#can you TELL it was my first time picking up a pencil this morning

[mvsic0]

she deserves it drac!!

original meme from sweepswoop_

[nastybuckybarnes]

Sleepless Nights

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: Ghost helps his Mouse find a way to sleep throughout the night.

Warnings: Minor angst, language, fluff

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: Short piece but we still love it. This is for @oh-my-damn

~*~

Simon Riley is a light sleeper.

Hell, all of Task Force 141 is. Most military men are. They need to be, trained to be.

It's only amplified now that he has you by his side. His senses are heightened and he's on more than red alert, ready for the first sign of danger.

He doesn't care if he has to fight an intruder in his balaclava and boxers. He'd do it in a heartbeat for you if it means you get to sleep peacefully. That you're safe.

His sweet little mouse gets to curl herself up in his bed, surrounded by his scent, safe in his arms.

Except she doesn't sleep.

The first night you spent in his room, you didn't sleep. And not because he didn't give you reason to.

Oh, certainly not. Forever a man of his word, he made sure to wear you out thoroughly, until your head was devoid of thoughts and your eyes were glazed over and dreamy.

Yet, even after, you didn't sleep.

Sure, you curled up against him, head snug on his chest - which caught him a little off guard, but he'll never tell you that. But you didn't sleep.

He chalked it up to nerves. It was your first night on base with him, after all, you were probably a little on edge. A little afraid.

Little mouse like you, he can't blame you.

Nor can he blame you the second night.

The third night is a little iffy.

The fourth night, however, he starts to get a little concerned.

Instead of resting your head on his chest the way you do after fucking, you have your back facing him as you trace patterns on the wall silently, watching your fingers in the darkness of the room.

He's behind you but not touching you, sandwiching you safely between his strong body and the firm wall, head propped up on his elbow as he watches you.

He says nothing.

Nor does he say anything the fifth night, though that's when he really starts to worry.

He can feel you fidgeting, hear you sighing... can practically feel you counting down the minutes until his alarm goes off.

Finally, after almost a week of you not sleeping when you're in bed with him, he decides to confront you about it.

You sit on the floor in his quarters sketching absentmindedly in the early hours of the morning while he cleans one of his guns at his desk.

It's a slow morning. Nothing urgent calling him away from you.

You're silent, basking in the comfort you feel in his presence, but you can feel his eyes boring into your forehead.

"Why don't you sleep at night?" He finally asks.

You don't lift your gaze, watching as the pencil dances across the paper, mapping out a familiar scene, a familiar room.

"What?"

He doesn't say anything. He knows you heard and understood the question. He's not going to repeat it.

Finally, you lift your head and meet his gaze for only a moment.

"I don't need sleep at night."

"Bullshit."

You huff, turning around only for him to get up and spin you right back around as if you weigh nothing.

"I do sleep," you protest weakly.

He scoffs, "you must think I'm a right moron if m'gonna believe that. I can feel you up all night, fidgeting, sighing, not sleeping." His voice gets softer and he cups your cheek gently, bare skin warm against your own.

"You need sleep, Mouse. It's been days."

You hate the worry in his eyes.

"I sleep when Ghost is gone," you confess after some time, shrugging as if it's no big deal.

It is a big deal, though. He can see it in your eyes, in the tightness of your shoulders, the way you scratch at the palm of your hand and pick at your fingers.

"Why?" He asks quietly, his gaze dropping for a moment as he tries to figure out the most logical reason. Finally, he lands on the only one he can think of.

"Do you not trust me?"

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't offended, but when you snap your gaze to his and shake your head violently, he feels a little reassured.

"I do!" You exclaim quickly, grabbing his hands tightly and looking up at him with desperate eyes.

"With my life, I trust. I just..." You huff out another sigh and shake your head, embarrassed at what you're about to confess.

"I have... bad dreams. Very bad, they stop my sleep. I... don't want to stop your sleep. So I sleep when you are gone," you whisper.

You feel so small and vulnerable confessing this to him, and you can't stand the way that he just looks at you without speaking for so long.

You pull your hands from his and grab your sketchbook, showing it to him after a moment, hoping the pictures will explain better than your words.

He flips through the pages silently, and it all makes more sense.

There are drawings of small cages, of an angry man's face, of a soft woman and a delicate necklace.

Your home.

"Sometimes dreams... not so bad. But sometimes..." you shiver at the thought of it.

More than once have you woken up in a cold sweat, confused and disoriented and waiting for your father to come back and punish you.

But he never does.

Simon's gaze lingers on the drawing of your mother.

He can see the resemblance. The soft tiredness in her eyes that you seem to be wearing more often than not, the worried line between her brows, the soft curve of her lips.

His eyes slowly pull to yours, softer than they were before.

"You don't need to worry about that with me, little one. I want you to feel safe, even when you're sleeping. And if you wake me up, good. I'd rather that than have you deal with your nightmares alone."

Your lip wobbles and you look away, unsure how to feel, what to say.

But with Simon, you don't need to speak. He seems to understand you better than you can understand yourself.

His arms wrap around you tightly and you sigh, snuggling against him.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't tired.

Yes, you sleep during the day when he's gone, but that's only about 3-4 hours uninterrupted. It's been... too long since you've gotten enough sleep.

But he's going to change that tonight.

You go about your day as usual, sharing breakfast in his office, sketching your thoughts away while he does... whatever it is he does during the day, stopping only when he interrupts you to bring you to have lunch with him and his team.

And then it's more drawing and a warm shower, and then he's bringing you dinner.

As he showers after dinner, you wonder if this new schedule is going to be permanent. If this is what your life is going to be from now on.

All things considered, it's not too bad.

You don't notice him get out of the shower, far too deep in thought.

Oh how drastically your life has changed, and in such a short period of time, too.

"Wha're you thinkin' about over there?" Ghost asks, balaclava covering the top portion of his face.

You bring your eyes up to his, curling your knees up to your chest on the bed and smiling shyly at him.

"Nothing."

He hums, flicking off the light and lying down in bed beside you.

"Doesn't seem like 'nothin'."

He wraps an arm around your waist and wrestles you onto your back, his heart filling with warmth when you giggle wildly.

"Tell me what's on your mind," he whispers, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

You curl up against him, smoothing your hands over his bare chest.

Usually he wears a shirt to bed. A tight one, but a shirt no less. This is a real treat.

You'll never get enough of the feeling of his skin against yours.

Your fingers dance over scars, old wounds and permanent reminders of the life he lives. The life that brought him to you.

"You."

"Oh yeah? What about me?"

You nudge your nose under his jaw, pressing it to his neck and taking deep breaths of his scent.

"I am happy. Because of you," you murmur against his skin, pressing a kiss to the scar just below his collarbone.

He feels light and fluffy inside, like a cloud is forming in his abdomen.

He's tempted to go to medical just to make sure he's okay.

Instead, he squeezes you closer to his body and closes his eyes.

"I'm glad, little one. You make me happy."

You sigh happily against his neck, your lids growing heavier the longer you stay curled against him.

It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep, and Simon feels pride blossom in his chest.

Not only do you fall asleep in his arms, but you also stay asleep. For the entire night.

He's not sure if it's the skin-to-skin contact or the way he's cradling you to his chest like you're his lifeline, but whatever it is, he plans on doing it every night from now until forever.

He lets his own lids fall closed, and then he's slowly falling into a light sleep with you in his arms.

And it's the best sleep he's had in years.

[hairmetal666]

The note shows up in Eddie's mailbox cubby on Valentine's Day.

It's nothing fancy, loopy cursive handwriting on lined paper:

"I know this is probably silly but I can't go another day without saying it, and today seems appropriate for this kind of confession. Seeing you in the morning is the best part of my day. You're so gorgeous it leaves me breathless. I hope you don't mind if I don't leave my name. Just wanted you to know that you're beautiful."

His eyes fill with tears that he blinks back, a goofy smile stretching his mouth wide.

"You good there, Munson?" Robin Buckley asks.

"Oh, yup, yeah, all good." He laughs. "Just got one of those 'you're my favorite teacher Mr. Munson!' notes."

He squeezes the letter to his chest before slipping it in his pocket.

---

The worst thing about Eddie's new job is that someway, somehow, Steve-fucking-Harrington works here too. PE teacher, JV basketball coach, of-fucking-course. Once a douchebag jock, always a douchebag jock. What makes it all worse is that he's still the prettiest guy Eddie's ever seen.

---

The first week of March, there's a commotion in the hallway that has him rushing out of his room, ready to breakup a fight. He finds Harrington already there, holding Dustin Henderson and Will Byers by their shoulders. Troy Walsh and James Dante stand across from them, wearing matching snarls.

Of course Harrington is picking on little nerd kids; he knew it. But before he steps forwards to break it up, Steve speaks, voice low and angry. "You want to tell me what happened here, Troy?"

"Byers tripped. He really should watch where he's going," Troy says. James laughs.

Steve's glare goes even more icy, more disdainful (it's so fucking hot, Eddie hates it). "You want to take that again? And try being honest this time, or you're suspend from the team."

Troy splutters for long enough that Eddie finally notices Will's stricken face, the sketchpad and snapped colored pencils littering the linoleum.

"I saw you take those things from Will, and unfortunately, I'll have to call your parents and you will be responsible for purchasing a new sketchbook and pencils. You're also benched for the next four games."

The boys shout, but when Steve raises a hand they quiet immediately. "You want to complain more, or do you want it to be five games?"

"No, sir," they answer before scampering off.

Harrington faces Dustin and Will. "You boys okay?" he asks them.

"We're good, Mr. H," Dustin answers.

"Glad to hear it." Steve begins collecting Will's ruined belongings, stops to study one of the drawings.

"This is really good, Will."

Will flushes. "Thanks. It's my character for dnd,"

"Dnd? That's that game that El and Max are always talking about? With the character sheets and the dice?"

"Yeah!" says Dustin. "You know it?"

Steve's smile is a little bashful, and it tugs at Eddie's heart in a way he has to ignore. "Not much. Just from what the girls have said. You want to tell me about it?"

"Really?" Their eyes light up.

"Really. You can stop by the gym during lunch. Only if you want to, though."

"Cool," says Dustin.

He pats them both on the shoulder, and they hurry away, leaving Steve and Eddie suddenly alone.

Eddie should head back to his class, hasn't been needed in this situation at all, really, but before he can disappear, Steve spots him and his eyes widen.

"You need something, Munson?" Steve's cheeks go a faint pink.

He shakes his head, feels wrong-footed. "Uh, that was really cool what you did just there."

"They're really good kids," Steve says. "I know them a little. Used to babysit El Hopper." He slides his hands into the pockets of his khakis and, seriously, fuck Harrington for looking like that in a pair of Dockers.

"Babysitter, Harrington? Never thought I'd see the day. Or that you'd be the one defending a bunch of nerds," Eddie says. He means it teasing, but Steve's face warps into a frown.

"Y--yeah, I guess. I mean. I'm trying not to be that guy anymore, and Robin's really helped--"

"Shit, man, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant, at all--"

"--I feel terrible about all that shit I pulled back in school. That King Steve stuff? I was awful and you didn't deserve--"

"Steve!" Eddie cuts him off. "I forgive you. For everything." He looks down at his shoes. "For all I didn't want to believe it, you really have changed."

They're both pink faced now, avoiding each other's eyes. "Thanks," Steve says. "I should get going, but--for the future-- I really wouldn't mind--um--trying to be friends."

The grin that passes across Eddie's face is huge. "Yeah, Harrington, I'd like that."

Eddie has to run to make it to his classroom on time. He passes Dustin and Will and the rest of their gaggle of friends, rushing them along, but forgets all about it as he steps in front of his third period juniors.

---

He and Steve are...friendly now. They chat, they joke, they share smiles that have Eddie's heart beating too fast even though it's not like that. Turns out Steve is kind and funny (a little bit of a bitch too, but in a way that ties Eddie's stomach in knots), and a hell of a teacher.

---

His freshman are in small groups, peer-reviewing an essays, when Max Mayfield catches his eye. She's one of his favorite students and absolute trouble.

"What's up, Mayfield." He asks.

"Are you friends with Mr. Harrington?" She asks.

He chuckles. "Sure, Max, we're friendly enough. Why?"

She narrows her eyes, like she knows he's not being totally honest. "Oh, nothing. He just talks about you all the time."

He's blushing horribly and Max, and all of her friends, smirk up at him. "He does?" He chokes out.

"Mmhmm," Lucas Sinclair says. "Says he thinks you're really cool."

"Definitely one of the best teachers here," Mike Wheeler adds.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, very funny, guys. How're your essays going?"

They answer, but before Eddie goes to help another group, Will says, "he really does like you, Mr. Munson. A lot."

El nods earnestly up at him. "It is true," she says. "I know him."

"Thanks, kids. I'll keep that in mind." He gives them a smile, tries not to let their words get to him. When he reaches the next group, though, he notices his hands are shaking.

---

Gifts start turning up in Eddie's cubby. It starts with a bag of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies from his favorite bakery. There's a small note that says "from your secret admirer," on the packaging. Every two weeks or so, something new shows up in his little mailbox; a woven friendship bracelet, a yellow rose, Hershey kisses, a delicately painted dnd figure that gives Eddie a small crisis because it's his own bard character, an Iron Maiden cassette, a bag of dice that almost brings him to genuine tears.

Eventually, he gets another note. This one is typed and reads: "I would love to have coffee with you 11am this Saturday at the Cafe on Main Street."

---

He walks into the cafe at 10:50am, wearing his favorite pair of ripped black jeans and a burgundy button-down, his hair pulled into a loose bun. He doesn't recognize anyone there.

Eddie gets in line, studies the menu, and the little bell above the door rings. He whips towards the sound to find none other than Steve Harrington in little wire rim glasses, a butter colored sweater, and jeans the man must have painted on, Jesus Christ. Honestly, the whole thing is enough to give Eddie a coronary (and to, embarrassingly, chub up in his own tight jeans).

"Steve?" He asks. He's overwhelmed with the (stupid, stupid) hope that it's been Harrington all along. "What are you doing here?"

"Henderson asked me to meet him. He around?"

"Uh, no?" Eddie feels heat creeping up his throat.

Steve shakes his head, as though he expected as much. "You alone? We could grab drink."

"I can't believe this." Eddie hides his face in his hands, knows it's gone horrifyingly crimson.

"What's wrong?"

"My secret admirer told me to be here now, so we could meet," Eddie's misery slices through his words. "I'm such an idiot."

"I--your--what?" Steve stammers.

He gathers himself enough to look Steve in his hazel eyes and ask, "I'm assuming it wasn't you leaving notes and gifts for me at work?"

And he expects Steve to say no. To laugh and ask why he'd ever do something like that, but instead, instead he flushes a deep red. "O-only one note."

"What?"

"I, uh," Steve clears his throat. "I left you a note. On Valentine's Day. I--we weren't friends yet, and I wanted you to know how much I liked you. It's --uh--it's pretty silly, huh? Robin's--"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts. He's going to tell Steve that he reads the note often enough that he has parts memorized; that it's the kindest thing anyone has done for him, but what he says instead is, "Dustin Henderson told you to meet him here at 11?"

"Yeah. Said he had something to show me."

Eddie remembers running into Will and Dustin and their friends that day in the hall, the weird conversation in class, the dice and the miniature. Something must click for Steve at the same time because his mouth drops, blush getting somehow deeper.

"Oh my god. Henderson! I'm gonna kill him. They figured out I had a crush on you."

"They WHAT?" Eddie says, loud enough that several looks are aimed their way.

"I'm so, so sorry, Eddie. Holy shit, this is so humiliating. You have to believe me, I had no idea they were doing this. God, I'm really starting to think it is possible to die from embarrassment."

"You have a crush on me," Eddie says instead of any of the dozens of helpful things he could say.

"Um. Yes?"

Eddie takes a deep breath, straightens his spine, and asks, "You wanna have coffee with me?"

"I'd really like that." Steve's return smile is so beautiful, it makes Eddie weak.

---

Eddie Munson is making out with Steve Harrington in the backseat of Steve's BMW. He and Steve spent the day together. They've kissed for so long that the sun has set, both of their lips are swollen, their skin red from stubble, and Eddie is nowhere near ready for the night to end.

Steve breaks away, gently pulling their mouths apart, but arms still tight around Eddie. "Hey, what kind of gifts were they giving you anyway? The kids?"

"Oh," Eddie blushes. "Uh, cookies, a dnd mini, lots of candy, a set of dice."

"Oh my god," Steve says, he pulls a little more away. "Oh my god, I'm going to kill her, Jesus Christ."

"Who are are you killing, sweetheart?"

Steve groans. "Robin. She was helping them. We found a set of dice at this little bookstore and she told me to get them for you, and--" he breaks off with a helpless, frustrated noise.

Eddie doesn't mean to, but he starts to giggle.

"It's not funny!" Steve says.

That only makes Eddie laugh harder. "Your best friend," he squeaks. "And a group of literal children set us up. That's hilarious, Harrington."

Steve's mouth drops and for a second Eddie thinks he'll be upset, but then he's giggling too, his whole face crumpling into it.

Steve pulls Eddie close once the laughter subsides, his eyes trained on Eddie's lips.

"We could pretend we didn't get together," Eddie manages to say.

"What, like, make them think they failed?"

"Yeah. We could tell them I got stood up, but you and I hung out. Had a bro day."

Steve giggles again, and it's the best sound Eddie's ever heard. "I'm absolutely on board with this plan, but you should definitely kiss me some more."

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, his voice low. "And what'll I get out of it?"

"Why don't you get over here and see."

As if Eddie could turn down an invite that enticing. He slides a hand behind Steve's head, drawing him in, and they're kissing like they never stopped. It only been a few hours, but Eddie knows--without a doubt--he's already head over heels.

[retroaria]

ੈ♡˳ boyfriend Isagi ｡.｡:∞♡

summary: cutsey headcanons for everyones favorite egoist Isagi Yoichi (HIMsagi GOATichi) a bit of a school AU but you can add your own nuances to it ofc I just tried to be general

warnings: purest of fluff (your heart might explode)

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🤍 - aria

pre!boyfriend isagi who shows his feelings through sweet acts of service before he’s ready to tell you head on. Need a partner for that project? He’s already slipping into the desk beside you, a smile on his face. Left your pencil case in homeroom? He’ll run however many miles to ensure it gets back to you. (could’ve texted you but he wants to hand it to you like Prince Charming). Forgot your lunch that day? he’s already splitting half his bento to give to you.

pre!boyfriend isagi who may be afraid to confront you about his feelings off the bat but will go so far out of his way to form a friendship with you first. Immediately introduces himself as soon as you catch his eye. You guys exchange numbers and socials and the rest is history: late night phone calls, weekend hangouts, walking you to school every morning. This boy wants to be your bestie before he swoops in for the goal (and steals your heart!)

pre!boyfriend isagi who wants to immerse himself in your interests and vise versa. No matter what it is you’re into he knows that understanding your passions will help him further understand you. Loves seeing you in the stands during his practice or games. Will literally melt at the sight of you cheering for him. “Clean up on left field, this boy just turned into a puddle of mush!”

pre!boyfriend isagi who can’t help but brush his hand and arm against yours when you walk together. Can’t help but press his leg to yours when sitting together. Can’t help but offer to carry your bags or books. Can’t help but pick that “lint” out of your hair or that “eyelash” on your face (totally not an excuse to touch you). Can’t help but tug you closer to him in crowded spaces. Can’t help but stare endlessly into your eyes everytime you speak (the BEST listener ever btw)

pre!boyfriend isagi who realizes he doesn’t want to waste another second of his life not being able to call you his. Uses the first moment he gets alone with you to take your hands in his and give you the most honest and heartfelt confession. He’s blushing lightly but confident in the connection he’s worked hard to build with you.

boyfriend!isagi who cant wait to be able to hold your hand in public, pull you in for quick kisses, wrap his arm around you whenever he wants, hold you close to him on the couch or in bed, tell you how perfect you are everyday, and never let you forget that he feels like the luckiest boy in the world when he’s with you.

boyfriend!isagi who can’t wait to introduce you to all his friends. You meet Bachira first (obvi) and the three of you become an unstoppable trio. Loves having you at post game celebrations and having you as his personal cheerleader (this boy would do anything to win the game and make you proud)

boyfriend!isagi who dies at the thought of you referring to him as “your boyfriend” and getting to say “my girlfriend/boyfriend/partner. he loves talking about you to his parents! They’re so happy to meet you and so glad that he has someone who cares for him. His mom def shows you all his baby photos (babysagi!)

boyfriend!isagi who takes you on the cutest dates and loves when you take him on dates too (makes him feel like a special boy). He always tries to do something where the two of you can spend a lot of time talking or have a nice experience together. He’s so open and willing to try new things with you, having you in his life has opened him up as a person. He’s also never not happy to just spend the night in snuggled up watching a movie/tv show/anime. (Aside: I have an isagi x reader one shot idea where they go on a date to a butterfly garden that I may potentially post Idk yet)

boyfriend!isagi who is constantly worrying about your health and wellbeing. You can’t tell me he isn’t the kind of guy to constantly check up on you, making sure you’re ok physically and mentally as often as he can. If ever you’re feeling upset or in pain/sick he goes into doctor mode and will do everything in his power to help. If all else fails he will just hold you and promise that his love will make it all better (he’s a loving optimist what can I say)

boyfriend!isagi who is the first to admit that he is absolutely smitten and totally wrapped around your finger because he will forever be in awe that he had the chance to share his love and be loved by someone so special <3

I’d love to do some more specific headcanons on him but I kept these as generic as possible and tried my best to capture just how sweetboy coded he is lol.

[katsukistofu]

prickle me pink

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ k. bakugo x fem reader. fluff. ⭑ katsuki finds himself taking care of the cactus you gifted him against his better judgement.

It’s in the little things he does.

The sticky notes he leaves for you in the bento box he “accidentally” made an extra of and gives to you because he “ain’t wasting perfectly good food,” telling you to drink your damn water and that he’s proud of you, or that you look cute today.

Your favorite snack and a juicebox on your desk in the morning before the bell rings, which you swear you’ve only mentioned liking once and it was when you first met.

Whenever he fusses over your jacket when it’s cold outside and insists you hold hands with him, saying it’s “more work for him if you get sick.” Yet the way he takes off his scarf to wrap you up in its warmth is devastatingly gentle, despite his coarse scoldings.

Homemade chocolates shoved into your hands the moment you arrive at school every single White Day without fail, ignoring the stares from envious onlookers as he tugs you by the hand to walk you to class. The bandaids, only the cute character ones because you’re a stubborn brat who won’t wear anything else no matter how bad you get hurt, and ointment he keeps in his school bag.

Because he knows how accident prone you can be and it drives him insane whenever he sees a new scratch or bruise come from out of nowhere when you were fine moments ago.

Katsuki’s always been meticulous about everything in his life, and that includes loving you.

So the confusion on his face is almost humorously palpable as he squints at the cactus you randomly place in front of him in class one day.

“What is this?” Your boyfriend grumbles, holding his notebooks and pencil case in his hands. “Taking up space on my desk.”

“Suki!” You pout. “That’s mean. I bought this cactus.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Because…?”

“‘Cause it reminds me of you!”

The fuck does that even mean, it reminds you of him? This short, misshapen, stubby little thing that needed to be buried in dirt to even stand up on its own? Katsuki snorts, his amusement only growing at the sight of your deepening worried frown.

As if he would ever throw away anything from you. He’d rather take one of his own explosions to the face.

“Thanks, I guess.” Is all he says, his hand coming down to give a strong pat to your head. It was kind of ugly, but whatever. Hell, it was a gift from you that you specifically got for him, and honestly that’s all that mattered. “I’ll take care of it.”

You beam up at him from under his palm, and his heart clenches. “Really?”

“Yeah. Now go sit your ass down and take out that homework I know you forgot to do last night.”

“Yessir!” You mock salute and hurry over to your seat, opening up your shoulder bag.

Denki grimaces as he passes by, pointing at the new green addition to the blond boy’s desk. “Ew Bakugo, what is that?”

“Shut up, Dunce Face.” Katsuki scowls, protectively moving the pot closer to him. “Your eyes are getting shittier than Glasses’.”

Mina laughs as Denki sulks, now in his own seat, and glances over to where he was pointing at. “Ooh, it’s actually pretty cute!”

“Damn right it is.”

Katsuki’s lips curve slightly in pride, crimson eyes flickering over to your direction where you were hunched over scribbling on paper with scrunched up eyebrows, trying to do some problems on your own while you wait for him to come over. Fuck, you’re cute, he thinks.

“That’s ‘cause my girl picked it.”

After class, Katsuki finds himself googling “how to not kill a cactus” for the first time in his life and of course it’s because of you.

His brow raises as he scans the gardening article on his phone screen.

He’s no green thumb but he’s had some experience and it was pretty easy to keep a plant alive, but just to make sure. Half of it is information he already knows, put your cactus in a good spot to get sunlight, water it once a week, yada yada.

But what catches his eye is the section labeled “Flowering Cacti.”

So they could bloom depending on the species, and only under very nit-picky conditions, like cool to warm temperature fluctuations and specific pollinators. Interesting.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have to wrangle a bat to get some flowers to grow on it, though he could probably ask that animal-talking extra to help.

“Katsuki!” Something tackles him from behind and he barely budges, already knowing it’s you. It’s muscle memory at this point, the feeling of your soft body against his, etched into the molecules of his skin from all those times you’d sneak into his dorm past curfew to cuddle and how you always fell asleep on him during class field trips, not to mention plane rides.

You peer over his broad shoulder like a hamster peeking out of their hidey hole. “What are you looking at?”

“Nosy.” Katsuki snorts, holding up his phone to your face. Deliberately only showing the guide on how to care for cacti indoors, and not the flowering one. He doesn’t want you to see it, not yet.

─────────

You’re in your boyfriend’s dorm room several days later, finally finishing the last problem on the new sheet of homework you got from Ectoplasm’s class. Bakugo hovers over you to scan your equations, finally giving a satisfied nod.

A jolt of pride courses through him. You got all of them right, just like how he taught you.

“Good job.” Katsuki pats your head and your heart soars. You tilt your head up to give a little smooch to his palm and he blushes, jerking his hand back.

“The fuck?” He laughs, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to his mouth in retaliation, pressing a painstakingly soft kiss there, then to your palm too. Katsuki smirks at the way he makes you shakily exhale at his touch. “What was that for?”

“Nothing.” An almost drowsy, content smile spreads across your lips. “Just love you so much.”

"Stop trying to one up me,” Katsuki rasps in your ear. You yelp as his hands squeeze your hips hard, holding onto his toned arms to steady yourself.

“Not trying to! Just telling the truth.” You keep looking at him with a cute, dumb grin on your face, and his breath catches.

Your eyes widen as you sneak a glance at his desk.

“Woah! Katsuki Jr. got taller.”

He snorts, turning his head to also look at the cactus that’s been sitting under his lamp for the past week. “Katsuki Jr.?”

“Yeah because you guys have the same hair.” You exaggerate a dreamy sigh, reaching up to caress his cheek. “He really takes after you, Katsuki Sr.”

“Shut up, dumbass.” He nudges your cheek with his nose, drinking up the delicious sounds of your giggles.

“Can I sit in your lap now?” You ask shyly.

With an eye roll, Katsuki holds his arms out for you to claim the reward he proposed earlier for this study session. “Get over here already.”

His arms wrap comfortably around your waist as you settle in your usual spot between his firm thighs, and he drops his head down and brushes a soft kiss against the crook of your neck.

“I love you too.” The pink blossoming across his cheeks contradicts his gruff tone, but you’ve known him too long to not know better.

Katsuki Bakugo is meticulous in loving you, and that means he never says anything he doesn't mean.

─────────

The vibrations in the pocket of his slacks are becoming so incessant that he can’t ignore them anymore and Katsuki sighs under his breath as he slips it out while Aizawa’s turned to the board to write something.

ass gremlin

sukiiiii

ass gremlin

katsudonnnnn

ass gremlin

kitkattttt

katsu curry

What

ass gremlin

send me pics of our baby pls i wanna see how tall he is now

katsu curry

?

That cactus you bought me two weeks ago

ass gremlin

duh!!!

katsu curry

Later

In my room before we go out

ass gremlin

YAYYAYAY

can u help me pick my outfit too

katsu curry

Duh

We’re matching dumbass

Katsuki’s behind you with a firm hand on your waist to hold you in place when you smirk at the window sill, and he looks up to see that you’re admiring Katsuki Jr.

The cactus was an even more vibrant shade of green than when you first gave it to him, and small, delicate pink flowers were starting to bloom on its fuzzy head.

It took a lot of effort to get those to start growing, but it was all worth it to see the delighted expression on your face right now.

“So you really have been taking care of him like he’s your kid, huh?”

“Our kid.” He corrects you with a grumble against your neck, easily zipping up the back of your dress in one smooth motion. “Told you I would, didn't I? Thing was a pain in the ass to find high potassium fertilizer for.

“Aw, really?” You turn around to face him and he brings you closer as your arms rest on his broad shoulders. “Well… you know how it’s better to have two cats than one, since just one kitty can make them feel lonely?”

He knows that look. Katsuki scowls, roughly poking a dent into your cheek to discourage the mischievous grin that's starting to spread across your face.

“You’ll never guess what I got you for our anniversary.”

“No.”

“But Katsuki Jr.!”

“I raised that little shit, he’ll tough it out.”

“I just thought maybe we could get him a sibling—“

“No.”

ur contact name is ass gremlin bc u have bad habit of smacking his butt when he walks by lol

[littlemissmiller]

𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔

Pairing: javier peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javier is your partner while on assignment in Bogotá. You can’t seem to resist him, as much as you tell yourself you’re done fooling around with him. One night, he comes home and the next morning, you finally realize your true feelings for him…

Warning: 21+ (drinking and smoking), semi-rough sex, ass slapping, slight power play, dom!javier, sub!reader, oral(m and f receiving), partners/friends to lovers

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: surprise! it’s pedro! i hope y’all enjoy this just as much as the tom fics (which i appreciate all the support once again, exceeded my expectations). I had this one in the vault for a while, but just went back and edited it so here it is! i have another billy and coryo fic in the works, but a girl has got to diversify her blog page no? also i do plan to post more pedro stuff (given my blog name 😅)ok enjoy! ❤︎

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

“This is the last time Javier.” You panted as Javier Peña pushed you up against the wall of a small janitor’s closet. A frequent place you had found yourself in once again, fucking like teenagers. Everyone had left the office nearly, but you still didn’t want to get caught.

“Yeah you said that last time sweetheart.” He growled into your ear as he readjusted you, hoisting you up further onto the wall. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and he was fucking up into you. His pants were only down far enough to let his cock out and he continued to push your tight pencil skirt up over your thighs and hips. You moaned into his ear which caused him to pick up his pace.

“I mean it we…we can’t keep doing this.” You moaned as his lips attached to your neck. He smirked and looked back up at you. His hand slithered up your throat and cupped under your chin.

“Really? Is that why you decided to wear this tight little skirt today? To get me to stop?” He panted

“I always wear these…” you lied

“Yeah well what about this blouse then hmm.” His hand slid down your throat to tug on your collar and then slipped inside your blouse to cup your breast.

“You know I can see right through it don’t you?”

“Maybe I was trying to get someone else’s attention…”you croaked out

“Mmm I don’t think so sweetheart. I know other people are looking but they wouldn’t dare to touch you.” He replied

“Why is that?”

“You know why…” he breathed into your ear “because you’re mine…” he picked up his pace and soon enough you were both coming undone.

He held you in place for a while and rested his forehead against yours. You both panted in exhaustion, your breathing in sync. He planted a soft kiss on your cheek before pulling out and setting you back on your feet.

“You should grab a drink with me tonight.” He suggested as he stepped back, readjusting himself, stuffing his cock back into his jeans and buckling his belt.

“Javi…” you sighed, shaking your head and smirking as you buttoned up your blouse “you know my rules…”

Ever since you and Javier started hooking up, you were very explicit about how your relationship would be. You had told him you weren’t looking for a relationship, but he convinced you to be “partners with benefits”.

Your rules were clear. No going out to bars or dinner, no flirting in front of your colleagues, and nothing more than just sex. Those were the rules left anyways. Javier had a way of convincing you to break them. At first, you had told him no hooking up at work, but about two weeks later and one too many tight dresses, you had broken that rule. And the rule not to show physical affection to each other outside of your activities. He couldn’t seem to help himself around you. He would always wait until no one was around, but occasionally he’d plant a kiss on your cheek or come up behind you and plant one on the back of your neck. It would usually turn into more, but occasionally it was just in passing and very quick.

“C’mon we can go as just co-workers. Then it’s not a date”

You looked up at him and rolled your eyes. You slipped your heels back on and started to fix your hair.

“You know what I told you. I’m not looking for a relationship, especially not with you.” You looked at him pointedly and he frowned “besides if you and I get together who else is going to fuck the hookers Escobar likes the have around.” You have joked raising my eyebrow

He rolled his eyes.

“They are informants and I get very useful information from them”

“Oh besides how they like it” you smirked reaching for the door

Javier stopped you. His hand wrapped around your wrist. He looked at you and you looked back at him intensely, snapping your head in surprise and confusion.

“Are you jealous or something?” He asked

“No!” You laughed “besides we get good intel like you said.”

He released your wrist and grunted in agreement. He traced his hand over your own, moving it from your wrist to your finger tip. He moved his fingers around your palm and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“You should still get a drink with me though” he insisted, continuing to stroke your hand. “Hmm…what do you say? He kissed your knuckles this time, which took you off guard but it wasn’t unwelcomed.

A part of you had put these rules in place mainly for yourself. You knew getting tangled up with Javier like this would be trouble and quite frankly a distraction. Maybe you needed a distraction, but with your own partner? Would that really happen? Maybe because you also knew, in the back of your mind, you had deeper feelings at play. You thought about it and, in that moment, you realized you were about to break one of your own rules again.

“Fine.” You started, dropping your hand to your side “just as co-workers thought. This is not a date or anything like a date.”

“Fine by me. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You opened the janitors closet and poked your head out. You looked around and stepped out. Javier followed after you.

“Let’s get going. And separate cars.” You commanded, looking at him seriously

“I figured.”

“Where are we meeting?” You asked

“That bar near your place. The one on the corner next to your apartment.” You answered

Of course he chose somewhere near your place. You thought he was gonna try and take you home with him after. Back to his place. You were wrong. You and him met at the bar and, what ended up being one drink became three, then a cigarette, and your night was pretty much set.

“This ain’t too bad hmm?” He asked

“I don’t mind getting a drink with you Javier. Just the principle of it I…struggle with”

He smirked at your answer “Is that so?” He slid his hand onto your knee which made you almost choke on the beer you were sipping on.

“Javi!” You gritted though my teeth in a low tone

“You said no flirting in front of co-workers or at work. Nothing about outside of work.” He smirked.

“I hope you understand that you’re not coming home with me tonight.” You remark pointedly

“Oh really why is that?” He asked rubbing my thigh

“Because we are just getting a drink as co-workers. Remember.”

Javier leaned back with a satisfied smirk on his face and downed his whiskey.

“You’re at least gonna let me walk you home?”

“It’s just around the corner.” You reminded him

“So?” He asked

“I’ll be fine, but I have feeling you’d follow me anyways” you joked

“You think I’m too overprotective of you?”

“Sometimes….” You looked at him and he looked at you not with lust but something else. A deeper longing and you knew in that moment what you had suspected for a while. Javier Peña seemed to have fallen for you.

He ended up walking you home and you begrudgingly let him in for “just one more drink” and soon after you found yourself back home with him, although you didn’t actually have sex. The two of you drank whiskey and just talked. Something you rarely found time to do. Simply connect with each other. You both sat on the couch, Javier took the liberty of your closeness to occasionally caress your thigh or play with your hair. It was simple, yet incredibly intimate. You and him eventually moved to your bedroom, where you cuddled up on him. Neither of you talked much after that. You simply lost yourself in that moment with him. You felt complete and your heart felt full. You slowly faded into sleep against him and without realizing it he had kissed your forehead several times after you had fallen asleep until he too drifted off.

When you woke up the next morning Javier was still asleep, sleeping on his stomach. You watched his back muscles as they rose and fell. He breathed heavily and you tangled your fingers loosely in his hair to try and wake him up. He kept sleeping, so you decided to take a shower. As the warm water poured over your head you thought about the way he looked at you the night before. His big brown doughy eyes that looked at you like a puppy dog. His hand on your leg, fingers playing with your hair and his charming smile. And the way you held each other until you both fell asleep. You realized that you liked him too. You had been resisting him and the idea of you two together. Especially given that you weren’t too sure how the DEA would feel about you and him having a relationship.

Would you not be able to work together catching Escobar worse get fired? You didn’t want to lose everything at work just to be with him, but you also couldn’t help but feel this way for him. Your thoughts are disrupted when you hear the shower curtain being pushed back. Javier stepped in behind you and came close, pressing his chest against your back. You kept your eyes closed as he wrapped his hands around your waist. He started placing light kisses on your neck and you reached up behind to cup his face. You could feel his cock getting hard on your ass and you reached down to stroke him. He groaned into your ear as he cupped your breasts.

“Mind if I stay?” He whispered

You spun in his arms and looked into his eyes. That same loving look from last night appeared on his face and you knew that he definitely had feelings for you too. There was no turning back now. For either of you. So you accepted that you were also in love with him and leaned into kiss him. It was passionate, with full force. He pushed your back against the shower wall, cupped your face with one hand while the other was planted on the wall beside your head. You moved up against him and moved your leg slowly up to his waist. He dropped his hand and immediately groped your thigh.

“Wanna stay in here or take this back to the bed?” He asked

“I don’t think we’ve ever done it in the shower before” you remarked

“We haven’t” he smirked

You reached back down the stroke his cock and smiled at him.

“Well Agent Peña…” you said as you continued touching him. “What do you want?”

His hands traveled along your body and settled on your waist. He spun you back around and pushed you back up against the shower wall, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back. You let out a breathy moan. You knew calling Javier “Agent Peña” turns him on. And you knew that it could make him go from the sweet man you cared about you so much, into a man hungry with lust. It makes him want to be in charge.

“I want you. And I suggest you behave. Got it?”

You moaned in agreement and nodded. He slapped your ass and tightened his grip around your wrists.

“Words sweetheart…”

“Yes sir…I’ll…I’ll be good” you reply somewhat begrudgingly.

Javier and you had this game sometimes when hooking up. You knew whenever you called him by his formal title, he was going to want to ravish you And you liked to give into him sometimes. Pretend you were a suspect or one of Escobar’s whores. It excited you, in a way you didn’t even know was possible. Makes you feel on edge and you like the anticipation that had control over you. Sex with Javier was usually always good, but when he was trying to find out where the next shipment was going to come in or where Escobar was going to be next he definitely had a few tricks up his sleeve. A few tricks to get girls to talk in bed.

Then he spun you back around as he grabbed your ass again. He rubbed his hand over it and slid it down in between your thighs. His fingers started rubbing your folds and you started melting up against the wall. Letting go of your wrists, he held you closer to him so your back was against his chest. He started pinching and twisting your nipples with his free hand. You let out a series of moans and whines. The hand in between your thigh snaked up and began to rub your clit. His fingers traced over it before pressing down and rubbing in a tight circle. You moaned and arched your back. He moved his hand across your sternum and pushed your back against his chest.

“Don’t move too much sweetheart” Javier demanded. “Just stay right here”

You held onto his biceps now that both of your hands were free. Your legs were shaking and everything around you was going fuzzy.

“Goddamn Peña you make me feel so good.” You whined

“I bet if you were actually one of Escobars girls I’d get information out of you real easy.”

You let out a mix between a moan and a laugh

“You flatter yourself Agent Peña”

With that he pushed you up against the shower wall some more you steadied yourself with your hands. You gasped in surprise at his sudden dominance. He pushed your legs open slightly, his hand grabbing the insides of your thighs. Then you felt the tip of his cock push into you and gasped.

“Would you tell me now?” He asked nipping on my ear lobe

“You’re going to have to do more than that to get anything out of me”

With that he pushed all the way inside you. He felt so full, so big. You couldn’t help but let out a long, staggering moan, but you weren’t about to say anything to him, about how good it felt. Not even say his name. It’s what he was trying to get out of you in this little game of yours. He started pumping in and out of you slowly at first, but he soon picked up his pace. You only let out a few soft moans as he worked his hips against your ass. You weren’t going to let him win that quickly, yet the pleasure was agonizingly good. He started pounding into you and you could barely contain your whimpers. His hand came down and sharply landed on your ass. He smacked it again and again. Each time you couldn’t help but let him hear you.

“Got more to tell me sweetheart?”

You shook your head and he growled into your ear

“C’mon now I know you wanna talk to me. At least tell me how good it feels”

You didn’t reply and he smacked your ass one last time. He pulled out abruptly, spun you around and turned the water off.

“I know what will make you talk…” he smirked

You stared up at him doe eyed, somewhat confused and scared and somewhat in anticipation. He pulled the curtain back then scooped you up into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs dangling from the crook of his elbow. He held your naked body against his tightly and walked back into your bedroom. He threw you down on the bed and you let out a slight yelp. He crawled on top of you and started kissing you again.

“If you won’t talk to me from me fucking you…then I guess I’ll just torture you with my tongue.” He whispered

He worked his way down your entire body, kissing every inch slowly. He was methodically in his actions. Kissing, sucking, and nipping on your flesh like an animal that just caught its prey. He slowly reached your core and began teasing the inside of your thigh with his lips and tongue. Your hand moved down to grab his head and move him where you wanted. He bit down on your thigh, giving it a hard slap, and looked up at you.

“If you want me somewhere specific you’re gonna have to use your words.”

You groaned in response

You watched him as he went back to teasing you. His mouth drew closer and closer to your clit, until finally. Your hips bucked up in his face slightly as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He held you down and started really going for it. He ate you out like he was starving for you. Javier lapped you up, sucking and teasing your core. His tongue was relentless and kept bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He could sense it too. So he kept you on edge for a while. Javier pulled back, gawking at you as your eyes and pouty lips silently begged him to return his mouth to your slit. He slowly rubbed you as he admired you. He stroked himself with his free hand and bent back down to kiss your thighs.

You squirmed when his lips touched your skin again, so desperate to cum for him. Javier kissed your clit again, his soft affectionate demeanor driving you crazy. You wanted to cry out, but you held back, still remembering that he’s trying to coax you into telling him how good he makes you feel. How bad you crave him. Javier made eye contact with you as he tasted you, his tongue delicately danced over your folds. You bit down on your lip hard, eyes never leaving his. He pulled back again, catching his breath. He rubbed your clit again as he looked at you.

“C’mon baby. Why don’t you tell me how good it feels hmm? C’mon let me hear you.” Javier nearly begged but you just shook your head. His face changed as he scoffed at you.

“Fine. Gonna be a stubborn little thing hmm? Two can play at that game.” He said, removing his fingers. You buck your hips up at the loss of his hand, your face scrunched up disappointment. He sat up on his knees and beckoned you to him. You crawled forward, eyes never leaving his. With his cock in one hand, he stroked the side of your face

“Well if you're not going to speak, then maybe you can use your mouth in a different way hmm?” He suggested. He cups your face and draws you close to his crotch.

You opened your sweet little mouth, and he traced your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You opened and took him into your mouth. He was so big, and you could feel the tip as it prodded the back of your throat. You gagged slightly and he cooed at you. He pumped into you, loving the way your lips became fat and plumb. He held the back of your head and he continued moving his hips. Javier tilts his head back in bliss, his grip getting slightly tighter in your hair. He looks down for a moment, reaching for your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Fuck that’s good.” He quipped. He looked back down at your mouth then back up at your ass. He ran his hand in-between your cheeks and started to rub your slick folds. His actions caught you off guard and you popped your mouth off his length. You moaned and gasped as your legs started to give out.

“Oh there she is. Can’t help it now hmm? Come on, tell me how good it feels.”

You held back for as long as possible, biting down hard on your bottom lip until you can’t help it anymore.

“Mmm mmm ooh fuck Javi fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..” you finally cried out, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You duck your head down, face against the mattress as Javier made you cum. You convulsed on his hand. He smiled, his satisfaction ever so apparent.

“Thaaaats it. Oh fuuuck, you’re so pretty baby. So pretty cumming for me like this” he moaned

You stared back up at him, eyes slightly wet and glossy from having him down your throat. With a finger under your chin, he guided your lips back up to his. As he kissed you, he gently pushed you back on your back and you spread your legs for him. He wanted to tease you still, catching you while you're still a babbling mess. He rubs your clit as he pushes himself inside you. It was overwhelming at first, and you clenched around his cock.

“Javi…I-I oh fuck your gonna make me cum again” you squealed

“Good. Tell me who makes you feel good hmm?”

“Y-you Javier ok. You win you win you win, I fuck, I-I…”

“Go on. Say it. Say it to me.”

“I want you. Not just, not just like hooking up…I want all of you please…please…”

The admission stumbled out of you and you almost regretted it as you said it but Javier simply smiled. As he pumped into, he leaned down and kissed you

“Ohh I want you too. I have for a while.”

His passion overtook him and he sped up his hips. He was practically possessed, letting his brain go numb as he continued to drill into you. Your fucked out face gawked at him, continuously looking at his face and then at the place where his cock had entered you. The feeling of pleasure consumed you, he felt so full and deep in you. You never wanted this to end and neither did he. Javier kissed you frantically, savoring you.

“That’s all I really wanted this whole time. To know you wanted me too.” He whispered

You nodded and he pumped into you more deliberately.

“Christ baby you feel so good. Not gonna last much longer.”

Mhmm go on. Fill me up. Fuck pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…��� you beg over and over again until he came. His cum spilled into you, feeling warm and filling. He took a moment to catch his breath, kissing all over your face as he did.

“Mmm Javier, we’re going to be in so much trouble…” you muffled as he kissed you

“You really think…” he kissed you “that we should worry about that” he kissed you again “right now. In this moment”

You sighed against him and shook your head

“I hope you have a plan for figuring this out.”

“You know I’ll figure it out baby.” He smiled cockily

He cupped your face and continued to kiss you over and over again. You slowly melted into his touch and so did your anxiety. At that moment you didn’t care. You had him, as much as you had tried to resist him, you wanted him and now, now you had him.

꧁✹❂✹꧂



[kinda-super-hot]

I Want More. (2)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Harvey Specter x F!Lawyer!Reader - friends to enemies to lovers <3

Part 2 Summary: Well, (Y/n)'s first day doesn't go as she had planned. She learns that she is office neighbors with Harvey Douchebag Specter. Luckily, she makes quite a few gal pals + Louis. Harvey brings her what might be a peace offering, and she learns they will be working closer together than she thought.

Warnings: overthinking - I think that's it but if you noticed something I missed, please let me know.

Word Count: 4038

I wake up from my first night in my new apartment to the sound of busy traffic and honking horns outside. “Blegh...” I mutter and force myself out of bed. Today’s the day- My first day on the job! “Ok, time to get hype.”

I hop to the bathroom and poke at my eyebags for a moment before doing light, office appropriate makeup. I’d picked my outfit out the night before and I had to squeal just at the sight of it laying on the bed. A hot pink dress shirt that I planned to leave more than a few buttons undone towards the top- just enough to not get written up! And a black pencil skirt for the shirt to get tucked into with some pointy, black pumps.

The way I see it, this is my first impression, and I need them to know not only do I mean business but I’m bold.

I take my time curling my hair and even make myself an egg to really soak up my morning. And finally, just as my toast pops up, I snatch it and walk out the door with my thin suitcase.

It’s a short walk towards the firm and I can’t keep the smile off my face. I beam at people walking in the opposite direction and occasionally get a smile back! Nothing could ruin this perfect morning. My optimism was not prepared for me to glance towards the building and catch sight of a familiar face, however.

 Time slowed, but my heart sure didn’t. Across the street and right in front of my new place of work was Harvey Douchebag Specter getting out of a limousine. I stopped in my tracks and let out an audible gasp.

I watch him walk until he disappears into Pearson Hardman. What. The. Fuck.

Ok, ok, don’t panic. He’s probably from another firm and just has a meeting with another lawyer. All I have to do is keep my head held high. Obviously, also actively avoid him if I see him, but otherwise, pretend I never saw him.

I take a deep breath and keep walking. My heart is RACING, but I won’t let him ruin this for me.

I walk through the glass doors and don’t see him. Good, he must have gone up already. I waste no time introducing myself to the lobby ladies, taking my employee picture, and getting my newly printed employee ID.

Ok, everything is going fine. We’re alright. I scan my keycard and make my way to the elevator. “(Y/N) (L/N)!” Shit.

I turn around, but thankfully, it’s a new face. “I thought that was you.” A beautiful, confident black woman glides over to me. She reaches her hand out, and I shake it with a smile, despite not knowing this lady. “Jessica Pearson.”

“Oh!” A real smile takes over my face and I shake her hand more enthusiastically. “It is so good to finally meet you. I must say, my first impression of the firm: very impressive.” I’m saying the absolute truth, but I also want to smooth talk her. “I’m thrilled to be working here, Ms. Pearson.”

She releases my hand and smiles at me, but her eyes say something different. I can tell that she’s a great lawyer just by this first encounter. Her face is warm and inviting but her piercing gaze says mischief in big, bold letters. “I’m glad to hear it. I have a very busy morning ahead of me, so one of our Junior Associates will be giving you the tour.” She looks over my shoulder and I turn to see a mousey, stout looking man. “This is Louis Litt. You will be working closely together on the same floor with both myself and one of our Senior Partners.”

I smile at Louis and reach my hand out, he beams at me, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Litt. I can’t wait to be working with you.” Once again, I try to flatter the person in front of me.

His smile grows wider, and he looks to Jessica behind me before his eyes dart back to mine. “The pleasure’s all mine.” He hesitates to release my hand, and I inwardly laugh at his awkwardness. “We can start the tour right away.”

We all get into the elevator and instead of getting off at each floor and showing me around, Louis pulls out some papers from his pocket. “This is a list telling you exactly what you need to know about each and every floor. What they work on, who manages it, and the phone number for the head receptionist if you ever have any questions.” I take the stack of papers from his hands, and find they are heavier than they look.

“Oof, thank you.” I have to re-straighten my knees from the new weight just placed on them. Jessica raises her brow in Louis’s direction. I flip through some of the pages. Everything he said was on here plus more. Something tells me he wants to show me the type of guy he is by giving me this surplus of paper.

“You’re welcome. Though, you won’t really need to travel to other floors,” He comments, “that’s what the lacky associates are for.” He nudges me with his elbow and lets out a laugh. I do as well, more to keep the cramped space from being uncomfortable than actually finding it funny. Jessica rolls her eyes, and I am obsessed with her refusal to put on an act for him. “No,” he clears his throat, “most of your work will be done…here.”

The elevator doors open, and I’m met with familiar sounds of clicking away at computer keys and phones ringing. I smile and step out onto the floor instantly. It’s everything my old firm was, but better. More advanced, more colleagues, more in general. I let out a pumped-up, “Yes!” and punch the air as discreetly as I can.

Jessica takes over swiftly by saying, “There’s more.” We follow her down a long hallway and pass an office with Louis’s name on it as well as one with Jessica’s name until I see one with my name. There’s a corner office directly to the left of it but I don’t bother looking at the name, I found what I was looking for.

“Oh, wow.” I breathe out to the furnished office that still felt empty. “I can’t wait to put my own flare in here. I can see it now,” I throw my hands out from my sides and walk through the office, I think out loud, “A vintage end table would be so cute here, maybe a fancy vase on top with some fresh carnations...” I ponder.

Jessica hums from the doorway and I turn to see a new person has joined my entourage. “Sounds cute, I can tell we’re gonna be friends.” The new woman is much more relaxed than Jessica and Louis. She has voluptuous, orange hair and a charming smile. “I’m Donna. I work for your grumpy colleague on the other side of this wall.” She knocks on the conjoining wall.

“Nice to meet you, Donna! I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” I look over her outfit. “And by the look of those shoes, we’re going to be the best of friends.” I give her shoes a pointed look and we laugh together.

“Oh, we needed a girly like you in the office.” She squeezes my shoulder. “You let me know if you need anything, and I will get it done. I’ll be your temporary secretary up until you get too many clients and we have to hire someone new. Though, I’m sure it won’t be long with a personality like yours.” She flips her hair and walks out.

“I love her.” I breathe out and turn to Jessica. She smiles before her eyes glance just above my head.

“What great timing!” I turn around, ready to greet whoever else I’ll be working with. “(Y/N), this is our Senior Partner, Harvey Specter.” My smile drops as I look at his face. He’s changed. There are lines on his forehead that weren’t there before. He wasn’t scrawny anymore, either, he’d beefed up. His shoulder width was probably double the size of mine. But when my eyes met his, I knew it was most definitely the same Harvey. “Harvey, this is our new Junior Partner, Ms. (L/N).” We both freeze in shock, looking each other over, analyzing what might have changed.

Tension. Unbelievable tension fills the hall, and I’m sure everyone has stopped what they’re doing to watch our interaction. Harvey’s face, that is usually so great at hiding how he feels, is failing him. His mouth is slightly agape, and his brows are raised the smallest bit. His big, brown eyes widen the more he looks at me. Stunned is the only way to describe him, and that doesn’t even begin to cover it. Though, I’m sure I don’t look much better.

The silence becomes awkward. I clear my throat, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Specter.” I reach my hand out sharply and remove my gaze from him, preferring the wall. What am I doing?!  “I’m sure we’ll work great together.” My tone is curt, and I have the best smile I can muster on my face. I look him in the eyes once more, silently urging him to shake my hand.

He recovers and clears his throat as well before shaking my hand. “I can’t agree more.” Oh god. I roll my eyes and remove my hand from his grasp. “If you’ll excuse me.” His face is back to being unreadable as he turns and walks into the office right next to mine.

No- I read the name on the glass: Harvey Specter. I clench my jaw; I have to get through this. I turn my head back to Jessica. “Well, what’s next?”

_

I received the grand tour of the floor and was then told by Louis to make myself comfortable. The company’s top paralegal would come to speak with me as soon as she was available. I gave him a tight smile before sitting in my office very distressed. “Fuck.”

I want to close my blinds so I can peacefully bang my head into the wall without anyone seeing, but I don’t want to seem closed off. I wonder if I should sit here any longer and wallow in self-pity. “Fuck it.”

I get up from my very comfortable, very expensive chair and leave my office. I can’t help looking over my shoulder as I walk away from it to see if he is still in his office, but all I see is an empty chair. Ok, that means I need to be aware. He’s probably prowling around here somewhere…

“Are… you alright?” I stop surveying my surroundings when a younger man with blonde hair and a skinny necktie talks to me from his cubicle. “You’re, like, scowling at the entire bullpen.”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry.” I fix my face before walking to the man’s cubicle. “I swear I’m not an a-hole, I’m just…” I stop myself as I continue surveying. I need a confidante. I stare right into his soul and bend down so we’re on the same level. “Can I tell you something you will never ever tell anyone else in your entire life?”

He retreats back in his seat a little flabbergasted. “You know, confessing to murder in a law firm probably isn’t the best idea.” I smile at his joke, cool kid.

“Oh, it’s much, much worse.” I stand straight again and lean onto my right leg with my hip jutted out. I smirk as he raises a brow, “So, there’s this guy-”

“You just got here and you’re already talking about guys you’re into?” A tall, tan brunette asks me with sass. Her eyebrows are raised, and her smirk tells me she’s my type of people. “I’m Rachel, top paralegal.” She reaches her hand out.

I shake it, “I’m (Y/N) (L/N), the new Junior Partner.” I smile at her before turning back to the associate I was talking to. “Gosh, sorry! I never asked your name?”

“You were going to confess murder to me, and you didn’t even know my name?” His brows furrow and I roll my eyes jokingly.

“I needed a confidante!” I joke though it’s not really a joke. “Trust me, I’ve had a really odd first day.” I turn to Rachel, “Though, I think I’ve found your replacement.” I return my gaze to the kid. “Sorry it didn’t work out; I’ve just met my match.” I shrug and nod towards my office, Rachel follows behind me as I walk in.

She giggles behind me. “His name is Mike by the way.” I sit in my new, cool chair and let out an exasperated sigh. I motion her to sit across from me. “I’m not a counselor, by the way, but I totally support a girl who needs a quick rant sesh.” She jokingly grabs a writing pad from atop my desk and clicks a pen that was formerly behind her ear. “And, trust me, you are way better off with me than Mike.”

I smile at her thankfully. She says nothing but nods her head, waiting for me to start talking. I groan dramatically and slouch in my chair. “Rachel- you wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to go through today!” She’s already writing on her pad. “My ex who I haven’t seen since law school is my office neighbor-”

Her pen drops from her hand, and she looks deep into my eyes as if making sure what I’m about to say is nothing but the absolute truth. “Harvey?” I nod and hide behind my hands. “Oh. My. God.” She breathes out in shock.

“Well, technically, we were never boyfriend-girlfriend,” she gives me a questioning look, “but we did kiss and go on dates.”

“So, boyfriend girlfriend?” She questioned and I could tell she got it.

“Exactly! But someone doesn’t like labels or commitment or head apparently.” I huff and sink deeper into my chair. When we were together, Harvey and I had the occasional heated make out, but had only just started having sex before we broke it off.

I look back to Rachel and her mouth is still wide open. “W-Well…” Her eyes are everywhere but me. She fidgets with her fingers in her lap, and I feel like I’ve traumatized the poor girl.

“Rachel, I know you’re not a counselor, but I expected more than this.” I can’t help but laugh as she gawks. “Don’t tell me I need to go back to Mike!” I joke and put my hands on my desk to lift myself out of my seat.

“No!” She yells and throws her hands out in front of her, urging me to be seated once again. I freeze before plopping back in my seat. “Mike is Harvey’s personal associate, he’s like his right-hand man.”

My lips create an O. If I told Mike, there’s a good chance he would have told Harvey. “Well, it’s a good thing you saved me when you did.” I smile at her and let out a sad sigh. “I’m really glad you’re here. You and Donna are gonna be my girls, I can tell.”

“Oh, Donna is the best.” She stops and winces before she continues, “She is also Harvey’s right-hand woman.” I let out an exasperated groan. “But! She’s all girl code! You can absolutely trust her so long as you’re not conspiring against Harvey… probably even then too.” I stand from my desk and move to her seat while giving her arm an appreciative squeeze.

“Thank you, Rachel. I’m super happy I get to work with you.” I pull her into a hug that she’s not prepared for which is evident when she lets out a squeak. She pats my arm awkwardly.

_

I get through the rest of the day, just getting adjusted to the system the company uses and setting up passwords for mandatory accounts. Only when it’s pitch back outside am I interrupted.

I sense someone at my office door, someone I’ve been expecting. “Ms. Pearson.” I smile but don’t look up from my computer. I’m not surprised by her dropping in.

“Ms. (L/N).” She greets back. I wait for her to continue but there is silence. My quick fingers slow their typing, and I look up at her, but she’s already looking at me expectantly. “Spill.”

I’m about to act like I have no idea what she’s talking about, but it’s like she reads my mind. She raises her hand to stop the lies I’m about to spew and squints her eyes. Scary. “I know him.”

“Well that much is obvious.” She glides to my desk before perching on the edge and crossing her arms. “But why were your reactions to each other so… hostile?” Her expression evolves from confusion to intrigue.

“I don’t know if I’d call it hostile…” Her expression doesn’t waver, and I cave. I can’t help but spill every secret I have when she looks at me like that. “…but I swear, when I applied for this job, I had no idea he worked here.” I finished my story out of breath and worried about what she would think of me and my character.

“Hm.” She thinks for a minute before standing. “Hm.” Again, she hums in thought before briskly walking out of the room. My mind is racing but there’s also not a rational thought.

_

I walk into the firm the next day wearing another pink top, this one more pastel. I refuse to cower down, especially to Harvey.

“Good morning!” I say to just about every associate in the bullpen. When I finally reach Mike, my smile grows tenfold. “’ Morning, you.”

He pulls out one of his earbuds. “Still don’t know my name?” He asks playfully but doesn’t look up from his computer.

“Mike,” I speak. He nods but still won’t look at me. If this is Harvey’s right-hand man, I need to be on good terms with him, and maybe get some info, too. “So, you work for Mr. Specter?” I try to be nonchalant while getting information. He stops clicking at his computer and gives me a weird look. “What?”

“Mr. Specter?” He pulls his only earbud from his ear and leans back in his chair. “That’s awfully formal.” I don’t like this. He gives me a quizzical look before he comes to some sort of realization. “That’s why you guys were so weird yesterday…”

“What?” I can feel myself start sweating and my voice is at least two, maybe three pitches higher than before. “We weren’t weird-that’s a weird thing to say- you’re weird.” I huff and can tell he’s not buying it. “Ugh, how obvious was it?”

He ignores my question. “How do you know him? One night stand?” I can’t help but grimace at the thought, “No? Oh, you must be the girl from France.” A pang of unexplainable hurt goes through my chest. He’s not mine, never was actually, it’s pointless for me to feel- “Jealous.” His eyes widen, “You loved him.”

My throat tightens and my mouth runs dry. “You have some nerve.” I fight to keep my voice level. “When you’re done making assumptions about me, and being an overall smartass, see me in my office.” I walk away from him.

I pull out my phone, contacting Louis to tell him I’m in the office so he can come talk to me about what duties would be passed on to me. As I do so, I see a figure out of the corner of my eye right outside my office door. One that’s awfully Harvey shaped.

I stop texting to make sure my eyes aren’t failing me. Sure enough, Harvey is leaned against the glass wall that separates me from the bullpen. In his hand is a drink carrier with what looks to be two hot coffees. He’s wearing a navy-blue suit and a… pastel pink tie that matches my shirt to a T.

He looks at me and pulls his body from the wall. His face is unsure, not very Harvey-like. “’ Morning.” He extends his arm with the coffee in it towards me. I can smell the delectable caramel macchiato that he knows I love. I eye the cup suspiciously, and then I eye him suspiciously.

“’ Morning.” I take the coffee and look at the familiar label. It was no Starbucks, that’s for sure. No, this coffee was from Samson’s Brewery. The same mom-and-pop coffee shop that we would go to during late night study sessions. This coffee place is on the literal whole other side of town, he didn’t go out of his way for this… did he? No, he definitely either door-dashed it or sent a driver.

His eyes don’t leave my face as I inspect the beverage. Once I deduce it’s not poisoned, I look up at him. For the first time since seeing him, I’m not a panicked mess. I just look at him, his gelled hair and puppy dog eyes.  I’m staring. I avert my gaze and mutter a, “Thanks,” before pushing past him into my office.

I stop myself from closing the door behind me. He won’t. He won’t walk in. I sit in my chair and put the coffee on my desk. I stare at it intently, trying not to remember the late nights we spent together. But I also stare at it, so I don’t look at the door, so I don’t look to see if he’s still there.

There are three quick knocks at my door. I look up with hope I can’t mask, only to be disappointed. “Hey, girly.” It’s Louis. I look over his shoulder, but there’s no one.

“G’morning, Louis.” I smile through the pain. “How are you doing?” I side-eye the coffee on my desk like it’ll disappear if I leave it alone too long.

“Same old, same old, I just convinced a major pharmacy company that they needed to break a deal with…” He drones on for a little bit, bragging to me about accomplishments I could do in my sleep. “But, anyway! I came to tell you about the workload you’ll be taking on. Seeing as Harvey is the closest Senior Partner on the floor, you’ll be shadowing him for the next few days. Just until you think you’re ready to fly solo.” He says that like it’s nothing, and I guess it would be for anyone else.

“So, like an associate?” My face scrunches up. “Why can’t I just shadow you, then? Aren’t you in charge of the associates?” I cross my arms.

He chuckles. “I wish, but we’re both Junior Partners, for the time being-” He winks at me. Poor guy, I’m sure he’s been waiting to be Senior Partner for a while. “So, you technically need trained by a Senior Partner.”

“Great.” I have a tight-lipped smile and unconsciously reach for the coffee on my desk. I bring it up to my lips and hum at the nostalgic taste before I even realize I’ve done it. I stop mid-sip and lick my lips guiltily.

“What coffee place is that from?” Louis gets closer and squints at my cup. When he doesn’t recognize it, he pulls away. “The best coffee around is Roaster-Roos right down the way,” He uses his thumb to point over his shoulder. A coy look flashes across his face, “I could go get you one if you want.”

“No. No, this is fine, thank you.” I say a little too quickly. I hold the cup closer to my chest and grip it a little tighter. He shrugs and I clear my throat, “When does this shadowing begin?”

“ASAP.” He snaps and turns his back to me to walk out the door. “Harvey’s in the office right next to yours,” He pivots outside the door to face me again. “He’s kind of cocky, so let me know if you need anything.” He smiles with raised eyebrows. I nod hesitantly in discomfort before he goes to the left and disappears from sight. A long exhale leaves my body. “Why me?”

[grxmreaperx]

Hi!!

I just read your Mark Hoffman fic and I loved it!! Would you be willing to write something with Hoffman being a little obsessed with the reader? any further plot is totally up to you, I just need more Hoffman fics. 😩 Angst, fluff, smut (if you’re okay with that of course!)?

God, I love this request!! I’m all for men being obsessed in fics. And there’s no way I can answer this request and NOT write my first Hoffman smut (👀)

Also, you’ve all been so sweet and lovely ahhh I’m so glad I made this blog!!

You Belong to Me

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x reader (reader is AFAB)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: 18+!! Smut!! Kinda went off with this ngl. I had way too much fun with this. Mark being very dominant and obsessed with the reader. Praise and degradation kink. Hair pulling, spanking, cream pie. Mark being very possessive. Oral sex (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), p in v penetration. Every ounce of feminism left my body writing this.

Summary: Upon John’s request, you’ve been working as Mark’s secretary at the precinct in order to keep you off the list of suspects in the search for Jigsaw’s accomplice. Did Mark really expect you to not take this golden opportunity to mess with him? As much as he appreciates the tight pencil skirts you’ve started wearing to work, he does not appreciate the attention it is drawing from his coworkers.

You were driving him absolutely insane. He wasn’t sure whether to bash John’s skull in or worship him like Amanda does for placing you here. He already had a hard enough time focusing on stake outs and working on traps with you, and now you were here. In his place of work, where he was supposed to be professional, supposed to pretend he had never seen you before you had your “interview.”

Mark knew exactly what you were doing. Your first day you walked in here, friendly smile on your pretty face, pencil skirt glued to your legs, staring right at him.

“Good morning, Detective Hoffman.”

God, he was going to kill John.

He hadn’t exactly had time for a sex life since everything went down. His sister’s death, planning Seth Baxter’s fate, joining Jigsaw, all on top of his detective work. And it hadn’t really bothered him; he had more important things to think about.

Until John decided you’d be a perfect addition to the team.

---

You knew your plan was working exactly how you wanted.

John hadn’t tested him yet, so why shouldn’t you? The detective needed to be tested, didn’t he?

You saw how he stared at you when you walked into work each morning, spending the time before your shift picking out the perfect outfit that you knew would drive the man mad.

You had decided months ago that you tired of the tension, the pull you felt towards the man every night you spent working together. And now John, bless his soul, had given you the perfect opportunity to do something about it.

You had seen some of the other men at the station watching you, eyes hovering a bit too long on your legs and ass. It didn’t bother you much, you ignored them for the most part, they weren’t your test subject, they weren’t your detective, so you hardly even noticed.

But, oh, did Mark notice. He noticed every fucking time. And every time was a new test of his willpower. Every single time, all he could think about was what sort of trap he could devise that would be worthy of the pigs who dared look at you.

---

“How you doing today, honey?” You turned around in your chair and saw Henry Miller, one of the cops that was most persistent with you. You were friendly with him; he was nice enough. The only problem was he thought he had a shot with you.

“Morning, Henry. I’m doing alright, how are you today?”

“I’d be a lot better if you finally let me take you out tonight.”

You scoffed. “How many times do I need to tell you I’m not interested before it finally gets through?”

He leaned on your desk, hands resting on the table, staring intently at you from across the surface. “Cmon, baby. Just one dinner, that’s all I ask. I’m very persistent.”

“Miller, isn’t there something you’re supposed to be doing?” You recognized the deep voice instantly and had to stop yourself from grinning. This was perfect.

The smile dropped from Henry’s face when he saw Hoffman staring daggers at him. He looked like a deer in the headlights, a child that had been caught stealing candy.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered, before quickly making his way back to his desk.

“And you,” he started, eyes on you. “In my office.”

You flashed him your best smile. “Of course, Detective.”

----

“Sit down.”

You sat down in the chair across from him, trying to scope out the look on his face. His jaw was tense and shoulders tight. He looked like he was about to explode.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.”

He sucked in a breath. “Bullshit.” He stood up, slowly making his way around the table. “You walk in here every day, in your tight little skirts, giving me that proud little smile, and you’re going to sit here and act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He placed on a hand on each armrest, eyes boring down into you. “Now, let’s try again, shall we? What the fuck was that?”

Bingo.

You smiled up at him. “I just want to look nice for you, Detective.”

He shook his head and gritted his teeth. “Oh, you wanna look pretty for me, is that it?” You nod. “You know what would make you look real pretty? Get on your fucking knees.”

Embarrassingly quick, you sink out of the chair and onto your knees, staring up at the man. He smirks.

“Well? You just gonna stare at me? Don’t act like you don’t know what to do.”

You reach up and slowly get to work on his belt, trying to act like you still have some sort of control. Not that you minded, but it was still nice to pretend.

All resolve left you went he wrapped a hand in your hair, pulling back until your chin was pointed up at him. “Don’t do that. You’ve teased me enough. Now it’s your turn.”

You pulled down his pants just enough to reach his dick. You sucked in a breath. You had some idea of what you were in for, but fuck.

You tried to tease him a bit more, you really did, but as soon as you heard the deep groan when you took him into your mouth, you were done for.

His hand in your hair guided you, bobbing your head on his dick, feeling it hit the back of your throat each time. Each tug on your hair, each time you felt the tip of his dick down your throat, you felt a spark go straight between your legs. You looked up at him through thick eyelashes, eyes slightly teary, spit spilling over your lips.

“God, I knew it. You do look very pretty like this, sweetheart.”

You were slightly disappointed when he finally pulled your head back, dick soaked with your spit. “Get up.”

You shakily got to your feet, suddenly aware of how much of a mess you must be. His eyes roamed over your body, examining you from head to toe.

“Go on, sweetheart. Bend over the desk for me.”

You quickly complied, bending over the front his desk, legs slightly spread. You felt him behind you, placing his hands on your hips before landing a hard smack on your ass. His hands pushed up skirt, pooling it around your waist and exposing you to him. He ran a finger over your underwear, pressing lightly on your clit, before landing another blow.

“Such a little slut, aren’t you? Already soaked for me. Have you enjoyed acting like a brat?” Another smack. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” you said softly.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Much better.” He pushed your underwear aside, running a finger through your folds. You felt your hips push back, trying to get more. More of anything, more of him. He pulled his hand away, running it over your thighs. “So desperate, aren’t you? You know exactly what you’ve been doing to me, teasing me, acting like a brat. Why should I touch you?”

“Please, sir, I’m sorry. I just wanted – “

“Wanted what? Wanted me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. You felt him slide one finger in, quickly followed by a second. You bit your lip, suddenly aware of where you were and who was outside this office.

“So, you thought you’d make me jealous, hm?” he asked, fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. You nodded, rolling your hips against his fingers. As soon as he felt your movement, he pulled his fingers away. A whimper left your lips.

“Why should I make you feel good, when you’ve done nothing but tease me for months?”

“Please, sir. I need it.”

“Louder.”

“But- “

“I said louder.”

“Please, sir, please, fuck.”

He slid into you all at once, not giving you any time to adjust to his size. You let out a loud moan, before clamping a hand over your mouth, hoping to God no one heard you.

His hand found its way to your hair, pulling you toward him, back arching. You felt his lips right next to your ear as he finally moved his hips, pulling almost completely out before pounding back in. “No, no, baby. You want to tease me, make me jealous, let these cops flirt with you? You’re gonna let this whole fucking office know who you belong to.”

He set a rapid pace, hips snapping against yours. You felt your eyes roll back in your head, legs unsteady.

Mark groaned in your ear. “God, do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this pussy? How many times I’ve thought about bending you over and ruining you? Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done to me? You’re all I fucking think about anymore.”

You let out a loud moan, no longer caring who heard you two. “God, fuck.”

“Cmon baby, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, sir.”

“Louder.” His long, hard strokes made your legs weak.

“I belong to you, sir! I’m all yours!”

“Good girl.” His other hand reached around your front, fingers quickly finding your clit and drawing quick circles around it. “Now, let everyone out there know that I’m the only one that gets to make you cum.”

Your legs shook and you knew if it weren’t for his arms holding you up, you wouldn’t be able to stand. Your mind was blank, forgetting everything but his words and the feeling of his cock filling you.

Your vision went white as your orgasm washed over you, the room filled with sounds of you moaning his name and his skin slapping against yours. You felt his pace falter slightly, his breath hot on your ear as he emptied himself inside you.

You stayed like that for a moment, both trying to catch your breath, before he finally pulled out of you and slid your skirt down.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that,” he said, breathless, as he pulled his pants back up.

You let out a soft laugh. “Me too.” You start to grab a tissue from the box on his desk to clean yourself up before he grabbed your wrist. He spun you around to face him, face inches from yours.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. And I want to see you try and hold yourself together with my cum dripping down your thighs.” He gave you a smirk before letting go of your wrist, making his way back to his chair, and continuing his work as if nothing had happened.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself as you tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

Maybe your plan worked a bit too well.

---

Let me know if you guys like this!! I've been thinking about doing a NSFW alphabet with our lovely detective, let me know if you guys would be interested 👀

[sanctus-ingenium]

Just wanted to ask, please forgive me if you've already answred this, what program do you use? Your art fucks HARD and like. I was looking at your art of the two moths over the city they die in and I was hit with the wave of "oh that looks really fucking fun actually." Like i know my art program can't do some of those effects and like, I'd love to try fucking about with them.

hi there, thank you! all my art is done in procreate and paint tool sai

because you mentioned that drawing in particular i thought it would be fun to break it down and show ppl what exactly went into each part of it so check this out

sketch & lineart - the brushes come from georgbrush.club and the urban sketcher is my most commonly used lineart brush, it has a nice irregular shape. the square brush is nice for big blocky sketches.

the cityscape was REALLY hard but basically I got a photo of the skyline of florence, traced some basic building shapes, then bullshitted the rest using the vertical symmetry/mirror tool to cut down on the amount of work (so i only had to sketch one half of the city). then for lineart I turned off vertical symmetry, turned on the two-point perspective tool, and got this:

the rose windows were made using the radial symmetry tool.

I didn't like it being so flat, so I used the liquify tool to make a kind of fish-eye effect (limited success tbh). I liked how it looked but the buildings in front needed something to cover them up to make the liquification less obvious...

first pass colours. I felt they were very washed out, aside from the sun which i loved. I use the spectra brush (default procreate) for skyscapes a lot, I love the texture. Although the clouds were filled in using the lasso selection tool, I softened the edges using the square pencil again and added texture using true grit sampler grainy brushes. The translucency effect comes from my setting the brush as an eraser. The sun rays come from the radial symmetry tool.

Blocking in the moths' colours was done with the urban sketcher again.

Something people may not have noticed is the labyrinth hidden in the sky! yeah I had a bunch of versions where it was more obvious but I found that it clashed a bit and was too busy, so I made it subtle. But yes. I searched for "royalty free labyrinth" and picked one.

The toner grit brush is one you've seen before if you've looked at any art on tumblr lately (this is such a popular brush) and it's from the true grit fast grit set. The pointillism brush is from the true grit free sampler pack, like my grain brushes.

I added shadows to the moths, increased saturation overall, and changed the clouds to a translucent blue (you can even see in the sun where I forgot to block in the sun itself because the clouds over it used to be opaque lol). Moon rays were drawn using the radial symmetry tool but this time with rotational symmetry off. I also moved the moon down closer to the moths because I felt that it was a bit far away, and this served to visually divide the drawing into three equal parts, so I chose to lean into that and divide the sky colours too, to show passing time, or an endless moment - morning, evening, night, etc.

And then the oroborous, I tried a few different effects on it because I wanted it to be very clearly separate from the main scene - I settled on a dot matrix newsprint texture, using procreate's onboard tool, and some heavy chromatic aberration. This is because the oroborous isn't real, it's purely symbolic and the moths' demise started when they became photographers so I liked the print media aspect there as well. The story itself is about grief without closure, cyclical violence, and sunk cost fallacy, while everyone explores an endless labyrinth, so an oroborous fits I think

what makes art fun to me is thinking up ways I can tell a story using just a single image. and sure a lot of it will be lost to an audience who isn't familiar with the characters or backstory but i want to leave enough in there that even complete strangers to my work will be able to construct a narrative about what's happening here, rather than it just being a cool image. that's my goal.

Finally I exported it to sai on my pc to give it a once-over. this is really important because the retina display on an ipad is oversaturated on purpose, to make everything look amazing and vibrant. but what this means is that on other screens, your work might look washed out. it's especially bad at displaying yellows! so i look at it in sai on my pc and i make minor adjustments, in this case I actually added another multiply layer on the moths and an overlay on their non-shadowed parts to increase the contrast there.

finally if you've read this far, I played a little trick with the caption of the drawing. yeah, THEY die... but only one of those moths is a theythem pronoun haver... the other has to survive. he isn't given a choice in the matter.

[apoemaday]

I Want the World

by Brenda Shaughnessy

You never know, when you say goodbye, if it’s the last time. Last time for who? For what?

Every time is the last — for that particular goodbye, wearing those clothes, at that airport. Me in my black dress — nightgown, fifties housecoat, funeral uniform. It passes for anything.

My daughter in her fuchsia track shorts and faded green t-shirt almost as soft as her luscious little arms. She was complaining, as usual. She was hungry. She was tired of traveling.

Her complaints were especially unpleasant since they only pointed up how innocent she was of how bad everything could get. The Legos are boring? Imagine no toys of any kind.

The chicken nuggets are too hot? Just wait. They’ll cool and by then, I hope she can learn to like lizard blood and shoelace chewing gum, because that’s what’s coming.

A fierce zip of pride bites my heart. She demands more because she knows there’s more in the world and she believes she should have it all. She knows what she wants: what she wants.

She believes the world is coming to her, not veering definitively away. She still thinks we can choose between ice cream flavors, bless her that she has so many possible flavors in mind.

Between stuffed animals and dolls. Which color lunch box you want for the whole school year. What school year? I think. Will first grade exist this coming fall?

She still thinks that what she thinks will affect what she gets. She still believes tantrums might get her her way. She doesn’t know yet that nobody gets her way.

We’re all lucky if we get anything at all, come dinnertime, come night, the next morning and the next hot morning, the next endangered livingspace if we get to stay there. We can’t carry all that stuff. But she doesn’t think of it as stuff.

She thinks of it as what she wants. Life’s been consistent — me resisting her demands, me in my black dress, cutting my hair to make her paintbrushes. If something happens to me, who will help her believe her beliefs?

She believes her desires — as erratic and irrational as a six-year-old’s desires can be — nevertheless have intrinsic value. A thread of hope wound, inextricable, all around and through her very person. I believe that, too.

One of these mornings I’ll say goodbye, a routine goodbye when I go to the FedPlex warehouse to work or pick my rations, and in my absence she will lose that thread, come to fully understand what she wants is impossible in our world.

All of it, any of it, the tiniest thing, impossible.

I won’t have known but I’ll be walking away from my daughter for the last time, coming home (wherever home is) to someone new, someone broken off from my old girl, six years old.

Here, I tell her, providing a pencil with a pristine, unsharpened end, chew on this. Nobody’s touched it yet. It’s all yours, darling.

Somewhere I’ll find a blade to sharpen it, and we’ll find a scrap for drawing, a bit of napkin or a smooth, light stone. For now, you can chew on it. Soon you’ll be able to draw whatever you want.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

CAKE FOR A DEAD MAN (I)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER II

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: Angst, problems with food & image, mentions of stalking, unwanted gifts, death, violence, gore, blood, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Color, as most would say, is one of the best aspects of sight. It allows such a myriad of emotions to be expressed—even felt. Red reminds us of passion; navy for elegance and a certain mystique. Not only seen but processed on such a deeper level. Refractions of light that explode into the retina, rod and cone cells that send signals to the brain to help detect that phenomenon like a gift of evolution. 

But when you can’t see any of that—color—who’s to explain what the red of the roses actually looks like above a deep shade of gray? That navy blue looks even darker, too. Closer to black. Light purple becomes the same hue as the curtains your mother hangs on the windows, but you can’t tell if that’s really purple or not. How can it be anything other than slate? People tell you it is…at least, those who’ve already met their partners. Their soulmates. 

But there’s little hope for you on that front, really.

You wave to the photographer, calling out a broken Russian goodbye as he smiles warmly at you, nodding his head in your direction before watching you walk out of the studio room’s doors. A large gaggle of other finely-clad women surrounds you on the way to the changing rooms. 

Even with three-and-a-half years of living in this northern country, your mastery of the native language starts and ends with simple pleasantries.

The modeling agency was packed today and you still had so much to do. You stuff down your internal list of scheduled fittings, meetings, and more booked photoshoots that extend into the chilled evening of Yekaterinburg, Russia. There was just so little time. 

Gray hallways and white overhead lights meet your eyes between blinks, potted plants boring and drab. If you could see the shades in between the leaves you’d know you would find them beautiful, but like this…well, they’re just sad.

You shake your head and shuffle to the back of the group, throwing tiny smiles to the kind, and stunning, women who you’ve had little real conversation with. One kisses you on the cheek and pats your shoulder, and you laugh brightly before pulling to the rear, face heating.

“The bastard is finally dead!” The familiar voice causes you to freeze with one heeled foot in the air—fingers picking at the strap of your silk dress absentmindedly before it, too, stills. They were always forcing you into silk with feathered accent pieces of intricate detail. Like a bird, or, Seraph, more precisely. 

Blinking in surprise, you turn around just in time to lock onto the drained shades that make up Alyona Arkadyevna Solovyova before she grips your shoulders harshly. 

Her collarbone-length hair swishes heavily, but it’s not as violent as the smile on her sharp face. 

“Finally, little Солнышко! This is perfect news. The bastard is dead!” Alyona’s English is very good, and of course, it would be—when she was younger she dreamed of being an English teacher. That was before she realized she was just about the most attractive woman of her generation. The harsh Russian accent still bleeds through.

You laugh and grip her long, pale, arms; seeing her in a blouse and pencil skirt as you tilt your head, asking, “Christ, Alyona, give me a warning next time. If I rip anything I’m in deep shit.” 

“Gah,” Your friend waves a hand and releases you, tiny eyes creasing, “forget about that—did you not hear me the first time? My father, Seraph, listen to me! He is finally dead! It happened just this morning but I only got word ten minutes ago.” She laughs, throwing her hands up, and you hide your amused exasperation, limbs tired but it won’t stop you from appreciating your friend’s enthusiasm. Alyona squeals, “A train hit him!”

You cringe internally, face pulling taunt. “Oh,” your chest sputters as you clear your throat, “that’s, uh, that’s…great?”

“Of course it is!” Hands capture your cheeks, squishing as you worry about the state of your makeup. Alyona speaks brightly, “We need to celebrate, Солнышко. Come.”

Before you can protest she’s dragging you away from the other women and the direction of the changing rooms, all had stopped and were listening intently from behind; nosey. Everyone in the Allurement Modeling Agency building, AMA for short, just had that way about them—your business was their business and vice versa. 

And Alyona had no problem airing out her grievances with her estranged father to the choir. She lived for drama.

“Aly,” You huff a soft breath at her and her bobbing hair. She said it was blonde and you had no other option but to believe her. Not yellow-blonde, she had specified. Ice-blonde. “I can’t go out in company property. Plus, I have a photoshoot for Chanel in under an hour. The photographer needs me to be ready.”

But it seems your concerns fall on deaf ears and you can’t help but chuckle and grin at your friend's lack of care about work. She herself was a model, but the entire company halted when she said it should. 

You were truly surprised they hadn’t fired her yet. 

“And I’m sure Chanel has an absolutely hideous dress for you, my Seraph.” Ashen eyes turn back to stare at you, and once she realizes you wouldn’t fight her, her grip releases. “Some Медовик will do you good before the vultures close in, yes? Let us hope they don’t shackle you to those damning lace lingerie sets over cake.” 

Your head tilts with a short sigh, and you walk beside the woman in your clacking heels. The sound of the authentic honey cake seemed to itself to coat your insides with a lust for it—dripping layers of plush gray sponge with pale cream. Your mouth waters. 

“I’m only eating half a piece.” You settle slowly, though you hate your own words as your stomach rolls with hunger. Some time outside will do you good, anyway. Perhaps you’ll learn to photosynthesize like a plant. “I still have to be able to fit into those fabric contraptions, you know.”

Alyona squeals and loops her arm in yours easily, bright teeth in a grin like a cat. Ever one to run into objects and lacking a general ability to walk in a straight line, the support from Alyona was much appreciated. Her help with lending an arm went far, especially for you. 

Your heart warms with soft care.

“I’ll take it! We can split one.” When you both make it to the front of the building, having grabbed your jackets and purses on the way there, you come to three familiar faces while chatting with Alyona about both of your upcoming bookings. 

“I was under the impression you had the day filled,” Petya speaks, heavy accent like stone. The clean-shaven man in his late thirties was built and wearing a dark suit, the tallest out of the other two—Aleksandr and Yefim—who both wear similar outfits. They were resting in the front seating area of AMA as they’d been doing for weeks already, waiting for you to come and go like escorts.

Well, bodyguards, to be more precise. Yours.

You smile politely to them while Yefim sends one back with his boyish charm and dimples. “On break. We’re off to get some Medovik down the street. I can pay for you if you’d want a piece.” 

“Of course, the three will have to tag along, hm?” Alyona huffs, staring blandly as you both slow to a stop near the large white entrance, colored as if it was Heaven’s gates. Your friend had said coloring around this building was rare. Whites and grays. Green chairs, apparently. “I’m just ecstatic.” 

Petya didn’t like you, and, you assumed, Aleksandr didn’t either. With the ladder, his sharp face was always too blank to tell; body tight and unwelcoming with weasel-like eyes. Petya was simpler, blatantly more outward with his distaste.

“Not a smart idea. This isn’t a game to play, девушка.” Alyona’s face tightens, and you swiftly placate her with a squeeze to her bicep. You level Petya with a tilt of your head and a calm look. 

“What harm could a bite to eat do? It won’t cost you your life.” You chuckle smoothly. “Let me get you all something—it’s nearly noon, I’m sure you’re all hungry.”

“I could eat,” Yefim eases in, hands resting in his pockets as he stares at you. His accent was calmer than the others, and his face softer. Out of all of them, you liked him best. 

Your eyes rest on Yefim with a thankful expression. He smirks and nods. Aleksandr, as always, says nothing beyond a small scoff and a look around the room with shifting feet. 

When the tallest of the group does nothing to push back his sneer and heavy glare, you hum under your breath as you expect the words before they rush from his sharp mouth.

“I will have to speak to your mother about this.” The accent makes him sound so stiff—like a statue. A man built up of gravel and snow; concrete in his veins instead of blood. 

“Oh, yes,” Alyona mutters, “the Consul herself.” 

Your nose moves in a sigh, but you ease the situation with a simple, “Do whatever you need to, Petya. I know it’s your job and I’m thankful regardless, but we’ll be back in less than an hour. It’s no big deal.” You pause, plastering on an innocent look. “We’re hungry.”

 For whatever reason you always envisioned Petya with dark eyes—blacks more deep than the clothes they put Alyona in to off-set your given whites when you two are fitted together. But the man’s eyes were so painfully light it made you not want to stare into them. 

Petya grunts and continues to glare, working his jaw. After a moment he lets off a large huff and shakes his head in disapproval.

“Half-an-hour. No more.” 

Alyona manhandles you out the door quickly, growling, “I do not know how you can stand this, Seraph. Bullshit, all of it.” 

“It’s only until everything goes back to normal,” you reason, hearing three sets of footsteps behind you as the guards follow into the chilled air of Yekaterinburg. There was no reason to take a car, everything was within walking distance of one another in this dense city populated by over one million people. “My mother’s worried is all. I’m not going to make their lives harder while they’re only doing what they’re told to do.” 

Light eyes dart to your face, your friend’s hand guiding you along the concrete with a dim concern. “I do not like all of this, Солнышко. It’s been months…Are the gifts still coming?”

Your expression tightens, lips going stiff. Alyona notices and changes the subject for now.

“Ah, but what am I doing—I’m ruining the celebration! Come, come, we will talk about my engagement to Nikifor while we eat.” 

Nikifor, her soulmate. The one who brought her color and music with his performance at a nightclub two years ago; the only thing standing in the way of their marriage was Alyona’s strict father. Something about the man wanting someone with higher standing than a musician for his famous daughter. 

“How is he?” You ask, blinking away the thought of finally being able to see color for the first time and how that must feel. A piece of you would always be envious of that. 

Alyona must have blushed because she always tilts her nose lower when she does. You smile and chuckle under your breath. 

“Wonderful,” is all she offers, but the giddy grin on her lips is knowledge enough. 

You both make it to the small bakery at the end of the long street, heels clicking and cheeks chilled. People had turned to look at you, gaping at the two models still in their expensive clothes and attempting to take pictures on their phones. All were strong-armed by the three men close behind you who bark things in Russian. 

Alyona opens the door of the bakery for you and you accidentally knock your shoulder into the frame, giving a sheepish smile before carefully walking to your regular corner table. Your tall friend goes to order while you take your seat with a sigh, Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim all shuffling in and sending glances to you; looking over the interior with sharp and calculating eyes. 

It’s like they think the sky’s going to fall, you surmise, twitching your lips their way. They’ve been here before with me, do they still not trust it?

Back when things had been less serious they’d allowed you to go where you wished with them—parks, for walks, stores—now it was only work and home. As if you didn’t already feel so trapped. 

“You boys can pick what you want,” you call to them softly. “My treat.”

“On the job,” is all Petya grunts before he takes his normal seat at the table closest to the door; everything in his bright sight. Your hand lightly tightens on the table, but you keep your expression placid. 

You’d tried to get him to lighten up, Aleksandr too, but the two weren’t as open to you as Yefim. There was a blatant distrust of Westerners here, even if you had given up your citizenship to move where your mother works in the Consulate building of this very city. 

While she was still employed by the American government, that didn’t stand in any sense with you. But on top of you being a famous model, your mother was well-known, regardless, and that ultimately fell back on you. 

Yefim’s gray eyes flickered to a case of Bird Milk Cake with a hidden longing as he grasped the back of his chair and slid into it—floorboards creaking loudly. You notice and chuckle under your breath, cheeks heating at the sight as the man’s gaze moves to you and blinks in surprise. He quickly averts his gaze and clears his throat, fixing the collar of his dress shirt.

You’d buy him a piece before you left; maybe kiss his cheek just to see him go all blurry-eyed. He certainly was adorable.

“The baker’s boy is staring again,” Alyona’s voice snaps into your head, and you peer at your friend’s face, startled. 

“What?” You ask as a plate is set in the middle of the table holding a single piece of Medovik. Your mouth fills with saliva, fingers immediately moving like a starved dog to grab a fork and cut into the layers; you shovel it into your mouth before you hiss to pace yourself. 

You chew slowly, swallow, and give Alyona a confused look.

She slides you an unimpressed frown. “The boy. At the front.”

“He’s probably gaping at you,” you take another bite, rubbing at your cheek with your free hand as people walking by the front window peek in with wide eyes; your men glare and move their chairs as the ground squeaks again. 

Your friend scoffs and mutters in Russian, shaking her head. Her hand waves quickly, barking, “Look!” 

Rolling your eyes with a small smile, you look over and dab your face with a napkin before you get locked into a staring match with the dark eyes of the man up-front. 

He wears an apron, head a mess of curls, and his upper arms stained with flour. You blink and pause, wondering if…perhaps…A pause, a sickly hope in your chest…but nothing happens and the contact is broken when he ducks his head before looking at the counter. 

Gritting your teeth, you focus back on your cake and shove aside the sinking feeling in your chest. 

Idiot, you criticize yourself. Now why would you think that would work?

“Nothing, then?” Alyona clicks her tongue and takes up her own fork. “Do not fret, we will find him eventually, Seraph.”

“It’s not like I would know.” The air goes a temperature warmer—bodies stilling. 

While soulmate colorblindness was simply the reality of life, diagnosed colorblindness was still a curse that couldn’t be solved. If you ever saw your soulmate…you wouldn’t even know it. 

All because of that stupid accident. 

You act unbothered by the shift in the conversation and sigh. “You said you wanted to talk about your engagement,” your words remind the woman and she sets off into a tangent about the dress and the location after a moment of quiet concern. A church, she explained, the big one down the road where they’ll be a few days after the civil ceremony and the outer city venue. 

Alyona is only twenty, but you know that it’s incredibly common here to get married this early. Listening, you offer input here and there, but as it always does, the topic falls back to you as you eat the slice of cake dedicated to a dead man. 

Your knife-driven problem. 

The gifts. 

Already, you begin feeling uncomfortable.

“Aly,” you try to grumble, resisting the urge to eat the entire piece of Медовик as you put your utensil down. Your hand jerks over the table and you glare down at it in annoyance, ignoring the tensed nerves. “It’s not important—”

“How many more pieces of jewelry has he sent, hm? Letters?” The woman shivers and rubs at her arms. “It is horrendous behavior. Total fuck-up. And the fact that no one has caught him? Gah!”  

Your spine straightens itself, eyes sliding to the people gawking outside the window and seeing the multiple faces, shuffling bodies that pile next to each other like sardines in a can. 

“I just don’t want to think about it, okay?” You shake your head, turning away as a pit forms in your gut; realizing the fragility of your psyche when you think about the fact that anyone outside could be the source of your problem. The stalker. “If it’s just the gifts I can deal with them—the letters I never even read. If I ignore it they’ll stop eventually. All of this can be one big bad dream.” 

Your hand continues to shake on the table, not exactly in your realm of control just as the inability to walk in a straight line is. It was no wonder why they never let you do runway shows, you think sarcastically. You’d be stuck in a photographer’s room for the rest of your career.

Alyona pushes a strand of her hair out of her face. 

“Seraph…you know it does not work like that.” Of course you did, but asking for help was never your strong suit. And your mother had already given you three well-trained bodyguards to escort you to and from work—that was more than enough protection. 

When you think of the expensive parcels that had been dropped at AMA’s front desk you had to restrain the honey cake coming back up your gullet. All of them had been expensive; pieces you could afford on a model's pension but still wildly elegant to even touch much less own in multitude. Gold bracelets inlay with black opal and sapphire, necklaces with Tanzanite, and rings of ruby, your mother had told you this when you had brought them to her off of only seeing washed-out tones on your part. 

You never showed anyone the letters; they lived in a lockbox under the bed in your apartment. Concerningly, lately the ‘presents’ had been losing the plot. Random bits of glass and shiny items—a slow deterioration but somehow even more scary. 

Even the older women at the front desk were softening the usual sneers they wore when you walked in every day, no longer chiding you in Russian they know you can’t understand. The way they seemed pitiful rubbed you the wrong way.

You pull your jacket closer to you and rub a hand slowly along your thigh in a soothing gesture. Aly pulls her brows in. 

“I want to help you, little Солнышко, but I don’t think this is something I can fix with my womanly charms.” Your lips release a snort, tiny chuckles hitting the air. 

Alyona joins you before silence once again lapses. 

“...Do you feel alright?” Your friend asks honestly. Worry was plain on her face. 

You smile, but your lungs tighten in your chest while your heart acts like a dancer and lightly skips beats. “By next month,” your hand shakes over your thigh, “all of this will be in the past. No one could keep this up forever. I just have to…wait it out. It’s only the gifts, I can live with that—jewelry isn’t hurting anybody except his wallet.” 

The woman narrows her eyes at you and frowns, but it’s not long before she goes back to her half of the Медовик and takes a bite with a moan of enjoyment. You rarely lied, so you supposed she had no trouble believing you.

If only you could fraud yourself like that.

“Quite a wealthy bastard, though, no?” Alyona slyly pokes fun and you blink quickly. 

“Aly!” 

“I am just saying!” 

You press your hand to your lips to hide your loud laugh, Yefim looking over with a certain airiness to his expression before Aleksandr jerks his shoulder to face him back forward. The two glare at each other as Petya stares violently at the front door—daring those outside to try and come in and ask for a picture. 

While you hadn’t come back to this bakery in a while, the three men always seemed to pick the exact same table; the one with the perfect view of everything going on near the door. While it was a small distance away, it allowed for quick action in any direction. 

You blink away as the wooden boards under the bodyguards’ table creak again, loud enough to cause Alyona to frown in that direction. Petya sends an annoyed look down and scowls. 

“How do you know he’s not just stealing them,” you bring back the conversation, smirking. “You know? Maybe he’s a,” your voice lowers an octave in fake secrecy and Aly’s eyes roll, amused, “jewel thief.”

“God above,” the woman huffs. “That would be the twist.”

The both of you joked and picked fun, but that half an hour went past quickly, and soon it was time to get back to the agency so you could change again. The photographer couldn’t take pictures of air and play it off as you with a smile and a nervous stutter. 

As you stand you stare long at the cases of baked goods, licking the remnants of cream off your lips 

“We can buy another, Seraph,” Aly suggests, fixing her coat. You shake your head immediately. 

“No, no, I’ve already had enough sugar. I had two muffins for breakfast. Chocolate.” Your face pulls into a cringe at the words. “Cheat day.” 

Alyona’s lips go tighter, but she says nothing as her hair is puffed out of her face. She out of everyone knows how demanding modeling can be—your entire life is dictated by two things: calories, and appointments. 

You turn to Yefim with his wavy hair and his soft, dimpled, smile; casual eyes. Not your soulmate, based on his lack of reaction the first time you had met, but in that time you’d grown a tiny crush on the man, admittingly. He was kind and treated you with respect. Capable and reliable—how could you ask for more than that? 

“Yefim?” Your voice calls out, a smile on your lips. The man looks over and blinks in surprise. He clears his throat, stuttering as he shifts in his seat. The wood tilts slightly under him and he steadies himself on the edge of the table.

“Да, Ma’am?” 

Restraining a giggle, you cock your head as Alyona snorts.

“Do you want a slice of Bird Milk Cake?” Petya slides you a blank look and Aleksandr taps his fingers to the table. You poke fun, “For when you’re on break, of course.” 

Yefim’s eyes sparkle in their colorless state, a handsome smile taking his lips back along his face. He makes a move to stand up, floorboards squealing loudly as weight is lessened. 

“I would be in your debt—”

The world explodes into a slate-gray blaze of heat and hellfire. 

Your body is thrown back before you can even begin to understand that you’re in danger, panic completely bypassed for a total blank sensation of confusion. Spine slapping into the glass of the window, your form is hurled by a vast boom out of the bakery entirely before it slams to the concrete multiple feet away. 

You slide, rolling in a mess of limbs and ripped silk. For a good moment, you have no idea what just transpired, confusedly lifting your head from the ground and blinking below you as everything rings. Your hand grips the side of your head, the thick liquid seeping in between your fingers as you peel it back and look with shaky vision. 

Blackened blood is coated along your palm, slipping along your wrist as you tilt your hand up in horrified uncertainty. 

Everything comes back in a millisecond of screaming and running feet; like a switch being flipped. You snap your head back to what remains of the bakery as blood slides down your temple. 

“A-Alyona?!” Heels sliding, you stand but stumble back down just as quickly, hands slapping against the ground as you raggedly cough more, chest burning from the force at which you’d been thrown. 

What the hell had just happened? An explosion? 

There was little left of the bakery beside the front door, smoke billowing out of the broken windows as gray flames spark with the familiar sound of burning material—a sharp burn is taken into your nostrils. 

Dragging an arm forward, you grasp something warm and wet in an attempt to get up again. You look to the side and immediately scream at what you see.

Yefim’s upper body was completely fine besides the burns and the lack of his hair, the peeling flesh…it was the absence of the entire lower body that struck you with waves of horror. You slam a hand to your lips and wail, slipping back on kicking legs as tears well in your tear ducts.

Guts were leaking over the concrete, and the dark, gaping, wound spread a fast puddle out around the sputtering that made his chest look like it was moving. Eyes flutter, lashes flapping quickly. 

He looked confused, and that was perhaps the worst part of it. 

Yefim died only half a man, his entrails pooling out of his ribcage, only twenty seconds after you’d asked him if he wanted a piece of cake. Your fingers hide the loud sobs as you stare into this blank expression, hand shaking so bad that it hits your nose. 

“I…I,” you stutter, shapes and flashes rushing back and forth at the sides of your vision. Pressure holds at your left shoulder. 

“Seraph!” The sentence falls off into feminine Russian cursing and screaming, a grip shaking you back and forth, urging you to listen. 

There are wails and the roar of cars, but you don’t have to be given a speech to know the truth about the toll as the fire burns hotter and the blood runs faster. Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim are dead. They had been sitting on top of something that had triggered when Yefim had released weight from it. 

The creaky floorboards. 

“Seraph!” Alyona tries again, grabbing you under the shoulders and dragging you away from the corpse as bystanders’ phones flash with pictures being taken. There’s just so much screaming. “Seraph, please, we need to move! The fire is spreading!”

They had been sitting right on top of it. But…but they always sat there…they…they were always…

In the corner of your eye, a dark phantom looms across the street as the first sirens of the police cars race down the road; a burning silhouette of black mist and ashen smoke.

As the bakery burns and the corpse of Yefim grows cold, it slips away into the forming crowd.

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[toomuchracket]

love potion (sweetheart!george x reader fluff)

george's gf gets a new perfume and he's obsessed. short and sweet. day 2 of valentine's week. enjoy <3

you drop your bag onto the desk before you slide into your seat. yawning, you pull your textbooks and pencil case from the bag, taking out a pen and tapping it against the front of your exercise book while you wait for the rest of the class and the teacher to file in.

well, while you wait for one specific person to walk in. it doesn't turn out to be a long one, though; luckily - and characteristically, you suppose - he's on time.

“i recognise that rhythm, you little thief,” george's smile is audible as he walks behind you to get to his own seat, and a big one appears on your own face at the sound of his voice. he winks at you as he stands and pulls his books from his bag, and you can't help but grin. “sorry for making you sit through band practice for so long on saturday that you memorised my drum part, baby.”

“s'ok. i like watching you play,” you turn in your chair as george sits next to you, leaning on the back of your seat and looking adoringly at him. “i think it's hot.”

your boyfriend smirks at you, shuffling his chair closer to yours and slinging an arm around your shoulders. “i think you're hot. morning, angel,” he leans in to kiss your cheek, but snaps back to look at you almost as soon as his lips meet your skin, eyes wide. “what is that?”

“what's what? have i gone patchy?” your brow furrows, and you rifle in your blazer pocket for the compact mirror you know you picked up before you left for school. strange - you thought you'd done a decent job with your makeup, for a monday morning. “seriously, g, is there something weird going on with my face? tell me, please.”

he doesn't answer, just closes his eyes slowly and lightly nods the way he does when he's processing.

it makes you panic. “george!”

your boyfriend jumps. “hmm? nah, you're gorgeous. sorry, angel, what i mean is… what's that smell?” george practically shoves his whole face into your neck and inhales deeply. you giggle, slightly nervous of being caught engaging in pda, and gently shove him off you; he sits back and smiles at you, eyes dazed. “did you get new perfume, or something?”

“oh,” you touch your neck almost self-consciously, nails grazing the pulse point you'd spritzed onto just under an hour ago. “yeah, when i went into manchester with mum yesterday. gucci.”

“ooh, posh,” he smirks, laughing when you elbow him and leaning back in his seat quite attractively. “smells amazing, though. i really like it.”

“yeah?”

george nods. “yeah,” he sits up again, nuzzling into you and inhaling the fragrance a second time. “gonna stay like this for the rest of the day, thanks. maybe for the rest of time, in fact.”

you giggle. “you're an idiot, babe.”

“only cos you're irresistible,” george takes a final sniff of your perfume before moving to sit properly. “you and that perfume. gonna be a struggle keeping my hands off you all day.”

“nah,” you ruffle his hair. “ the novelty'll wear off soon. you’ll be fine.”

oh, how wrong you are.

that first class - the only one you actually have with george today - is fine, albeit your boyfriend constantly leaning closer to you “just so i can see the board without that guy’s massive head in the way, babe”, despite him never having complained about an obstructed view before. you don't say anything, just nod and bite back your grin and do your best to focus on your work; easier said than done, when george’s lips are only inches from your own. if you just turned your head…

jesus. what is up with the two of you?

he does kiss you, though, when the bell rings at the end of class. that in itself isn't unusual - despite your aversion to pda, you know everyone's too busy rushing to shove everything back in their schoolbags and make it to next period to be looking at you and george - but you do let yourself linger against his lips for a little bit longer than usual before pulling away. 

actually, it's george who breaks the kiss first. “you're trying to kill me, aren't you?” he breathes, helping you up from your seat and wrapping you into a hug. “wearing that perfume, kissing me like that. and here i thought you were a nice girl.”

you laugh, leading him towards the door. “well, babe, you know what they say - always the quiet ones.”

“yeah,” george hugs you again when you reach the corridor; you giggle when he, yet again, deliberately takes a breath of your perfume. “see you later, angel. don't miss me too much.”

“i should be saying that to you!” you scoff, ruffling his hair. “bye, baby.”

you pass your boyfriend again an hour later, on opposite sides of the art corridor. a cheeky grin appears on his face when he spots you from a few feet away, and judging by the warmth in your cheeks you reckon there's a flush forming on yours. it's busy, two parallel currents of people coursing up and down to their respective next classes, but george still takes a second to lean over and kiss your head when you get near enough to each other. “you smell amazing!” he shouts, as you separate again.

“oh my god, stop it!” you call back, elbowing your suddenly-hysterical friends and turning to walk even faster towards the languages department. george’s laugh is audible, even as you move; he shuts up abruptly, though, and you hear (in quick succession) a bashing noise, your friends’ giggles turning to gasps, and the stern voice of the head of art. you're too far away to hear what she’s saying, but it can't be anything good. you wince. “someone tell me what just happened. i can't look.”

“i think,” jodie's shoulders are shaking, a telltale sign of her trying to keep from laughing. “george might have just walked straight into the door because he was too distracted by you, and miss malone's giving him shit for it.”

“what?!”

“and yet,” saira smirks. “he's still trying to look back at you.”

you shake your head, trying your best not to smile. “idiot boy.”

and you're sure to call george that to his only slightly bruised face at 3pm, when he swans out of the music corridor doors towards you, waiting with folded arms, cocked hip, and knowing smirk. you pull him into a hug. “i can't believe you walked into a fucking door.”

“don't you fucking start,” george groans, doing his best to lean down and hide his face in your hair for a second, before leading you towards the gates. “s'your fault i did it, anyway. and also that i fucked up in double music.”

“oh, piss off, it was not my- wait,” you stop dead in your tracks, turning round to gawk at your boyfriend. “did you just say you fucked up in music?”

he frowns, only speeding up his walking to the point he's less holding your hand than dragging you behind him down the street. your jaw drops. “you fucked up in music. you? george daniel? you fucked up?”

“if you mention it to literally anyone, i'm never giving you a lift anywhere ever again.”

you kiss his cheek. “alright. i'm sorry, baby. but… how?”

george sighs. “kept falling out of time because i got distracted thinking about your new perfume.”

“you being serious?”

“dead,” he nods. a tiny smile appears on his pretty face. “teacher kept asking me if i was ill. that's how bad it was.”

“oh my god,” you sling his arm over your shoulder, looking up at him with a grin. “maybe you are. maybe you're having some weird allergic reaction to it, and it's giving you brain fog.”

“but then why would i want to keep snuggling with you?”

you shrug. “seeking comfort because you're poorly? i don't know.”

“hmm, you could be right. maybe i am ill,” george ponders. without warning, he turns you in towards him and begins pressing kisses all over your face and making you giggle. “i think i'm lovesick.”

you shove your bag further up your shoulder and wrap your arms around george's neck. “god, how awful. what's the cure?” you sigh dramatically.

he grins, one of the shit-eating variety. “a snog from my girl.”

“oh, i think we can manage that,” you lean up on your tiptoes and press your lips to your boyfriend's, sighing into his mouth when his tongue traces your lower lip. george’s kisses always leave you dazed, and this is no exception - he has to hold your hips to keep you from wobbling too much when you break apart, breathing heavily. “wow. you cured?”

“nah, think i need a second dose when we get back to mine,” george smiles. “once my homework's done, that is.”

your eyes widen. “ok, maybe you are actually genuinely ill.”

“i'm serious!” george tugs you onto his street. “get all the distractions out the way first, so i can focus on what really matters: snogging you.”

“right,” you nod, biting your lip so you don't laugh, as george digs around his pockets for his house key. he kisses your cheek as he ushers you inside, and you preen at the sweet gesture. “well, we'll see how much we get done, babe.”

“all of it. i'm determined. even chemistry.”

you kiss his head as he bends to unlace his shoes, unconvinced he’ll have the willpower. “sure, sweetheart, whatever you say.”

for the second time in a day, though, you're proven wrong. george powers through his work in a couple of hours, sliding everything off his bed once he's finished with the most smug face you think you've ever seen. “time for my lovesick meds, i think.”

“alright. but you better not be thinking about me in one of those slutty nurse halloween costumes,” you say, getting up from the bed to grab something from your bag.

there's a muffled noise from behind you, which you figure is george face-planting into a pillow. “well, i am now,” he sighs, leaning round to look at you, and sits bolt upright when he sees you spritzing perfume onto your wrists and neck. “is that…?”

“it is,” you wander back over to the bed, climbing onto your boyfriend's lap and resting your arms on his shoulders. his make do with rubbing your thighs through your tights. “your favourite.”

george smiles. “nah,” before you can even react, he flips the two of you so you're lying beneath him. “you're my favourite. i love you.”

“i love you,” you pout your lips, and george takes the hint. he kisses you, long and slow and sloppy, teeth pulling at each other's lips, tongues licking into each other's mouths, hands trailing and cupping and squeezing and caressing, brains getting hazier by the second as the oxygen leaves and the dopamine sets in. you gasp when you feel his lips move across your jaw and down your neck, pressing soft kisses before settling on a recently-discovered spot that drives you mad, while his deft fingers work to remove your tie and unbutton the top buttons of your blouse - he pulls the fabric aside slightly and continues to trail kisses down, soaking up the drip trail of your perfume and gently biting when he reaches the edge of your bra. softly moaning, you card your fingers through his hair. “george.”

quick as a flash, he's hovering over you again, stroking your cheek. “you alright, angel? is there something you want?”

“yeah,” you breathe, twisting to kiss the tip of his thumb - and savouring the way his breath catches in his throat - before smiling your sexiest smile. “close the door.”

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Michael Gavey - In a relationship - SFW/NSFW

warning : fluff, Michael being well Michael, drinking wine, degradation, oral (f reciving), lingerie, teasing

Info : Yeah what can I say besided Michael is the cute, clingy slightly obsessive sweet Nerd and I love it. Have fun reading ;)

—————————

SFW

°Affectionate, emotional and arrogant

°Michael loves you no question he loves you from the moment you brought him an extra sugar free candy bar when you bumped into each other alone one night. ,,Here, you never know when you're hungry...not like you can calculate it with a formula" you told him - a simple joke, no more, no less. But for him, for the involuntary genius, it was the beginning of something he thought he would never experience.

°The relationship with a woman

°But it was exactly that evening that he saw your kindness, friendliness and outstanding taste in men. It was bound to happen at some point that a girl like you recognized him after his "friend" Oliver left him and betrayed him. He had to have everything you wanted in a man, at least someone like him.

°Even in the first few days, even if he tries not to make it look like it, he clings to you, won't leave you and couldn't hide that big grin at lunch and during the break when his arm was around your side. He may have been the loser but with you he was above everyone.

°Every day he brought you a Crunchy and you brought him all of yours. He loved it when you gave him a math problem, he knew he was helping you with your homework when you took out your pencil and your smile made him giggle. ,,I deserve a kiss, don't I darling?" he loved to ask knowing she couldn't refuse her cute kahki pants and shirt wearing boyfriend.

°Who needs student parties, lonely beer times or anything else when they have you? You lead him into a well, slightly different world. Gone are the alone times in front of the computer, books and early bedtimes. He had you. You, on the other hand, took him to the drive-in movie theater where his hand kept running over yours while he had a crunchy bar in another one. He can't help but tell you fun facts about the movie and you roll your eyes in amusement as his mood suddenly changes when some of the moviegoers criticize the film. You can hear his screaming and he only calms down again with a surprised expression when your lips touch his. ,,My emotional mathematician tiger," you told him and saw his lips curl into a grin and a blush rise on his cheeks.

°You went out together in the evening and he insisted on going to a restaurant with you. He, the classic romantic, is of course always with a Crunchy bar with him. The two of you after the dinner date on which he had perhaps drunk a little too much wine he was nervous it was always a little true around you and it led to a relaxed sweet side of the blond. ,,You-you...youuuuu are soooo beautiful...soo prettyyyy," he slurred as he nestled his head lightly on your chest and began to count your heartbeat. It at least calmed him down and helped him come down from the alcohol.

°You maneuvered you too onto the bed, you couldn't get him off you but he loved it and you liked the way he mumbled praise the more tired he got. ,,You're so pretty...your heart beats in a symmetrical beat my darling" he murmured and his hand stroked through your hair as you smiled and took off his glasses and kissed him goodnight.

°However, he cannot separate himself from his darling even at night. No matter how much you twist and turn he stays snuggled up to you and you find out that he talks about math formulas in his sleep. Too cute. But he's a real blanket stealer and holds onto them with a strength you didn't expect from the math nerd.

°The morning starts with a hug, tea and pancakes. Pancakes he made himself while listening to a science lecture and telling you the latest gossip. The gossip he thinks is important and has picked up that he knows you'd like to have a laugh about in the morning.

°,,Does my lady have a math problem for me? A fact or...a crunchy bar?" he asked as he sat down next to you with a smile, sipping his tea and hugging his turquoise shirt to his body while his nightcap was still on his head. ,,I even have a kiss for you, my lord," she smiled and gave the already calculating man another kiss. From now on, every morning would be like this for the two of them.

———————————

NSFW

°Something you didn't know he had in him like his attachment would be his devotion to degradation. ,,My good girl will get full marks next time… isn't that right?" he asked his favorite as his long, shapely fingers snuck under his school skirt.

°He seemed to be a changed man when it came to revealing his inner self for every tease, look or misbehavior he takes out on you in one way or another. Not like the jocks who hit their girlfriends or the rich guys who played with everyone. No he was more sophisticated he played with her like a genius he enjoyed it.

°Which always starts with a simple hand on the thigh a hint. ,,You know what you have to do," he reminded her, leaning over as he saw that she was doing her homework all wrong. It was just homework and something like a game of cat and mouse developed between the two of them. For every wrong homework assignment, he pushed his fingers on her body, pulled her in his room and made her read the Math books while he fucked her into the mattress.

°For every math tiger attack from a boyfriend who was always watching her behind his sweet innocent gaze, the hug that lasted too long, him sucking in her scent, his lips whispering lewd words to her and leaving her with hot cheeks. she hit him back in her own way.

°She knew he adored her in every possible way, he was a pathetic desparet nerd after all.

°He was always watching her, his eyes were always on her. But above all, she always saw him licking his lips, adjusting his glasses and dropping his pencil when he saw her lingerie. Whether it was black, white, pink or purple, he loved to see his imagination run wild and before you got together he jerked off to every picture of you in that pretty lingerie. Tried to secretly take pictures to keep and not ruin them completely with his lust.

°But now it seemed like a callback to the time before you knew exactly how needy he was getting, forgetting to study and eating right out of your hand. An off-the-shoulder sweater with the straps of your bra showing, a short skirt that practically begged you to bend over and look underneath? There were scenarios for him to take advantage of all of them until it came to "studying" in the library. ,,Michael sweetie, tell me, what do you think of these?" he heard her quiet but sweet voice and looked up from his notebook in amazement.

°He saw how she had pulled up her skirt slightly and he had a perfect view of the dark red pantei, the tip of which nestled against her skin and she saw how he swallowed and looked around. But no one was there but them. ,,You want Mommy to do well on her exam, don't you?" she murmured, her hand sneaking onto his cheek, slowly taking his glasses off his nose, seeing him blink, but the pink on his cheeks let her know that the cute butterfly had been caught by the spider. ,,Yeah-anything for you, of course," he mumbled, his fantasy of having her for himself and giving her everything she wanted from him coming true thanks to his girlfriend.

°No sooner had he spoken than a pen suddenly fell to the floor and Michael disappeared under the large table and obediently, excitedly and aroused, went between her legs, kissing every inch of her. His fingers stroked the warm soft skin, kissing the birthmarks on the way to her center. He almost made a whimpering sound as her one hand placed itself on his head, playing a little with the strands of his hair while her shoe went down on his center. He was desperate just to please her, to give her everything so that she would continue to treat him like this, he didn't want to lose her, so he almost like a starving man didn't let go of her and took everything he got while his darling leaned back in the chair and praised him while he slowly began grinding against her leg like a lapdog. ,,Such a good boy-fuck for mommy".

°It didn't stop at just one time for each back and forth between the two of them, the other one made a point of making it stronger. Michael to fuck her harder, to moan the right answers straight to him. While she in return can just practically force him on his knees and use him like a toy and he would do anything for her just to get her sweet attention.

[tomtenadia]

Check My Heart - 3

Hello all,

Here we are with another chapter and be prepared for a super sweet DadRowan...

MASTERLIST

A week had elapsed and on that morning in late August, Rowan was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for him and a lunch pack for his daughter. It was her first day of school and he needed it to be perfect. He had cleared his schedule for the morning and afternoon. 

The previous night she had been excited and together they had laid out the uniform and prepared the backpack. She had asked for a panda backpack but her pencil case, pencils and pens were all Hawks branded. He was going to buy her regular ones but Maya had wanted to flaunt her allegiances right from the beginning. He knew his daughter and was sure she was going to brag about him very soon and put in place anyone claiming Perranth was better. HE loved his daughter but would admit that she had spent far too much time surrounded by hockey players and for an almost 6 yers old she had very strong opinions already. 

His parents had convinced him to send her to a private school with great reputation and quite an interesting curriculum. He was nervous and prior to enrolment Rowan had requested a meeting with the headmaster to discuss his situation. Had to disclose that the mother was not in the picture and that his parents looked after Maya when he was away and also were the only people beside him to be allowed to pick up Maya from school. 

So far his daughter had lived in a sort of protected environment but now she was going out in the world and, although Elide had done a wonderful job at dealing with most speculation with regards to his marriage to Lyria, he was afraid that something might leak at the wrong time and reach his daughter.

Breakfast ready, he climbed upstairs and went in Maya’s room. His daughter was just getting off the bed, her elf light switched on “morning big girl.”

Maya ran to him for a hug which Rowan did not deny her “Are you excited about school?”

She spread her arm wide “this much.” Rowan kissed her and then both went back downstairs.

“I made you waffles.”

Maya smiled and tucked in as soon as the plate was in front of her.

“I spoke to Miss G and she knows you are starting school but you can have some training in the afternoon with her after school.”

“Can we go tonight, dad? I want to tell her about school.”

In the weeks since the day he had played on the ice with Aelin, he had met her almost every morning. He had started to teach her some basic hockey manoeuvres and in return she had tried to teach him figure skating. Suffice to say that it reminded him of when as a toddler he was learning to skate. But it had been fun. Neither ever mentioned their accidents and he was not sure if she knew about him but surely she was less grumpy with him.

“That we can do.”

“She is teaching me the tappo jump.”

“You need to show me.”

Maya smiled proudly and Rowan was looking forward to see his daughter on the ice.

*

When he arrived in front of the school he paused before switching off the car and pushed back the tears he felt pooling at his eyes. 

“Dada, school!” Maya was trying hard to unfasten her belt so he quickly jumped out of the car and went to her door “wait a second.”

Once his daughter was ready he grabbed the backpack, locked the car and together they walked to the main door. Maya was buzzing, Rowan was struggling to let her hand go.

Inside they were met by teachers and Rowan walked to the table to see where his daughter was heading to.

He had visited the school with Maya a while before and she loved it.

“Name?”

“Whitethorn,” he said quietly. Hockey was a big thing in Terrasen and he did not want any fans interrupting his moment with Maya. The woman at the desk smiled at him and then pointed to a specific room.

“Ready to see your class and meet your teacher?”

“Yes,” added Maya jumping up and down in excitement.

“Welcome,” said a woman with dark skin “My name is miss Falliq and I will be your teacher.”

“I am Maya and I love school.” The teacher kneeled and smiled “I am so glad.”

“Dada, I am at school.”

Rowan kneeled and hugged his daughter “I know baby and I am so proud.” A big kiss smacked on her cheek “and I love you so much.”

Maya returned the kiss “I love you too dad.”

Rowan all of a sudden could not pull back and let her go.

Then he took a deep breath and pulled back “I’ll pick you up after school and we are going skating okay?”

“Okay.”

Finally he stood and the teacher reassured him.

Rowan pulled back his cap and sneaked outside as quickly as possible. He hid in his car for a few minutes and fought the tears that threatened to spill. His girl was growing up fast and there was not a day in which he worried if he was doing a good job.

He was about to go back home but in the end he drove to the ice rink. Maybe some exercise would dull the ache of sending his daughter to school.

In the changing rooms he went for his lockers and wore a pair of training trousers and then his spare clean jersey. It felt strange to wear it again, with his fingers he brushed the C on the left hand-side then closed his eyes and pushed aside all the dark thoughts. 

As he walked along the tunnel he felt the soft notes of music filling the arena. He was positive it was Aelin and his step had an unexpected spring until he emerged out of the tunnel and froze. 

The usual pang of panic spreading through his body.

Rowan cursed. He had been feeling better recently and had no more panic attacks but now… he leaned against the wall and tried to control his breathing as his mother had coached him. She kept insisting that he had ptsd and maybe he should see a therapist but Rowan dismissed the theory every time. When he finally got his breathing under control he resumed his walk and emerged and spotted Aelin dancing at the rhythm of classical music. It was relaxing. While training with her they always kept the music on and he decided that it definitely did the trick. It had the power to keep him concentrated on the music and not on the ice.

He sneaked in and sat on the bench and studied her dance. She probably had spotted him but did not appear to be bothered by his presence. Aelin did a series of loops and jumps and he thought he recognised a Lutz. He had tried and learn more about the jumps and during their sessions he had managed to improve his single toe loop and a waltz jump, he still looked like a demented oaf but at least he was holding the landing now. 

He smiled and kept watching her. Aelin lifted her leg behind her, grabbing it with an hand and then he saw her body folding forward until it resembled a doughnut. She spun and he was mesmerised. 

Watching her skate was a thing of beauty. 

Rowan was quite familiar with some of the performances from when he was with Lyria but Aelin seemed on another level.

She was up straight again and skated in a wide oval to gather momentum, Rowan watched her get in position for a jump but as she was about to take flight he noticed the brief hesitation. That split second was all she needed. Her skate caught in the ice and went flying on the ice. Rowan in terror skated to her “Aelin,” panic in his voice.

“I am fine.” She snapped in a furious tone.

“What happened there?”

She was silent and turned her head away from him.

“Aelin?”

Silence.

“You were trying an axel.” He admitted as he had seen her preparing for a forward take off.

“I…” her hand went to her knee “I just missed the timing.”

Bullshit, he wanted to shout. He had watched a lot of her videos of her competitions and she never missed. She was amazing and all the accolades she had been attributed were deserved. All of a sudden he realised she was struggling just as much as him. 

“No, you didn’t.” He said softly and she looked up at him with a broken stare.

“I know…” he whispered and saw the surprise in her eyes “I saw the video.”

“You mean you saw me throw my career in the toilet.”

“It was a freak accident.”

Aelin scoffed hard “I landed a perfect triple axel and then what do I do? I fucking mess up with a Lutz?”

Rowan chuckled “well, it might be like us not scoring while on a 4 on 3 power play and an empty net.”

“You do realise I have no idea of what you just said?”

“We just need to teach you more hockey.”

They fell into silence and he sat at her side on the ice “want to know something cute?”

Aelin nodded.

“Maya started school.”

She squealed in delight “she told me that she was starting school, she was all excited.”

He lay down on the ice and could not care about the temperature.

“You seem sad.”

“No, I am happy, but it scares me at the same time.”

Aelin was about to ask something but Rowan stopped her and shook his head.

“Get up old man, show me some hockey.”

Rowan got up and went to the locker room and gathered some equipment and got back to the ice. He placed the net and the a few cones.

“You taught me some basic, now it’s my turn.”

He grabbed his stick and with experienced agility he zigzagged between the cones and scored.

“Do I need to cheer? What if I support the other team?”

“You really are a menace.”

Rowan huffed a laugh and continued “now, when you are handling the puck you need to protect it. Other players will try and steal it so they can score. To do that, you do this movement.” He placed the puck on the ice and showed Aelin the motions “see? You move it left and right and protect it using the blade as shield.” He finished skating and scored again “you try.”

He passed her the stick “This is huge.”

“That’s what she said.” He added with a smirk.

Aelin moved on the ice, her agility on the skates was perfect but he saw her struggle to control the puck that kept escaping.

Aelin screamed frustrated and Rowan moved closer. He pondered how close to get “Can I?” He asked, wary of personal space. When Aelin nodded he moved behind her and his hand covered her on the hilt. Slowly he moved their joined hands showing her the correct movements “Try now.” He pulled back quickly but the scent of lemon verbena still engulfed him. 

A scream of joy awoke him from his thoughts and he noticed Aelin skating among the cones with a far better control. She was a quick study. Of that he had no doubt.

When she scored Aelin celebrated with a loop and a jump and Rowan just stared at her mesmerised by that woman with fire in her veins.

“Well, you can join us next game.”

“No thanks, You brutes can have fun.”

Rowan stopped in front of her “now try and get to the net with me blocking you.”

Aelin grabbed the stick and concentrated in a fierce expression “I am ready.”

Although Rowan went easy on her she never moved much as he blocked at every single try.

“I give up.” She added throwing the stick on the ice “I don’t care about hockey anyway.” 

Rowan huffed a laugh “oh, the brute in me is hurt.”

Aelin was about to dismiss him when he stopped her “What’s a tappo jump?”

Her expression was one of curiosity “there is no such thing.”

“Maya said that she was learning the tappo jump.”

Then understanding dawned on her “the tap toe jump.” Quickly she demonstrated it to him “it’s one of the very basic jumps we teach, a fundamental,” Aelin did another jump but different “this is the bunny hop. Another basic jump.”

“Try the first one again.” She showed him and Rowan observed with interest.

A moment later he tried and crash landed on the ice. Aelin circled around him “All okay old man?”

“I haven’t fallen this much in a lifetime.”

Aelin nodded to his feet “your skates are not meant for this, you have no toe pick.”

“Oh, I have heard of that…”

“Good, now let me go back to my training before class comes in.” And with that she skated away leaving him on his own.

He chuckled to himself. It had been fun. Eventually Rowan went back to his training, allowing Aelin’s music to keep him focused. The team was getting back soon and he had to be prepared.

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[bloomingpresent]

FERRO ROSSO CHAPTER VIII

Pairing: Charles Leclerc/Female reader digital artist older woman

Summary: in your mid 30’s you never imagined you’d be divorced. To help with the healing process you decide to return to your first love: digital illustration. Posting videos of your art online leads you to work for Ferrari. But you never thought it’d lead you to find somebody who’s going to bring you back to trust again in love.

Warnings: NSFW! 18+, swearing mention of sexual words, consensual sex, penetration, cheating, sexually themed. IT’S ALL ABOUT REVERSE AGE GAP HERE. Older woman with a younger man. They are both adults, don’t be judgemental. 

Disclaimer:

I don’t mean any offense to Mr. Leclerc. 

English isn’t my first language so all mistakes are my own. My Italian is basic so be gentle, please.

All the previous chapters are here

The sound of your cell phone wakes you up the next morning. You turn towards the nightstand and pick up the phone without looking.

"Hello?" You answer with a sleepy voice.

"Do you want to tell me what this email I'm reading?" Your agent's voice speaks on the other end of the line.

You barely open your eyes. "It's pretty clear," you answer, trying to adjust your vision to the morning sun that barely enters through your bedroom window.

"Do you want to end your contract with Ferrari?!" she asks. You can hear the sound of cars in the background.

"Yes" you answer dryly.

"Why the hell do you want to do that?!" Your agent sounds agitated about the topic.

“I…” you try to sit up on the bed. You know that if you are not honest with her, she will never understand why you want to stay away from Ferrari. "I have an affair with Charles Leclerc and I'm not able to handle it," you answer, almost whispering.

The silence on the other end of the line is worse than yelling at you.

"Hello?" You repeat, rubbing your eyes.

"I'll see you in the office in 1 hour. If I'm going to do this, you’d buy me coffeeat least" she answers on the other side.

An hour later, you're walking up the stairs to your agent's office in central London.

You can almost hear her lecturing you about being professional in your work.

You let your agent know what happened. Her reaction ranges from anger, to surprise, to understanding you as a woman.

"I'm going to talk to Ferrari's agent. It's not easy to get out of a contract like that. But you have to show up for the restart of the season, otherwise it would be a breach of the contract, at least until I can pass on my proposal to them, okay?" " she tells you as she plays with the pencil on the desk and drinks the Starbucks coffee you bought her.

You don't want to, you don't like it and you don't feel like doing it. But there you will go again, into the den of the wolf again.

What motivates you the most is that you don't know Baku, so from now on everything will be work and if possible, get to know a new city. Which is what you're really going to miss about working with Ferrari.

You have everything planned scientifically. Your agent will release you from this contract and you will be able to return to your studio to create your art in peace.

Just one more time.

Baku shows you right away that it is the capital city of the modern world. Maybe you wouldn't have seen places like these if it weren't for F1.

Everyone on the team has renewed energy after the mini vacation. But you are not.

From the moment you check in at the hotel you are alert. Or ready to avoid all contact with a certain driver.

The first day on the circuit, when you arrive at the hospitality area, you receive a video call from your agent.

"I'm afraid I don't have good news for you," she says as soon as you answer the call.

You walk outside the Ferrari hospitality area while talking. "What are you talking about?" You answer her, already agitated, fearing the worst.

"Ferrari is not willing to terminate your contract" she tells you with a strange smile on her face.

"That's funny?! Why can't I end my contract with them?! I'm just another designer" you try not to raise your voice but you're flustered.

Your agent's smile is bigger now. "They actually offer you a promotion, and from what I'm seeing it has already been made effective."

Your heart stops for a few seconds. "What?! Effective promotion?!"

"You are now Charles Leclerc's PR agent, dear." Your agent laughs openly.

She tells you that out of the corner of your eye you can see the movement of photographers and cameras at the entrance to the hospitality area. That means a driver is making the entrance.

You move out of the way, holding your breath, hoping it's not him. "What the hell?! Why?! How?!" You spoke to your phone screen in complete shock while walking through the group of people.

"Apparently he asked for you." the voice on the other end of the call tells you.

This can not be. It's the only thing you can think about while you hold your phone with your mouth open and ignoring what's going on around you.

"Be careful what you let into that open mouth," someone tells you from the middle of the group of people.

Of course it's him. With his big smile and his winning attitude. And continue walking towards the hospitality area.

You want to kill him.

You just sigh and close your mouth. You put on your best smile of commitment and walk away.

What follows is an open discussion between you and your agent about the topic. She explains why you can't get out of the contract, you tell her why you won't accept it, she tells you again why not and why you shouldn't do it. Then follows another long sermon about how good this is for you professionally.

Again.You want to kill him.

You don't understand why, how and what he wants from you.

Your agent convinces you after half an hour of your arguments and tantrums.

You just sit on the floor between the giant equipment trailers trying to prepare yourself for this.

In minutes you'd have been in front of your new boss to start working at Team Leclerc.

You are completely stubborn and you are not going to let it affect you. IF he wants you to be the person who is stuck to him throughout the season, that's how it will be. And you will be the most professional person in the world.

This is your plan, it is decided. Whatever he wants with this. He's not going to make it.

It takes you more than 1 hour to introduce yourself to your new superior and get up to speed on your new tasks. The questions from your colleagues do not wait. About how and why you were promoted. Silvia Hoffer, your new direct boss, is an experienced person and surely smells something of what is happening. But she doesn't tell you anything, she just tells you what you should do and she makes it clear that "this is a test, if it doesn't work for us, we can let you go."

Only she knows what she means by "make this work." But you're as stubborn as Charles, and you won't let whatever her reason for doing this ruin your resume.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as you step into the bustling Ferrari hospitality area. The adrenaline from the chaotic morning lingers, and you can’t shake the image of Charles from your mind. He’s a magnet, and somehow, you’re drawn to him even when you want to run in the opposite direction.

As you navigate through the sea of team members and journalists, you catch a glimpse of him across the room. He’s laughing with a couple of reporters, his charisma radiating like sunlight. You can’t help but feel a twinge of longing mixed with annoyance. Why did he have to complicate things?

Silvia appears beside you, breaking your thoughts. “You’re going to have to talk to him eventually. Remember, professionalism.”

“Right,” you murmur, forcing a smile. “Professionalism.”

“Let’s start with a plan,” she suggests, her tone businesslike. “We need to establish clear boundaries.”

You nod, trying to focus. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Good. And just so you know, the media is going to love this. They’ll eat it up.” She glances over at Charles, who’s just spotted you. “Looks like it’s time for your first introduction.”

Your heart races as he strides over, that effortless confidence in every step. He stops in front of you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, look who it is. My new PR agent.” 

“Don’t get too excited,” you retort, crossing your arms. “I’m not your personal cheerleader.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks, his gaze steady on yours. “Just think of me as your biggest project.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Let’s just stick to the work, shall we?”

“Of course,” he replies, a teasing lilt in his voice. “But I hope you’re ready for a little chaos. F1 isn’t exactly quiet.”

“I thrive in chaos,” you reply, matching his playful tone. Inside, however, you’re a bundle of nerves. This is going to be a test of your patience—and your heart.

As the day progresses, you find yourself following him around the paddock, taking notes on interviews and media obligations. Despite your best intentions to stay professional, there’s a chemistry that crackles in the air, leaving you breathless. 

During a break, you find a quiet corner to gather your thoughts. You pull out your sketchbook, a habit from your days of digital illustration. Drawing was your escape, your solace. But today, even that isn’t enough to ease the tension.

“Hard work?” Charles’s voice interrupts, and you look up to see him leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“Just… organising my thoughts,” you say, trying to sound casual. 

He steps closer, glancing at your sketches. “You’re really talented, you know?.”

“Thanks,” you reply, suddenly feeling shy. “It’s just a hobby—was just a hobby.” You set the pencil down, meeting his gaze. “But now I guess it’s part of my job.”

He tilts his head, studying you. “You seem conflicted about all this.”

“I didn’t want this role, Charles. I’m not sure I can handle it, especially with… everything.” 

He hesitates, the playful spark dimming. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know it’s complicated.”

“Complicated is an understatement,” you say, frustration bubbling up. “I’m trying to get my life back on track, or was trying to get my life back on track, and being around you makes that difficult.”

“I get that,” he says softly, stepping even closer. “But maybe this is a chance for both of us. To redefine things. To… figure it out.”

Your heart races as you look into his eyes, seeing a sincerity that makes you want to trust him. But your walls are high, fortified by past hurts. “I can’t just jump back into… whatever this is.”You look around, clearly this isn't a subject to be talking around people. 

“I’m not asking you to,” he replies, his voice low. “Just take it one step at a time. We can keep things professional, but I can’t help the way I feel about you.”

Feel about you. He said that you did not imagine it.

You swallow hard, feeling vulnerable under his gaze. “It’s not that simple, Charles.”

He takes a breath, looking momentarily pained. “I know. But I’ll be here, whether you want me to be or not.”

Before you can respond, Silvia appears, breaking the moment. “Y/N, we need you for the next briefing,” she says, oblivious to the tension. 

You nod, glancing back at Charles, who offers a small, encouraging smile. As you turn away, you feel the weight of the decision hanging over you. Maybe you’re not ready to dive back into love (or whatever this is), but with Charles, it seems like you’ll be navigating a whole new kind of chaos. 

You take a deep breath and head towards the briefing, determined to keep your focus on the work, even if your heart has other plans.

PS: I'll post the next chapter tomorrow! It's Charles POV. Thank you for waiting on me!

Tags: @janeh22 @elenizacharop @h-jpg

[sevenpoyo]

school headcanons for because i only got 3 more weeks

margo’s is so long even tho she got like 2 minutes of screen time bc i love her so much and she’s my gf

Margo Kess, 1610Miles, 42Miles, Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar

margo kess / spiderbyte

ain’t shorty on zoom in the movie?

my girl dont attend class, she once shut down the entire blocks power so she would have an excuse to not be in class

eats in class all class everyday, only shares with you

takes really good notes and never studies them

like???? ma’am??? share???

all her electives are programming related and she pretends to busy while playing centipede all day

sends you 50 links to stuff you might like while ur in math

she got papers that let her opt out of gym

no matter how much you beg ur gonna be alone in gym and she doesn’t feel bad about it

popular with no friends type

like everyday 50 ppl stop you both and say hi

she only knows like 5 of their names she can’t stand half of them niggas

empty ass backpack like she got one notebook and one binder

all a’s and b’s like bitch how

her memory is absolutely ass but she can remember every story you told her or stuff that happened when y’all hang out

don’t ask her what she did in her class

don’t ask her if her class also has a history test

she don’t know

she don’t care

but she do know that when you were 8 your cousin burned ur thigh while y’all were playing iron vs knife fight

(u were dumb as hell for picking knife everyone knows iron always wins)

i looked it up on her word everybody uses those virtual avatars

she’ll shit on your class choices so damn hard

she just likes making fun of your choices fr

like half of ur conversation go;

damn i’m tired

u was up doing stupid shit last night you don’t get to complain

stfu that’s why ur a bitmoji

that’s why ur granny beat ur ass for something your brother did when you were 9

i hate telling u shit

then stop telling me shit

(i have no clue how accurate this is to her character but i need to write about her i’m in love but damn it’s long)

1610 miles / spider-man 2 lmao

book bag full locker full but never has a pencil

writes notes assignments and homework in paint pen ink don’t ask this nigga for notes

(he gets nigga treatment but not my queen margo bc i got favorites)

he miss mad classes but somehow still solid attendance record???

somehow always present in the record he miss 40 days and get caught on like 6 of them

unless his mom make breakfast and lunch on her day off for him he eating the most random shit from the bodega closest to visions

like what do you mean you got a cosmic brownie and a cold chopped cheese from last night ? it’s literally 7 in the morning no i don’t want none

makes you hype him up every time he slap boxes people and he’s so ass at it

he be ashy with no lotion atleast 5 times every month it’s embarrassing

he calls visions his white people school to his parents and his friends

once he said it to gwen and they sat in literal complete silence for like 10 minutes

prolly took music theory because he thought it would be easy and switched out of that shit so fast

i’d be so mean to him for enjoying physics

like this nigga trying to make something of him self

lil einstein ass nigga

he understands color theory but can’t explain it

12 half full sketchbooks but at school he literally draw on computer paper he don’t let the sketch book leave his bag

i know he’s ass at watercolor, he always spills shit, the colors always end up brown

try’s to be interested in your class choices bc he wants to know stuff he can talk about with you

when you first meet he can’t take meaner jokes bc he thinks that you mean them

but one day he’s gets comfortable, and brutal

no one in your life is safe when he looses a video game

except your mom

rio taught him better than that

42 miles / the prowler

comes to school with no school related supplies in his bag unless you count art stuff

finds a pencil on his way to class

has a change of clothes, rat tail comb, 3 bottles of water, a camera, a flashlight, lotion and cocoa butter.

like bro ur going to Ap Art not a camping trip

once he pulled out a griddle and and pancake mix and y’all started making pancakes in class

forgets his metro pass every day and gets so pissed ab it

runs into people in the hallway bc he’s never paying attention

idk if he goes to visions but if he does he calls it his white people school with his full chest to anybody even if they’re white

he be leaving halfway through the day all the time like bro you miss algebra 2 every damn day

uncle arron always talking him out of school with some bullshit reason

bro’s had his tonsils out 8 times on the school’s records

He will get ur parents to put his uncle on ur pickup list and you will be out of there with him

he will YELL if someone step on his shoes no matter what the situation like the school could be on fire and he fighting in the burning building

also his uniform is so pristine

his pants stiff

that button down is bleached ironed pressed and allat

this mfer is an online shopping addict u just know he be on amazon in class

will offer you the weirdest food combos like no i don’t want to put tajin mangoes on my beef patty i’m sick of you nigga

not school related but he’s super good with kids (both miles fr) but he’s the #1 little cousin defender and apologists

he ride for them always one of ur little cousins could sucker punch u and he be like

‘they just want u to play with them’

he takes a preforming arts class for fun prolly

loves sports but doesn’t play one understands the stats well and would help if you played one

wakes up at the asscrack of dawn on weekends

SICK ASS COSTUME FOR HOLLOWEEN IK THIS NIGGA LOVE HOLLOWEEN

plans costumes for school spirit weeks but always checks to seen if he’s gonna be the only one wearing a costume for it

never eats lunch unless his mom makes it he be hungry all day and be complaining

his socks are never in uniform (yes some uniform schools have sock rules)

gwen stacy / spider woman / ghost spider

idk what to call her

she has every snack you could ever want in her lunch bag

hates her music theory teacher

she literally has the most pristine locker with a calendar and a mirror and all that shit will write down test for you and important dates for the both of you

goes to school plays and shits on the story, like she ain’t pay 5 dollars to be there

some of her teachers hate her

like ma’am ur beefing with a whole 16 year old rn

she hate english teachers but love creative writing teachers

she keeps all her books in her locker never brings them home never brings them to class

always comes through with an extra pad no matter what

she also always has hand sanitizer

in like 4 extracurricular after school things and complains so bad

ur starting to hate that shit to ur sick of hearing it like girl quit then

10/10 cameraman she has every fight and every drama in 10khd and she will share them if you ask

she chews her pens and nails

has her drumsticks out always teachers have banned her from taking them to their classes

can watch tv on her phone but look focused you think she’s paying attention but then you look over and she’s watching good luck charlie

pavitr prabhakar / spider-man india

always late for class never in trouble

always eating and sharing food and never in trouble

how is he blessed like this? it ain’t fair

eats from the school vending machines or begs other ppl to share

will always have and share the homework answers no matter what he’s an angel

his sock always have holes in them like sir please get that shit together

gym try hard ik goes insane in football/soccer

very encouraging for shit u don’t wanna do he believes in you

you him and Gayatri talk so much shit but are somehow all well liked

he tells you what teachers are dating (he can just tell)

he has toothpaste in his bag for some reason?? i can just feel this one

his aunt will let you come over after school she’s so sweet to you.

always got a job at school assemblies

he’s reading poems or shaking hand or leading in the school pledge or something

Pav’s is short because i have no fucking clue if school in India is different form america and Barbados