#travelers notebook insert

[crimson-kas]

“Let me brush the stars from your hair.”

Reflections and commonplace book.

[bleumingdays]

travel log ✹ when in sorsogon (january, 2023)

via bleumingdays

[alascirce]

[a-study-log]

Summarising a smol day trip🏞️

[keytaryourheart]

@petite-gloom summer stickers in da sticker book ☆ ft. silly guy from cheyenne barton’s patreon

[eggbunni]

I’ve spent the last week transferring a TON of sticker sheets into this sticker release paper insert! I’m so excited to absolutely stuff this little TN Passport-sized cover full of tons of little organized and sorted sticker albums. I can finally access my stickers more easily and use them instead of hoarding them like a crazy stationery dragon. 🤸‍♀️✨

[notebookwitch]

Why the Name Notebook Witch?

Because I have a zillion notebooks 😊

One reason I chose "Notebook Witch" is because I hand write in notebooks all the time.

Call me a 2018 basic b*tch, but I still avidly bullet journal using a traveler's notebook with 4+ inserts.

I also write Morning Pages every day. And I write every other line on every other page so I go through notebooks quickly.

I keep a notebook for my political organizing endeavors, for organizing the Boston Poetry Marathon, and one as a grimoire.

I also have a small traveler's notebook with three half size inserts that I use for a separate bullet journal for work.

So! When Dollar Tree came out with a bunch of stitch-bound heavy-feeling paper notebooks and a bunch of whimsical folders and composition notebooks, plus cute 2024 calendars, I added quite a bit to my collection 😬🤷🏼‍♀️📓

I have always been enamored with stationery, from my Sanrio Hello Kitty collecting days as an 80s kid 🐱 I know these will all get used, too.

I also keep a calendar in every room and on every work table I have because it helps me remember appointments. I even keep all appointments in a Google calendar but truly, the only chance I have of retaining everything I have to do and keep track of is to write appointments out digitally AND analog.

Thus, Notebook Witch is my moniker, and notebooks—blank and filled—take up much shelf space in my study 🤓

[kraeftwerker]

Before the ink for this week’s spread. Forgive the shitty quality of my printed stickers - my printer is running out of ink and I refuse to waste them.

Loving the Traveler’s Company annual insert so far

[neptunesbeloved]

My Lovely Lady...

•Refined version•

wc: 1 149

Synopsis: Your husband is having flashbacks about your previous night together...

tw: afab reader / nsfw / smut / erotic imagine / *insert any male character* x afab!reader / non-protected intercourse/ married couple / penetration / might be some other things I forgot to mention

Author's note: Hello guys. This is an refined version of this piece of work. As I was copying it properly on my notebook I realized how much I DESPISED it so I edited a few things. Sorry for not being able to come up with a new story, I just don't have any inspiration right now. I hate everything I am writing and I truly want to give y'all something that I am proud of. I feel like everything that I write is just trash so I just abandon what I am writing. If you have any suggestions I'll gladly take them. Please don't forget that I am a beginner and that my work is nowhere near perfect.

Anyways, take your time and enjoy

There she was, lying comfortably across the bed as a thin silk fabric draped over her naked body, tracing the dips and curves of her caramel skin. Her long braided hair resembled a flowing waterfall, starting from the crown of her head to the base of her nape before separating into two paths. One path led to the hollow of her supple breasts, while the other draped along the valley of sheets and pillows beneath her form. The lulling melody of her angelic breathing harmonized with the soothing hum of the fan. In this peaceful moment, he allowed the holy feeling of gratitude to fill his heart. He was thankful to be the one pleasing her, the one who brought her peace and bliss. But above all, he was the only one she blindly trusted with her precious unconditional love.

"My lovely lady..." he whispered to himself.

The atmosphere was peacefully calm after their previously shared night of intimacy. Thrusting and trusting, flooding and moaning, growing more in love with each second as their bodies became one. Their lips joined, sealing a promise of eternal love and devotion to one another. Her delicate wandering hands soothingly traced abstract shapes along the epidermis of his back. He gently pulled back from the kiss and withdrew his intimacy from her warmth before tenderly looking into her eyes, his gaze as romantic and sincere as hers. His palm traveled from the slope of her arm to the mound of her cheek. She instinctively leaned into his caress, slowly batting her long lashes at her lover. Their heartbeats synchronized as their breathing harmonized while the intimate silence spoke volumes about the purity of their love.

"Loving you is such a pure delight. I sincerely adore you..." he declared, his eyes filling with salty, emotional tears. Her dainty fingers gracefully slid under his eyes, gently wiping his tears away.

"I feel so precious when I see myself in your reflection. You have the power to find beauty in the smallest things." She marked a brief but significant pause to let her words sink into him.

"You are greater than you realize... You truly exude beauty from the inside out. From your unique personality and emotional complexity to your physical appearance and those mesmerizing parts you deem to be imperfect. I sure am fond of it all..." His voice softened until it reached a loving silence, giving her the time and space to reflect.

She guided one of her curious hands to the back of his neck and lowered his head before kissing him. Their lips danced together as she gently placed the back of her knee on his hip. While caressing her latching leg from the hip to the back of its knee, her tongue delved into his mouth, seeking his. Their muscles locked and then sensually rolled against one another. They weren’t seeking dominance, but rather a balance in their sultry kiss.

After gently detaching from their union, he aligned himself with her glistening entrance, pleasing the both them by sliding his swollen tip from her sensitive bundle of nerves to her welcoming op. His teasing foreshadowed what he planned to do with her that night. He was going to please her—driving her to the throne of carnal heaven, watching her squirm and moan his name under his tender gaze. She was his goddess, and he would make sure she knew it by worshipping and honoring her under the moonlight.

After his light teasing, he positioned himself at her opening, looking into her eyes in search of her consent. She looked back at him and gently nodded. No explicit words were needed; it was as if they communicated telepathically. With their fingers interlocked, he placed a tender kiss on her wedding ring.

"I love you... and I always will. Please, never forget it..." His voice sultry, making her heart flutter.

At the feeling of him entering her, she rolled her eyes in delight as a moan escaped her lips. He began thrusting slowly, making her feel every inch of him before withdrawing at the same pace. He loved it—feeling her coil and tighten around him, hearing her little gasps and moans of pleasure. He took pride in pleasing her. After a few minutes, he finally allowed himself to release his whimpers of passion, knowing his beloved wife's love for them. He poured all his love and devotion into each movement. Proving his love was his duty, for she was the goddess and he the priest. She was the nurturing water, and he was the seed in the soil.

She was perfect in his eyes—from her coily hair and its impressive versatility to the beautiful stretch marks on her hips and thighs. He adored it all.

His free hand traveled down to her rosy bundle of nerves, leaving a trail of goosebumps on her soft skin. As he moved inside her, the pad of his thumb found her clitoris. With the help of her arousal, he eased his circular motions against the tip of her sweetest spot. In that moment, he felt her insides tighten around him, sending them both over the edge of their divine release. Her body responded on its own—squeezing, twisting, and pulsating around his length.

She surrendered to her body’s erotic pulsions, grinding against him as her voice became an angelic melody of pleasure, blessing everything and everyone fortunate enough to hear it. She finally ascended into heaven, overwhelmed by the pleasurable sensations that consumed her precious body. Passion tingled across her voluptuous frame—from its core to its extremities.

Her husband joined her in her lovely ecstasy, filling her depths with his warm, flowing nectar of life. Breathless, he leaned down to kiss her smooth jawline and delicate neck.

"Words aren't enough to express how deep my love for you is... I can’t help it... I love every single part of your being..." he murmured between kisses and tender licks.

She gazed up at him and softly chuckled. "Don’t be silly," she murmured playfully, running her fingers through his silky hair.

[crimson-kas]

Some morning pages. I’ve been doing much better at getting up early each morning to get my thoughts down. I’m also enjoying the quiet of early morning.

[anjee0]

Week 3 - Naughty Girl

Female!Reader x Eminem (Feel free to put in your own oc insert as well)

Description - Marshall hasn't been giving Y/n attention so she decides to something about it. Only for it to turn into a lesson.

Warnings - Smut

Y/n took one last look at herself in the mirror as her hands travelled along her curves. She was wearing a beautiful white lacy lingerie set with a silky red shirt that was unbuttoned

Her nails were painted red with small details of white and she had let her hair down. 

Marshall was busy in his studio, writing lyrics, producing beats, all those sorts of things. He was practically in there the whole day and had barely given Y/n any attention. Every time she came in there, he would refuse to leave the studio and would only respond to Y/n with a small “Hm” or a nod.

“Marshall, come on, you need to get out. I made you lunch.” Y/n said.

“Mhm.” He replied with minimal attention.

“Marshall, come on, let's go eat!”

“Just bring my food up here.” He mumbled as he scribbled some lyrics down, his eyes daring to never leave the paper.

“Marshall-”

“Y/n, I heard you, okay? I'm just very busy and would appreciate it if you gave me space.”

“You've been locked in here all day, come spend some time with me.”

“I will after this. Please, leave.” He looked up at her in the last sentence, a stern look plastered on his face that let Y/n know he was being serious.

It made Y/n feel hurt but that all went away as smirked at herself in the mirror, knowing she'd get the perfect payback. She made her way to Marshall's studio, not even bothering to knock.

“Marshall?” She called out, seductively.

“You got my lunch?” His eyes were still focused on his paper.

“Nope.”

“What do you mean you haven't got my lunch…” His voice faded into quietness as his eyes laid on Y/n. His eyes widened as his mouth dropped a bit. He wasn’t expecting to see her in such revealing clothes. She looked stunning.

“What’s this, huh?” Marshall asked, trying to sound composed.

“Just a little something.” She replied as she leaned against the doorframe.

“If you think this is gonna catch my attention, it won’t.”

Marshall leaned his elbow on the desk and turned his head the other way as he continued writing. He tried to ignore her as much as he could. Y/n sauntered over to Marshall and moved his notebook out of the way. She sat down on his desk and looked down on him.

“You’re being so unfair.” Y/n whined. “You’ve been ignoring me the whole day.” She murmured as she tilted her head and started playing with his hair.

Marshall looked up at her, his eyes were stern but hints of lust simmered in them as his gaze darkened. “Y/n…” He warned, his voice low.

“What baby?” She asked innocently. “I just want some fun.”

“You’ll have fun if you're patient, sweetheart.”

“But I want it now.” She complained softly. She let the red shirt slip off her shoulders, leaving her bare, just in her lingerie. “Please?”

In a swift motion, Marshall pushed his chair away and towered over Y/n. He placed his hands firmly on either side of the table, caging her in. He leaned in closely, his eyes bored into her with relentless heat. “You want my attention? I’ll give you it then. And I’ll teach you a lesson while I’m at it.

Y/n swallowed as a pulse of arousement rippled through her body. She could feel herself getting wet as a sense of yearning stirred in her stomach. She averted her eyes from him and her breath hitched. Her words were caught at the back of her throat, she was unable to speak.

Suddenly, Marshall crashed his lips against Y/n's in a bruising kiss. Y/n was caught off guard by the surprise but she liked how fiery the kiss was with a fierce passion behind it. 

Y/n wrapped her legs around Marshall's waist as he picked her up and carried her to their bed. He threw her onto the bed and kissed her neck at a painfully slow pace. Meanwhile, Y/n reached for the hem of Marshall's shirt and struggled to pull it off him.

“Baby, let me take off your shirt.” Y/n said.

“You think I'm gonna take off my shirt? You need to be taught a lesson and this can be the first way.”

“You're being unfair…”

Suddenly, Marshall placed his hand on Y/n's neck and placed a bit of pressure. Not enough to hurt her, but just the perfect amount to assert some dominance into her.

“Listen Y/n,” he said sternly. “You've been misbehaving, haven't you? You've been a naughty girl, wouldn't you agree?” 

“Yes…” Y/n murmured softly, enjoying every second of it.

“Good, now I need to teach you a lesson. Agree?”

“Yes.”

“I'm glad you agree.”

Marshall still kept his hand on Y/n's neck as he snapped the elastic on her panties. He rubbed his thumb on her thigh with a light amount of pressure. He smirked as he watched Y/n squirming under his touch. Marshall ran his fingers along her clothed core slowly, he pressed two fingers against it and watched Y/n arch her back at his touch.

“You know, I could just keep touching you like this. Might just leave you here. Might not even make you come.”

A faint and needy whine escaped her lips. “Marshall…”

“I'm only kidding, baby. I won't be that harsh.”

His hand ran up her body and to her bra, he fiddled with the strap and, with a swift motion, unclasped it, letting the delicate fabric fall away. Marshall took his time, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns along Y/n's exposed skin, igniting shivers with every touch. His lips followed suit, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and lower, each one purposeful and teasing.

Y/n squirmed beneath him, her breathing uneven as her body betrayed her need for him. "Marshall, please..." she whispered, her voice barely audible but full of longing.

He smirked against her skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Please what, baby? Use your words," he murmured, his voice thick with authority and desire.

"Please... I need you," she admitted, her cheeks flushing with vulnerability.

"That's better," he replied, his tone softer but still laced with dominance. 

He kissed her deeply, their mouths moving in sync as his hands explored her body, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and firm grips that made her gasp. 

Marshall's patience was deliberate, savoring every moment of Y/n's reactions. He loved the way she writhed beneath him, the way her breath hitched every time he found a new sensitive spot. His control over her was intoxicating, but it was also a game he knew they'd both win.

As the tension between them reached its peak, Marshall finally gave in to the magnetic pull drawing them together. His lips found hers again, fierce and claiming, as their bodies melded into one another, their passion exploding as the atmosphere increased in heat and need.

His pace quickened, each thrust sending a ripple of pleasure through her core. Her needy moans swam through the room, bringing satisfaction to Marshall's ears. Their bodies were covered with a sheen layer of sweat as he started to pick up his pace.

Y/n's hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as their rhythm intensified. Her cries filled the room, each one spurring him on as he drove them both closer to the edge. 

“Marshall… I'm gonna come.” Y/n moaned.

At that moment, Marshall pulled out and watched as Y/n's face dropped and was replaced with a mask of disappointment. “Marshall, what are you doing?”

"Did you think you could get away with this?"

"No," Y/n whispered, her voice trembling. "I just wanted your attention."

"You’ve got it now," Marshall said with a smirk. "But you’ve also earned a lesson for being so impatient."

With that, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke, his voice a mix of authority and desire. “I could just leave you here you know, cold and bare.”

“No,” Y/n sighed exasperated. “Please don't.”

Marshall smirked and ran his hand through her hair slowly and cupped her face. "Now, be a good girl and do exactly as I say, or I’ll make you wait even longer for what you want."

Y/n's breath hitched, her body trembling in anticipation as his words sent a thrill through her. "Yes, Marshall," she replied softly, her submission only fueling his dominance.

"Good," he said, his smirk widening as he began to take control, ensuring she wouldn’t forget the consequences of tempting him so recklessly. His movements were deliberate and calculated, each touch, each word meant to both punish and pleasure her in equal measure.

With his last thrusts, Y/n and Marshall both came. His hot, thick spurts spilled into her core as she relaxed around him. When they finally collapsed together, spent and tangled in each other's arms, Marshall brushed a strand of hair from Y/n's flushed face and pressed a gentle and tender kiss to her forehead. 

"You really know how to get my attention, don’t you?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

Y/n laughed softly, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "It worked, didn’t it?"

"It did," he admitted with a smirk, pulling her closer. "But next time, just bring my lunch."

She rolled her eyes playfully, snuggling into his chest. "Next time, stop ignoring me, and maybe I will."

Marshall chuckled, his arms tightening around her. "Deal."

(Sorry that this was 2 days late!!)

[cafeconbrujeria]

You must stop holding out on us. Where did you get your green ocean binder/note cover?

Chicken! I'm flattered and delighted.

It is the hokusai wave journal from Oberon Designs in the teal color, and it is built like a TANK.

Many years ago, I lost most of my material possessions to flood damage. The journal cover, which was my bullet journal setup at the time and not my grimoire, was covered in disgusting skunky gunky disgusting flood water. After throwing out the inner contents, I figured I had nothing to lose, so I tossed the journal cover into...the washing machine. With some dr. bonner's liquid soap. On a normal cycle. I think I put it through the dryer, too, for a little, on low, though I ultimately dried it in the sun. Somehow, this was fine. Then I reconditioned with straight up coconut oil, and it's somehow both lusciously soft and still absurdly sturdy. This was years ago and this baby is still going strong, and I am not easy on my working items. I mention this because Oberon Designs did a limited release a while back with the Rider Waite Smith Fool card on it, and I bought it to make a more obvious grimoire, but because it's new it feels so stiff and like an entirely different product. But it isn't! It just hasn't had the shit beat out of it yet. So my point is: these things take a TON of abuse. They're absurdly well made. They're pricey, for notebook covers, but like. Worth it, imo.

More caveats: I don't actually use it entirely as intended because I have it set up midori traveler's notebook style, because I love a modular set up. Because it's the American half latter size and I have several elastics in there, I can just fold paper in half and scribble away on my makeshift notebook insert. Or I can print things out booklet style, and put that in there. And I buy those slim cheap roughly 5.5 × 8.5 kraft cover notebooks in bulk and burn through them as necessary, because for me, the grimoire is more a lab notebook and less a coffee table book, though the covers are so nice that they probably deserve a fancy grimoire.

in THEORY, the modular grimoire is also an all in one travel altar and all I need to pack for witchcraft while traveling. in actual reality, I've never travelled light in my life.

and now, because I've been given an excuse, thank you so much...here are some example pages. still sandy from last time I took The Book to the beach.

Starting with bookmarks:

For operative reasons, there is an antique key in there. I found a flat one, so that's nice, for the notebook format. The moon and stars charm is also from Oberon Designs--they tend to throw in a little freebie with their orders. I was trying to DIY a little in grimoire black mirror for a while, and none of my attempts really worked, and then i just made the St. Cyprian chaplet with the black mirror there, so--I'm not sure why this is still in here but why not. Why are there pressed flowers in here sometimes? It's a working item, baaaaebeee. All kinds of shit happens here.

reference materials:

like I said, I wanted a written by hand/printables for ease of use hybrid format so that's what I have. pictured: some sigils and reference notes for the dia de los reyes workings I always forget about until the absolute last minute so that I'm frantically running around the house very January 6.

etc

but fundamentally this grimoire is my grimoire so there's silly things in it because I am a silly person with ADHD who is also in a rush everywhere absolutely at all times. here is an origami dragon who lived in my wallet for many years--extremely effectively, so witchblr really does sometimes offer some fun yet useful ideas. also here are some fruit stickers? also my dog. also on the opposite page pictures I do not wish the internet to see. the big red envelope came with uhh...a mini waffle iron? shaped like a heart? and now houses a paper based charm. It's sturdy enough to take out of the grimoire and toss into a purse when necessary. also: kraft notebook with painter tape label.

further etc

I love journaling and notebooks in general so I have a lot of purchased and DIY folders and stuff in here, obviously. fu talisman from when I was reading the tao of craft. absolute banger of a talisman; very strong for what I needed/need it for. see also: pocket playing card meaning thing I do not use at all whatsoever. st jude card from seraphin station. ruler in case I need to make straight lines.

storage (and etc)

and here is my very DIY storage solution, which is: a slider ziploc bag and some medical tape. dr jose gregorio hernandez wallet card from, again seraphin station, who is also on here as @karmazain. background photo print of a Baron Samedi veve, for ritual focus or you know, whatever. big holy card of la caridad del cobre, aka our lady of charity, who is also Oshun or at least Oshun's catholic mask, depending on who you ask and how they look at it (maferefun oshun, of course, forever and ever). packet of black pepper and unseen similar packet of salt for some REALLY on the go magic, if necessary. big sticker / feng shui amulet of the three celestial guardians, which is usually tucked into the pocket flap meant to secure a notebook.

and ta da! far more information than you asked for! but I love witchy gear, i love talking about our gear, I LOVE LOOKING AT PEOPLE'S BOOKS, so.

[dearlyjess]

My Journaling Set-Up (As of Late)⭐️

hi friends! ~

i have finally sat down to talk about how i journal. i get tons of questions related to my journals in my inbox, so i wqnted to dedicate a post talking about my three main journals - my diary, my planner, and my commonplace book. thanks so much for your patience, i hope this post will be helpful! 🤎

my journal/dairy

this is my regular travelers notebook, which i use for daily journaling! i tend to make small collages in the corners, using stickers, scrap paper, or mementos from my day. i write about my day, usually in the morning or right before bed. some entries will be short, and some others are much longer. i like to write everyday but i do occasionally miss days. my favorite insert is the dotted insert from travelers company!

my planner

for planning, i’ve been using my passport travelers notebook. since its summer, i have found this to be the perfect size! i use this undated weekly insert from travelers company, and i split each day in half. the left side is for any events or reminders, and the right side is for tasks. i plan on continuing this set up when i return to grad school in the fall, but i’ll use a blank insert for my to-do’s since i’ll have more tasks. i always keep a muji pen in the loop for jotting down tasks on the go! i tend to keep the pages minimalistic, so i’ll sometimes use a stamp or a sticker to spice the pages up.

my commonplace

ah my commonplace book! i get the most questions about this, rightfully so because commonplacing can be very stress-inducing. i should start off by saying that i don’t use my commonplace book in the traditional sense. the term derives from the process of copying down passages with the intention of compiling others thoughts and writings. i use this method, but i almost always incorporate my own thoughts on what i’m reading and writing down. i can’t help it!

this notebook is the midori dotted a5, and i use the midori paper cover. i have a very loose indexing/categorizing system at the moment; green is for reading, purple is for my writing, and yellow is for etc. i use a graphite pencil to draw a light line in between entries. i commonplace the most about books and articles that i read, and then i love to do more long-form journaling and writing in here as opposed to my travelers notebook. i found myself overthinking my indexing system, which led me to not use this notebook in fears of messing up. my #1 advice would be to just start using your notebook, and index/categorize your entries as you go! the best notebook is the one that is used.

that’s it for my current journaling system! i seem to be in a good groove, so i’m hoping i stick with it. i’m more than happy to answer any questions you may have. happy journaling friends 💌

[mayhem429]

Colleagues

Entering my tumblr and Ao3 combo era. Another repost I wrote June 2024!

Summary: Y/N meets Indiana at a benefit and they seem to like each other.

Tags: Indiana jones/Reader, Smut, Reader-Insert, AFAB reader, Professor Indiana Jones, Indiana doesn't go by henry, Light Swearing, One-Shot, One Night Stand, Awkward reader, Flirting, Awkward Flirting, After temple of doom, Consent is Sexy, Eating out, Vaginal Sex

Notes: Hi, I’m here to practice writing so this will not be that good and I’m just gonna skip the smut in the next chapter cause I’m lazy

Chapter 1: Introductions

Y/N sat alone at a table for two flipping through her notebook admiring her work and filling in gaps. She was a professor at the University of Connecticut, who taught Ancient Indigenous History; the pages in her notebook were filled with scribblings from her most recent travels to Machu Picchu in Peru.

She sighed and looked around at many of her colleagues at this benefit before her eyes met with a particular man who she hasn’t met yet. He was talking to the principal of her university, Mr. Richard when their eyes met. Y/N looked away quickly embarrassed but everytime she looked back up his eyes were in her direction. He had a dark rustic face, wore round brown rimmed glasses, and looked like he’d miss several shaving days. He was wearing a gray suit with the boy tie missing and his chest exposed slightly. God, Y/N thought before looking away again, he’s fucking gorgeous. Y/N stopped looking at him in hopes she’d disappear in his sight because she felt embarrassed with how gorgeous he was, especially when he was looking at her.

“Working hard or hardly working?” A familiar voice questioned Y/N. She looked up and met eyes with her boss, the principal of UOC, Mr. Richard, and the stranger with rugged good looks. Mr. Richard had a little smile on his face from his joking remark and the stranger had a respectful but sultry smirk on his face towards her.

Y/N laughed and finally answered, “Who really knows with me huh?”

“Oh you humble yourself, you’re one the hardest working professors I’ve met. Speaking of meeting, I'd like you to meet this excellent man who's been keeping me company this evening. He just got back from Pangkot solving mysteries as usual.” Mr. Richard said while the stranger leaned over to shake Y/N’s hands.

“Indiana Jones, it’s lovely to meet you.” He smiled charmingly before releasing her hand. Y/N closed her notebook and sat more straight before introducing herself.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N, what’d you see in Pangkot?”

“Mostly elephants.” He responded quickly. Both the young professors laughed.

“Well I best leave you two, I’d imagine you’d have quite a lot to talk about.” Mr. Richard said before walking over to the bar. Indiana sat down across from Y/N, he folded his hands.

“What’d you see in Machu Picchu?” He inquired playfully.

“A lot of old buildings.” She responded with a silly tone. He looked at her for a moment before laughing, seemingly admiring her. Y/N’s heart began to swell and her face began turning pink.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Indiana said suddenly with a newfound eagerness. “I just..” He paused for a moment. “You are rather beautiful and I’d rather talk about our expeditions (wink wink) in a more comfortable setting.” He finished with a suave and smooth tone.

“I’d love to.” Y/N replied as eager while putting her notebook in her bag and leaving cash for her food. They both got up and he wrapped his arm under hers like a gentleman, while escorting her out.

Chapter 2: One Night Stand

Indy had picked Y/N up gently when arriving at his apartment and pressed her against the wall while ravaging her lips. Y/N had never been this forward with a man before, it felt risky, this turned her on even more, her core becoming hot and tense. She began kissing his face, neck, whatever she could reach while he began unbuttoning her blouse. Their lips met briefly again before his focus landed on bringing her to his bedroom. He carried her gently, kicked her door open slightly before lightly plopping her on the bed. They kissed for a moment fully clothed before their shared desire became almost too unbearable and they started almost tearing their own clothes off. Soon Y/N was laying there naked waiting for Indy to finish undressing himself, the last thing he took off was his glass, lightly tossing them aside before he knelt down and began kissing her face intensely. He slowly moved down her body, kissing what seemed like every single part of her.

“God you're so beautiful.” He said when he had lifted himself back up to admire her for a moment. He smirked before sliding down between her legs, still kissing every part of her body. His head now between her legs he kissed and nibbled at her thighs gently.

“Is this ok?” He asked while he was staring at her pussy, hungrily.

“Of course.” Y/N said a little unsure, no man had ever offered to eat her out on their first night. This made her so wet. He began with soft kisses and licks until he was devouring her whole. Y/N was moaning lightly, her hands meeting his soft brown hair, and her back arching from pleasure. It wasn’t long before she was finishing and she moaned his name during her climax. He wiped his mouth off before he began kissing up her body now. Their lips met, Y/N was panting and sweaty already. She caressed his face while he kissed her face and lips. He then aligned himself with her and asked.

“Ready?” She nodded her head up and down while biting her lip in anticipation. When he inserted himself her eyes closed and her back arched while she moaned out loudly just for him. He began thrusting gently and sweetly before their lips met again. They continued lips never fully parting until they both finished. They laid together for moment before Y/N turned over to hug him slightly. This would be a night they would both never forget.

[bleumingdays]

started the year with a quick getaway to a cafe near the mountains!

i decided to use my traveler's notebook blank insert as a travel journal. here's to more travels this year and the coming years · ✧˖°

[ellie-s-list]

Forget Me Not

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Ah... I have not written anything on this blog for two years. It's weird that the last thing I posted was an Ellie Williams one shot since I started with Anime and MHA. However, I don't think the writing was actually bad.

And now I'm back with a Spencer Reid one-shot.

Authors Note: HIGHLY self-indulgent. I do not care. I'm writing what I want to read and maybe, just maybe, using these characters to try to heal inner trauma. If you say or have any criticisms I'm open but do not attack the obvious signs of mental health issues in this one shot. It's me. It's a self-insert. I'M NOT SORRY. But I am, please like it, and I hope that if anyone feels the same way I do that you one day find peace.

WARNINGS: Anxiety, rumination, mentions of self-deprecating thoughts, past trauma, and over all the reader has poor view of self and a poor outlook on life. Mentions parts of Avoidant Personality Disorder, shows that within the text.

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Powder blue in color, star in shape, and yellow centered. These flowers are known as Forget Me Nots, known for the meaning of true love and respect, representing a promise of remembrance from the giver. It’s not like you don’t think you would ever get flowers in such a way, but you also know that a random person, or anyone, most likely wouldn’t gift you these flowers. 

What about you doesn’t attract people? People who want to be with you, who can accept the way you act, react, what you like to do in your free time. It’s not easy to be open-minded in a close-minded world. Everyone tells other how to think, how to react, or they try to tell them how to react. 

Love sucks, unconditional love is worse. And reading the poem If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda is like a knife to the gut, and with each line read, another twist is added to the blade. 

I want you to know one thing.

You know how this is:             if I look              at the crystal moon, at the red branch              of the slow autumn at my window,             if I touch              near the fire             the impalpable ash             or the wrinkled body of the log             everything carries me to you             as if everything that exists,             aromas, light, metals             were little boats             that sail             toward those isles of yours that wait for me

Those lines sound like a Hozier song. One of longing, crawling back to a person that you know you love, hoping to be loved back. It reminded you of customers that are regulars at your bookstore. A small little thing in the corner of Quantico Virginia, filled top to bottom with books, plants by the big windows, and homey, used furniture. 

It was Tuesday, and as usual, a slow day. Tuesdays were slow for a multitude of reasons, mostly because there’s less travel in town, around town, and the fact that school is out for the winter season. College students returned home, giving you time to restock on textbooks or notebooks, journals, and planners that usually sell out when a new semester rolled around. 

But another thing always happened on Tuesdays. At least, most of the time. 

You were on your phone, staring at the lines of the poem once again when the bell on the door rings. Glancing at the clock on your phone, you huff and look up from the table where the register was, having leant on it to read from your phone. Every Tuesday, usually, at five in the evening, an hour before close, Dr. Spencer Reid would visit your store. 

Thanks to him, your stock of books in other languages got bigger. Mostly by request, since you knew how to order directly from the source and the fact that it was a homey space. You even got a coffee pot for you small store just for him. 

“Dr. Reid,” You smiled at him as he walked up to the register. 

“Hello, I’m sorry I’m here when you’re about to close,” He presses his lips together, adjusting his messenger bag. He got a haircut, you note, realizing that his length in hair changed to a shorter, more boyish look. 

“As always, I have an hour left,” You reply. Spencer shrugs, tapping the table with his index fingers. 

“Well… would it be too late to ask you if you’d like some coffee?” He asked, voice soft as he stared down at the table. 

“I can brew you a pot—”

“No, I mean, after you close. We can go somewhere,” He replies quickly, cutting you off. 

Silence enveloped the small shop as you looked at him, then back down at the dark screen of your phone, where Pablo Neruda’s poem resided. 

Well, now,              if little by little you stop loving me             I shall stop loving you little by little

If suddenly             you forget me             do not look for me,             for I shall already have forgotten you

If you think it long and mad,             the wind of banners             that passes through my life,             and you decide             to leave me at the shore             of the heart where I have roots,             remember             that on that day,              at that hour,             I shall lift my arms             and my roots will set off             to seek another land

A few months pass after the coffee date. It was nice, knowing that Spencer actually liked you for you. Nothing seemed to phase him. Not your lifestyle, not the melancholic thoughts you got, not the way you obsess over your favorite forms of media. Nothing scared him away from you. 

Spencer liked everything about you.

Or so he says. 

You can’t help staring down at your phone, sitting alone on the couch in his apartment. He had only left you for a moment as you look at the same poem that you had the day he asked you out for the first time. What if he got bored of you? Forgot about you? Yeah, sure, he has an eidetic memory, but it’s easy to forget for a while. 

He may not forget the way you looked when you laughed, your smile, the glint in your eyes when you got excited, but he could stop caring about those things. That’s what scared you the most. Knowing that you were easily forgettable. Hell, you were forgotten your whole childhood, it’s not like Spencer couldn’t jump on the same train your family did. 

It would be easy for him. To forget you. What about you was memorable? Your true worth was only connected to the way people used you. 

But Spencer states that he doesn’t want to use you, a small voice in the back of your head shot back, pushing through the anxious thoughts and the onset rumination that was starting to build. He had figured you out easily, a perk of like a profiler you guess. But it made being with him annoying to you. You liked privacy, but he liked knowing how to make you comfortable. 

Was it always so hard to like someone? To fear that they will hurt you one day. Knowing that they will, that one day they will fit the pattern of everyone who’s hurt you before. 

The door to the bathroom opened and you turned your head, clicking off your phone screen and pasting a fake smile on your face. Spencer was wiping his hands on a towel, raising his eyebrows at you. However, before you could get one word out, he was walking over to the couch, a knowing look on his face. 

“I’m not going to hurt you like the others did,” Spencer said almost immediately. 

Liar, you thought. 

“I know,” You say instead and he frowned, knowing that you were lying, but not pushing you. 

You knew you would have to leave him first, before he would ever have that chance to hurt you. But it hurt already, knowing that you would have to hurt him. So, you endure the anxiety of knowing those patterns, just to try to sit with him and enjoy what little time you allowed yourself to have. 

But             if each day             each hour,             you feel that you are destined for me             with implacable sweetness,             if each day a flower             climbs up to your lips to seek me,             ah my love, ah my own,             in me all that fire is repeated,             in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,             my love feeds on your love, beloved,              and as long as you live it will be in your arms             without leaving mine.

Three more months later and you sat in his bathroom, the door locked, your arms shaking as you leaned over the sink, trying to quell the rising panic in your chest. But you couldn’t. He was sitting in his bedroom, after having told you he loved you for the first time. 

You couldn’t say it back. You tried. But all you could do was open your mouth and close it, fear flashing over your face. And before you knew it, you had stood up and left him sitting there, watching you as you ran into his bathroom, shut the door, and locked it.

It hurt, knowing that you loved him back and yet you couldn’t say it back. It was wrong with you. Something that hurt, hurt more than the constriction of anxiety around your heart, gripping it with such force that it hurt to breathe. The pain in your chest, in your gut, the twist of each anxious thought, of each piece of truth that you weaved for yourself, and the knowledge that you needed to leave. 

Hot tears fell from your eyes, large drops finally streaming down your cheeks. 

And a knock on the door. You flinched at the tentative sound, the perpetrator obviously nervous. 

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice called out softly. “I-I know this is hard for you, you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to tell you.” He was begging. Not truly begging with words, but with his tone for you to understand him. 

How could you tell him that it was the fact that you loved him back that was causing this? You didn’t know how, but you knew that by the blurring of your vision that you were crying even harder. Barely any noise but choked gasps left you, your body trying to get air into your lungs as you held your breath from the fear of everything crashing down. 

“Can you open the door?” Spencer’s voice was quiet, meek. He was begging his time. 

Slowly, with all your strength, you turned the short distance and shakily unlocked it. That was all you could do before you sat on the floor and backed up until your lower back hit the bathtub. Your knees hit your chest, and you hugged them tightly, pressing your forehead into your knees. 

The door slowly opened but didn’t shut. He was giving you a way out if you needed it. It was obvious. Soft footsteps inched towards you and stopped just in front of your shaking body.

“You don’t have to say it back,” He whispered. 

It took a while for you to be able to regulate your breathing and emotions. Slowly, you managed to uncoil your body just enough to peek up at him. Spencer was crouched in front of you, his eyes facing down, hands clasped in front of his own knees. 

“I—” You hiccupped, flinching as he looked up at you. You forced yourself to keep talking, “I love you.” You finally whispered, his eyes widening before he schooled his expression. 

“I know that already, that’s why you didn’t have to say it back,” He leaned forward, gently rubbing the knuckles on one of the hands gripping your knees. “I’m not going to abandon you or hurt you that way you had been hurt in the past. You’re…” He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he licked his lips, glancing down and then back up at you with glistening eyes. “You won’t believe me, but I don’t care how many times I will have to say it to get past your traumatic past, to get past the words of those who hurt you in the past.” He squeezed the hand he managed to pry from your knees. “I love you, and I’m not just going to leave.” 

Was it the wind that blew through the trees or the singing of birds that caught your eye? Or was it the first time that you had a partner on Valentine’s Day that kept your thought’s light, now able to appreciate the little things this life had to offer you. 

Maybe, it was Spencer. Spencer and the bouquet of flowers he held out to you, on the other side of the register in your empty bookstore. 

It wasn’t a Tuesday. 

But that didn’t matter. 

Forget Me Nots adorned your living room that night in a pale yellow vase. 

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Word Count: 1,991

Posted one: 1/25/2025

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVING MY CONTENT POSTED BY OTHERS UNLESS SHARED ON TUMBLR THROUGH REPOSTING MY ORIGINAL WORK. DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR AI TRAINING.

References:

Neruda, P. (n.d.). If You Forget Me. allpoetry.com. https://allpoetry.com/if-you-forget-me