vest cardigan

oh my god sherlock seriously went to belarus for john bc he wanted more money fkskdklsjss HE ONLY TOOK THE SHAD SANDERSON CASE BC JOHN HAD NO MONEY??? sherlock was over here hopping on planes like “i gotta keep my baby in the nicest cardigan vests”

Three Words, Eight Letters

Author’s Note: Reid x Reader. When the Reader says “I love you” Reid struggles to return the sentiment. But there’s more than one way to say it. You just have to listen.

He can translate five languages with ease and can read 20,000 words per minute. He can recite Shakespeare and poetry and memorize entire film scripts without batting an eye. And yet, there are three words he just can’t manage to string together.

She thinks it’s a mental block, that something in his mind just won’t let it happen. Or perhaps it’s something in his heart. Something scarred, and something scared. They’d been together for six months before she found the courage to say it to him. They’d been sitting together on a park bench, watching the world go by. He draped an arm over her shoulder, and she’d nestled close to his chest, sighing. It was the most natural thing in the world, to be by his side.

“Spencer?” she’d said, glancing up at him.


“I, um… I love you.” She had pulled back a bit, gauging his reaction. His eyes widened and red crept into his cheeks as he sat there stammering, looking wholly shell-shocked. “It’s okay,” she added, “You don’t have to say it back! I just thought you should know.”

Spencer had looked down, pulling at his knuckles. “It-it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that… I can’t. I’ve tried to tell you so many times, but the words, they won’t come out.” He was quiet for a few moments, before saying, “I think it’s because of Maeve.” His late girlfriend. He had told her their story a few months into their relationship, the night they unearthed the demons of their past together. “She said it to me, but I never had the chance to tell her that, and ever since then I just… I can’t do it. I’m sorry. Because I do… I really do, I just…”

His voice jumped higher and his eyes began to water. Sensing his distress she’d leaned in and silenced him with a kiss. “Shh. I know. It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I just wanted you to know.” There’s no need to rush it. When he’s ready, he’ll say it.

Months pass, and he still cannot manage it. She’s gotten rather fond of telling him despite the sentiment not being returned. Those words seem to come so easily to her, as though trying to make up for his silence. She can’t stop telling him how much she loves him. When he shows up to her apartment with her favorite takeout food, when they’re the only two sitting in the library, between ragged breaths after he’s kissed her so deeply the world melts away.

He never says it back. And yet, he says it all the time. She just has to listen.

“I love you,” she laughs, as he finishes telling her a funny story on their walk back from dinner. He’s accompanying her back to her apartment, and the air is rapidly cooling off. She shivers, wearing only a dress and light jacket. When the sun went down, the mild fall temperatures went with it. Spencer stops and pulls off his coat, laying it across her shoulders.

“Darling, you don’t have to-”

“Don’t worry. I’m not really cold at all,” he assures her, removing his scarf as well. With care he wraps it in circles around her neck, smiling at her. Instantly the cold in her bones is replaced by warmth, and she buries her nose into the fabric of the scarf. It smells like ivory soap, coffee, and autumn. Just like him.


Spencer takes her hand once more, and they start off down the street. “Of course. I don’t want you to get sick. You need it more than I do.” He takes his coat back when they reach her building, but he conveniently forgets about the scarf, a fact which she’s all too happy about to believe it was an accident.

She hears it then.

She hearts it when he comes back after a long case, she throws her arms around him. “God I’ve missed you,” she says. “I love you so much.”

He kisses her forehead, and when he pulls away she notices the bag in his hand. “”I brought you something.”

“Why?” she asks. “It’s not my birthday or anything.”

“Open it,” is all he says. She peers inside, and withdraws a book. Staring at the cover, her mouth falls open.

Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. An old, worn copy. She opens the front cover and stares at the first page. It can’t be. “But this is… this is a first edition! Spencer, it must’ve cost a fortune!”

He shakes his head. “You’ve always told me it’s your favorite book, and that you’d do anything to get a first edition copy. Well, on the case I helped save the life of a rare bookstore owner, who insisted on giving me a book as a gift. When I saw this one, I knew I had to get it.”

“Why?” she repeats. In her arms she clutches the book tight, not sure whether she wants to hug it or him more.

“Just because,” he says. “I wanted to see your smile when you opened it.” The book is temporarily forgotten on the armchair as she loses herself in kissing him.

She knows it the day he comes over to find her curled up on the couch, crying. It’s been a difficult week and her best friend, Isa, has been in a terrible accident. Things are up in the air. Isa is in the hospital. Spencer doesn’t ask any questions, he simply walks over and sits down beside her. She continues to sob as he pulls her onto his lap and wraps up her in an embrace. His heart beats through his shirt, and he runs his hands up and down her back in slow patterns, whispering gentle reassurances in that low voice he typically reserves for victims and grieving families. In his arms, she is safe. Warm and protected. No matter what the world throws at her, she knows he will be there to lift her up and keep her steady.

The very presence of him soothes her. He wipes her tears with the sleeves of his shirt and pushes her hair back from her face. They sit there in silence, her head on his chest, his fingers tracing circles on her skin until her breathing returns to normal. No words are needed at all. He knows her, knows what she needs. And she knows in her heart exactly how he feels.

She is certain of it when they’re at an event for her job, and one of her colleagues starts ranting about how medication is useless for mental illness. Robert goes on and on, saying that all people need to do is think positively and do things like yoga. Everyone is overdiagnosed, overmedicated, and overly sensitive.

Spencer feigns a sudden interest in the view from the window in the hallway as an excuse to escape the conversation. He glances down at her, quickly looking her over. “Are you okay?” he asks.

She bites her lip and inhales slowly. Anxiety has been a struggle for most of her life, and it was only with therapy and medication that she started to heal. Since college, things have been much better, but she still remembers the darker days, when she wasn’t sure how to keep going. To hear people say such ignorant things about mental health still stings.

“I’m alright,” she says. “I’ve heard worse things. But thank you for getting me out of there. I love you.”

Spencer interlaces his fingers with her own and they stare out at the city together. “I’d do anything for you. And I don’t want anyone to hurt you. What you feel is valid, and nobody should tell you otherwise.” He’s always doing that with her. Her protector, her knight in a vest and cardigan. There is no doubt in her mind that when he says anything he means anything.

They are sitting in his living room and they’ve both had a stressful day at work, and he’s making herbal tea in the kitchen. “I love you,” she says, grinning, when he sets the mug down before her. Spencer frowns and shifts uneasily in the armchair he’s in.

“Doesn’t it bother you, Y/N?” he asks.

“Doesn’t what bother me?”

“The fact that I still haven’t said it.” Oh. That. “We’ve been dating for over a year, and I still can’t manage to do something so simple. I know it must be frustrating, and I don’t want you to think I’m not as committed to you or to our relationship. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I don’t want to lose you. But I can’t say it yet.”

“Spencer,” she says softly, resting a hand on his forearm. The fabric of his sweater is soft between her fingers. “I know it. I know how you feel about me. You don’t have to say anything before you’re ready to. There’s more than one way to say I love you, you know. You tell me all the time. Not in those words, but I get the message.”

He seems unconvinced. “How?”

“You ask me to text you to make sure I get home safely. You call me almost every night when you’re away on a case just because you say you want to hear my voice. You hold me when I’m scared. You take me out to get Thai food even though you’d rather have Indian. You memorized every song in Les Mis because you knew it was my favorite musical. In all those gestures, I can hear it. And I can hear it when you make time for me no matter how busy you are. Sometimes you say it without saying anything at all.”

She leans closer to kiss him, softly at first, then deeper, deeper. In equal fervor he responds, and though the syllables do not fall from his tongue, his lips are perfectly capable of making the message clear. Every part of her tells her it’s true, that he loves her he loves her he loves her. No flower petal plucking needed to divine it.

One day, she’s walking across the sidewalk to hand him a cup of coffee. They’re going to walk to the Smithsonian, but it’s still early and they need caffeine before they’re ready to go anywhere. He holds the paper cup close to his face, breathes in the scent of a warm mocha.

“Ah. What would I do without you?” he says, flashing her a smile. She laughs, a grin that stretches across her whole face, and the morning sunlight hits her eyes just right at that very moment, and she just looks so adorable. Something in him lifts. “I love you.”

The smile falters, and the latte she’s holding tumbles from her hands, contents spilling on the sidewalk. She blinks. “What did you say?”

Bewildered, she stares up at him, and his heart swells. “I love you,” he repeats. He can’t explain why now or how, but the words have finally come and he can’t stop them. Months of sentiments fall from his mouth. “I love every part of you. I love the way your eyes light up when you’re excited and I love the way you laugh and I love how open your heart is. I love your patience and your hair and the way you kiss me when there’s no one else around. I love all of you. I love you. I am in love with you. I’ve never loved anyone this much. I love you, Y/N.”

It feels so good to say it.

It feels so good to hear it. Water springs to her eyes before she can stop the tears. Stepping over the puddle of coffee, she cups his face in her hands. “I know you do,” she murmurs. “You didn’t have to say it. But I’m glad you did. And I love you, too.”

In the middle of the sidewalk, he pulls her closer, pressing his lips to hers. They’re both laughing and crying and something in them has changed. She doesn’t care that people pass by, giving them odd looks as they stand there kissing. Whatever locked doors existed in his heart have finally been opened. He’s healing. He’s ready.

For him, she would wait a thousand years. No demands, no ultimatums. She has heard the sentiment before, listening carefully to his actions and reading between the lines.

But oh, how good it feels to finally hear those words out loud. And oh, how she loves him.


“It’s a coincidence that the majority of people I’ve been attracted to wore black, leather jackets and looked like models” you couldn’t stop the small clearing of your throat you had to let out to not burst into a fit of laughter.
“I don’t…I don’t look like a…that’s not the point!” he was getting more frustrated by the minute, “The point is to see you happy, or your equivalent of it, at least” he spared a glance to Sam who had the same expression as you and offered less support, “so, anything?”
“I’ve also been attracted to people that wear reversible sweater vests and cardigans, Dean” rising from the couch with a deep groan, you collected whatever you didn’t want to leave there overnight and headed towards the door.
“It’s not reversible but…” stopping to look him up and down for a second and pressing your lips into a thin line of feigned disappointment when you saw his mouth quirk up into that familiar smirk, “That’s a shame, not gonna lie though, those jeans are really workin’ for-”
“Leave” his smile fell as he interrupted what he already knew was a sarcastic comment.
Raising your hands in mock surrender, you said goodnight to both of them and backed out of the room. Dean only hearing your eruption of hysterics through the door once you’d left, fading as you got further away. 
“Give it up, it’s been what? Five weeks, they’re never gonna-”
“Where are those cardigans?” he was already ratting through Sam’s stuff looking for them, then out the door towards the Impala, rambling about how your laughing at him was progress before any sense could be lectured into him.
Not that it’d worked so far and Sam was starting to question if he wanted it to work anymore anyway.


Tiny Sweaters 

Words: 473
Tony Stark x Reader
“So like I said I was gonna maybe blow up your inbox lol. Well I have an idea after watching a fluffy movie… lol Again I leave it to your imagination creativity ;) so like I can get a Tony Stark story where reader is going through labor and Tony helps her as she gives birth. This move just made me go aww’d lol Thank You !” - @tonystarksgirl 

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” You sneered at your husband. You had one hand squeezing around his hand and the other wrapped on the bedrail. Your stupid head had told you that you didn’t need an epidural. You were an incredibly brave hero! You were the first woman to tame the infamous Tony Stark! Labor pains were but a minor inconvenience! Oh how wrong you had been.

“If I remember correctly, Sweetheart, you had a lot to say when we were making the baby.” Tony smirk from your side. His smile wavered as you crushed his hand once more. “Ok, not helping. I get it.”  

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Sasori modern AU headcanons please !!! I love your writing by the way ♥

thank ya!!


•I’m sure he would keep up his puppeteering hobbies in a modern AU if possible, but I also see him being an avid reader. He visits his local library often and rents books, but doesn’t usually buy them. Sasori does read summaries thoroughly, but sometimes he finds a book is boring him and he’ll stop midway and forget about it, so he doesn’t see the point in actually buying the books to keep

•Sasori enjoys living on his own. Even if he had a s/o, the idea of moving in together just doesn’t sound fun. He’d bluntly reject the idea. He just does better by himself, away from distractions and nuisances. If he’s feeling ‘lonely’ he can go and seek company. Otherwise, he’s fine being alone

•Doesn’t watch much TV. Only interested in the news, but he gets most of that from an old-fashioned newspaper anyways

•When he wants to get out of his apartment (I can see him also buying a little house for himself. Just nothing too big. He’s all for minimal living) then he’ll visit the art museum. But all he does it critique the art. He literally sneers at pieces that just disgust him. Modern art annoys him tbh

•Don’t know what his job would be tbh. If it doesn’t have to do with making puppets, he might just be a librarian? A simple job. He’d prefer a job where he didn’t have to communicate with people, so he’d be one of those librarians who sits in an obscure corner of the library reading his own book so you can’t find him and bother him with questions. Or he just sits at the front desk and ignores everyone who tries to talk to him. Somehow never gets fired though

•Okay so typical librarian headcanon: but I just imagined Sasori with glasses and I’m really digging it. Obviously reading glasses are in canon Naruto verse too yeah I know, but just imagine Sasori with reading glasses on a with a lil cardigan or vest. God damn so cute

•Listen Sasori will gift, and enjoys being gifted, little succulents. I know I know, it seems a little too “cutsey” for Sasori, but he actually likes the aesthetic. He has a few lining his windowsill at home

Hi! So I wrote a fic loosely based on a post by omg-hawkeye. Check them out - they’re great!

Here’s the post - 

Warnings - very brief mentions of kidnapping but no actual kidnapping.

Clint stared at his wardrobe, a frown spreading over his features. Nothing. Well, nothing that he could wear anyway. Yesterday the team had found his old circus pictures and they would not stop teasing him about his purple costume. This was fine, as sooner or later someone else would goof up and they would forget about it - providing he didn’t remind them. This was where the problem lay – all his clothes were purple. Shirts, T-shirts, vests, dresses, cardigans, sweaters, hoodies and jackets. All in purple.

Keep reading

hues-of-green-life  asked:

Hi~ I love mori so much but due to me living in a tropical island I mix it up with boho-ish styles. What kind of piece of clothing can you recommend. Sometimes I don't find much :(

Hello my fellow forest dweller,

Tropical climate could seem to be little bit problematic for wearing full mori outfits, but I in fact it isn’t! The most important key to success is choosing pieces of clothes that’re already layered like most cawaii mori collections:

Another kinds of clothing that’re practical are any kinds of scarfs, vests, sleveless cardigans, pin-tuck jumperskirts and various accessories like necklaces, straw hats, ankle socks with lace, barettes, lacy brooches! You can also choose dresses with embroidery or applique which makes your outfit less plain and more interesting.

Please remember about choosing , loose and natural fabrics like linen or cotton and light colors. You haven’t necessarly focus on layering clothes. Outfits with less amount of layers are also good but please remember about “A-line”, loose clothing shape.

I hope that this few simple ideas and examples will help you with coordinating your own wonderful outfits! Please have a nice journey with playing with this style! (^^)

anonymous asked:

Where do you find clothes at? I'm on Amazon all day and can't find a single thing that I could actually wear. Just infant sizes.

Awww, it’s all about the types of clothes you search for. Don’t go on Amazon and search for “goth” stuff, you have to look for individual pieces and the way you put the outfits together is what makes it goth. This way you get a range of different shit, not the generic Hot Topic stuff. Learn to cut/make alterations. Add spikes, straps, patches, pins, buttons, ect. A package of black fabric dye only costs $2-3. Layering a few studded belts goes a long way. Also check out and Etsy shops. (Although I do shop on Amazon often)

If you invest in a few good staples (jackets/cardigans/vests/ hats/boots) and then build your wardrobe around them you’ll save money and be able to find more options that fit comfortably.

Don’t lose hope, you got this!