals in the opening notes.

The base notes of vanilla absolute and coffee absolute depart an irresistible, long-lasting impression. This scent is a bit earthier than other vanilla fragrances I’ve tested thanks to notes like saffron, cashmere wooden, and tulip. But it smells superb nonetheless and is my go-to for nights out when I wish to really feel flirty and confident.

When I first sprayed it on my pores and skin, it type of smelled like a bubblegum-flavored marshmallow—but once it dried, I received hints of spicy pink pepper, coriander, and musk that gave it some wealthy depth. I get an ever-so-slight whisper of the orange blossom, nevertheless it primarily just helps all of the candy goodness all through. And I knew I wished this fragrance to defy the stereotypes of a extra ordinary vanilla scent. It wanted to have depth and duality, which our perfumer Pascal Gaurin so beautifully achieved by combining Chantilly vanilla with tonka bean and cocoa shell. The prime notes of green mandarin, candy pear, and fig leaf create a sharp and refreshing opening.

The smell of vanilla can be simply known as some of the lovely, nice, and simply scrumptious smells in the world. In this information, I’ll tell you in regards to the eleven best vanilla perfumes for women, including superb designer and area of interest fragrances for each style. This perfume captures the essence of lush orchid-filled jungles and verdant fields of tall grass, evoking a way of journey. At its coronary heart lies the earthy richness of vetiver, its deep and grounding aroma enveloped in the warmth of vanilla bourbon.

Beth Gillette is the sweetness editor at Cosmopolitan, where she covers skincare, makeup, hair, nails, and extra across digital and print. Follow her on Instagram for makeup selfies and a brand new hair 'do every few months. This perfume makes folks go, "What are you wearing? You scent so good."

Guided by consultants, we spend hours trying into the components that matter, to convey you these alternatives. If you have to blind-buy one and can’t go pattern it at a vanilla scented perfume or have a sample despatched to you first, I suggest Dolce & Gabbana’s The One. It’s the most versatile and doesn’t have any uncommon love-it-or-hate-it notes like Black Orchid or Dirty Vanilla. This one is good, pretty, female, and will last endlessly on your garments. Some may discover it a bit too sharp (especially if vulnerable to migraines; I have to watch out when I wear it, however I can nonetheless enjoy it).

This is a sweet vanilla scented perfume, however not nauseatingly so; the notes work well collectively to create steadiness. I love all the Dior Poison scents, but the two I reach for probably the most are Hypnotic Poison and Pure Poison (not vanilla, but an attractive floral). I really feel like I’ve tried virtually all of them, so maybe my list of one of the best might help you find your start line.

[rhosmeinir]

Fictober 2023 #10

Prompt #10 - "It's alright, I'm here now."

Fanfiction: Good Omens

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which Crowley is cold. 728 words!

It was winter in London, and that meant freezing sleet, howling winds, and inadequate radiators in any building not constructed in the current millennium (and a fair few of those, too). For Aziraphale, it also meant the delight of bundling up in various jumpers, scarves, hats, mittens, and heavy coats when he needed to venture outdoors, and curling up next to the fire in the rooms above the bookshop at night in a deep cozy chair, with a book and a cup of chocolate or spiced hot cider. It meant merriment and joy, and a heightening of all the sensations that made corporeal life so fascinating. Aziraphale, nose and cheeks pink with cold, whistled to himself as he strolled the final few blocks back to Whickber street, and the silver sleigh-bells he had installed in place of the usual brass instrument sang cheerfully as he entered the bookshop. 

“Crowley!” he called, wanting to show his demon what he had procured: Aziraphale’s favorite chocolatier had been having a special, so of course he’d gone to take advantage, and found that the gentleman was also doing a package that included whisky pairings. Ah yes I know just who will enjoy that, he had remarked, then blushed when the chocolatier winked. But there was no response, and the angel tilted his head slightly, listening. There was not a sound to be heard in the slight chill of the bookshop, but he could feel that Crowley was there. Shedding his outdoor layers onto the coatrack by his desk, Aziraphale made his way upstairs.

As he approached the bedroom, he could see a light under the door, and feel a change in temperature. His lips pursed in slight concern. Crowley always did feel the cold so deeply, what with the leanness of his corporation, and his serpent-like tendencies. He must be bundled up next to the fire, Aziraphale assumed. There were times when the demon simply could not get warm, in fact sometimes it was so severe that he would—

Aziraphale opened the door, and at once cried,

“Oh, Crowley!” 

Beneath the duvet, quilt, and sheets, and indeed beneath two throw blankets which had been thrown haphazardly on top of the bed, lay a large, shivering lump. At once Aziraphale deposited his parcels on top of the chest of drawers, and made haste to remove his outer layers. Divested of jumper, shirt, socks, shoes, and trousers, the angel crossed to the bed and threw back the covers. Beneath them, coiled up tightly on himself so that his scarlet underbelly was scarcely visible, was the large black snake that was Crowley, yellow eyes staring up at Aziraphale plaintively.

“It’s alright, dear,” Aziraphale soothed as he climbed into the bed, Crowley’s coils rustling to make room for him, “I’m here now.” Though he had come through the door with a chilled face, Aziraphale was naturally a warm being, and beneath the many layers beneath which Crowley had burrowed, instantly began to radiate heat. Crowley uncoiled himself as Aziraphale shifted into position, then began to re-wind himself: this time, around his angel’s body and limbs, spreading every inch of his scaly underbelly against Aziraphale’s skin.

“I’m here now,” Aziraphale murmured again, wrapping his arms across his own torso to embrace the thick coils that curled about his chest and arms, one hand coming to rest on the back of the snake’s head as it slid around his neck. Crowley squeezed his whole body slightly, and Aziraphale sighed, squeezing back to every part of his demon he could reach. Fortunately for Aziraphale, he had long since miracled the bed so that he wouldn’t sweat when it got too warm, merely able to enjoy the pleasant heat. It did, however, have the tendency to make him extremely sleepy, and it was hardly any time at all before he drifted off.

When Aziraphale awoke, the room was much darker: the fire had burned down significantly, and the light from a streetlamp drifted in through the window, illuminating the snowflakes that had begun to fall outside. But between the still-smoldering fire and the two beings in the room, it was still toasty-warm. At some point, Crowley had resumed his human form, and now lay, limbs-entangled, with Aziraphale. The angel smiled.

“Better, my dear?”

“Ngk,” Crowley replied from within the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, where his lips formed a grateful kiss.

[angchongyisingapore]

Ang Chong Yi’s Sensory Journey: Elevating Singaporean Cuisine with Artful Pairings

Singaporean cuisine is a masterpiece of cultural fusion, where diverse influences create an exquisite dining experience. However, Ang Chong Yi takes this culinary adventure a step further by curating food and drink pairings that elevate each dish’s flavors, textures, and aromas. His sensory-driven approach transforms everyday meals into an art form, enhancing how people experience Singaporean food. From hawker classics to gourmet interpretations, Ang Chong Yi believes that the Gastronomic Journey with Ang Chong Yi Singapore: Must-Try Food and Drink Pairings can unlock deeper nuances in taste, making each bite and sip a harmonious blend of tradition and innovation.

The Science Behind Perfect Pairings

Pairing food with the right beverage is not just about taste—it’s about chemistry. Different elements such as acidity, sweetness, bitterness, and umami play crucial roles in how flavors interact. Ang Chong Yi applies this knowledge to bring out the best in Singaporean dishes by carefully matching them with complementary drinks.

For example, the bold and spicy Chili Crab is perfectly balanced by a lightly sparkling calamansi cooler, which cuts through the richness and enhances the natural sweetness of the crab. Similarly, the creamy, coconut-laden Laksa finds its ideal match in a dry Riesling, where the wine’s acidity contrasts beautifully with the dish’s spice and creaminess.

Street Food Meets Sophistication

Singapore’s hawker centers are home to some of the most flavorful dishes, and Ang Chong Yi reimagines these classics with sophisticated pairings that elevate their appeal.

Hainanese Chicken Rice & Oolong Tea: The delicate flavors of poached chicken are enhanced by the floral notes of oolong tea, cleansing the palate between bites and allowing the ginger and chili sauces to shine.

Satay & Craft Beer: The smoky, caramelized exterior of satay skewers pairs seamlessly with a crisp, hoppy IPA, which enhances the grilled flavors while balancing the peanut sauce’s sweetness.

Char Kway Teow & Cold Brew Coffee: This wok-fried noodle dish, rich with umami from dark soy sauce and seafood, pairs well with the deep, slightly bitter undertones of cold brew coffee, creating a bold and complex taste experience.

By introducing such pairings, Ang Chong Yi adds a layer of sophistication to casual dining making hawker food more than just comfort fare—it becomes a refined culinary experience.

Fusion Pairings: Tradition Meets Innovation

Beyond classic Singaporean dishes, Ang Chong Yi explores cross-cultural pairings, blending traditional flavors with global influences to create something new and exciting.

Rendang & Dark Chocolate Stout: The slow-cooked richness of beef rendang, with its deep coconut and spice profile, pairs surprisingly well with a dark chocolate stout, where the beer’s roasted malt notes echo the dish’s bold flavors.

Kaya Toast & Espresso Martini: This breakfast favorite, featuring coconut jam and butter on crispy toast, is transformed into an indulgent evening treat when paired with a velvety espresso martini. The coffee’s bitterness contrasts with the kaya’s sweetness, creating a perfect balance.

Roti Prata & Masala Chai: The buttery crispness of prata comes alive when enjoyed with a spiced masala chai, where the fragrant tea amplifies the dish’s subtle layers of flavor.

These innovative pairings highlight Ang Chong Yi’s ability to merge time-honored tastes with modern, unexpected elements, proving that Singaporean cuisine is ever-evolving.

Elevating the Fine Dining Scene

While Singaporean food is often associated with street food, Ang Chong Yi is working to integrate it into the fine dining world. By collaborating with chefs, sommeliers, and mycologists, he crafts curated tasting menus where each course is carefully paired with complementary beverages.

From pairing Bak Kut Teh with an aged whisky to matching Peranakan desserts with jasmine-infused cocktails, he ensures that every sip enhances the dish’s complexity. This approach not only refines local cuisine but also introduces Singaporean flavors to a global audience in a new light.

The Future of Singaporean Gastronomy

As food culture continues to evolve, Ang Chong Yi envisions a future where Singaporean cuisine gains global recognition for its depth and artistry. He believes that through thoughtful pairings and a sensory-driven approach, local dishes can be appreciated at a whole new level.

His dedication to elevating Singaporean food through innovative pairings is not just about taste—it’s about storytelling, where every dish and drink combination tells a tale of heritage, creativity, and the beauty of flavors coming together.

Conclusion: A Culinary Awakening

Ang Chong Yi’s sensory journey is more than just a personal passion—it’s a movement that reshapes how people experience Singaporean cuisine. Through expert pairings, he proves that food is not just about eating, but about feeling, discovering, and savoring every bite with intention.

By elevating the way we pair flavors, he turns everyday meals into extraordinary experiences, ensuring that Singapore’s culinary identity remains dynamic, exciting, and unforgettable. Whether in a bustling hawker center or an elegant fine dining restaurant, Ang Chong Yi’s artful pairings are redefining the way we taste Singapore—one dish at a time.