#and i can’t get my laptop pen working with my new laptop so i can’t even just draw on my touchscreen :(( sad :((

[kinnbig]

i want to draw sooo bad but i didn’t bring my tablet to my parents’ :((

[waughymommy]

MOMMY KNOWS BEST

Chapter 3

After drying his tears, Brian released the tapes of his diaper. He hopped into the shower. He stood as if in a trance while the water cascaded over him. What the hell happened. How could I have been so stupid. Does she secretly think I’m a freak? Snapping back to reality, he hopped out and got dressed. He often liked to dress nicely, slacks, a button down, and a sport coat. Much like the tools in his garage, he wanted his appearance to portray masculine maturity. He didn’t want anyone to know his deepest desires, but now pandora’s box was open. He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his keys. He found Rebecca before walking out, “Ok I will be back this evening Rebe….I mean mommy/” His face immediately turned bright red with embarrassment. She flashed that beautiful smile, “Brian, its ok. You will soon get used to calling me mommy. You won’t even think about it. I love you my precious baby boy.” “Love you too. See you later.”

Rebecca waited for the sound of the garage door closing before she got to work. She reached for her phone and texted her best friend, Jennifer.

Rebecca: I’m finally going to be a mommy!

Jennifer: OMG, I am so excited. When did you find out?

Rebecca: Last night.

Jennifer: How did Brian react to this news?

Rebecca: Well, that’s the thing. He is going to be my baby.

Jennifer: Excuse me? I don’t even know where to start. What does that even mean? Can we meet up.

Rebecca: Meet me for lunch at the café at noon.

She set down her phone, not realizing she was grinning from ear to ear. She opened her laptop and began her investigation of all the things she would need to purchase. She typed into the search bar Adult Baby furniture. She knew there was an adult baby fetish, but she had no idea how much stuff was available to her. Scrolling down, she found a company catering to adult babies. They had everything she would need. Very quickly her online cart was filled with things. The first things were a crib, changing table and a play pen specifically designed for bigger babies. Brian will feel so helpless when he can’t escape this play pen. She then moved onto diapers, onesies, bottles, and bibs and toys. Good thing Brian isn’t here to see how much this is going to cost. No matter. He is no longer in charge. She felt exhilarated as she confirmed her purchase.

She sat back, imagining her baby sound asleep in his crib, changing his wet diapers, or holding him in her lap as she fed him his bottle. That’s when it dawned on her. She went back to the search bar: how to induce lactation. After a few minutes of research, she placed an order for a breast pump and supplements to aid production. She couldn’t think of anything more nurturing and thrilling than feeding her baby from her breast. But the one thing she still couldn’t figure out was how was she going to get Brian to give into his baby side. His temper tantrum this morning just affirmed that he would be resistant.

Rebecca and Jennifer took their seats at the café. “Before I tell you everything, I need you to promise me that you will keep this private. Please don’t tell anybody,” Rebecca pleaded nervously.

“Of course. We have been friends for years. Now spill it.”

“Ok, ok. So the other day, I was cleaning up in the bedroom and I found this box under the bed. It was filled with all of these baby supplies, but they weren’t for a normal baby. Everything was sized for an adult. Clearly it was stuff that Brian uses. Ever since we’ve been together, I’ve known he was hiding something. But you know Brian. Its so hard to ever get him to open up.”

“Wow, I’m not sure how I would react. But are you sure this is what he wants?” asked Jennifer.

“Well I knew if I questioned him, he would find an excuse and refuse to talk about. Soo, I laid him down and showed him that I had discovered his secret. I decided to give up a one time opportunity to accept my offer to be his mommy, but if her refused that it would never happen again. He accepted. He is so stubborn though. I know he wants this so desperately. He works so hard to make sure I have everything I need and want. I want to do this for him, but how do I get him to let go and fully embrace being little.”

“Hmmm. Have you considered hypnosis? I’m sure there is a way to get him to behave exactly how you want.”

“Hypnosis? I hadn’t even thought of that. I think you are on to something. Oh baby Brian has no idea what’s instore for him.” Rebecca chuckled. “I’ve got some more research to do. I need to get back and prepare for him. I told him that he had today to be a big boy, but that tonight we would discuss his second babyhood. I’ll let him think he has some say over how I treat him, but little does he know that mommy will have total control.”

Brian pulled back into the garage and put his car into park. He took a moment to collect himself. He was still so nervous. He plucked up the courage to walk inside.

“Brian? Is that you sweetheart?” Rebecca called from the bedroom.

“Ya its me.”

“Good, come see back to the bedroom sweetheart, we need to talk.”

Brian cautiously entered the bedroom, unsure of what he would find.

“Come here silly. Everything is just fine. I poured you a glass of wine.” Rebecca beckoned him to the bed. “Did you have a good day sweetheart?”

Brian simply nodded. The nervousness creeped into his throat. He accepted the glass and took a big sip.

“Alright baby. Mommy wants to know all about your fantasy. Don’t be scared baby. So first question, have you ever fantasized about me being you mommy?”

Brian’s cheeks burned, “Yes. Since the first time we met.”

She smiled brightly, “I’m so glad you want me to be you mommy. But I am very cross that you never told me. I know this has been hard for you. But that is ok. How often do you play baby sweetheart?”

“Only a few times. It took me years to work up the courage to buy any supplies. When you went on that girl’s trip a few weeks ago, I spent a whole day as a baby.” Brian still had trouble looking at her as he spoke.

“Ok this is really important baby. Brian, I need you to look at mommy. Have you ever used your diaper?” she grabbed his chin and pulled his gaze up to her eyes.

His blush told her all she needed to know. “Have you ever gone poopy in your diaper baby?”

He cringed at being spoken to like a toddler, but again his embarrassment betrayed his secret.

“Very good baby. I want my baby to completely comfortable using your diaper anytime you need to go. Mommy will never be mad. Afterall, babies have no potty training.” She reached for his pacifier again and placed it in his mouth. She grabbed his hand and led him to the den. She sat him down in his favorite chair. She produced a pair of headphones and placed them on his head. ��Now mommy has to make dinner. But I want my baby to relax. I found this special music to help baby unwind. I’ll come get you when dinner is ready, but your butt better not leave that chair until then. You don’t want another spanking like you got this morning, do you?” Brian immediately knew, she wasn’t playing around. Within a few minutes, Brian drifted away, completely unaware that Mommy was training him to be a real baby.

[floralcyanide]

― ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴊᴀᴠɪ

After realizing you've had enough of being single, you decide to branch out further into your romantic life on a whim. What you don't expect is to meet someone as a result. or ; In which you converse in letters and phone calls with Javi Rivera, an active-duty military man.

part two

↝ pairing: Javier "Javi" Rivera / Fem!Reader

↝ warnings: long distance, reader has anxiety, kinda slow burn?, kissing, mentions of death

↝ word count: 5.3k

↝ author's note: I enjoyed writing this so much. this is the first time I've written something this long in a while. I hope ya'll enjoy! there will definitely be a part two and it's gonna be spicy so be prepared. (;

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Your dating life has reached a new low. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge- none of them work for you despite your incessant attempts. It’s so bad that your friends have set you up on blind dates, all of which fail or turn into what people like to call situationships. You end up wasting your time on someone thinking it’s going great, and then suddenly, it ends in a fiery crash or sometimes plain old rejection. You’re so tired of dating. Even your university campus has no luck in the dating pool. But then, one night (after drinking too much box wine and scrolling through dating apps begrudgingly), your best friend has an idea.

“Have you ever like, dated long distance?” they ask, swirling their wine around their glass.

“Not really,” you shrug, taking a sip from yours, “I feel like it’d be harder than dating someone close by, which is already a lot.”

“True,” they sigh, “Ooh! Maybe use one of those pen pal apps?” 

“Pen pal apps?” you raise an eyebrow, locking your phone before tossing it on the couch in disgust, “What am I, nine years old?”

Your best friend rolls their eyes, “It’s not something just kids do, you know. A lot of people make genuine connections through letters. It’s a lot better than Tinder or some shitty dating app at this point. You may as well try.”

“I guess you’re right,” you glance down at your phone, “I’m running out of options here.”

After Googling and scrolling through search results, you hum, “Maybe I could do one of the military pen pal programs. That seems promising.”

“Yes! Get you a military man!” your best friend squeals, and you can’t help the giddy smile that grows on your lips.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you say, and your best friend shakes your shoulder excitedly, “But if it doesn’t work out, I’m just going to die alone, I guess. At this point, it’s less stressful.”

Your best friend snorts, “If we make it to thirty and we’re both still single, we could get married.”

“I love you, but if I had to spend the rest of my life with you, I’d probably go insane.”

“You have some killer jokes, kid. You’re already stuck with me, so sorry.”

That following day, you do a deep dive into all things pen-palling. You decide to sit down at your desk and type up a letter, but it feels too wrong like it needs to be handwritten instead. So, you move your laptop aside, pull out some notebook paper and a pencil, and start your first letter. Except, you aren’t sure what to say first. Then, when you start writing, your handwriting annoys you, and after that, you think your tone is off. You end up scrapping half a tree by the time you start actually writing a decent letter. You introduce yourself and state where you’re from, explaining you’re in college and what you wish to do after graduating. You don’t dive into too much detail but give enough away so your possible pen pal has something to respond to. You also sprinkle in some questions for them to answer as well. You reread your letter, finally satisfied with what you’ve written, before folding it and sliding it into an envelope. You go back to your phone to see where to send the letter, writing down the location along with your name and address on the front.

Life goes on for a little while, and you actually forget you sent a letter to some random person in the military until one day, your best friend is sifting through the mail you tossed onto your counter.

“Uhh, what’s this?” they call out from the kitchen as you surf through Netflix in the living room.

“What’s what?”

“You got a letter from some dude named Javier?” your best friend says it as more of a question than a statement.

You scrunch up your nose and eyebrows in confusion before finally settling on a show you and your best friend have seen a million times already, walking into the kitchen.

“Let me see.”

Your best friend hands over the letter, and you scan the envelope carefully. Javier Rivera. It doesn’t sound familiar to you, but then you notice where the letter is from.

“Oh shit,” you flip the envelope over and tear it open.

“What is it?”

“It’s the pen pal thing!” you say, voice raised in shock, “I didn’t think someone would actually respond.”

“Oh yeah,” your best friend nods, “I forgot about that. I figured you chickened out on it because you never mentioned it again.”

“I didn’t chicken out,” you trail off, taking in the meticulous handwriting of the letter.

Dearest Pen Pal,

Thank you for sending your letter. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much it meant to me to receive it. I’m Javier, but everyone calls me Javi. I’m the same age as you and have been to college myself. I joined the military for personal reasons, but I haven’t regretted it yet. Your career path seems interesting, and I hope you succeed in the rest of your studies. 

Your best friend hovers over your shoulder, also reading the letter.

“He seems cute,” your best friend giggles.

Javi answers some of your random questions and goes on to say he anticipates your next letter. He also says that if you’d like, he’d send a photo of himself next time. Your best friend has a field day with that.

“Oh my gosh! What if he’s hot?” they gasp.

“Who knows? I wouldn’t care if he wasn’t, anyway. It’s cool to talk to someone I’ve never met over letters.”

“True. But bonus points if he is hot.”

You scoff as you fold the letter up and put it back in the envelope.

When your best friend leaves later on, you immediately bolt to your desk and write your letter. 

Dear Javi,

I’m glad my letter found you well. Thanks for the hope in me, I definitely need it. College is fun, but it’s super exhausting. I don’t think I asked in my last letter, but where are you from? Also, what did you major in while in school? I’d love to see what you look like and put a face to your name. What military branch are you in, and what do you want to do with your experience when you’re back in the States? Sorry for all the questions again! I’m just super curious about things. If this letter reaches you sooner than later this time around, I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.

You wrap up your letter, albeit a little shorter than the last one, and slip it into your mailbox ASAP. This time, you won’t forget you sent it.

When the following letter arrives, it’s early December. You hastily remove your scarf, coat, and wet snow boots at your front door before opening the letter immediately. When you pull the letter from the envelope, a photo falls onto the floor. You pick it up, and it’s a small picture of who you assume is Javi, all decked out in his military uniform. Okay, your best friend was right on the money, he is pretty cute.

Dearest Pen Pal,

I had a decent Thanksgiving. I hope yours was better than mine! I’m from Miami, Florida. I went to school in Muskogee, Oklahoma, and while I was there, I studied weather phenomena and chased storms. It was a whole thing, but I’ll get into that later. And I don’t mind all the questions. I think it’ll be fun getting to know each other. 

Javi explains what branch he’s in and also admits he doesn’t know what he’s going to do after the military as of yet. He talks about his Thanksgiving and wishes you a Merry Christmas if he doesn’t get to communicate with you before then. You decide to send a photo of yourself back to him, digging out your Polaroid camera when you go to your bedroom to respond to his letter. You touch up your makeup a little and make sure your hair isn’t absolutely a mess before taking a photo. Sitting down to write your letter, you aren’t sure how to react to the photo Javi sent. You don’t want to be weird, but you also want him to know that you think he’s attractive. 

Dear Javi,

I love the photo you sent, and you look pretty dapper in your uniform. I’m sending a picture of myself, too. Chasing storms sounds very interesting. Please tell me more about that! 

You rattle off some things you have done while in school, talking about the places you have traveled to over the years and the people you’ve met. You gush about your best friend, especially. 

So far, you’re probably the most intriguing person I’ve talked to, Javi. Not everyone can say they’re a storm chaser, you add. 

You polish off your letter, which ends up being two pages long (three if you count the back on the first page, too.) You neatly fold up the paper and slide it into an envelope. You don’t expect a reply until New Year because of the amount of mail that will be coming in and out of the base. Javi is stationed on the other side of the country from you and may be moved out of the country if needed. 

As you expected, it isn’t until a month and a half later that you receive a letter from Javi again. It’s a long letter- a few pages total this time. The letter is in a Christmas card, and it’s signed by Javi. You immediately hang the card on your refrigerator door so you can look at it daily. He talks about how his holidays went, how all the guys on his base called home or were able to FaceTime their family. Javi asks how your holidays have gone and showers you with compliments over the photo you sent him. You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at his words. 

Over the next few months, you and Javi write back and forth diligently. You know just about everything about Javi, and he knows almost everything about you. You feel like there’s something he’s keeping from you, possibly the storm chasing he had brought up, but you don’t push it. He will tell you when he’s ready. And there’s also some stuff about your life you’d rather wait to explain as well. In your last letter, you wrote your email and phone number so that Javi can communicate with you in other ways. You’re able to guess how long it takes the letters to get to Javi, so around the time you expect them to get to him, you’re giddy. You anxiously await a phone call or email any day now.

It’s August when your phone rings with a call from an unknown number. You have had such a long day- school for several hours, then work immediately after in the evening. You can’t help but wonder who could be calling at 9 pm. You make yourself comfy on the couch with your favorite beverage before answering the phone.

“Hello?” 

“Hi, it’s Javi. Is this the right number?”

You nearly choke on your sip of drink, “Oh shit. Hi! Yes, this is the right number!”

Javi laughs from the other end, and you decide you want to hear that laugh again so badly. 

“Sorry I’m calling so late over there. The phone was surprisingly available, and I got your letter today saying I could call. So I did,” Javi said.

“It’s okay,” you shrug, even though he can’t see, “I just got home from work, actually. So perfect timing.”

“Great. How was your day?”

The two of you spend about an hour on the phone, relishing having an actual conversation in real time.

“I’m so glad to finally hear your voice,” Javi says after a natural pause in conversation, “That’s not too cheesy, right?”

You snort, “It kind of is, but it’s cute. I’m glad to hear your voice, too.”

After another ten minutes, Javi sadly admits that he has to hang up since it’s almost dinner time where he is. 

“We should talk again sometime if you’re able to,” you smile, biting at your fingernail nervously.

You hope he calls again, but letters will always suffice just fine.

“I’ll try my best. Maybe sometime next week?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, pulling the phone away from your ear so you can silently kick your feet in excitement.

“Alright, then. Talk to you later,” Javi says.

“See ya,” you grin, and the call concludes.

It isn’t the following week that he calls, but the week after that. Javi discloses that he sent a surprise in the letter he just mailed. He also slips up and says it’s almost his birthday, and you immediately have an idea. After your long conversation on the phone, asking some questions here and there about certain things he likes that you didn’t already know before, you decide to send Javi a package.

You send a postcard from your home state, some non-perishable snacks, socks that were his favorite color that he could wear when not on base, notebooks he could write letters in, some fun pens to go with the notebooks, and a birthday card. After signing it, you leave a lip print on the card just to test the waters. You’ve come to really like Javi over the last year, and you wonder if he likes you back. Sometimes, he’ll be flirty in letters or over the phone, but nothing too crazy. Nothing that gives you alarm bells that he likes you in the way that you like him. So, you’re taking a leap of faith. 

A few weeks after sending the package, you get Javi's phone call while doing some class work at your desk. You spin around in the chair aimlessly as you answer the phone.

“A kiss, huh? That’s cute.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little something to remind you of me,” you say.

“It’s definitely not nothing,” Javi teases, “I think you want to kiss me.”

 Your ears grow hot at the sound of Javi’s voice deepening in playfulness.

“And so what if I do? There’s nothing you can do about it,” you bite back with just as much playfulness.

“Are you sure about that?” Javi says, a knowing lilt in his voice.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, stopping the chair from spinning entirely so you can focus.

“I’m most likely coming home for Christmas this year, but I still have to work out some stuff,” Javi says, an edge of excitement in his voice, “I’d like to possibly see you.”

“Oh,” you say, your voice squeaking, “Really? You want to see me?”

“Of course I wanna see you,” Javi chuckles, “We’ve been corresponding for a while. I’d like to finally see you in person.”

You suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up, but in a good way. You’re sick with nervous excitement. 

“O-okay,” you grin, “I’ll be finished with the semester at the beginning of December. Depending on when and where you want to meet, I can ask off from work.”

Javi has family not too far from where you live, and he wants to stop and see, so the two of you agree to meet in a city that’s basically halfway. December 20th is the day you’re supposed to meet Javi after a year of conversing through letters and over the phone. Who would have thought, right? That some random idea from your best friend would have led you here? Speaking of which, your best friend is beside themselves with excitement just like you. You called them immediately after hanging up with Javi.

“When you get married, make sure to thank me!” they say half-jokingly.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, trying to stifle a grin, “What if we don’t like each other when we meet, though? What if it’s awkward? What if we don’t have anything to talk about? What if-”

“Hush!” your best friend shushes you, “It will go fine. It will go great. In fact, you’re going to have a splendid time.”

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh, eyeballing the photo of Javi you have pinned to your corkboard over your desk.

“I’m always right,” your best friend giggles.

It’s now the end of your semester, and you’re beyond excited for a few reasons. In a week, you meet Javi, and this coming Spring semester is your last. So, for the time being, you’ll be finished with college. You come home from your final exam and start making a packing list. You’re staying at a hotel in the city where you’re meeting Javi for a day or two, depending on how things go. You have so much to do before going on the mini trip that if you didn’t have a list planned out for everything, your head would surely fly off your shoulders. You have to wrap gifts for your friends and family, pack your bag, clean your apartment, and put up decorations for the party you and your best friend are throwing for Christmas. 

Deciding to surprise Javi, you get him a gift for Christmas. It’s a wool sweater you think will fit nicely and a beautiful, deep color that you figure will compliment his skin tone. You carefully put the sweater in a robe box, taping the sides shut and signing your name on the tag before putting it under the Christmas tree. You managed to put up the large tree by your lonesome and didn’t kill yourself doing it, so you considered it a win. After wrapping a few more gifts and stuffing them under your tree, you check the time. It’s a little past dinnertime, and you decide it’s probably best to finally pack your bag for tomorrow. 

A melatonin gummy is definitely in your future so you can get some sleep, or else you’ll toss and turn in an anxious fit all night. After finishing up packing as lightly as you can muster, you settle into bed. When you wake in the morning, you get a text from an unknown number, which you assume is from Javi’s cell, letting you know he is getting on his flight. You almost quite literally jump out of bed before hitting the shower and getting ready. You take your time fixing your hair and makeup, picking out a cute but comfortable outfit for your 2-hour drive. 

After getting your belongings and the gift inside your car, you shoot your best friend a text letting them know you’re leaving your apartment and that you’ll text when you get to the airport. Taking a few deep breaths, you crank your car and head off. You are deep in your thoughts the entire ride, not evening singing along to your music most of the time. What if Javi decides he isn’t impressed by what he sees? You try to push away your anxiety as you near the airport. Finding parking after circling around for a while, you hurry to grab the gift and go inside. It’s hectic, considering it’s five days until Christmas, but you get through TSA without a hitch. You find the coffee shop where you and Javi agreed to meet and sit at a table in the corner. You scroll through social media, trying not to panic. You text back and forth with your best friend for a while until you receive a message from Javi saying he’s landed. Suddenly, an icy, numbing nervousness runs through your veins. You take a deep breath and tell yourself it will be okay, and everything will be fine. 

You decide to meet Javi at his gate and return to the coffee shop. Getting up from your seat, you shake yourself off a little before walking to the gate where Javi is to exit his flight. You aimlessly check your phone every five minutes out of anxiety. People start to leave from the corridor, dragging their carry-ons with them. Suddenly, you spot Javi walking out with the crowd, his face turned downward at his phone. When he looks up, he has to do a double-take when he sees you. You can’t help the grin that plasters your face.

“Hi,” Javi grins back as he approaches you, taking in your appearance fully for the first time, “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“You don't have to ask, silly,” you roll your eyes playfully, setting the gift by your feet before allowing Javi to pull you into him.

You wrap your arms around him, your nose buried in his shoulder. He’s dressed in his uniform, much to your delight, meaning you get to see how handsome he looks in person. 

“Don’t tell me that’s for me,” Javi gives you a jokingly dissatisfied look when he pulls away from you, his eyes darting to the gift beside you. 

“Would you kill me if it was?” you say, picking it up and handing it to him.

“Nah,” Javi waves you off, leaning down to dig in his carry-on for something, “Besides, I got you something, too.”

“Javi,” you drag out his name in annoyance, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. It’s Christmas,” Javi smiles, secretly enjoying how you say his name in person.

You both go to baggage claim and the coffee shop before opening your gifts. You and Javi match each others’ stride, your hands accidentally brushing against one another a few times. Finally, Javi decides to throw caution to the wind and grabs your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. You glance down before smiling at him, trying to hide how giddy you are from the simple gesture. When you arrive at the coffee shop, you sit in the same corner you were previously in and settle in your seats.

“So,” Javi slides his gift over to you, pulling his toward him, “What’d you get me?”

“Why don’t you open it and see?” you lean over the table in wait, your smile from earlier still not quite leaving your lips.

“That I will do,” Javi says, carefully opening his gift.

“This is a lovely color,” he pulls the sweater out and fully takes it in, “Very soft. You did a great job because I love sweaters.”

“I’m glad you love it,” you sink into your seat with relief.

“Now, open yours,” Javi pushes your gift in your direction with a single finger. 

“Is it going to explode in my face?” you joke as you pull the wrapping off.

“I swear it won’t,” Javi laughs.

You open the box to reveal a beautiful necklace with your birthstone dangling from the chain. 

“This looks expensive, Javi. Please tell me you didn’t spend an arm and a leg on this,” you gasp.

“No promises,” Javi shrugs, getting up from his seat and walking behind you, holding out a hand for the necklace, “May I?”

You gently place the jewelry into his palm, lifting your hair so Javi can put the necklace around your neck. His fingers brush your skin lightly as he clasps the chain successfully, “There we go.”

Javi sits and admires how the necklace falls onto your collarbone with a glimmer in his eyes, “Looks beautiful on you.”

You’re nearly this close to being on the floor, curled into an inconsolable ball. Instead of doing that, you cover your face in embarrassment. 

“Gosh, thank you for the gift, Javi,” you move your hands from your face, “I wasn’t expecting something so stunning. I would’ve gotten you something slightly better if I had known.”

“You can’t sit here and tell me this wool sweater wasn’t pricey enough. It’s okay, you know. Besides, I like giving gifts I know someone will love; the price doesn’t matter.”

You sigh, shaking your head with a smile and resting your chin on your fist, “Whatever you say, Javi.”

Javi mimics your position but reaches his other hand out to wrap it around your wrist gently, “I love it when you say my name.”

You stare at each other momentarily, just taking each other in. It had been a year of wondering what Javi was like in person- how tall he was, how he smelled, how he carried himself. You realize he has a million freckles on his face that you never noticed in the photos he sent. Javi brushes his thumb over your pulse point, and you’re close to losing your composure. You’re both so wrapped up in drinking each other in that you nearly jump out of your skin when the barista calls someone’s name for their order.

You compose yourself, but Javi lightly chuckles at your facial expression.

“I’m super awkward sometimes, but you know that already,” you try to joke about the situation instead of dying of shyness. 

“It’s okay, I think it’s cute.”

“You’re going to make me turn into a puddle if you don’t stop,” you cover your face again, the tips of your ears burning.

Javi just laughs again. You realize his laugh is better in person than over the phone.

Over your order of coffee and iced tea, you and Javi decide to have a proper dinner later on in the day. Both of you are pretty tired and would appreciate refreshing yourselves at your respective hotels first. You hold hands again while exiting the airport and offer Javi a ride to where he’s staying.

“It’s just a walk down the block. I’ll be fine.”

“But it’s cold,” you frown.

“I’ll live, I promise.” Javi pulls your head to his chest before planting a kiss on the top of it.

Your body grows warm at the endearing gesture, “See you later?’

“See you later,” Javi smiles before making his way out of the parking garage.

You immediately call your best friend when you get in the car and discuss how the initial meeting went while on your way to the hotel.

“Did you kiss?!” they squeal.

“Not yet,” you say, “I don’t expect anything to happen today. We held hands, though.”

“Spicy!” your best friend says, “Next thing you know, you’ll be having kids.”

“Will you ever be quiet?” you jokingly ask your best friend.

You take a well-needed nap after checking into the hotel, setting an alarm for an hour from the time you laid down. When you wake up, you notice it’s snowing outside. The place Javi wants to take you is a few blocks away from his and your hotels, and you figure you’ll enjoy the snow during your walk.

You fix your makeup a little and add some final touches here and there to your face and hair before deciding on one of the skirts you brought. A thick sweater and some tights are thrown with it, and you’re ready to go. Javi shoots you a message asking if you’re ready, and you respond quickly before leaving the hotel. The evening is pleasant, with the snow falling softly for the entire duration of your walk. When you arrive at the restaurant, Javi is waiting for you at the door, as handsome as ever in some black slacks, a dress shirt, and a heavy petticoat draped over his shoulders. He wraps an arm around you as you both enter the restaurant, where you’re immediately whisked away to a table with a nice view. Wine is ordered, and you take a moment to drink Javi in as he sits across from you. You nearly have to pinch yourself to believe this is real and actually happening.

“So,” you lean forward, hand tucked under your chin, “You never told me about your endeavors while in college. I’ve been dying to know about that storm chasing you brought up but never knew when to ask.”

Javi smiles, “Yes, it was a very wild time in my life. I don’t talk about it often. What did you want to know?”

“Why did you do it? Just curious.”

“Well, Javi clears his throat, “It was actually my best friend Kate’s idea. She had this big project that required extensive information about storms and tornadoes in particular.”

“Gotcha,” you lean back in your chair, “Ever see any scary storms?”

“We saw a few, but the scariest one was a five on the Fujita scale. It didn’t end very well for us,” Javi casts his eyes down.

“You don’t have to keep talking about it if you don’t want to,” you reach out your hand to put on top of Javi’s, sensing the topic is touchy.

“No, it’s something you need to know about me. So I’ll tell you,” he explains, “It was me, Kate, and three of our other friends, Addy, Praveen, and Jeb, working on the project together. We didn’t anticipate the tornado to be as strong as it got, and everyone but Kate and I ended up dying as a result of being caught in the storm.”

“I’m so sorry, Javi. That sounds scary and awful. I’m glad you made it through that,” you frown, and Javi meets your eyes for a moment.

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m one of the ones who survived. It bothered me a lot, so much that I decided to drop out of college and go into the military. I needed some stability in my life after that.”

“I understand,” you say, “We can talk about something else if you’d like. I know this is probably hard for you to think about.”

The rest of the evening is spent laughing over stories of Javi and his late friends and the ones he’s made in the military. You tell him wild stories of you and your best friend, some of which he couldn’t believe. After a few too many glasses of wine, the two of you decide to call it a night. 

“I had a wonderful time,” you say as Javi hooks your arm with his, and the two of you leave the restaurant.

It’s still snowing lightly, and the temperature has dropped significantly. You pull your coat closer to your chest. Javi notices and opts to wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his side to warm you. 

“I had a great time, too,” Javi grins. 

He walks you to your hotel, and you thank him for dinner. 

“Heading out in the morning?” you ask as the two of you stand outside the hotel entrance.

“Yes,” Javi says, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, “I’m seeing my aunt and uncle and then heading to Miami for my parents and sister.”

“That’s good,” you nod, “I am having a Christmas party with some friends and family in a  few days, and I’m looking forward to it.”

“Sounds fun,” Javi says, and you notice the two of you don’t really want to depart quite yet, but you must.

“You should probably get back. It’s getting cold and late,” you nudge Javi’s arm with yours.

“Yeah, I should,” he trails off, his eyes not leaving yours.

For a moment, you stare into Javi’s eyes, taking in their color and the length of his eyelashes. Before you realize it, you’re both leaning in. Javi slides his hand up your neck to cup your face, his skin warm despite the freezing air. He guides your face to his, his eyes fluttering shut as he gently presses his lips to yours. Your eyes close, too, and you allow Javi to take control of the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. When it’s time for air, you both pull away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” Javi whispers, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Same here,” you say, playing with the curls at the nape of Javi’s neck.

“I should get going,” Javi frowns, “But I will definitely keep in touch the best I can over the next few days.”

“Okay,” you say, “Enjoy your Christmas.”

Javi begins to walk away, and you turn to go inside your hotel. But then Javi pauses, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Wait, what are you doing New Year's Eve?” he asks, and you can’t help the grin that sneaks up on your face.

“Depends. What are you doing?”

“Anything with you.”

[sanguineterrain]

hi sanne!!! my mind has been rotting with assistant!reader x dick, and i literally can’t get it out 😭. i'm in love with your writing and reblog everything! thank you so much, have a great day!!

cute idea! I gave it a little twist ;) hope u enjoy!

dick grayson x gn!assistant!reader. flirting, secret identities, sparring.

****

Bruce Wayne is evasive on a good day and downright invisible on a bad one.

So when you see him down the hallway from his office, attempting to escape without being caught, you nearly trip on your feet trying to catch him.

"Mr. Wayne!"

His shoulders rise with tension. You pity the guy, you really do. Being a gazillionaire is tough.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, Sharon has been hounding me about the charity dinner. Please, if you could just go to this one dinner... you haven't been to an event all month."

And you're getting the brunt of it from all of WE's clients.

Bruce turns, his smile looking more like a grimace. "Hn. Hello. A dinner? I was sure I had a shareholder meeting that day—"

"All month? B, what happened to the two event minimum? That's your rule."

The new voice comes from behind you. Dick Grayson walks down the hallway, wearing jeans that probably cost as much as your monthly rent.

"Mr. Grayson," you say, nodding primly. "How are you?"

You shift the files in your hands as they start to slip. Dick is quick to catch them, balancing the stack.

"We've been through this," he says with a smile. "You know you can call me Dick."

Yes, you've been through this. Every time Dick shows up to Wayne Enterprises, he tells you to call him by his first name. And every time after that, you call him Mr. Grayson.

"Right..." you say, taking back the files. You turn to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, if you would just consider the dinner..."

Dick gives Bruce a severe look. "B, this is ridiculous. You're such a stickler for rules and yet—"

"Oh, look at the time." Bruce scoots past you and Dick. "I've got that meeting with Lucius. Where does the day go? Please tell Sharon I'll get back to her."

You can't understand how a guy whose biggest exertion is made by playing tennis at the country club can slip through your fingers so fast. He's around the corner before you can blink. You sigh.

"Don't worry," Dick says. "I'll get him to go. And I'll get one of my siblings to tag along to make sure he doesn't duck out early."

You smile briefly. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Grayson."

"Dick. So!" He trails behind you as you make your way back to your office. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Working."

"O-kay..." Dick jogs ahead to hold the door open for you. You push through, trying not to frown. "What about tomorrow night?"

You toss your scarf on the hook. It ends up on the floor. You ignore it.

"Still working."

"How 'bout I ask B to give you the day off then?"

Now it's your turn to give a severe look. "If you're implying that I'd be obligated to go out with you in return for a day off, you've completely misjudged my character, Mr. Grayson."

"Whoa, okay." He holds up his hands. "You're right, that didn't come out right. How about I get him to give you a day off, no strings attached?"

You dump your files and sit at your desk. "That's at your discretion."

"Hey." Dick leans on your desk, puppy eyes at full power. "Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Did I do something that put you off? I'd like you to tell me if I have. I hope the fact that I'm Bruce's son isn't stopping you from being honest."

You put down your pen and look at him. "Look. You seem like a nice guy, and you're handsome with a rich dad to boot. But I'm just not available, okay? You're looking for someone to go to Tahiti with. I respect that. But I'm not that person. I'm just not interested in that."

"You think I'm handsome?"

You sigh and open your laptop.

"Right! Sorry. Not the point." Dick sinks into a crouch next to you. He pulls the oddest poses sometimes, like he's made of rubber bands. "Okay. You're not looking for a trip to Tahiti. Got it. I don't take many vacations anyway. So how about having a friend?"

"And why would you want to be my friend? I'm just some assistant."

"Well, I..." Dick scratches his neck. "I like you. Is that so hard to believe?"

Very. But okay. You can throw him a bone.

"I guess not," you say.

Dick frowns. "You don't believe me."

How does he do that?

"Can I please get back to work?" you ask, only a little worried about being rude. "I'm sorry, I'm just very busy."

His face falls briefly before he stands and nods.

"Of course. No problem. I'll see you around? And I'll get B to go to that dinner."

"Thank you."

You don't notice his lingering looks, or the fact that he picks up your scarf and places it on the hook on his way out.

****

3...17...64.

The safe clicks. You smirk. Easy peasy. The hotshots always use their own birthdays for combinations. Predictable. You bet Bruce Wayne does the same.

It's a blessing that you were able to duck out early today. Bruce gave you the rest of the afternoon off. You suspect that was due to some outside meddling.

You take out the files from D.A. Colson's safe. You always say that if crooked district attorneys don't want their documents stolen, they shouldn't put them where anybody can find them.

...Maybe you were too harsh with Dick. He's sweet, no doubt. It was nice of him to get you off early. But you kind of feel like he'd take issue with the fact that you spend your weeknights breaking and entering.

"You know, cracking safes is already Catwoman's shtick," a voice says behind you. "You might wanna find a new gimmick."

A thrill shoots through you. You toss your head as you turn, leaning against the open safe.

"Catwoman steals diamonds." You hold up the documents. "I just steal files. And make a few edits."

"That's extremely illegal. Those files belong to the district attorney," Nightwing says, crossing his arms.

"The dirty district attorney," you correct.

"I'm supposed to let you off on a technicality?" He sounds amused.

Your shrug one shoulder, a little coy. "You could. I hear you're the nice one."

He laughs. Nightwing has a pretty smile. It's the first thing you'd noticed about him.

"Oh, yeah? Anything else you've heard?"

"Plenty. But I'm in a bit of a hurry tonight, Wing. As much as I enjoy our little chats..."

You dart to the window. Nightwing easily blocks your exit.

You're not quite sure what overtakes you when you run into Nightwing. Ignoring the fact that he manages to be the one to chase you almost every time (and what a chase it is), there's a tension between you. Or maybe it's just one-sided on your part. It certainly doesn't help that he's got a nice smile and bouncy hair.

"You know I can't let you go," he says, hands on his hips. "Put it down."

And he's extremely good at what he does.

"Make me," you say.

He never uses his escrima sticks, which you know is a courtesy to you. But that doesn't mean you can't hold your own.

"Alright," Nightwing says, smirking slightly.

He takes three steps, blocks your immediate kick, and takes the documents.

Something swoops in your belly. You kind of get why Catwoman exclusively fights Batman. Once you go bat, you never go back.

"Got them," he says cheerily. "Now what?"

You throw a glass bird tchotchke at him from Colson's desk. He catches it with his free hand, but it's enough of a distraction for you to slide into his legs. Nightwing stumbles less than you would like, but you push him down against the desk.

He grunts as he hits the wood, then rolls you over in the next breath, hands catching your wrists.

"Stealing... makes you no better... than Colson," he says, hair falling over his mask. All of him is pretty, really. It's too bad he's so firmly on the blind side of justice. You're trying to help the little people. Batman and his merry band of do-gooders have always been too focused on the big picture.

"If these documents are buried, Colson will win his case and hide his own crimes in the process. Is that what you want? Another crook in court?" you ask.

Nightwing frowns. "You know that's not fair. We can't falsify evidence for the sake of putting Colson behind bars. IF we pick and choose whose lives to play with, what gives us the right to carry out justice?"

"I dunno, Wing," you say, a little breathless. Nightwing's hips are politely shifted off of yours, chest to yours. "Seeing you go rogue would be kind of exciting."

You can tell he's glaring at you. "Not in your dreams."

"Been in my dreams, have you?"

You gain enough leverage to push Nightwing off of you. He's back on you immediately, trapping you against the wall.

"How is doing something like this not crooked?" he asks.

You scoff. "It's for charity. I'm donating residents to the county jail."

You twist in Nightwing's hold and land a kick. In the three seconds he's distracted, you grab the documents. No sooner do you do that does Nightwing tackle you. The documents slip out of your hand.

"I can do this all night," he says, knee wedged between your legs. "Might as well yield."

"Yield? You're not even playing at your full strength, hotshot."

He smiles. "No, I'm playing nice."

You roll your eyes. "Well, play fair."

And then you jump out of the window.

Your tuck and roll isn't the worst but it's not the best. Especially when Nightwing neatly lands a few feet away without a wince.

"Showoff," you say.

"Give me the documents," he says. "I want to put Colson away, too. But this isn't how to do it. He's still a civilian, and his clients' lives matter."

You get up and wobble on a loose brick on the edge. Stupid historical buildings.

You're desperate. If he keeps this up, you're bound to land yourself a night in the police station and lose the documents.

So you dust yourself off. And you stop. Right at the edge of the roof.

"Okay," you say.

Nightwing takes a careful step forward. "Okay?"

You toss the documents to him. He catches them in surprise.

"You're surrendering?" he asks.

You shrug. "Like you said: you can do this all night. And I guess there are better ways to catch Colson. More permanent ways."

He tilts his head. "You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

"No! Jesus, man. Ye of little faith."

"I'm just trying to understand why you surrendered."

You sigh. "Because you always win anyway. You're a better fighter than me. And I'm cornered. I just feel like cutting my losses early. You're a lot more convincing than Batman."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah. I much prefer you chasing me."

"Uh-huh." He nods towards the building. "Come on, then."

"Okay, sure."

You take a step. And you fall.

The brick is loose under your foot. It doesn't take much for you to keep going.

Panic surges through you, but that only solidifies your acting.

"Wing!" you cry, toppling over the edge.

"Shit!"

Nightwing lunges and grabs you by your waist, then uses momentum to haul you both to safety. His cheek against yours for a moment, body pressed to yours. It really is a damn shame he's such a Boy Scout.

You knock him in the stomach and snatch the documents, then separate from his grip. You watch his face contort in realization as you land and bolt.

"That wasn't playing nice or fair!" he yells, landing on the opposite side.

You're already gone, laughter echoing.

[slvtforfiction]

Could you pls write a Johnnie guilbert x f! Reader where reader is a famous song writer and she’s up late at night like around 2:00-3:00 am working on a new song and Johnnie is sick and tired of her staying up all night and not taking care of herself so one night he gets up and hauls her ass to bed and when reader try’s to protest he tells her to stfu and plops right on top of her so she can’t go nowhere.

☆ Ahhhhh yes omg thank you anon x

☆ Sorry it’s short ☹️

☆ Johnnie Guilbert X Reader

☆ Fluff

☆ If you are going to request: please check at the pinned post if requests are open,otherwise I will delete your requests which I have already been doing

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

Masterlist | Pinned Post

“Pumpkin,come to bed.” Johnnie whispered as I shook my head, “I can’t,I have to finish these lyrics.” I whispered as I barely looked away from my computer screen.

“When will you come to bed? It’s already midnight.” He told me and I nodded my head, “I know,I’ll be in bed by one,I promise,but I really have to finish this.” I told him with a sigh.

“If you’re not in bed by one,I’m turning off your pc.” He told me jokingly and I giggled, “Sure.” I said lightheartedly with a smile.

I continued to write as Johnnie walked off to bed,I had to finish these lyrics because the deadline was in three days,I was already behind and if I didn’t get this posted to them I would be worse off.

The amount of emails I was getting about the deadline was finally getting to me,the pressure put on me was keeping me up at night.

Ironically enough it was a song about the love between two people.I’ve always loved Johnnie,since the moment I saw him,so the second I got the chance at a love song I took it.

I hummed a tune to myself,listening to the beat of a song and editing the lyrics to fit the best I could. I knew I would end up scrapping and editing a few lines but I didn’t mind,as long as I got a base for my writing.

“You’re my my my lover~” I sung softly to myself as I checked if the lyrics matched the beat.

It was the most ironic situation I’ve been placed in,Johnnie was always looking out for me,taking mental health days off with me and always making sure I got enough sleep,he was the perfect example for a boyfriend.

I hummed softly to myself as I mind mapped some feelings for the song,the best I got up to was :

•love

•kindness

•looking out for people

•Caring

This was before I realised I was writing a song about Johnnie essentially. I was listing everything Johnnie had done for me,past and present. Johnnie was the perfect model for any love song.

I sit there tapping my pen against my paper,slowly running out of ideas before I edit a few more words.

“This is our place.” I hum to myself and quickly edit the line before I forget to,I smile as I realise i have my own house with the person I love. The realisation pulling a smile into my face.

“Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?” I whisper as I read out the lyrics,humming the tune to myself. This had become a love song about Johnnie and no one would know,I laugh to myself at the actualisation.

And before I knew it the click of the clock on my laptop changed the time to 1am, “Hey sweetheart,I need you to come to bed please,this isn’t good for you.” Johnnie whispered standing in the doorframe.

“Five more minutes,” I say as I look up at him, “Please!” I whisper to him as I see the disapproval sat on his face. “Okay,but after that im gonna have to drag you to bed.” He laughs but I know he would probably do that.

I mean ; not literally but Johnnie would drag me kicking and screaming if that’s what he had to do to get me to snuggle up to him in bed and sleep.

I edit a few lyrics and words before resting my head on the desk for a brief moment. A brief moment then turns into Johnnie tapping my arm, “Love wake up,you can’t sleep here,come to bed.” He whispers lovingly.

“No I have to finish this.” I say quietly looking up at him, “No,you’re coming to bed come on.” He says as he picks me up by the waist,holding me up to his waist without a reaction.

“Okay.” I whisper quietly.Tiredly I rest my head on his shoulder as we walk into our shared room,i strip myself of my clothes and put on my Pyjamas before huddling up in bed next to Johnnie.

“I love you.” I whispered as I kiss his cheek, “I love you too,princess.” He whispers before I drift of back into sleep.

[pennylanewrites]

teacher’s aide (levi ackerman)

warnings: m!masturbation, voyerism, alcohol, smoking, age gap (15 years), me pushing my smitten!levi agenda

levi ackerman was an esteemed and recognised sociology professor. stern, strict and to the point in all of his lectures. most of his classes kept quiet, trying to take notes while he talked fast and went through powerpoint slides like it was the morning paper.

you had been working hard for that teacher’s aide position for two years, when you finally got the acceptance email. it was no secret on campus that professor ackerman’s assistants worked closely to him and got accepted in prestigious firms right after college, with his recommendation of course.

it was also no secret that professor ackerman was incredibly good-looking. his veiny arms and broad shoulders made up for his short height and the way his raven hair fell over his rectangular seeing glasses was so…

“y/n.” his stern voice shook you out of your thoughts. crap. the whole auditorium was staring at you. “the papers.” was all he said before going back to his laptop. you looked down at your hands, realising you were holding the class’s tests for more than you should. you cleared your throat and went through the auditorium, leaving a stack of papers in front of each student. as you walked down, your eye caught his.

levi noticed everything. he noticed how today you were wearing lipgloss instead of your usual lipstick, he noticed the rip in your tights that went down the back of your leg, your new platform loafers and the beads of sweat on your forehead. levi ackerman was not the kind of man that would catch feelings for a student, but you were so…good.

yes, at first he thought you were very attractive, and maybe that’s why he always rejected your aide application. but he also got to know you better every time you replied to one of his questions. you were the only student brave enough to raise their hand, and he appreciated that. sooner than later, you stayed back every day after class to clean up the mess of loose papers and pens, and before he knew it he was smitten.

maybe it was the way you brushed against him to clean the board and shut the projector, a timid apology escaping your lips, or the way you weren’t afraid to challenge him in a theoretical conversation about archaic philosophy during class.

or maybe…shit, how long have i been staring? levi looked away and cleared his throat when he noticed you trying to contain your smile.

class was over and you were going through your usual routine, marking left over questionnaires from the last lecture as he went through tomorrow’s one.

“sir, i’m wondering about…” you rolled your chair across the auditorium’s stage, holding onto his desk to stop the chair, “this one.” you pointed at a question on the paper.

levi was not one to lose his temper, but he was finding it very hard to contain himself when your knee was touching his and your perfume could reach his brain through his nose.

“well, this-this one…” he trailed off, watched you push your hair off your neck, leaving the bare skin on sight for him. god, he could eat you right then and there.

levi had never been more thankful for his phone to ring in his life. the vice dean’s name flashed on the screen, and you leaned back to allow him to get the device.

“i have to go…meeting…come by my office tonight, okay?” he scrambled to get his things and ran off, leaving you in the empty auditorium.

you let your head fall on your pillow, groaning with despair. he hates me. he can’t even talk to me.

you had seen him earlier with petra, his old t.a who graduated last year. he was laughing, for fuck’s sake. he was laughing and buying her coffee in the campus coffee house, and they were sitting over a book and…

“ugh! what is she even doing here?” you threw your pillow on the floor, but it hit you back in the face.

“oh my god, shut up!” your roommate kept hitting you with the pillow, until you grabbed it. “enough, y/n, please.”

“mikasa, do you think they’re dating?” you sat up on the bed, looking at the girl across you. “be honest, i can take it.”

“i think you’re sick. there’s something seriously wrong with you.” she scrunched her nose up in disgust.

“he’s so…”

“old.”

“mature.”

“he’s mature because he’s old.” your roommate kindly reminded you of your age difference. “get over him, please. even if he liked you, he’s your teacher. i doubt he would put his job in danger.”

your eyes lit up, an excited smile covering your earlier gloom.

“you think he likes me?”

“that’s not what i said. where are you going?”

you only grinned before grabbing your bag and barging out of the dorm room. your shoes squeezed against the polished floors as you made your way to the teachers’ wing, and to the third door to your left, your favourite wooden door in the world.

with a sigh, you lifted your fist to knock, but something made you freeze. you looked around to make sure no one was in the corridor, before pushing your ear against the door.

shit, shit, shit, shit

he was moaning. fucking moaning, in his office, when he had specifically told you to visit him. you thought of the possibility of him having a girl in there, even petra, but no one else could be heard. everything right in your head was telling you to turn around and leave, but your hand was on the doorknob, and you were slowly twisting it.

just one look. one look and i’ll-

your eyes grew wide at the sight. a half empty bottle of bourbon sat next to an empty glass, a cigarette was slowly burning on the ashtray, the first two buttons of his white shirt were undone. god, you could clearly see his nipples through the fabric. the desk obscured your vision, but you could see his hand moving up and down, up and down, up-

“fu-fuuuck.” his voice strained, his head fell back and you were wet a creep.

you turned around and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. looking at your reflection on your phone, you made sure pervert wasn’t written across your forehead, and turned back around.

two soft knocks on the door. levi fixed his hair quickly, buttoned his shirt and put the cigarette out.

“come in.” you entered the room and he looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“long day?” you pointed at the bottle, smiling softly. he chuckled and motioned for you to sit down. “i can come back some other…” you trailed off when he took another glass out, filling it halfway and pushing it towards you.

you fidgeted with a ring on your finger, unsure of what to do.

“i shouldn’t…”

“i won’t tell if you won’t.” he filled his own glass and raised it to you, before taking a sip. you smiled softly, taking a sip of the drink. it burned coming down, just like his gray stare on you did.

“i have the tests marked. that question i was wondering about earlier,” you took the stack of papers out of your bag, leaving them in front of the man.

“yeah, i looked it up. it’s actually-”

“i figured it out.” you cut him off. he raised an eyebrow and put his glasses on, looking down at the marked paper, and the right answer which you had wrote down in red ink.

“you did.” he agreed and looked at you through strands of his raven hair. “good girl.”

you froze. you could feel your whole face turning an ugly shade of red. a million disgusting thoughts ran through your head as he walked around the desk to sit on the chair across from yours. his muscles flexed as he reached over the desk to get the ashtray and his drink. you took a big sip of the drink, trying to convince yourself the sexual tension was just in your head.

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.

“what?” he shook you out of your thoughts. he knew you were staring at him.

“nothing. i’ve never seen you like this.” you admitted, still sipping your drink.

“like what?”

like you don’t have a stick up your ass.

“relaxed.” you opted for the nice comment.

“i’m far from relaxed, trust me.” you watched as he placed a cigarette between his wet lips, lighting it with a white lighter.

“those are bad luck.” you took the lighter in your hand, fidgeting with it.

“huh. maybe that’s why my life’s shit.” he chuckled, taking a drag of the cigarette.

“come on…” your eyes fell on a book on his desk.

masculine domination, pierre bourdieu. you grinned, taking it in your hands to inspect the front page.

“take it. it’s for my doctorate students, but i think you-”

“i’ve read it.” you closed it and put it back on the pile.

“of course you have. you’re a smart girl, you know?”

he was praising you. and he was filling your glass again. when did you even finish the first?

“are you trying to get me drunk, sir?”

“i think you’re capable of controlling yourself.”

“don’t be so sure.” you mumbled, staring at your feet.

“what was that?”

“nothing!” you shook it off with a smile, but he had heard you just fine.

god, you wanted him so bad. as the hours went by, and the bottle came to its’ end, you became more and more impatient. you were scared of what you would do honestly, if one more drop of alcohol entered your system. but, were you crazy to think he wanted this too? why would he pour you a drink, and ask you all these questions, and make you laugh with stupid jokes if he-

“what are you thinking about?” he shook you out of your thoughts. you showed him the clock on the wall.

“that i should get going. some teacher thought it would be a good idea to have an 8 am class.” you grinned. you reached your hand out to return him his lighter, but you dropped it instead.

“that’s one lousy teacher.” he chuckled, kneeling on the floor to get the lighter. you waited for him to get up, so you could too, but he wouldn’t move. still kneeling, he came closer to you, his hands hesitantly moving to rest on the sides of your thighs.

internally, you were screaming. but not a single breath came out of your mouth as you watched him. he sighed and finally locked eyes with you.

“i’m not crazy, am i?”

“wh-what?” your voice came out as a whisper. pathetic.

“to think there’s something, right? here. there’s something here and i-”

“sir-”

“don’t.” he squeezed your thighs and you swore your heart would jump out your chest sooner or later. he straightened his back and got up, pulling you with him. “don’t call me sir.”

you let him seat you on top of his desk, you let him spread your legs and stand between them. he pushed your hair behind your ear and inched closer. his breath against your neck made you shiver, and a soft kiss forced a small gasp out of your mouth.

your hands trembled as you placed them around his neck, and his breath staggered when you played with the strands of hair that fell on his undercut.

“please kiss me.” he swore his knees would give when he heard your voice, so soft, so sweet. you were as needy for him as he was for you.

his strong hands met your face, his silver ring cooled your burning cheek. you closed your eyes, and his lips finally met yours. it was careful at first, both of you scared the other would change their mind. but all it took was you pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt, and he lost his mind. his hands slipped down to your waist and you arched your back to get closer to him, if that was even possible. your mouth trailed to his jaw, leaving sloppy kisses all the way down his neck. a playful bite made him gasp. you chuckled.

“stop. you’ll drive me crazy.” he squeezed your hip.

“good.” you grinned and leaned in to kiss him again, but his hand in your hair held you back.

“you have to go…” he managed between soft kisses down your chest, at least as far as your shirt allowed, “or i won’t be able to stop.” he held your hands, and kissed them both, maintaining eye contact with you.

“then don’t stop.” you whined, but your grin turned into a frown when he pulled you off the desk and fixed your skirt. “levi-”

“save something for later, right?”

his promise of a later was enough. you left him to clean up and walked out the door with a sheepish smile and a whispered goodnight.

your phone buzzed on your way back to the dorms, and you stopped in your tracks when you saw the name on the screen.

professor ackerman: wear that green dress tomorrow.

you raised an eyebrow.

just the dress.

[snixkers]

Pen on Paper

Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN!Reader

Fluff

Content Warnings: None, literal pure fluff

Summary: You and your boyfriend have a study date in a coffee shop, but your methods differ.

Author's Note: My inbox has tumbleweeds blowing through it atm, so I'm digging this out of my drafts!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN

I quickly gathered up my laptop and textbooks when I checked the time, checking my appearance in the mirror as I made my way to my car. The Civic was ancient, but it still got me where I needed to be. Unfortunately, my boyfriend did not share the same sentiment, preferring to use public transportation.

I rolled my eyes at the thought of a germaphobe so adverse to driving he’d get on a train with complete strangers, but I decided to let it go. After all, he was the one who had offered to take me out on a study date. As a grad student, I would take any opportunity to get ahead. Who better than a man with an eidetic memory and 3 PhDs?

Snapping myself out of my thoughts, I weaved through the streets of downtown DC to meet him where he had requested, a small local cafe that was able to satiate his sweet tooth. I parked and hopped out of my car, materials in hand for a long night of memorization.

He smiled when he saw me, the corners of his eyes crinkling softly as he opened the door.

Despite his awkward behavior, manners were not lost on him. We entered the shop hand in hand, scanning over the menu (although he got through it much faster) and stepping up to order. He got a black coffee with 6 teaspoons of sugar, and I decided on something a little less nauseating.

We chose a booth in the back corner, somewhere we could have some privacy in our own little academic bubble. I set my bags on the floor beside me, taking a sip of my drink and pulling out my laptop. I noticed the wrinkle of his nose, smirking as I realized he was likely judging me.

“What?”

He shook his head innocently, pulling out some papers for his own work at the BAU.

“Nothing, I just think you’d do better with physical materials.”

You smiled, picking up his pen and clicking it a couple of times.

“We don’t all work at lightning speed.”

He bit his lip, and I could practically see the wheels in his head turning as he plucked a new fact from the depths of his memory.

“Actually, although it’s faster to type, writing allows you to tap into tactile information recall.”

You snorted in acknowledgement. Of course he had something to back his opinions up with.

As any genius would.

“You’d use a typewriter if you could.”

He pulled out some files, looking them over.

“I have one at my apartment, but I ran out of ink a while ago.”

You just sighed, conceding defeat and moving back to your work, typing rapidly as you worked on your essay. He sat across from you, doing the same thing with his notes, although he occasionally switched his papers to shield you from anything too messy.

He thought of everything.

After a while, you felt a tap on your shoulder, and a note dropped onto your keyboard. You unfolded it, reading the messy chicken scratch.

‘You can’t pass notes on a laptop.’

You narrowed your eyes, stealing his pen to come up with a response.

‘it’s called an email’

He shook his head, his hand flying across the paper before he held it out for you.

‘Emails can always be tracked. Notes have to be destroyed.’

You smiled softly at the sentiment, slipping the note into your pocket before turning back to your work.

“You’re distracting me.”

He sighed, returning to his seat and fiddling with his pen.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

You nodded, determined to make this paper your own. But after a few minutes of typing, the rhythmic tapping was dragging your eyelids down. The words were sliding off the page, and the backlight did nothing for your eyestrain. After you failed to stifle a yawn, he looked back up at you with a look that screamed ‘I told you so’.

“Come on, it’s late. You can’t perform as well academically if you stay up all night to finish it.”

You tried to protest, but your own body betrayed you with another yawn. With your acceptance, he gathered up your things and stored them neatly in your bag.

You were half asleep as you left the cafe, but you pretended not to notice as he slipped a notebook and his pen into the tote for future study dates.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Daddy Lessons 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Rafe Cameron

Summary: You agree to tutor for the Cameron’s, but find your student less than cooperative.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You slap your hand around Rafe’s wrist, panic surging in your throat. You can’t breathe. You bring your other hand up as you turn in the seat, trying to dislodge his grip as he squeezes tighter. So tight, you feel your eyes bulging.

You smack his shoulder desperately as tears fill the brims of your eyes and the chair tilts with your struggle. He lets you go as you wrench back and topple off the seat completely. Your back hits the floor and knocks the wind out of you a second time.

You wheeze and cough as your throat burns. Rafe chuckles as you hear the pages flutter and he throws the textbook. It lands on your stomach and you groan.

“Tell you what, dork, whatever my dad’s paying you to ‘teach’ me,” he puts a special lilt on teach, “I’ll pay you double to shut the fuck up. You sit there, do whatever it is nerds do and I’ll be on my phone.”

He kicks the chair as he gets up and stomps around the table. He resumes his seat on the other side as you sit up. He swipes his phone into his hand and goes back to flicking the screen with his thumb. You get up silently, holding back another wave of tears as you try not to shake. 

You pick up the book and bring the chair straight. You lower yourself onto the seat and put the textbook beside your laptop. You stare at the screen but can’t read the font. You’re terrified.

All those years, you saw Rafe swaggering down the halls, calling kids names, pushing the nerdiest of the punch into lockers, but he’d never hit a girl. Not openly, though he never had a problem bashing any boy smaller than him.

“If you’re gonna cry, keep it down,” he snickers, “you’re not hot enough for that.”

You blink and stare at the screen. What do you do? Pack up and go? Tell Ward it’s not going to work out. He’ll be disappointed but he can afford someone who wasn’t a former victim of his son’s high school foliies.

You close the laptop and grab your bag, tucking it inside quietly. You’ll just have to break the news to your parents. You’re unemployed, again. That didn’t last long. You hook your knapsack over your shoulder and stand.

“Giving up?” Rafe scoffs without looking up from his phone, “typical.”

You don’t say anything as you round the table and head for the door. Before you can step into the entryway, a searing pain in your scalp lurches you back. You cry out as Rafe drags you into the dining room and pens you in against the table. He fists your hair as he snarls at you.

“Don’t you fucking go tattling on me to daddy,” he growls. “Don’t be a little bitch and sit the fuck down.”

“Let me go–”

“I was fucking serious. I’ll pay you to mind your goddamn business. My dad wants me to read these damn books, so you tell him I read them,” he sneers, “but it’s gotta be fucking believable so go on and sit.”

“Rafe–”

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” he spits, “I don’t wanna hear my name on your fucking lips.” You flinch as he yanks your hair, “we got a deal or what?” His eyes drift down to your striped tee shirt, “you could use the money.”

You gulp and glance past him. What other prospects do you have? Sit at home and face the music and have no money or sit here in silence until your time is up.

“Ow,” you squirm, “I– I’ll do it but– let me go.”

He abides as he rolls his eyes and shoves you away from him, “god, you’re fucking whiny.”

“I’m not… I’m not going to stay if you keep doing that–”

“Ah, come on,” he slurs, “tell me it doesn’t get you a little hot. I know you ain’t had other guys up on you.”

That hurts in a different way. You try not to show it as you back away from him. This isn’t a good idea. He’s not exactly stable and you don’t really trust him. Even if he doesn’t follow through, money is money. Besides, he seems more interested in that phone than you.

You go back around the table and sit. You pull the textbook close and Rafe narrows his eyes at you. You raise a palm, trembling despite your efforts.

“To make it convincing,” you say and exhale heavily.

He grumbles and drops back into his seat. You set your bag on the chair next to you and slip your laptop out once more. You pop it open and listlessly drag your finger over the trackpad. You still don’t have the wifi. Solitaire it is.

You yawn and lean your chin in your hand. The tension remains. It’s silent but for his occasional snort or mutter at his phone. He’s just the same as he ever was. The popular kid defiant to everyone and everything around him.

You wish you could be that reckless. Well, you can’t just fall back on daddy’s bank account. You have to work to get top marks just to afford your tuition, but the scholarships don’t pay for your books or your housing. That’s all up to you and what little your parents can scrape up after their own expenses.

As much as you hate his privilege, you envy it. Maybe you would be like him if you had that. Maybe you wouldn’t care either.

You click away at the cards, stacking one on top of the other. You look at the time. Not even twenty minutes in. You’re scheduled for two hours. This is actual torture, even triggering. The last thing you wanted to do was revert to high school. Graduation was the happiest day of your life because it meant you never had to see those people again.

Or so you thought.

Rafe chuffs and lets out a groan. You don’t look up. He’s already proven he’s unhinged, it wouldn’t surprise you if he had full conversations with himself. He knocks the table and another long drone escapes him. The table jolts a second time and your laptop bounces. You sit up to see above the screen.

Rafe aims his phone at his lap. The way his other arm you can tell he’s holding his… you know. What the hell?!

You’re too embarrassed to call him out. You hope at least he doesn’t actually have it out. Oh god, he really has no shame. 

You win and the cards stream down in celebration. Rafe makes another noise. A deep rasp that catches in his throat. Your skin is on fire. You should have left. 

“Uh, where’s the bathroom?” You ask as you get up.

“Dammit,” he growls as he pumps his arm furiously. Is he– “I’m about to–”

Your mouth falls open and you stumble. You panic and quickly turn, nearly sprinting into the kitchen. You stagger through another doorway and down a hallway. You find a half bath and lock yourself inside.

You can’t unsee what you just saw. Why would he do that right there across from you? He’s sick and twisted!

[luvsellie]

MASC ON [e. williams]

pairing high school au!ellie x fem!reader

summary being the new girl in school meant walking in to projects smack-dab in the middle of the year. but when you get assigned to work with the masc girl who sits next to you, there’s no hiding your blatant attraction toward her…and maybe she can’t hide her’s either.

warnings ellie and reader are 18 here (seniors in high school) !! kissing, pining (this is literally just fluff and i wanted an excuse to write for flashback el)

wc 3.9k

note this is incredibly self-indulgent and took me an embarrassing long amount of time to actually write i apologize (title inspiration from the song mask off by future)

“this is so stupid.”

ellie’s complaint compelled you to roll your eyes, a redundant sigh escaping you. “i heard you the last three times you said it.”

your deskmate slumped against the side of her bed, nimble fingers fidgeting with a slightly chewed pen as she watched you create a rough outline of the halle comet on a large poster board—she thought it was more entertaining than trying to gather the essential information your teacher had required to be provided. you could feel her eyes observing every flick and stroke of your pencil as you struggled to copy the image from your laptop.

the task had deemed itself to be more complicated than you thought, and after one more final attempt, you tossed the writing utensil to the side in frustration. “this is so stupid.”

snorting at your disgruntled attitude, ellie reached for the pencil. “how about this; i’ll draw and you get the stats. i’m dying of boredom over here.” she shuffled closer before you could object, shoving her textbook your way.

not bothering to argue, you grabbed your backpack and started to sift through the supplies you had brought along to her house. markers, pens, pencils, scissors, binder…

removing your binder from your bag you flipped it open, only to be met with other assignments and notes from varying classes. groaning, you said over a shoulder, “ellie do you have notebook paper?”

“yeah—top drawer of my desk,” she answered without looking in your direction, her short hair falling to cover the side of her face.

nodding to yourself, you shoved your things back in your bag and stood, making your way toward her desk. it was rather cluttered, which didn’t shock you in the least, but still organized in probably a way only ellie would understand.

you grabbed the first drawer’s handle and gently pulled, exposing the mess that was inside. grumbling to yourself about how ellie couldn’t possibly be able to find anything in this chaos, you began to poke through her things. managing to spot a spare journal—which you noted was not looseleaf paper like you had asked—you carefully maneuvered the notebook out from underneath all of her art supplies.

hip-thrusting the drawer shut, you flipped the journal open, eager to get on with the research you did not want to do, simply to get this project over with. but as you overturned lined pages, you came to realize this was a sketchbook—and you were the starring subject.

“ellie,” you called, eyes trained on a drawing of you slumped over a book in the school library (you recalled this day rather vividly).

the auburn-haired girl finally looked up from her spot on the carpeted floor. she quickly realized what was in your hands. “shit,” she couldn’t help but mutter in panic. ellie rushed to her feet, already reaching to take the sketchbook from you. “sorry, you weren’t supposed to-”

you said her name again, interrupting her explanation with “you would’ve saved me a lot of time had you been the one to draw that ridiculous comet from the get-go.”

ellie’s arm fell to her side, and she tried to calm her racing heart with a deep inhale. she scratched the back of her neck sheepishly, invisible strings tugging on the corners of her mouth when she realized you weren’t pissed at her. “yeah, i guess you’re right.” she paused before adding, “you’re a really shitty artist.”

your eyes flickered to hers immediately, and you snapped the journal shut before smacking her left upper arm with it. “hey! i tried my best, okay? we can’t all be as talented as you.”

“got that right,” ellie mused, her familiar easygoingness making a return. she stuck a hand out. “can i please have my sketchbook back?”

you kissed the back of your teeth, giving her a look of contemplation as you hugged the object in your hand a little closer to your chest. “mm, i don’t know. i was thinking about going through it some more. i mean, i barely got to see anything.”

ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “seriously?”

“seriously,” you told her with a nod, taking a step closer to the desk behind you.

her hand dropped, and you swore that something flashed across her face, but before you could identify what it had disappeared. maybe i’m pushing it, you thought suddenly, growing aware of the way you were holding onto something that she probably poured her heart and soul into.

across from you, ellie adjusted her stance before shrugging. “alright. have fun, i guess. i just need it back tomorrow by 6th period.”

you blinked at her words, dumbfounded by her compliance. watching her return to the poster board on the floor, you held the little journal closer, already making note of what you would be doing later when you returned home.

ellie liked to draw you. she supposed it was rather obvious, but seeing the way your eyes widened as you observed her drawings made her second guess. had she really not been that apparent? she guessed not. and while she was excited to let you take her sketchbook home, she was more nervous.

it was very hard to sleep that night, and only when the small illuminated numbers on her alarm clock struck two a.m. did she finally manage to doze off.

“you look a little…rough,” dina said, cringing at her own word choice.

ellie ran a hand through her hair as she walked beside the shorter girl. “thanks. i hadn’t noticed.”

dina ignored the jab. “i can’t believe you actually gave it to her. hell, you never even let me touch that thing…and you’ve only known her for, like, two weeks! i am feeling a little betrayed, but it’s whatever.”

“letting her look at it just…felt right? i don’t know how to explain it. she doesn’t seem like someone who’d become suddenly disgusted by me drawing her way before we ever started talking,” ellie confessed, spotting the door to her earth and space class.

“ouch.” dina grabbed ellie’s arm, pulling her to an empty wall. “first of all, i wouldn’t be disgusted by you if i was her. secondly, stop being nervous. there’s no need for all of that.”

“i’m not nervous,” she objected immediately.

the brown-eyed girl stared blankly at her. “yes, you are. you’re more fidgety than normal. just go in there, sit down, and wait for her to walk in. you said she normally gets to class practically right before the bell rings?”

“yeah, she comes from the other side of the building.”

“perfect! now go.” dina shoved her friend in the direction of the classroom, waving her off with a smile.

sighing through her nose, ellie entered the room, greeted her teacher, and visibly sagged when she noticed you weren’t in your seat yet. there’s still some time, she thought to herself, not realizing that you had walked in behind her until you said: 

“hey, el, you’re kinda in the way.”

you watched as ellie turned to face you, her eyes wide as she whirled. “you got here fast,” she stated bluntly.

shrugging, you moved past her to walk toward your desk. as you sat you said, “class was in the library today since they were using our room for testing.”

ellie nodded from in front of you, still standing. you noticed how aloof she was acting. “are you gonna sit?” you asked, gesturing to the desk beside you.

“yes,” she said hastily, pulling back her chair. she landed with a thud. slouching against the back of her seat, she looked at you and continued, “you brought the poster in, right? this morning?”

your mouth pressed into a thin line. “yes, ellie, i brought the poster in. but we’re not presenting today anyway, so had i forgotten, we’d still be okay.”

“god, that is such a relief,” she sighed, leaning her head back to stare at the speckled tile ceiling and roll her tense shoulders.

“agreed,” you breathed while hauling your bag into your lap. unzipping it, you pulled out the familiar brown journal. “here. back to you before 6th period. just like you said.”

ellie took her notebook cautiously, setting it on her desk as she glanced at you.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked skeptically, lowering your voice to a whisper as your teacher started class at the front of the room. “if you didn’t want me to take it then why did you give it to me in the first place?”

the girl beside you shook her head, leaning her body closer. you stared at the outline of her tattoo as she said, “i wanted you to take it. i’m just nervous that you look at me differently now.” 

your eyebrows shot upward, both taken back and confused by her answer. “why would i even-” you turned to face her. “ellie, i don’t look at you ‘differently’ because you draw me. i think it’s rather sweet, actually.”

ellie was bewildered by your words, recalling what dina had said earlier about how she would have loved it if she were drawing her. maybe she had been right. licking her chapped lips, she shifted in her seat, as if she were going to say something, but snapped her head to the front when the teacher said her name sternly.

“miss williams i need you to pay attention, please. this has to do with the project, and i will not be happy when you decide to ask me something i already explained to the class,” the man up front lectured, making both you and ellie sit a little straighter in your seats.

you sent ellie an apologetic look when she glimpsed in your direction. as your teacher moved on from his scolding, you grabbed her sketchbook from her desk and flipped it open to a clean page, pen in hand.

meet me at my locker after school? you wrote quickly, pushing it over for her to see.

ellie grabbed the writing utensil you gave her. i have basketball practice after school :(

frowning, you exaggerated a sigh, shooting a playful eye roll her way as you scribbled out a reply. then i’ll come by the locker room after practice. there—problem solved.

problem solved. ellie wrote back with a grin, nodding at your solution.

“i am incredibly stupid. what was i even thinking?”

jesse was quick to shoot down your self-loathing, his shoulder brushing up against yours as he walked you in the direction of the girl's locker room. “no, you’re not. you were bold. there’s a difference.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line, cheeks slightly puffing out before you kissed the back of your teeth. anxiously running a hand over your face, you said, “well…is there really?”

“yes,” your friend quipped.

rolling your eyes, you shoved jesse jokingly as someone came walking out of the locker room. you instantly recognized dina in her cheerleading outfit, a knowing smile making its way onto your lips. the girl from your history class had always been super friendly.

“dina!” you called, earning a low groan from jesse.

the cheerleader grinned immediately, though you recognized its falter when she spotted her ex by your side. “hey! what’re you doing in the athletic building?” she made a show of not acknowledging jesse.

“i’m here for ellie!” you told her with a toothy smile, fidgeting with the straps of your backpack.

dina’s eyes widened with realization, but her bubbly appearance didn’t feign. she pointed a thumb toward the door she had come out of. “oh! she’s the last one still in the locker room, which i suppose you might’ve already known?”

shaking your head, you said, “yeah, i told her i’d meet her after basketball practice had finished.”

“well don’t let me keep you here then,” dina exclaimed, stepping out of the way to the door with the tiny woman’s symbol on it.

you nodded as you stepped past her, only looking over your shoulder to say, “i’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

“yep!” dina confirmed.

jesse shot you a reassuring grin as you disappeared into the dimly lit hallway that hosted the coaches’ offices.

heart beginning to race, you pulled the door handle to the locker room and forced your legs to move. the fluorescent lights were harsh against your eyes, your chest constricting with nerves as you walked past bathroom stalls, sinks, and floor-length mirrors. you couldn't remember the last time you had been in a locker room.

finally coming up on the athletic lockers (they were on a completely separate wall from the regular physical education lockers), you started to hear shuffling.

“ellie?” you called out, trying your best to not sound like you wanted to abandon this idea entirely.

as you passed a few more of the athletic cages, you spotted the girl you were searching for. her lack of a shirt made you balk.

turned toward the lockers, ellie passed a towel through her wet hair, arms tense with movement. you admired the taunt muscles of her back, her damp skin littered with small, but visible, freckles.

she hadn’t noticed your presence.

you cleared your throat promptly, offering her a smile when she turned around. trying not to be distracted by her toned arms and abdomen, you said, “hi ellie. hope i didn’t catch you at a bad time?”

she shook her head, mouth curling into something between a genuine grin and a satisfied smirk. “hey…and no, you caught me at a really good time, actually. practice ended about 45 minutes ago.”

nodding, you took a few steps closer. “yeah, i know. i asked a friend when practices normally end. figured me being a little ‘late’ would benefit. didn’t want to catch you before you had time to shower.”

“ouch,” she said, reaching to grab for her dirty practice t-shirt in her locker. ellie looked over her shoulder as you halted.

something about the way her eyes glinted made you deadpan, “if you throw that at me i will turn around and leave right now.”

chuckling to herself, ellie shook her head. “calm down, i’m not throwing anything at anyone.” she dramatically put the shirt and a pair of folded athletic shorts in a drawstring backpack before shoving it back into the locker.

“you are so annoying,” you snapped at her, moving to sit on the wooden bench placed directly in the middle nook of lockers. as you sat, you caught a whiff of sharp mahogany and cheap cologne.

ellie’s eyebrows raised, her shoulders leaning to press against the cool metal behind her. “and yet here you are, going out of your way to meet me in the back of the locker room after school.”

part of you was certain she made emphasis on the phrase ‘back of the locker room.’

shooting her a glare, though, you straightened as you said, “i said you were annoying, not that i didn’t like you.” there was a pregnant silence before you added, “besides, i wanted to ask if you wanted to go get coffee with me.” you watched ellie’s lips pull back in disgust, your heart dropping in an instant. “or not. sorry, i didn’t-”

“how about we go get dinner instead?” she interrupted. “coffee’s disgusting and i’m starving.”

blinking at her words, you licked your lips. “yeah. yes. that works.” it took you a moment to regain your composure. shit, i almost blew that. “i didn’t know you hated coffee.”

ellie turned and grabbed a hair tie. as she put half of her hair up—somehow in the most attractive way you might add—she said, “oh, yeah. that shit is gross.”

“um, have you even tried it?” you asked doubtfully, mouth forming into a frown. when the auburn-haired girl stayed quiet and instead clasped a thin silver chain around her neck you guessed her answer was clean no. 

you scoffed as you nudged her sock-covered foot. “i’m going to force you to try mine the next time i bring some.”

“sounds great,” ellie said sarcastically, a grin tugging on her lips. her smile sent chills sprawling down your spine.

shrugging off your backpack, you set it by your feet, muttering out a barely audible, “fuck.” you had no idea where this conversation was going, and your attempt at asking her out on a date had been a bust…sort of?

ellie had declined coffee and suggested dinner, but it still sounded like it fit more under the category of  ‘hangout as friends.’ talking to her was sometimes like talking to a brick wall. masc’s are so fucking clueless, you thought, releasing a heavy sigh through your nose. or maybe i’m not being obvious enough?

“what?” she asked at your suddenly agitated (as she’d describe it) attitude, wetting her chapped lips as she went to sit next to you. lifting a leg over the bench, she sat, body facing yours as she man-spreaded for comfort—her proximity and stature reminded you that she was still very much shirtless…and somehow way better at this (you weren’t sure what this even entitled) than you were.

goosebumps spread across the skin of your upper arms. you shifted, pulling up a knee to rest on the wood as you trailed off, eyes avoiding hers, “you’re just so…”

her head tilted, eyes narrowing as she leaned closer. there was no way she didn’t notice the way you sucked in a breath. “i’m so what? look at me when you talk,” she said.

your gaze snapped toward hers, but first flickered to the swell of her mouth.

“i’m so what?” she repeated, her voice lowering an octave. when you said nothing, she added, “cat got your tongue?”

between her teasing and the adrenaline coursing through your body, you were compelled to do the only thing you could think of to shut her up—to make her drop the questions. swallowing the lump building in your throat, you grabbed her face, thumbs pressing against her warm cheeks, and kissed her with unmistakable want.

although ellie hadn’t expected for you to be so physically direct, she did not mind it at all. following the rough pace you had set, she kissed you back with just as much ferocity, her fingers slipping into the belt loops of your jeans to slide herself forward and you closer.

you mewled at her movement, the pressure between your thighs growing as intensely as you were kissing her. she was quick to regain control of the situation you had thrust upon her.

“ellie,” you mumbled against her mouth, your eyes half-shut as she tugged on your jeans a second time.

“come here,” she told you hastily, lips trailing toward your left ear. “sit on my lap.” she kissed your temple. “please.”

shuddering at her request, you wasted no time in pulling away, pushing yourself off the bench, and situating your legs over hers in a straddle position.

the heat from ellie’s skin seeped through the fabric of your shirt, her hands slipping past the hem. you found yourself arching instinctively to her venturing touch, your stomach twisting into tight knots.

“you are going to make me go insane,” she confessed, her words coming out in a whisper, leaning in to kiss you again. her lips were gentler against yours, eager to savor the moment.

in turn, you indulged in letting your palms trace the sculpted muscles of her arms, fingers trailing every dip and curve from her years of work in the weight room. “you are so beautiful,” you told her delicately, relishing the way her skin burned under yours.

ellie followed the compliment, her hands finding your face and forcing you to look at her. green eyes etched with something between lust and admiration, she thumbed a corner of your mouth. “do you have any idea what you do to me?” she whispered. “from the moment you walked into that classroom…”

her words died in her throat and she swallowed thickly as you shook your head. “don’t do that. not here.”

“do what?” she questioned, adjusting her position on the bench.

the friction between your legs forced you to release a shaky breath, and you licked your lips in an attempt to focus on bringing your thoughts into coherent sentences. she was making it extremely hard. “i want to talk about this over dinner,” you told her hoarsely. “about what we are now. about what you want us to be.”

“are you saying you want to go on a date?” she asked quietly.

you couldn’t help your sudden smile. “i asked you earlier when i mentioned coffee, but you instantly shut that idea down.”

ellie rolled her eyes, though you could sense her pang of guilt. “you weren’t very clear on the date part. otherwise, i would’ve said yes immediately.”

surprise feigned your features. “you? saying yes to a coffee date?”

“oh, ha-ha.” she exaggerated the fake laugh. “and yes, had i known you were asking me out i would've sacrificed my comfort for your enjoyment. honestly, i think i do that quite often—as of right now i think my tailbone is being bruised.”

you sucked in harshly, moving off her with urgency as you shoved her shoulder with a hand. “why didn’t you say anything?!”

“and risk not feeling you up? yeah, no thanks.” her tone was definite.

your jaw fell slack as you crossed your arms over your chest, confounded by her response. “you can still feel me up without me in your lap, dummy.”

“yeah, but that sounds less fun,” ellie teased, holding up her hands in defense. she stood from her seat, reaching around you to grab her baseball t-shirt from earlier. as she put her arms through the sleeves she said, “i have a game tomorrow. you should come watch.”

you scrunched your nose jokingly, deciding to use her words against her. “and see you all sweaty? yeah, no thanks.”

ellie straightened out her shirt, shooting you a rather bemused look in the process. “how do you know you won’t like seeing me all sweaty and worn out?”

as she hunched down to pull on her converse, you exhaled heavily, unable to come up with something witty. mainly because she was right. you would totally like to see her all sweaty and worn out. so, with a slight bruise to your ego, you itched your nape, mumbling out, “i never said i wouldn’t like that. you always assume shit about me.”

“and you always assume shit about me, so we’re even,” ellie shot back, standing back up. she grabbed her backpack from inside the locker before changing the subject. “where do you wanna go for dinner?”

you shrugged, reaching down for your own bag. swinging it over a should, you said, “i don’t know. whatever you want. and you’re right, i do assume shit about you. like right now, for instance, i’m assuming you’re a picky eater.”

“i am not a picky eater.” she shut down your claim with a light kick to your shoe. “and fine, i’ll pick something and surprise you. did you drive to school today?”

you shook your head. “no.”

“great, looks like you’re sticking with me then.” she tried and failed to hide her cheeky smile. closing her locker, she grabbed your hand, hastily leading you toward the main hallway of the locker room. “come on.”

trailing after her, you felt your cheeks heat with the prompt realization of your reality. maybe you’d have to thank your earth and space teacher for assigning that stupid comet project. the steady growth of your relationship with ellie made your insides twist with pure excitement, and as she rambled about how much you would enjoy her restaurant of choice, you couldn't help but succumb to the feeling of pure bliss.

[miloformula123fan]

Hi! i wanted to request lando x fem!reader where dhe studies in the US and is dating lando and talks about him all the time but all of her friends thinks she is joking because she has no proof (she cant post anything yet because lando hasnt said anything abt a gf to the public). and y/n crys to lando because no matter how much convincing she does they think shes just messing with them. (she literally drives his spare mclaren and they still dont beleive her.) so lando decides to suprise her in class and then posts her on insta and all of her friends feel really bad

woohoo!

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

this was so much fun to write haha :)

lando norris x reader

---

Y/N picks up her laptop and some pens with her notebook. She’s got another study date with her friends. She likes them, sure she does, but sometimes they get a little irritating. 

For one, they don’t believe that her boyfriend is THE Lando Norris. They think she’s either got some unemployed schmuck who she is afraid to tell them about due to his poorness (the stuck up snobs) or they think she’s got some old sugar daddy that she doesn’t want them to meet because he’s so old.

So Y/N is taking less than ideal measures. Like today. Lando recently acquired a new McLaren from his work, some customised Spider that came out a couple of years ago. So now that he has his new car, he shipped his old one out to America, so Y/N would have something nice to drive around. His old McLaren GT, not necessarily old, it still cost about $210k, but not Lando’s current favourite, so Y/N could drive it around a bit.

And drive it, she would. Maybe this would finally convince her friends. Once and for all, that Lando Norris was interested in her and was dating her. She grabbed the keys off the table, double checked she had everything and then got into the car, driving the 10 minutes to the coffee shop.

Okay, maybe pulling up outside a coffee shop entirely inhabited by uni students in a custom McLaren wasn’t the best idea, but it was the best one she had. She got out of the car, locking it and headed in, almost immediately spotting her friends.

“Hello! I’ll just grab a coffee and then we can get to it!” She smiled at them, but she could see their faces

“How about you get us all a coffee with your sugar daddy money, Y/N.”

Y/N put her head down and ordered a hot chocolate and a cookie before returning to the table.

“So, how’s Lucas, Gabrielle?”

“Oh come on, no one wants to hear about my boyfriend, Y/N, we all just want to hear about your sugar daddy.”

“As I’ve told you before, I do not have a sugar daddy. I have Lando, who is my boyfriend, not my sugar daddy. And he is good, excited for the Las Vegas Grand Prix, and then excited to be coming home at the end of the season.”

“Yeah right, just cause you’re sending nudes to some old guy, doesn’t mean you can’t tell your best friends… come on, cut the charade Y/N.”

“I-” YN could feel tears welling up in her eyes, so she grabbed her stuff, and her hot chocolate before getting into the McLaren and driving off. 

Thank god it was only a 5 minute drive, else Y/N may not have made it back due to the tears welling up in her eyes. Maybe if she had, she would’ve seen the other McLaren in the driveway, but instead she walked into the house and locked herself in the bathroom, sitting down and beginning to cry.

Lando outside quickly froze. He honestly had no idea what to do. He was planning on surprising his girlfriend when she got home from her study date with her friends, but she arrived 2 minutes after he got home and had immediately walked into the bathroom without even saying hello. Leaning against the door, Lando could hear shaky breaths and sobs through the door, as he leaned his whole weight onto it, he quickly realised that she had not in fact locked the door, as he fell through it, landing on the cold tile floor.

The sobs stopped, as the hiccups continued. “L-lando, are you, okay? Wait, hang on, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the factory in England?” The confusion in her voice was evident.

“Yeah, well I had some spare time, and I decided to come over, and the door wasn’t locked properly, but what happened? Why are you in here crying pretty girl?”

“It’s nothing, I promise, just me getting upset over nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing darling when you’re sitting here on the bathroom crying, huh?”

“Just… well, people don’t think we’re dating. They think I’m lying about it to try and cover for some 80 year old sugar daddy, and they think i’m being delusional.”

“Why, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want to worry you…”

“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N of course I worry about you. Let’s forget about your shitty friends, and let’s go get a takeout dinner and a movie.”

“Love Actually?”

“Yes, if you want.”

---

Y/N dashed into the classroom, running slightly late as she sat down, and pulled open her laptop. Cursing herself for oversleeping, and not having the time to grab a coffee on the way, she sat down and began to take notes.

Halfway through the lecture, Y/N heard the door at the back of the room open again. ‘Well at least I’m not the last one.’ She heard whispers and gasps and tried to focus on the lecture until she felt a presence standing next to her and looked up into her boyfriend’s brown eyes.

In his hands was a starbucks cup, a classic ice chocolate based on the label on the cup. Lando placed the cup on the table, before pressing a kiss to Y/N’s head and half jogging out of the room to avoid the fangirls.

Y/N could feel the judgemental looks at the back of her head, but all she could do was smile.

Lando Norris 

200k likes

Lando.norris love you baby 🙂

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[jezabelle9299]

Stress Baking; Part 1 S.R X Reader

Authors Notes: Spencer Reid x fem! Reader, fluff, reader is a receptionist or assistant at a police station, this part is mostly set up and introduction. Heavily inspired by me having to get rid of the remainder of my finals week stress baking, some monologuing.

Ok. Got to work 10 minutes early. I can set this stuff down, and make another attempt to get the rest of the flour out of my hair.

You were stumbling from your car, laptop bag and keys in one hand, backpack full of study guides and practice tests resting on your shoulders, and two reusable bags filled with pastries neatly packaged in every foil pan the dollar store had to offer.

“Whoa, Y/N, are you ok?” One of the officers said, holding the door open for you.

“All good, finals week baking.” 

“I can see that. Is that flour or powdered sugar up there?” She kind of gestured to your hair, piled on your hair in a high ponytail to keep it out of the way. Honestly it could be either, you’d neglected sleep and eating real meals, opting instead to take out your stress with some, frankly aggressive, stress baking. It helped keep you focused while re-listening to lectures from this semester, and the results served as great apology gifts for the people who had to deal with your bouts of uncharacteristic grumpiness during the week. In response to the officer's question you tossed a vague shrug and walked through the door.

Something was wrong. Like really wrong.

What had happened on your days off? You hadn’t given so much as a thought to the news, as you were too wrapped up in studying.

And your boss was trying to meet you at your desk. So much for fixing the whole flour situation before clocking in. 

“Y/N, good, you’re here early. Set your stuff down and get ready. The BAU is on their way now, and I need you to help them get set up.”

“The BAU?” you replied, head tilting with confusion.

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit… of the FBI?” He responded, with more condescension than was strictly necessary. 

“The FBI? Here? Why?”

“Really? Have you been living under a rock for the last 3 days? I don’t have time to explain it to you, I’m buried with paperwork over the most recent crime scene, and the governor is expecting a call about all this. Right now I need you to start getting the conference room ready, according to these specifications.” He handed you a piece of notebook paper, containing his nearly illegible handwriting, and a list of what the FBI needs. You finally set your bags down, and grabbed a pen to check things off as you went. 

There. Everything’s perfect, now you can finally get some work done. 

And nevermind. A black SUV pulled up, and out came the FBI, clown car style. 5 of them stuffed into one car, that can’t have been comfortable. They were heading right for your desk in the precinct lobby. 

“Hello my name is Agent Hotchner, where can I find your captain?” Said who you could only assume was their boss, as he looked like a child's drawing of an FBI agent, in a full black suit, while everyone else was much more casual. 

“Hi! I’m Y/N, the captain’s in his office right now, he told me to show you to your workspace and he’ll meet you there?” He gave a quick nod and a thank you as you did a quick turn toward the conference room, your bright pink skirt flaring out to its full radius as you pivot. You keep talking as you weave through the hustle and bustle of the precinct.

“There are fewer of you guys than I thought, so there’s a few extra chairs in there.”

“There are more of us in the second car, they’re running a little behind after picking up some extra paperwork. Dr. Reid and Agent Morgan will be here momentarily.”

“Alrighty then, the supplies you requested should all be here, and I’ll be around at my desk if there;s anything I can do for you, just let me know!” 

Just as you started for the door to get some more studying, and maybe some of your actual work done, a dark haired woman spoke up: “Sorry, but what is that?” She gestured to the small pile of foil tupperware filled with baklava, brownies, cupcakes, and cookies. It felt a whole lot sillier now that you had to explain it to the FBI. You could hear who you assumed were the other agents coming in behind you, but your focus was on the 5 already staring at you, while you tried to formulate an answer that kept you from seeming completely insane. “Oh-uh, I’m a college student, -and it’s finals week -um, when I get stressed I bake, kind of excessively. But-um don’t feel like you have to eat them, I mostly just needed to get them out of my kitchen.”

Hotchner spoke up again, “It was a kind gesture, thank you.”

“Studies actually show that the physical activities and sensations associated with baking are grounding for people with anxiety, as it heightens awareness of the body and presence in the moment; which both reduces stress and improves mood.” Someone spoke from behind you. As you turned to see who it was you saw him. Heaven in a purple scarf.

[catslvrr]

heaven sent — 00. prologue

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You were never the type to believe in superstitions.

But as you stared at the document you had open, completely blank (excluding your name) with the cursor blinking, as if mocking you, you started to seriously consider Minji’s suggestion.

(“Bro, you will not believe what happened to me today.”

“I’m not sure if I want to know,” you said, noisily slurping up your instant noodles.

“No, trust me, you do. So yesterday, I saw this post on Twitter that said if you write down a wish on a piece of paper three times, put it under your pillow, and then recite that wish at exactly 11:11, it’ll come true.”

You barely flinched as she slammed the table.

“I wished for a hundred bucks. And guess what?” She grinned smugly as she waved a bill in your face. “I found this lying on the floor before class.”

“So what?” You shrugged. “It’s just a lucky coincidence.”

“No, bro,” she whined. “It’s real. You should try it. Get yourself a girlfriend or something, you’re so grumpy all the time.”

“Even if it is true,” you glared at Minji as she reached over to eat some of your noodles. “Why would you wish for only a hundred bucks? You should’ve asked for a million dollars or something, dumbass.”

“I didn’t know it was real until today,” she puffed her cheeks, then proceeded to slam her head on the table. “I probably wasted my one wish.”

She looked up after a minute and pouted. “Can you please wish for it?”

“Find someone else to do it,” you waved your hand dismissively, making your way back to your room. “Enjoy the noodles, you scab. I’m gonna take a nap.”

“Your loss!” She called out, mouth full of (your) noodles. “I’m the one a hundred bucks richer.”)

You slumped back in your chair in defeat, running your fingers through your hair.

I’m running on two hours of sleep, and I’m never gonna finish this essay anyway. What do I have to lose?

You ripped a piece of scrap from the DoorDash takeaway bag sitting on your desk. Uncapping a pen with your teeth, you thought about what to write.

What the hell do I wish for? My essay to magically write itself? Nah, that’d be a waste of a wish.

After a few minutes of pondering, you messily scribbled three lines: ‘I want to be happy. I want to be happy. I want to be happy.’

You glanced at your laptop. Huh, it’s 11pm. Perfect timing.

You slid the note under your pillow and flopped onto your bed, scrolling through TikTok to pass the time.

As soon as the clock hit 11:11, you sat up.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

You sighed, scratching your head before saying,

“I want to be happy.”

Your breath hitched in anticipation.

“...”

To no one’s surprise, absolutely nothing happened. You scoffed, falling back onto the bed, rubbing your face in frustration.

Of course nothing would happen. Why did I think it would work?

You shut your eyes, feeling exhaustion wash over you. Whatever happens to that essay is up to God now.

You lay still for a few minutes, eventually tossing and turning as you tried to sleep. But all you could think about was the stupid essay. You groaned as you sat up again, grabbing your laptop.

“Fuck uni.”

At least this is my last assignment before the break.

You ended up staying up all the way to five in the morning, downing an ungodly amount of energy drinks in a desperate attempt to finish off the essay.

You woke up to the sound of I Like to Move It from Madagascar blasting in your ear.

(Minji thought it would be funny to change your alarm ringtone to it, and you never bothered to change it back.)

You groaned, flipping over to check your phone to see no new notifications. You stared vacantly at your ceiling as you contemplated your life choices.

I got one hour of sleep. Why do 7am classes exist? Whoever came up with that idea should be tried for crimes against humanity.

Eyes half open, you shuffled your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth, passing Minji’s room on the way. Her door was left ajar and she was nowhere to be seen. I’ll never understand how she wakes up every morning to go on a run.

Just as you were about to enter the bathroom, you noticed a girl in your living room. She was focused on a bookshelf, a curious expression on her face.

Who the fuck is that?

You rubbed your eyes and squinted. She was still standing there, running her fingers along the spines of the books.

I must be seriously sleep-deprived if I’m hallucinating a very pretty girl. Yeah, no, not doing this today. It’s the last class of the semester anyway. That 7am class can shove a stick up its ass.

You briskly walked back to your room and face-planted on your bed, instantly knocking out.

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[caramelcleopatraa]

ii. SUIT & TIE

word count: 2,000~

x: fiiiinally finished with this. currently working on part 3 now :p next chapter is gonna be SKRAIT SMUT. IT'S NEW YEARRRS EEVEEE!

content: Mafia!Roman Reigns x Designer!Reader, suggestive themes ( gets moderately steamy ;) )

Your Work Outfit ( With white forces cause girl didn't have any shoes on ) & your personal dressing room.

The lingering scent of vanilla spread throughout the room. The design is much different than the modern style that the rest of the store had. It was your own personal dressing room, so you wanted something different than the modern styles that you would usually go for. You told Roman to sit down and make himself comfortable while you fetched some extra materials that you needed for the appointment. You grabbed a pen, some paper, and your second laptop you used for work from your bag

“Can’t believe I have THE Roman Reigns in my store,” You said, while smirking. Your fingers typed away at your computer, getting ready to record measurements and adjustments from your client. A soft, flexible pink measuring tape hung loosely around your neck. Roman shrugged his shoulders and said “Apparently you’re the best and you do good work.” You turned your attention to Roman after setting your computer up to record numbers and notes needed for the appointment. “Correction, I am the best and I do amazing work,” You said, playfully elongating your sentence.

“Alright c’mere, lemme measure you sweetheart.” You said to Roman, motioning him to come over to you. “Sweetheart?” He asks, in an inquisitive tone. “Sorry, habit.” You waved it off. You have a habit of calling people names and you have to make sure that you keep it professional. He closes the distance between you both and looks down at you.

“I like it, keep calling me that.” You blushed from his comment. You slightly giggled and continued to measure him. First his bust, then his waist, and then his hips. His breathing was calming and substituted as music in the quiet room. You walked around his large frame and put the tape measure against the back of his shoulders. “His shoulders are so broad.” You spoke to yourself, not knowing that he would hear what you said. “Thank you princess.” 

“Oh shit, you heard that?” Roman laughs at your comment and your surprised face. 

“I thought that the best designer in the south had a little more bite than this,” Roman instigated. Your eyebrow raised as you recorded his measurements on your computer. “Don’t confuse me bein professional, for being scared now.” As you finished your sentence, there was a knock on your door. Your right hand lady was standing at the door handing you your favorite cold drink. “Thank you so much Madison, I needed this,” You say as you take the drink from her hands. “No problem girli- oh my god is that Roman?” He turned his head to face the direction of the commotion. You gave her a stern look while she teasingly raised her eyebrow. Madison wedged her foot between the door while you tried to push it shut. “Oooohh you should make a move on him.” ‘so everyone wants to just fucking embarrass me today!’

“GIRL- if you don’t move your foot i’m gonna crush it.” Even though the blush wasn't visible, your face was starting to heat up. You were so focused on getting Madison's foot away from the door that you didn't notice Roman standing up and making his way to you. You and Madison struggle for dominance over the door until Roman comes behind you. “Now this isn’t very professional, is it Ms. Semele?” Roman said with a smug look on his face, staring down at you. Madison smirks at you and tries to hide her laughter. You scowl under your breath and finally kick her foot from between the door and slam it. You were catching your breath before realizing what position you were in. Your back was against the door and Roman stood dead in front of you. You smirk and look straight into his eyes. “Not very professional, is it Mr. Reigns?” Romans deep chuckle sent tingles down your spine. His right hand creeped around your body and pushed your bodies together by the small of your back. His forearm remained on your lower back while his hand reached down to cup your ass, earning a gasp from you. “From the look you're givin’ me, I don't think you care about professionalism right now,” Roman whispers into your ear, while placing his left hand on the door above you. You attempt to speak, but he grabs your ass again and your mouth lays agape from Roman’s touch. A moan threatened to leave your lips, so you quickly bit your lip to restrain yourself. “I know you’re supposed to be fitting me, but I'm tryna eat that pussy.” Roman’s baritone voice makes you shiver and you look at him in shock. “So, how about we complete this and I can satisfy you princess,” Roman whispers once more in your ear before backing away from you. A knock startles you and you turn your attention to the ground. You grab the door knob behind you and face Aahkilah. “Did you want me to get the suits for you?” “Oh yes please, if you don’t mind, here are the measurements.” She takes the notepad that you jotted on and goes to retrieve the samples that you had prepared the night before. 

A minute later, she rolls in a silver rack with a black suit, a black suit with red paisley decals, and a red suit. On the edge of the rack were a collection of different ties that went with each suit. You thanked her and she made her exit, but not before flirtatiously waving at Roman on her way out. He paid her no mind though, and paid more attention to the clothes that were presented before him. “Woah, you had this all set up for me?” He asks, holding his hand to his heart. You laugh from his silly gesture and respond. “I just inferred your measurements from pictures and made samples based on your favorite colors. Trinity gave me that info.” You grab the red suit and grab a black tie. A little flashy, but you wanted to try this one first to see how it fits him. “Okay, try this one first. I’ll be waiting out here and you can give me your opinion when you come out,” You say, as he nods and takes the piece of red clothing from your hands. His big hand overshadowed yours as he held onto the hanger and disappeared into the dressing room. You didn't realize how big his hands were until now. You waved away your thoughts and continued to do extra work while waiting for him to finish.

“What do you think, expert?” Roman stood on the other side of the room tugging and pulling on his suit jacket. You walked in front of him to get a clear view of how he looks. The suit fitted him nicely, but the waist needed to be taken in just a little bit. “You look good, but the waist is a little loose. Do you want me to adjust it?” He nodded at your comment and you instructed him to take off his suit jacket. He takes it off and hands it to you, but you were busy staring at him. His muscular arms strains the black button up shirt and his slacks fit just right around his thighs. He fixed his sleeves while you stood there observing his body. “See something you like?” His voice interrupted your thoughts and you looked up at him. You wanted to challenge him, but your mouth wouldn’t move. You didn’t have anything to say to him. His presence alone made you flustered, and you had never met someone that could make you so distracted. You almost felt nervous when you were this close to him. You were actually flabbergasted. “Remember our deal, pretty girl?” You maintained eye contact and communicated with him through head nods. He chuckles at your current state and points at the suit jacket in your hand. “Weren’t you gonna do something with that?” You look down at your hands and say “Riight. Hold on a second.” You pull on the elastic band to tighten the waist area. You held up the jacket to see if it made a difference and then told him to hold his arms out by his side. You walked behind him and pulled the jacket over his arms and shoulders and continued adjusting it. “Ok, How about that?” He looks at the vertical mirror and smirks. “I like it. Imma keep it.” You smile at his comment and walk over to the rack and adjust the other suits accordingly. 

He tries on the other two suits and decides to keep all of them. This appointment went more successful than you thought. All of the designs you picked were ones that he liked. You tell Madison to start making the custom suits and Aahkilah takes the suits to the factory. You let out a sigh and face Roman. “Ok, anything else?” You ask him. He walks towards the door and locks it. He turns around and makes eye contact with you. At first you were confused by his actions until you remembered what he said at the start of the appointment. “Lay back on the seat,” He says, and you quickly obliged. “Hmm she’s obedient.” You roll your eyes at his comment and tilt your head back on the edge of the seat. “Are you gonna start doing something or you just gonna stand there?” Your sudden attitude made Roman smile and he walked towards the seat. He kneels at the end of the seat, letting his hands creep up to your body. “Now where was all of this 15 minutes ago?” He asks teasingly while rubbing up and down your thigh. 

“I had a job to do, sir,” You say dismissively, trying your best to dissolve the current conversation. He chuckles into himself and you raise your eyebrow at his reaction. “What’s so funny?” 

“For you to have a job to do, you love getting distracted,” He says, still massaging your thighs. “Because you kept tempting me. And you knew what you were doing.” You smirked at him and put your hands on top of his. “Is that a problem?” He lowers his head down to your calves and kisses them tenderly. You let out a contempt sigh and relax into his kisses. He slowly works his way up your legs. From your calves, to your knees, to your soft thighs. His hands push your legs apart and he pulls you closer to him by your knees. He takes off your shoes, then your socks, then he helps you out of your leggings. “Didn't know that you were such a gentleman,” you say provokingly, causing him to look at you sternly. “I know how to please a woman, sweetheart.” Before you could answer with a rebuttal, he ran his middle finger down your wetness. A soft gasp leaves your mouth as you tilt your head back again. “You’ve been this wet this entire time? Should’ve said something princess.” His index finger dips into your pussy while his thumb rubs your clit. Your hips move on their own, grinding against his hand. He quickly spanks the inside of your thigh and you let out a little yelp. “Stay still or I'll stop.” You let out a frustrated moan, earning you another slap and he rubs the red area of your sensitive skin.

“Now you gon’ let me take care of you?”

“Yes,” you moaned weakly.

“Good. Eyes on me while I eat this pussy.”

I don't have much to say but thank you soooo so much for the support lovelies <3 more stuff to come!

~ your hippie author

🏷️ tags :) @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers

[nyasbae]

sleep deprived

pairings: gustavo fring x fem!reader

summary: your boss noticed you’re overworking yourself and decides to do something about it.

a/n: gus got that email rizz

warnings: really messy lol

masterlist

You couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t. Gus had you making ninety pounds worth of meth every week, and due to your partners’ sudden disappearance, you were stuck doing all the work by yourself. You sighed, thinking back to how you got into this position.

You were a just a broke college student, trying to pay off your loans when you you met Jesse. You knew each other back in high school, and now he was your dealer. The two of you became buddies and one day you walked in on him and Walt talking about somebody named Gustavo Fring, the owner of a fast food restaurant with an undercover drug business.

You needed money and you convinced them to let join in. Realizing that the “the more the merrier” shit you had pulled really was just that, shit. After they had taught you the recipe, you ended up doing everything, always.

Gus had put to lines under the deadlines, signifying that if you didn’t get this done in time — there’d be consequences. At the same time you had a lot of due college assignments, and skipping all your lectures. So you practically lived in the lab, sleeping and eating there, until you had no time for either of those things.

You were leaning against the counter with a hand on your jaw, steadying your face. Your eyes shut and light snores coming out of your mouth. As Gus inspected your face, he realized you’d never once look so peaceful as you did in that moment.

“I see you’re getting a lot of work done,” he commented, knowing it’d wake you. Gus needed to talk to you about this. He had cameras everywhere and had been paying very close attention to how much time you’d been spending at the lap. You had your laptop and school books there, a few snacks and amount less cups of coffee.

The sudden sound of his voice startled you as you woke up with a final snore. “Shit– I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t even notice I was, uh’falling asleep” your slurred, your words blurring together due to your grogginess. You looked up at him with lazy eyes.

Gus looked at you through his glasses, his expression as emotionless as usual. You thought you saw a glimpse of emotion in his eyes, though it was probably just your sleep deprivation making you see things. Gustavo Fring doesn’t care for anyone. Especially not some random meth cook who can’t even do her job right… right?

“You should get home and get some rest, ___. Your drowsiness is affecting your work performance.” Stated as a fact, though functioning more as an excuse.

“I can’t, sir! I’ve only made like, half of the meth I was supposed to and–“ you rambled on, but he interrupted you almost instantly. “Stop it, ___! You have done your part. Your partners’s neglect of their responsibilities is not your problem,” as he shushed you, his expression remained the same though his voice got notably more aggressive. “I’ll consider getting you new partners, you’ve mastered the arts of cooking now.” In that moment, you couldn’t be bothered by his comment on your friends; all you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

“Are you absolutely sure? I’ll get back to work as soon as I wake up, I promise!” You insisted, and he shook his head. “No, you’ll have the rest of the week off,” he said. “I value your effort but I cannot have your drowsiness affect my product.” Gus explained while putting a gentle yet firm hand on your shoulder. You eyed the hand and as did he, though he didn’t let go before he you reluctantly agreed.

“Alright, I guess,” you sighed. He smiled professionally as he took out his notebook, scribbling something something. “Fantastic! Write down your email and we can discuss your work ethic further.” He demanded suggested, handing you a note and a pen. You smiled as you messily wrote down your email address and gave it back to him.

When you went to sleep that night all you could think about was your interaction earlier, and how this might’ve been his stiff attempt at flirting with you. Although you figured this could’ve easily been your head playing tricks on you agin.

When you woke up the next morning you noticed a gmail notification. Written bellow a gusfr@gmail.com it read:

Hello, I hope you slept a worthwhile and woke up energetic and better. I suggest we meet up at my restaurant to further discuss our game plan.

Sincerely, Gustavo Fring.

Did Gustavo Fring just ask out out on a date?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: you all are beautiful.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The professor’s shadow looms over you in your dim room. Now you have a face for your disappointment. The thought of his staunch expression fills you with dread and somewhat motivation. So it is that you at least try. Just try. Simple as that. Try. 

After your meeting, you spend the day cleaning your room, hoping for a clean slate to start over. You spend a bit too long contemplating useless possessions as if putting off the inevitable. Eventually you have to sit down and do the real work. Once you do that, you will be forced to face reality. This is the flip of the coin; success or failure. 

The next morning you turn on the overhead light, casting the space in a brighter tint than usual. You aren’t used to the clarity or the tidiness. You can see the floor. There isn’t clutter on the desk or the bookshelf and it just feels easier. 

Anxious to begin, you sit down and boot up your laptop. You open your notebook and find your place. The course book takes some time to load as you yawn and rub your forehead. You need coffee before you begin. That’s it. No other distractions after that. 

You get up and cross the room, a needling above your left eyebrow. Yes, coffee is a must. You come out into the hall and listen to the silence of the apartment. It’s early and you know your mother had a late night. You woke up several times to inexplicable thumps. 

You shuffle into the kitchen and wash out the dregs of yesterday’s coffee from the pot. You empty the filter and put in a new one; measuring the grounds particularly. Everything you do is deliberate now, it has to be. You pour water in the tank and pop the lid down, hitting brew to cap off the process. 

You lean on the counter and yawn again. You hang your head as your eyelids grow heavy. You can’t be sleepy all day. You need your energy. The equations will certainly do little for your pulsing head. 

You hear your mom’s bedroom door and you shift over towards the sink. A figure appears at the edge of your vision but you don’t look over. You assume it’s her until the deep rumble rises from the man’s throat. Lee nears and before you can sidle further, he’s behind you. 

“Mm, coffee smells good,” he rasps as he pens you in, reaching over your head to open the cupboard. His stomach presses to your back as you stare down at the sink, “scuse me.” He takes down a cup, lingering a moment before he backs away and sets the cup down with a loud clink, “you’re up early.” 

Him too. You keep the thought sewn up behind your lips. You shrug. 

“Heard you last night too. Skittering around in your room.” 

Your blink at him. He wears only a pair of white underwear, his belly pudgy but his arms firmly muscled. He hardly seems bothered by his bareness. He takes the pot off the burner mid-brew and fills his cup, emptying what’s there before he places it back. You tuck your lower lip under your teeth and cross your arms. 

“Night owl, huh,” he comments as he pulls the sugar dish away from the wall. He takes the lid off and sprinkles the sugar into his coffee without a spoon. You stand and watch him dumbly. 

He swirls the mug and takes a sip. He lets out a satisfied sigh, “mm, you make good coffee.” 

You bite into your lip before you let it free, “thanks, sir.” 

He scoffs, “sir? Ain’t got my badge on right now.” 

You nod and cross your arms. 

“How old’re ya?” he turns to lean on the counter, slurping loudly. 

You’re put off by his curiosity. Your run-ins are few and far between. That’s on purpose. You avoid your mother’s men and often, the do the same with you. You answer him and he hums, eyes slitting as he thinks. 

“And you’re still living here with ma?” He wonders, “old enough to be out on your own, ain’t ya?” 

“I guess,” you lock your arms tightly, your shoulders hurting from the tension. 

“Mmm,” he takes another gulp, his eyes still on you. “Ain’t bad. Ain’t bad at all. Bet lots of men wouldn’t mind.” 

“What?” You shift back on your heel. 

“Yeah, not too bad on the eyes, are ya? I mean, ladies are all the same when you get em naked,” he chortles and stands straight.  

“Sir, I... I got... I got homework,” you turn, swaying awkwardly as you drop your arms and march away. 

“Ah, smarty pants, huh? Men like that too,” he taunts after you. “Don’t matter much when they young like you.” 

You’re brittle, about to break. You don’t need another reminder of how much of a loser you are. Even when you try, it’s just not enough.  

You don’t look back, your skin crawling as he belches and you hear the carafe hit the top of the machine as he lifts it again. You close yourself in your room and frown at the wall. You didn’t even get coffee for all that. 

You pout and drag your feet to the desk. You sit down and brace your head in your hands. You’ll try to wait him out. He’ll have to leave eventually. Coffee doesn’t matter. You got to get through this course book. You promised you would. 

📓

It takes two days to finish the coursebook, faster than expected. A gleam of pride flashes through your mind but quickly fizzles out as you attach your work to an email. It might be done but it matters more that it's done correctly.  

You don't know much of Professor Smith or truly of people in general, but he seems to be very precise. Forgiving in moments but given his feedback on previous submissions, he is strict about the numbers themselves. You make yourself hit send. 

You could take the afternoon on some self-congratulatory celebration, but you still have work to do. You open up coursework five and wait for the case studies to load. The most difficult part for you are the spreadsheets. There's so much data to sift through though applying the formulas and balancing them are easy enough. 

After a few problems, you stretch your fingers and lean your head on the heels of your hands. You yawn at the desk and roll your shoulders as you sit up. If you can get through just one course, you might just be able to do this. 

It's a bit ridiculous. The smallest of things are so big to you. The simple are overly complicated by your self-doubt and yet too often those doubts have proven true.  

You shake off the wave of grimness and stand up. You stop halfway, hovering between the seat and your feet, as an email chimes in. It's Professor Smith. You sit and blink at the laptop. 

'Thank you. I will have a look over and return with feedback. Hope you are keeping well. Good job on the speedy work. 

Best, 

Raymond' 

Your cheeks pinch as a smile threatens. He hasn't said whether you've done well or not but the acknowledgement feels like sunshine on your skin. It makes you want to keep going. 

You forget about the whim to have a cup of tea and settle back in to work at the next problem. If you get through the first section of the coursework, you might just be able to sleep. 

📓

Groggy, you rub your eyes and grumble. You lean forward on the toilet and let the trickle out. You woke up with a horrible fullness and it hurts to let it out. You sigh as you stand and pull up your sweatpants. 

As you crank on the sink, you hear a groaning hinge that mirrors the noise. There's staggering and the shatter of glass. A body hits the wall just outside the bathroom door. You turn off the faucet and face the commotion.  

Your heart races as your mother cries out and there's the crack of flesh. Your reticence has you cowering as fire speckles over you. It's not just fear, it's anger, the frustration you tamp down each time you hear her bawling. 

"No good lousy bitch," Lee snarls as there's another slap. This time he grunts, "what the hell do ya think ya doin'?" 

You near the door and slowly turn the knob. You inch it open and see your mother crawling away from the man. The scent of vodka permeates the air and a broken bottle litters the carpet around her. 

Lee boots her rear and sends her to her stomach. She yelps as he steps over her, dropping down to straddle her between his knees. She's wearing one of her tattered night shirts and nothing else, one sleeve down her shoulder. 

"Now, I waa being nice and you just had to go and yip like a spoilt bitch," he grabs her hair and forces her head up as she whines. The thrashes out, the glass cutting into her arms and legs, as he shifts his weight and the elastic of his briefs tautens as he tugs at it. "Lemme show ya what you're worth--" 

Your heart races and your throat lumps. Your chest tightens and your adrenaline wakes you completely. You don't know what to do. Do what you always do; hide. 

You push the door towards the frame and your mother sobs again. You close your eyes and stop. You don't know what you're doing. Why you're doing it. It never helps. It never works. Not since that little girl ended up at the bottom of the stairs all those years ago. When she learned to keep out of the way. 

Those memories fade and you swing the door inward. Your feet stomp out across the floor and you leap onto Lee's back as he bares his ass. You hook your arms around his thick neck and he falls backwards as your mom yelps again. 

“Huh, oh,” she wriggles and drags herself from under you and Lee as you wrestle on the floor, “sweetie, no--” 

She reaches for you and Lee kicks her again. She falls back and you squeeze him tighter, as hard as you can, ignore the bite of the glass as it pierces through your shirt. He elbows your side and you gasp, the pain ringing through your ribs.

Still, you don’t let go. You don’t know why. Maybe because if you do, you lose. 

“What’re ya—dumb little brat—just like your ma,” he snarls as his weight crushes you and he tries to peel your fingers from around your forearm. “I’m gonna teach you--” 

“Don’t hurt her!” You mother jumps on him, further adding to the pile. You can’t breathe as you’re flattened beneath them. “That’s my daughter! My daughter...” 

Her words slur drunkenly as she cries and lays her fists weakly into the man atop you. He shoves her off of him easily but she doesn’t relent. She lands on her ass between his legs and yours. You barely keep hold of him as you head begins to thrum. 

“Hold him, baby,” she orders as you can only see the top of her head over the chaos. She jerks and the man atop you grunts and shrivels his hands flying down to cup below his waist. “God--- Irene. The—fuck.” 

“Baby, let him go,” your mother huffs and heaves as she struggles to her feet. 

She pulls on your arm, tugging you out from under him as he rolls onto his sides, his hand between his legs. She must have got a good shot in. She stumbles and sways as she pulls you up, hanging onto you as she almost topples again. She’s drunk. Very drunk. 

“Go to your room, sweetie,” she brings a hand to your cheek. “Please--” 

“But...” you trail off and look down at the man as he puffs out through gritted teeth, “make him go, mom. Please. He’s going to hurt you.” 

“It’s alright,” she coos and pets your face, “it doesn’t hurt so much.” 

“Wh-why?” You sputter. 

“You gotta go, baby,” she coaxes, “let me take care of him.” 

“Mom, please,” you beg her, eyes glazing with tears. “We can call the cops--” 

“He is the cops, baby,” she lets you go and turns to him, falling over him as she rubs his arm, “Lee, honey, I’m sorry. I was just scared--” 

“I oughta--” he chokes out, “that damn daughter of yours...” 

“Shush, honey,” she comforts him and bends to whisper in his ear. 

You stare down at them, mortified. All that effort and for what? She just folds for these men. Goes right back to taking the abuse. Over and over again. They don’t even treat her nice. 

She looks up again, her eyes glistening, “go. Lock your door.” 

Her hiss nips at you and has you scrambling to your room. There’s nothing you can do. You don’t know why you thought for that instant that you could. You don’t know why you think there’s anything you can do right. It all just ends the same. 

[padfootagain]

Something Good (X)

Chapter 10 : Chocolate Muffins

Hello, lovelies! Here is a new chapter for my Ben Barnes series!

Some more London cuteness! Ben struggles with his feelings, and we also have some Sally cuteness!

Hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none! Slow burn, professor AU.

Summary: Coming out of a divorce and trying to get used to being a single mom, while teaching your classes at University, you thought your life could not get more complicated than it already is. But when you are asked to take care of the theatre club with the colleague that you really can’t get along with, you realize that everything can still get ten times more complicated in your life. And when you start actually liking Professor Barnes, the troubles only grow exponentially…

Word Count: 2688

Masterlist for the series – Ben Barnes’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Second busy day at the British Library and you were in desperate need of a break and a large, very large coffee.

But you hesitated when you saw him bent over a piece of manuscript, a focused frown on his face, his glasses a little lopsided but he didn’t seem to have noticed.

He seemed too busy, you didn’t want to disturb him. You were about to turn around, but Ben seemed to have sensed your presence near his table, as he turned towards you and whispered your name.

There were a dozen of people working in the large room, all of them bent over ancient and precious documents. In the working room, perfectly lit, perfectly organized, pristine, there was barely any sound, only the tapping of fingers upon laptops, the occasional delicate turn of a page and the hurried movement of pens moving across notebooks.

You turned around, smiling at Ben, and he waited for you to come closer to speak again, keeping his voice down. It sounded deeper than usual, almost hoarse, as he whispered.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, looking up at you.

You smiled, refraining your urge to straighten his pair of glasses on his cute nose.

“Nothing, don’t worry. You’re busy.”

“It’s alright. Can I help you with anything?”

But you shook your head.

“I was just tired of working, and wanted to grab a coffee. But you’re busy, it’s okay.”

“No!”

His voice wasn’t so low anymore as he stopped you when you started to turn away. He blushed hard as several people turned frowning faces towards him.

“I… I mean… I could use a break too, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, let’s grab a coffee.”

He was pathetic. Absolutely, utterly pathetic. Because he was, indeed, busy. But he would have dropped anything just to spend five minutes around a coffee with you…

Pathetic…

But then, you grinned, bright and welcoming, and even excited. And it was worth losing some working time. It was even worth him losing his dignity.

You walked quietly outside the room, and Ben offered to get some Starbucks, as he had spotted the coffeeshop nearby, and with your growing headache, you accepted without a second thought.

“So, any interesting details today?” he asked, tightening his hold on his coat as he stepped outside, the last days of October bringing a stinging wind to London.

“Quite a few! I’m going to need more time to work on some of the crossed-out lines, some are barely readable. And the hurried handwriting is difficult too. But it’s definitely easier to work on the real thing than some scans, so it helps. But I needed a break. My eyes are so sore after spending so much time trying to decipher some messy handwriting!”

He chuckled.

“Yeah, I get that. Same here. But I’ve also noticed some very small annotations that I hadn’t been able to identify with the scans, and I think I’m finally heading towards the right meaning for them.”

“Really? Awesome!”

“I’m not quite sure yet, but… If I’m right, it seems to fit the theory I’m defending in this article I’m working on. The one I told you about yesterday.”

“That would be amazing!”

“Would you mind taking a look if you have a moment? I don’t want to get too excited on my own and then realize I was just… over-analysing everything.”

“Of course, I’ll take a look tomorrow if you want.”

“Thank you.”

You had barely noticed that you had been walking at all when you reached the coffeeshop. You joined the line to get an order, and decided to get some snack as well.

“Oh… I think I’ll get something with chocolate. Maybe a muffin. Muffins are always a safe choice,” you babbled away, but Ben kept on listening, and he actually didn’t seem to mind that you were speaking your thoughts without any kind of filter, on the contrary.

“Chocolate is a safe choice too,” he commented.

“Agreed! Agreed!” you frantically nodded.

“Now, I want to have a snack too…” Ben heaved a sigh. “You have a terrible influence on me.”

“Are you merely noticing it now?”

You both chuckled at that, but it was soon your turn to order, and you headed for a small table with your pastries and your tall coffees.

Ben straightened his glasses, pushed them up his nose, before looking at you again. You smiled at the gesture without noticing. A habit of his…

And he noticed the way you spun your mug in your hand a few times before drinking, you always did. A habit of yours…

You looked so pretty today… it was highly unfair… this shirt matched your eyes too well…

He pushed the thought away. He needed to remain focused, he needed to remain professional.

You were colleagues. You worked together. It would be too complicated. And you were a single-mother, this was absolute madness. He was too much of a mess to handle all the responsibilities that would come with dating someone in general, but a mother… no. No, that was too risky. Too much love to give away…

He cleared his throat, bent the conversation towards work again, and it lasted almost until your cups were empty and cakes fully eaten. But you were interrupted by the buzzing of your cell phone coming from your handbag.

“Oh, it’s my mom, I need to pick it up,” you apologized, but Ben nodded with a warm smile.

You answered the call, and hesitated to walk outside the coffeeshop, when you noticed that it was a videocall. You waved and grinned at the sight of your daughter’s face appearing on the screen.

“Mummy!” she cried in excitement, making you laugh, and even though it was impolite, you completely forgot about the world around you and remained sitting, oblivious of the large smile that formed on Ben’s face on the other side of the table.

He rested his chin in his palm, and his gaze and smile grew dreamy as you spoke, but you didn’t notice, and neither did he.

“Hello, my little peanut!” you cooed. “How are you today?”

“I’m painting with granny! Look!”

She held her drawing in front the phone so you would see, and you heard your mother fondly chuckle behind the phone.

“Those are very pretty!” you congratulated your daughter.

“This one is for you, mummy! And I’ve made more flowers too for daddy! Look!”

She held another sheet of paper where you recognized the shape of flowers painted by clumsy children’s hands. You were still grinning.

“These are very pretty too!”

“Do you think daddy will like them?”

“Oh, yes! Of course, he will!”

“And I made these too, look!”

She showed you a couple of other paintings, that grew more chaotic as she had clearly lost her focus at this point.

“They’re pretty too! Did you have fun with granny?”

“Yes! It was fun! Are you having fun too, mummy?”

“Yes, quite!” you nodded, and you didn’t really acknowledge the way your thoughts drifted towards the previous evening, spent with Ben, but your mind wandered there all the same.

“Are you working?”

You suddenly remembered where you were, and looked up at Ben. He gave you a grin, before blushing fiercely.

It wasn’t polite at all to listen to people’s conversations…

But you grinned back at him, clearly amused by his reaction.

“I am actually taking a break with a colleague.”

“Who is it?” she asked with excitement.

Your daughter really was too damn curious…

“His name is Ben.”

“Is he a friend?”

“Yes, he’s a friend,” you nodded without hesitation, and Ben couldn’t control the way warmth spread across his chest and all the way up to redden his cheeks as you called him a friend.

After all, a few weeks before, you were enemies… but now…

He couldn’t refrain his grin.

“Can I say hello?” Sally asked, and you smiled fondly at her.

“Sure!”

You turned your phone around towards Ben, who smiled warmly at the little girl on the phone.

Cute pigtails, pink t-shirt with a unicorn. An adorable face and a look of mischief in her eyes. He noticed at once how much she looked just like you.

He was fond of her as soon as he saw her.

“Hello, Sally!” he waved, his smile widening. “I’m Ben!”

“Hello, Ben!” she waved too, a little shier now. “I’ve painted some flowers today!”

“Really? That sounds fantastic!”

“Do you want to see?”

“Of course! Please, show me!”

Sally grinned, before showing Ben her flowers.

He whistled.

“Wow! That’s some very pretty flowers! Are they for your mum?”

“This one, yes!” she said, showing the one filled with pink flowers. “Because she likes pink! But this one is for daddy!” she added, showing the one filled with orange and yellow flowers. “Because he likes yellow.”

“They’re gonna love them, they’re very pretty!”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Red,” Ben answered without thinking, a little taken aback by the question, but playing along still.

Sally nodded, apparently content with the answer.

“And then I’ve done some Modern Art, look!”

Ben tried to hide the amusement on his face, but when he looked up at you behind the phone, he couldn’t refrain a chuckle as you mouthed told you, Modern Art, with a dramatic eye-roll.

Indeed, the following paintings were messy, to say the least, but he complimented Sally all the same.

You decided that it was enough time spent bothering Ben, although he didn’t mind at all, in reality. He found your daughter adorable.

“Mummy! When are you coming back?” Sally asked as you turned the phone towards you again.

“In four days, angel.”

Sally seemed to think for a second, but then she nodded.

“Yes, because today is Tuesday, and tomorrow is Wednesday,” she babbled away, counting the days on her tiny fingers. “And then it’s Thursday, and after that, Friday. And then it will be Saturday, and you said you were coming back on Saturday. Because Saturday is the weekend and mummies don’t work on the weekend.”

“Exactly! I’ll call you back this evening before you go to bed, angel. Okay?”

Sally nodded, but frowned and narrowed her eyes as she seemed to notice something on the screen.

“Mummy? Are you eating?”

You chuckled.

“It’s teatime,” you argued.

Sally’s eyes grew round.

“Are you eating a muffin?”

“Yes…”

She turned to her grandmother, who chuckled at the sight off-camera.

“Granny! Can we eat a muffin too?”

“If you want to, angel,” answered your mother, without trying to argue.

“Mom… don’t let her eat too many sweets!”

“Oh, relax! Enjoy your afternoon with your handsome colleague, and let me worry about your daughter’s snacks.”

“Mom!” you hissed, trying to hide from Ben, who was blushing but had a cocky smile on his lips now.

“Granny! Hurry! We need to go get muffins! MUFFINS!”

“Say goodbye to your mum first, angel.”

Sally reappeared on the screen and waved at you with a toothy grin.

“Bye mummy! I love you!”

“I love you too, angel! Be nice with your granny!”

You bade goodbye to your mother too, and ended the call.

You looked up at Ben with a shy smile.

“Sorry for the interruption,” you apologized, but Ben was laughing.

“Don���t worry. I don’t mind. Your daughter is cute.”

“She is.”

“She looks just like you.”

Your smile turned into a proud grin.

“Yeah, she kind of does.”

“She seems as chaotic as you, too,” he joked.

“She’s worse, trust me! You wouldn’t survive five minutes with her.”

“You’re forgetting that I’m the best uncle in the country.”

“Ha, yes, my bad! I’ll give you ten minutes then, before you start having an emotional breakdown.”

You both laughed.

“She seems quite amazing, actually,” Ben added, growing more serious again.

You weren’t sure why your heart filled with fondness under your ribcage, but it did. You nodded.

“She is. She truly is. I’m very lucky.”

Ben was about to speak again when a woman stopped by your table.

“Ben?”

He looked up, and he seemed surprised, but not in a bad way.

“Maeve? Hi!”

“It’s really you! I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Ben stood up to gave the woman a hug while you sipped on your coffee, waiting, quite uncomfortable now.

You couldn’t help but notice that she was extremely beautiful, and you weren’t sure why you didn’t like that fact, just like you didn’t like the way she kept on holding onto Ben’s arms when he pulled away from the hug.

“I didn’t know you were back in town!” she went on, grinning.

“I’m just staying for a week. I’m working at the British Library, for a paper.”

“Oh, I see.”

She seemed to finally notice your presence, and Ben introduced you. You shook hands with Ben’s friend, before she turned her attention back to him again.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone else, you deserve it…”

You frowned, and Ben fiercely blushed, as he shook his head.

“Oh, no… Y/N is a colleague. We… we’re working together.”

“Oh, sorry! I thought…” she apologized, turning to your again.

“Just friends,” you nodded.

Ben’s eyes lingered on you, and he couldn’t fully hide his disappointment. He was happy to hear this title earlier but now it sounded… limiting. Full of barriers.

Just friends…

“Right, well I… I hope you’ll find someone,” Maeve turned to Ben again. “After what happened with Julia I… I’ve never really had the occasion to tell you that I’m really sorry…”

“Yeah… huh… thanks…”

Ben was fidgety all of a sudden, gaze fleeing, trying to get away. You wondered who Maeve was talking about.

His ex-girlfriend, you guessed. And he seemed pretty upset by the mere mention of her name.

You felt saddened by the discomfort on Ben’s features.

“But you seem to be doing fine,” he said, diverting the conversation.

“I’m great, yeah! I saw Garrett the other day!”

“Nice!”

But Ben was growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute, and when he glanced over at you, you could only offer him a shy smile.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again,” Ben smiled, trying to politely escape. “But we’ve got to get back to work, we were merely taking a break.”

“Oh, sure! Have a nice afternoon, then! It was nice seeing you again! Maybe we can grab some coffee or something!”

“Sure! Why not!”

But he reached for his coat already, and you caught on without a word, standing and wrapping your scarf around your neck too.

You hurried after Ben outside, and he heaved a relieved sigh once he was in the street.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized with a sheepish expression all over his features.

“No worries. These are always uncomfortable encounters,” you reassured him.

“Yeah… quite… Still, I’m sorry. You didn’t even have time to finish your muffin.”

“You mean… this muffin?”

You grinned, taking proudly the piece of muffin you had left from the pocket of your vest, that you had wrapped into a napkin. Ben let out a laugh.

“You’re unbelievable,” he shook his head with fondness.

“It’s a muffin!”

“And a chocolate muffin!”

“Exactly! It can’t go to waste!”

You took a bite as you started walking towards your workplace again.

“Still, I’m sorry. It was a bit weird. But she… she’s one of my ex’s friends so…”

“Right,” you nodded knowingly.

“She’s nice but…”

“She was on her side of the relationship.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you can put it that way.”

“You’re okay?” you asked, your voice more gentle.

“Yeah, yeah… just…”

Ben cleared his throat.

“Tough break-up,” he merely answered, and you didn’t insist. He felt grateful for it.

When you started the conversation again on a new topic, he couldn’t refrain a fond smile. He was merry again when you reached the library.

A strange power of yours, without a doubt.

He almost wanted to tell you about Julia. He felt like he could trust you with this part of his life.

But then, he remembered your words, the ones that stung a little too much.

Just friends…

He almost wanted to tell you. Almost…

**********************

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