Too Little Too Late (2/?)

Whether it’s true or not, I feel like announcing vaccinated people can go places without masks is extremely irresponsible right now.

pajarito || javier peña x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: After a botched raid, you and Javi both need a cigarette. Sitting together on the sidewalk outside the embassy, you find out you both need each other too.

Pairings: Javier Peña x DEA Agent!Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, friends to lovers | Word Count: 3k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, ptsd, smoking 

A/N: Somebody called for “local gruff DEA agent is secretly a softie with the girl he loves” with a side of angsty love confession? This one’s for you! ♡

“Javi. Cigarette.”

He cast you a sidelong glance as you sat next to him on the edge of the sidewalk, his gaze lingering only a moment before he reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a pack of smokes. He handed you one, flicked his lighter on for you, and frowned at you.

“What?” you said around a drag. The nicotine immediately flooded your system, quieting some of the shaking in your hands that you were trying very hard to hide.

He shook his head. “Since when do you smoke?”

You held the cigarette between two fingers and pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes, warding off a headache.

“You’ve only known me for a few months, Javi,” you said. You’d started at the embassy a little over six months ago, put on Javi and Steve’s intelligence team by Ambassador Noonan. Though you stayed in the office at the embassy most of the time, you’d gotten to know both men very well. Perhaps too well, in Javi’s case.

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Reblog if Fan Fics are just as valid as Fan Art

Affirmation for writers, please!!

Likes do nothing!!

Dance

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Warnings: unabashed fluff, Din being an awkward turtle, Reader being just as awkward, the baby being his cute self (this is just further proof that I am better at writing angst or angsty fluff) Word Count: 1.6k 

Summary: You know you love the Mandalorian despite never seeing his face but you don’t know if the feeling is mutual. So in order to not ruin what you have, you’ll just keep it to yourself. At least you planned to, until you went to a planet having a festival. 

Being on the same ship with the Mandalorian was both a blessing and a curse. You loved everything about being on the Razor Crest, except when the water heater gave out midway through a shower, but there was one other thing that was making it hard to act like everything was okay. See despite your best efforts, it seemed like you had fallen in love with the Mandalorian and you didn’t even know when it had happened. 

Was it when you saw how he treated the Child like his own son or when he looked you over for wounds when another bounty hunter got too close to taking the Child and you protected him? You weren’t sure. You just knew that you had fallen and you had idea if he felt the same way. 

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La Belle et La Bete

Ghost!Ezra Prospect x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k 

Warnings: angst, mentions of death/poisoning, enemies to lovers, AU, cursing, brief mentions of NSFW, angst with a semi-happy ending, crying, lots of fluff

Summary: You’d been able to see ghosts for the entirety of your life, but the last thing you ever expected was to fall for one.

Beautiful ghost!Ezra fanart by @honestly-shite

You don’t remember when you began seeing the specters in your day to day life, believing them to be just oddly dressed people up until a certain point. You remember the day you realized that the people you saw were not living, however. You had pointed at a rather odd looking man in a top hat that towered over you, exclaiming to your mom about the funny hat. The man had smiled at you and given you a little wink, but your mother had gawked at you like you were the one with a two foot tall hat perched on your head. It became quickly apparent that you possessed a gift that those around you did not; a gift that you would have to keep a secret unless you had a wish to spend the rest of your days in an asylum.

They were everywhere, and the only way you could truly set them apart was the slight translucent quality to their skin and their often time-inappropriate clothing. As you grew older you realized that it was not, in fact, normal for adults to walk around in Victorian era garments, and for young men to be adorned in shiny metal armor.

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*sweeps all of my AU ideas under the rug* why must I be called out this way?

sending “I hope you get that job” vibes to the people out here tryna get jobs

TO ALL MY WRITERS AND CREATORS!

I am on my knees begging you.

STOP ANSWERING THESE HATEFUL ANONS

All they want is attention. They want to see you hurt. That is their goal. If we choose to stop giving them that power over us, if we choose to ignore their hurtful words we will find peace. If we don’t stop arguing with them and putting their trash on display for everyone to see, not only are we helping them achieve their goals but we are also wrecking the beautiful museums that we are working so hard to build.

Evil people will still be evil and no amount of shaming, cussing out, or disciplining will ever be able to change that.

Let’s take back our site. Let’s take back our confidence as writers and artists. Let’s put the trash where it belongs; in the trash can. We don’t need their noise, and they don’t deserve a place among the beautiful stories and art you’ve created.

STOP ANSWERING THE HATE AND LET IT DIE OUT FOR GOOD.

I love you all and I’m tired of seeing good people be hurt by disgusting ones. 🧡🧡🧡

If none of them married, how desperate would the Bennett girls actually have been?

Well the only dowry they have is £50 apiece from their mother’s small inheritance, per year; so that’s a total of £250 generated by Mrs. Bennet’s inherited investments per annum.

The Dashwoods (four women) are living on £500 a year when they are forced to live in Barton Cottage (with good-will making the rent presumably ridiculously low thanks to Sir John Middleton’s good nature, to say nothing of all the dinners and outings he invites the ladies to, which will help them economize on housekeeping costs for heavier meals.)

So there would be six Bennet women left to live on half as much as the Dashwoods are barely scraping by on. £250 is roughly considered enough to keep ONE gentleman at a barely-genteel level of leisure (presuming he does not keep a horse or estate or have any major expenses beyond securing his own lodgings/clothes/meals at a level becoming of a gentleman.)

None of the Bennet girls have been educated well enough for them to be governesses to support themselves, so…yes, their situation would heavily rely on mega-charity from others to just help them survive, much less maintain them in the lifestyle they’ve been accustomed to. The Dashwood women have NO social life beyond the outings provided by Sir John and the offer of Mrs. Jennings to host the older girls in London–otherwise they’d be stuck in their cottage, meeting absolutely no eligible men, creating a cycle of being poor and unmarried and too poor to meet anyone with money they could marry.

If the Bennet girls don’t at least have ONE of them marry well enough to help the rest before their father dies, they are really, truly, deeply fucked.

They may joke about beautiful Jane being the saviour of the family, but…it’s true. Mr. Bennet failed his daughters several times over in A) presuming he’d have a son, B) not saving money independently from his income to support his family after his death when it became clear he wasn’t going to have a son, C) not educating them well enough to enable them to support themselves in even in the disagreeable way of being a governess, D) not making any effort to escort his daughters to London or even local assemblies to help their matrimonial chances because he just doesn’t feel like it, E) throwing up his hands and shrugging when faced with the crises of Mr. Collins and Wickham.

Much as we are relieved on a romantic level that Mr. Bennet’s support of Elizabeth saves her from parental pressure to accept Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet is NOT A DICK for pushing for the match, because on a material level it very much means they get to KEEP THEIR HOUSE and gain a connection to the powerful patron Lady Catherine de Bourgh, which could be VERY advantageous for the other unmarried girls.

And the scandal of Wickham very nearly scuppers the chances of ANY of the other girls, and Wickham is a further DRAIN on the family finances, not a man who is going to substantially be able to support them. It is SUCH a disaster, and of course there’s not much Mr. Bennet can do until they are found, but he’s away in London and doing…what, exactly? Mr. Gardiner takes over and manages everything and Mr. Bennet seems happy to just let him.

Mr. Bennet does the ABSOLUTE LEAST, and actively damages his children’s futures by his inaction AND by his one action to support Lizzie’s individual needs being prioritized over the collective gain, which…I mean, Lizzie is going to be JUST as homeless and destitute as her sisters when he dies, so much good being Dad’s Favourite is going to do her. :/

Miller's Book Nook

Rating: G. Lots of shy fluff. Pairing: Bookstore Owner Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: 600 Summary: You've been infatuated with the handsome owner of Miller's Book Nook and it might just seem that he likes you too. Warnings: Tooth aching fluff, Joel's POV at the beginning.

A/N: I wrote a little something for Secret Springs. @secretelephanttattoo spun the wheel and I got Joel Miller and bookstore, AKA the coziest of cozy dreams. Thank you @saradika-graphics for the divider.

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The door jingles alerting him to a customer. Christ, it’s almost time to close. Really? His internal anger dissipates once he looks up. He hides a smile, it’s you, his secret favorite customer, his heart springs to life when you shyly smile towards him. 

He clears his throat, removing his reading glasses and tucking his novel to the side. “Evening, looking for anything in particular?” 

“Oh, hi, no, just browsing, thanks.” 

“Just let me know if you need any help.”

Your head bobbles a nervous nod before turning down the new release aisle.

It’s always the same interaction. Same question, same answer, same response, so why does it always mean so much to him? 

—

You’re running out of shelf space, most of your extra income sits in the cash register of Miller’s Book Nook. You can’t keep away from the cozy brick building with its creaky hardwood floors and cinnamon scented air… not to mention the handsome owner.

Joel.

He’s always here. Quiet, intimidating, a man of few words. If you weren’t such a voracious reader, you’d still be trying to find excuses to stop in just to look at him. 

The text on the back of the book swirls in your head as you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps approach you.

“Heard that’s a good book, it’s next on my list,” his timorous voice is deep, sending a wash of calm across your body.

“I’ve been meaning to get it, guess today’s the day,” you glance up towards him. He wears a slight smirk, his eyes crinkling with warmth. 

“Guess it is. I’ll take it up to the front for you so you can keep looking.” 

“Thanks.”

He grabs the book and walks away, his wide shoulders taking up most of the aisle. A long exhale you’ve been holding deflates your lungs before you move to the next section.

—

A glance at your watch shows it’s fifteen minutes past closing time. Whoops. 

Timid steps bring you to the checkout counter where Joel looms behind, greeting you with a warm smile.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see the time.”

“Not a problem at all, got nothing else going on,” his pleasant and deep voice sends a shiver up your spine.

Your head angles down, searching for your wallet in your bag. 

“On the house.” 

Your head darts up, eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, I can’t do that, Joel.”

This is the first time you’ve ever said his name out loud, you’ve never been formally introduced. 

“I’ll have none of that, please,” he urges the book into your hand. “You’re my favorite customer.” 

His voice softens with the last sentence, a wave of goosebumps prickle across your skin while your head swims with the implication of his words. 

“Thanks Joel.”

One last smile is sent your way before you clutch the book to your chest and leave.

—

You’ve been looking forward to this moment all day. Comfy couch, warm lamplight glowing, a lit cinnamon candle that smells like Miller’s Book Nook, your favorite fluffy plaid blanket covering you, and soft music playing. You nestle yourself amongst all of the coziness and open your new book. A small note card drops out. Neat, angular handwriting is written across it. 

Enjoy. I’m going to start reading it tonight. Please feel free to text me and we can talk about it.-Joel 

Your finger runs across the imprint of his phone number, a huge grin breaking across your face as you reach for your phone.