#Amex Rate

[merchantservices444]

What Is An Example Of A Merchant Fee?

[mead-iocre]

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leah bringing spoiled!reader with her to new york for a work event. spoiled!reader with her hermès bubblegum pink birkin 35 with palladium hardware and her baby pink prada patent leather heels. the restaurant was lovely, highly-rated, and expensive– exactly suited to reader's taste. the chef's tasting menu was $500+ per person with wine pairing. reader and leah were in for a feast with the 10-course menu. seared shrimp, fennel mousseline, sauce bouillabaisse and more; but reader's favourite was the pan roasted filet mignon, coupled with celeriac “bone marrow” and an aromaful red wine-shallot sauce.

best believe this girl will always tip the servers (!!!!!). when the bill comes ($1410+ thanks to the domaine de la romanée-conti la tâche grand cru 2016 bottle of wine that reader insisted she had to try, but did not even finish a glass of) reader would proudly exclaim "I've got the tip!" and leah would just chuckle, all sweet and endearing, handing the waiter her amex card without even glancing at the bill. like "aw that's nice of you, baby"

reader would clumsily open her bag, digging through her chanel lipglosses, bottle of tom ford perfume, organic mints, various bottles and tubes of hand creams and face mists and such, to find her wad of hundred dollar bills neatly clipped in a stainless steel, custom-made money clip with her initials of course. she'd pull out four hundred dollar bills and hand them to their waiter with a sweet "thank you, sir!".

leah watches as she smiles, clearly very pleased with herself, tucking the stack of hundred dollar bills back in her birkin. Her sweet girl. "look at'chu lil sugar mama"

she practically preens at her praise. "I actually withdrew it from your card, lee"

pulling out her chanel hand mirror, quickly retouching her lipgloss. "can we stop by the bank before we head to soho? might need to withdraw some more"

"...well, I guess it's nice that you're so generous, baby"

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

tip your waiters folks!

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Young President!Coriolanus Snow x Call Girl!Reader, Dom!Coriolanus

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is in himself his own warning. Dubcon, Noncon, choking, impact play, kissing, degradation, biting, p in v, breeding kink, creampie, talks of sex work, talks of past sex trafficking, talks of poisoning/murder

You stare out the pitch black tinted window as the driver of your black luxury car drives you to your destination, the Presidential Palace. You've been acting as President Coriolanus Snow's personal high class call girl for years. Well, ever since he became Head Gamemaker and saw you in Pluribus Bell’s illicit, but high end sex club.

Pluribus had acquired you when General Byzantine had put you up on the auction block after using you (and literally torturing you) as his personal fuckdoll. Despite looking like a broken piece of shit, hatred and fire burned in your beautiful eyes. According to Pluribus, it was the look in your eyes that made the old man buy you; put you in charge of the girls in his sex club.

So, basically, Pluribus made you a Madame. Not that you minded. Hell, it meant that you didn't have to fuck nutjob, crazy, overly kinky whackjob Capitol men anymore.

But when Coriolanus Snow came into the club, after being invited by Pluribus after breaking off an engagement (why things didn't work with the Cardew banking heir, Livia, you didn't know; didn't care either) and laid his icy blue eyes on you, well, he just knew that he had to have you.

At first you told Pluribus no when he approached you with Snow's request, but then the platinum blonde pretty boy cornered you with an offer you couldn't refuse. A private penthouse, your own car and driver, a black Amex, and never having to work another day if you agree to be at his beck and call as his personal call girl.

His high class girl, as he called you.

That was 5 years ago.

Yea…

At this rate you'll probably be President Snow's high class girl forever.

Hopefully he finds himself a wife so you can move on with your life. Maybe take all that money you have squirreled away and get a nice beach house somewhere in District 4. The weather's lovely there. Maybe you'll even find somebody to settle down with; even have a kid or two.

It'd be nice to be able to retire from whoring. You've been in the game since your family sold you at age 15 to pay off debts. You've been fucking for a living for a decade now; it's getting old.

But at least the President is the kindest out of all the men you've been with, which is saying something because Coriolanus is as cold as his name, Snow.

You're so far inside of your head that you don't even notice the car stop or your driver, Herbie open the door.

Herbie clears his throat, only.to announce, 'Ma’am, we're here.”, causing your self imposed spell over your mind to break.

“Thank you, Herbie.” You simply told him, stretching your hand out for him to help you out of the car.

“I'll be here waiting for you, Ma’am.” Your driver told you, shutting the door once you were out of the car.

“Thank you. I won't be long.” You politely assured Herbie before walking towards the side entrance of the Presidential Mansion, which was marked with a trellis of vining; blooming roses. The side entrance leads straight to Coriolanus' personal living quarters; of course you had the key for it.

Your black designer stilettos loudly echo against the marble as you walk up the white and gold staircase that separates the president's personal living room, sitting room, kitchen, and dining room from the bed chambers, bathrooms, and his private study. You've only ever been in his bedroom and the sitting room. Both were immaculate, so you assume that the rest of his living quarters in the presidential palace must be extravagant too.

One thing you've noted about President Coriolanus Snow over the last few years of knowing him is that he has high class taste. A posca taste, if you'll call it. The more expensive, the better.

And it's that trait of his that has you baffled about why he's kept you around so long to fulfill his needs. Surely he can find himself some young, beautiful, and naive high class twit from a rich family to groom into his perfect classy woman.

His First Lady.

Surely, he must be getting tired of paying for you- putting you up in a high end penthouse that's about a 5 or so minute drive from his palace. Back before he became president your place was literally the next building over from his. Yea, that's how classy and ritzy of a penthouse you're in.

“I'm in my room, darling.” Coriolanus called out to you as soon as your heels clicked against the marble of his second story floor.

No shit, he's in his room. He's always in his room. He's either sitting on the bed end settee or on his ornate sofa, but either way he's donning his waistcoat and smoking while waiting for you. The epitome of regal master.

“I’ll be right there, Coriolanus.” You called back, speeding up your steps slightly to reach the white and gold scrolled double doors of his chambers.

Opening the door and walking inside, you spot him lounging on his cream sofa. His legs are crossed and he has an arm lazily thrown over the back of the sofa’s ornate mahogany frame. Coriolanus’ platinum hair his in its natural curly state, which is a rarity, but also means that he ruined his slicked back look by running his hands thru his hair all day- something he does when frustrated or nervous. And, like always while awaiting your visit, he's smoking.

“Darling, I told you last time you were here to call me Coryo.” The President told you, reaching his arm out to tip his ashes into the crystal ashtray that's on the mahogany coffee table.

“I'm sorry, Coryo. I forgot.” You lied thru a smile, a smile that was so fake it wasn't even funny.

You didn't forget, you just don't want to call him nicknames. Not when you know that your arrangement has an expiration date; one that'll be coming up soon enough.

Sitting up, he pointed to you with his cigarette and said, “Show me what you wore for me tonight.”

He did this every time you came over for his booty call. It was a ritual you're used to. You'd be shocked if he didn't ask you to model the lingerie for him.

With a sultry smile, you untie and unbutton the long red trenchcoat you're wearing. “It's a new set that I bought the other day.” You inform Coriolanus while opening up the coat and letting it fall off your shoulders; onto the floor.

President Snow's mouth watered as he took in your form dressed up in a lacy black bustier and matching cheeky panties along with those black stilettos with the red bottoms- the ones that he loved seeing you in. He thought that those heels did wonders for your legs, legs that he loved to have wrapped around his body- whether he was fucking you or feasting on your cunt.

Snubbing his cigarette in the crystal ashtray and rising from the sofa, the president smirked, “I do enjoy it when you go lingerie shopping, my darling rose.” Striding over to you, only to circle you like a predator circle's it's prey, the regal platinum blonde looked at you hungrily. As if he's starving and you're a filet mignon.

Coriolanus stopped right in front of you, only to give you a smoldering look while unbuttoning his maroon waistcoat, his long fingers moving lithely. Shrugging off the vest and chucking it towards a nearby sitting chair, he closed the distance between you. His tall form towers over you; you know what he wants from you.

It's what he always wants from you.

You ran your hands over his chest, which was quite toned underneath his crisp white dress shirt, and pressed your lips to his Adam's apple. As you kissed a tantalizing trail down his neck and to the collar of his shirt, leaving blood red lips tip stains in your wake, his large hands snaked around you. His breathing was husky and lustful as you lifted your head up, staring straight into his baby blues, while unbuttoning his shirt. Your red nails a stark contrast to his shirt.

“I have a business trip I need to attend in 12.” Coriolanus said while you pushed his shirt off of him after opening it up. You just nodded, raking your red nails up and down his chest before tweaking his nipples. Just the way that he likes.

You thought that all talks of his meeting was over, so you leaned forward to kiss him, but he stopped you by lifting up one of his hands and grabbing your chin. “The mining bosses are having some issues with their workers meeting production goals; I'm leaving in the morning and you're coming with me.”

Your eyes went wide. You can't go to 12. No, you won't go to 12. You refuse to go back to that shit hole you once called home, where your family- that sold you into a life of sexual slavery to a brothel for money to pay off drinking debts- lives.

“I'm not going to 12, Coriolanus. We'll see each other when you get back.” You firmly told him.

Which wasn't what he wanted to hear. In fact, he wanted you to nod your head; maybe make a remark about needing to pack, and then get to fucking him. You refusing him was never in the cards.

You just dealt him a hand he wasn't expecting. But, President Snow's an excellent poker player; he'll make due with the cards you've just given him.

Coriolanus' large hand slipped from your chin only to grab your throat. His face dipped so close to yours that his hot breath, which smelt like smoke, mints, bourbon, and coffee, fanned over your face. “I'm not asking you, Y/N. I'm telling you that you're coming to District 12 with me.” His thumb pressed into your windpipe, not hard enough to cut off your breathing, but hard enough to make you wheeze and pay attention to him as he spoke in a cold, authoritarian tone. “I fucking own you, so when I tell you to do something you do it. You don't get to say no to me.”

President Snow looked like a crazed, disheveled mess as he chastised you. And you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on. Because it did.

Oh how it did. It might be wrong being turned on by a power hungry zealot who's telling you that you're his property, but the way he looked while doing it. Hot damn, it made your pussy pool; stain your black lacy panties with a wet patch.

Yea…you're pretty fucked up at this point in your life.

The platinum blonde's large hand slid from your hip over your lower belly, only to sneak under the waistband of your panties. He dipped his mouth to your ear, grabbing your pussy in his large calloused hands, while telling you, “I own this pussy, darling, and if I want to fuck it every goddamn day of my business trip then I sure as hell will.” Coriolanus bit your earlobe, hard enough to crack the pearl earring you're wearing.

An earring he bought you in the early days of your arrangement.

He pulled away, only to look at you darkly. Spitting the cracked pearl earring in your face, he pulled his hand out of your underwear. He brought his fingers up to his prominent nose, only to inhale your scent. His eyes fluttered shut and his face contorted into a look of pleasure. He was, for a lack of a better word, getting high off of your musk.

Oh yea, the President sure was something else…but who are you to judge? You're his personal whore, so…

His icy eyes popped open, with a lust filled crazed look, as he sucked his fingers one by one. Savoring the taste of your juices while keeping his tight hold on your neck with his other hand. His tongue swirled around his pinky, the last finger to be licked clean by him. “You taste divine. Too bad you need to be disciplined for your rude behavior and won't be having your cunt eaten by me tonight.”

“Disciplined for my rude behavior? Coryo, the only thing I did was tell you that I'm not going to 12.” You spoke up, standing your ground to your, for a lack of a better word, owner.

Coryo’s fingers pressed hard into your neck, no doubt leaving behind finger shaped bruises that would need covered up by IL MAKIAGE tomorrow. Looks like you'll have to make another trip to Sephora soon if you don't want to have bruises all over your neck shown off to the public. How embarrassing would that be, going to various stores with chokehold bruising all over your neck. You shudder at the thought of it.

“Talking back is rude behavior, baby.” He hissed before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was hard and bruising. Biting your lower lip; drawing blood, he pulled away from the kiss. Giving you a dark, slightly unhinged look, the stoic platinum blonde swore, “Bad girls get spankings and you're going to get so many that you won't be able to sit on your red, hot ass tomorrow during our damn train ride.”

Coriolanus is sitting on the red velveteen settee at the end of his gold and red velvet framed bed. You're bent over his knees, ass up in the air while your head rests on the settee. Your arms are outstretched; your hands arm firmly grabbing the end of the red velvet material for purchase as the President smacks one ass cheek and then the other.

*Smack, smack*

Coriolanus chuckles at how red your ass is. He's been at this for a while now; both of you have lost count of how many times his hand has come down on your cheeks. He rubs the sting out of your red ass cheeks before raising his hand high up in the air and bringing it down on the right cheek, only to repeat the action on the left cheek.

*Smack, smack*

Your designer black heels are still on your feet, so they sway in the air as you kick out of reflex due to the spankings. God, he would make you keep the heels on for this. Hell, this spanking session seems to be the longest in your entire life with him. Usually he indulges in a slap or two to your ass while taking you from behind, but never anything like this.

But it could be worse. He could be a crazy, torture hungry, fucking sadist like that crazy ass General Byzantine was. The man who beat you within an inch to your life and put you up on the auction block once a couple of his Avoxes had nurtured you to suitable health.

You were overjoyed when he died about 4-4 ½ years ago. All the media outlets say that General Byzantine died from tainted tea at one of the popular tea houses in the Capitol. Apparently Coriolanus was there with him, having a meeting for political purposes since he was running for Senate and nearly died. You remember that he had canceled your sessions for a week, but still put a hefty sum in your bank account; even requested that you wear a certain color lingerie (blood red) when you resumed your little booty calls with him once he recovered from nearly dying from tainted tea.

Your black lacy cheeky panties slid up your ass crack from the force of all the spankings. Coriolanus didn't say a word, just silently righted the panties before landing another pair of smacks to your ass cheeks, causing you to let out a loud squeal.

“Did my bad baby girl learn her lesson, or do you need more?” President Snow asked, his ardent tone a bit dark and mocking as he soothed your ass by rubbing it- with both palms this time.

“I've learnt my lesson, Mister President, Sir.” You told him, choking back a moan as you grew wetter and wetter from his hands just rubbing the sting out of your ass. Oh God, how your core aches for his cock.

Coriolanus let out a deep, throaty moan at your answer. He loves it, fucking loves it when you call him Mister President and Sir. Oh, and put them both together- yea he's fucking feral.

The president slightly opened your legs, only to swipe a long finger up your wet, clothed center. “Oh, darling, you're soaked.” He proudly announced. “Is that all for me?” Coriolanus rhetorically asked, already knowing that it was all for him.

You knew that the platinum president didn't need an answer, but decided to indulge him with one anyway. “Yes, Coryo. It's always for you.”

Coryo bent down and peppered your beet red ass with kisses. The plushness of his lips against your hot sensitive skin makes you squirm. Chuckling, Coriolanus sat up and pulled your heels off, one by one, and let them fall to the floor with a loud thud. He helped you stand on your feet, only to pull down your panties and toss you onto the bed.

As you lay on your stomach, head buried in his pillow, which smelled like him- like roses, you heard the sound of Coryo slipping out of his black floor shines while unbuckling his belt. You peeked over your shoulder, only to see him quickly unzipping his maroon pants. You turned back around, resting your head back on his pillow, as he quickly shed his pants and boxer briefs.

“Lift your ass up high for me and spread your legs as wide as they'll go, baby.” The President ordered you, to which you obliged him. Your ass was raw and stung, but your pussy was throbbing with need, as Coryo kneeled right behind you on his king sized bed. “Fuck, you're always such a needy lil slut for me, darling.” He remarked upon seeing your cunt dripping and glistening for him.

Looking over your shoulder, you smirked, “Only for you, Coryo, my Mister President.”

The platinum blonde's icy eyeballs nearly rolled into the back of his head at your words. Words that went straight to his cock, making it harder- if that was even possible.

“Yes, I'm your President and you're my perfect, pretty, lil slut.” Coriolanus groaned, teasing your clit with the angry, red, leaky tip of his cock. “You remember that the next time I tell you to do something, baby girl.” He said, grabbing your hips and snapping forward; sheathing his entire 8 inches into your soaking wet cunt. “Fuck, darling, you're so goddamn tight for me.” Coriolanus groaned, pulling out only to surge forward, causing you to mewl out in pleasure.

President Coriolanus Snow has a big cock and he sure does know how to use it. That's for sure. And you let him know that too.

“Of course I'm tight for you, Coryo. You're the biggest cock I've had, the only man whose tip kisses my cervix; whose girth stretches me out with a delicious sting.” You honestly tell him, stroking his ego and making him start to pound into you relentlessly.

Hearing you say that out of all the men that you've had in your whoring career that he's the biggest and the best makes his heart soar with overwhelming pride. So much so, that he'll just have to keep you around.

Permanently.

Coryo doesn't think that you'll have any protests about it. Maybe he'll bring up the idea while you're away on business in 12. Use the time away as both a vacation and a business trip. There is a vacant cabin in the woods that he knows of by a lake that could be a setting for a romantic night or two.

“Oh…fuck…Coryo…” You moan into the pillow that you're holding onto for dear life as you surge forward with every hard, fast thrust Coryo gives you.

“You like it when I fuck you face first in the mattress like a dirty fucking slut, don't you darling?” He groans, rutting even faster while placing a hand on the middle of your back; pushing you further down into the mattress. “Fuck, you're so sexy like this, baby.” The President huffs. “So fucking sexy.”

You moan into the pillow, but it comes out in a heap of garbled drools, as Coryo's cock hits that special spongy spot deep inside of you while his heavy cum filled balls slap against your swollen, neglected clit.

“That's it, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock, you pathetic slut.” Coriolanus encouraged in a half groan as you began to meet his thrust with ones of your own. You could help it, you needed to cum so badly. Fucking yourself on his cock while he pounded you was the only way to do that.

Turning your head, so that the side of your face rest on his drool soaked pillow, you mewl and whine, “So close, Coryo. I'm so close.” Feeling that coil in your lower belly tighten, you beg, “Please, let me cum, Mister President. Please, make me cum.”

Coryo quickly unhooked the long row of clasps that held your black lacy bodice together while cooing, “Don't worry, my pretty baby, I'll make you cum” The bodice fell off your shoulders, but Coryo slipped his arm around your middle and pulled you up on your knees, only to yank the black bustier off of you; tossing it to the side.

Coryo's hands instantly grabbed hold of your tits as he continued to harshly fuck you. His hands squeezed them roughly and pinched your nipples, all the while your hands clawed his wrists for leverage as he felt your climax coming on. Coriolanus knows you're close by how your cunt's clenching around his cock. “Fucking cum for me, darling.” he ordered, biting the crook of your neck.

The feel of his teeth roughly nipping your skin, only to use his tongue to soothe it, paired with his deep, erratic thrusts, his heavy balls slapping against your clit deliciously, and his large, calloused hands roughly fondling, had you cumming with a loud moan. A moan that was a string of curses mixed with his name: Coryo.

He fucked you thru your orgasm only to shove you back down onto the bed and plunge his cock hard and fast into you. His pounding was so relentless as he chased his own release that you felt another orgasm on the cusp. Oh gods, his cock felt so fucking good hitting you on all the right spots.

Oh fuck…

“I'm gonna fuck you full with my heirs, baby.” Coryo panted, his thrust becoming sloppy. “Can't wait to fucking knock you up; see your belly swell with my growing baby inside.” He babbled as his hands roughly held onto your shoulders for leverage. “You're gonna look so beautiful all round and full of my baby, my darling rose.”

You didn't pay him any mind. Didn't say a word about his string of impossible words. You're on birth control, so his fantasy of knocking you up is just that. A fantasy. A breeding kink, to be politically correct.

Coriolanus’ hips stuttered, once, twice, three times before he was moaning, “Fuck, Y/N, baby. Fuck…”, and filling your pussy with hot ropes of his thick cum.

Feeling his hot cum spurting into your womb sent you over the edge. “Coryo…” You mewled, cumming for a second time.

He didn't stop and pull out like he usually did.

No…

This time, Coriolanus kept fucking you. He fucked his load right into your pussy, causing you to let out a shaky moan from both overstimulation and your third orgasm of the night.

Coryo finally pulled out, but only after filling you up with a second load of his thick, hot cum. Cum that was somehow leftover in his balls from the first time.

The President smugly grinned as he watched his second load of the night slowly drip out of your puffy, abused pussy- looking like beautiful white pearls.

Ah, pearls. That reminds him…

“I bought you a new jewelry set for the trip. Fancier pearls than the ones you had; they're packed in your bag.” Coriolanus told you, sitting by your side and rubbing your back as you lay on the bed like a ragdoll.

Ugh. Of course, he bought you new things, including luggage, and packed them up for the damn trip to District 12- your personal hell- that he's dragging you on.

When you didn't say a word, Coryo pushed the strands of sweat soaked hair away from your face and asked, “Are you alright, baby?”

Pushing his hand away from your face, you simply assured him, “Yea, I'm fine.”

Nodding, he told you, “I'll call your driver, tell him that you're staying the night; then I'll run us a bath.”

You've never stayed the night before, prompting you to ask, “Why're you letting me stay the night with you, Coryo?”, as he stood up.

“We're needed at the train station bright and early, Y/N. It's just easier for you to stay here so we can head out together in the morning.” The President explained before taking off to do the things he told you about.

Of course, he wanted you to stick around tonight so he can make sure that you're on that train with him heading to 12 in the morning. You're his personal high class girl. His glorified whore. If President Coriolanus Snow wants you with him tonight to ensure that you step on that train with him tomorrow, so he can fuck you during his stupid business trip in hell, then that's what he's going to get.

You don't have a say in the matter. You're just around until he gets bored of you; finds something younger and prettier to satisfy his carnal desires with.

Only you thing you don't know is that President Coriolanus Snow’s never going to get bored of you or trade you in for a younger model. In fact he thinks you're the best girl he's ever had.

Hell, the devil himself knows that the President killed for you- even if you don't know it.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Girl in IT - 1. The Night Shift

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Preview: "Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal." “Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-" You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No Outbreak! Joel Miller, Mentions of intended smut towards the reader, Boss x Employee Relationship, Virgin Reader, All of the yearning, Joel Miller is a silly flirt, A small-ish age gap, Joel is too forward for his own good, Tess is a boss (and should not be fucked with - or you get the horns).

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: Well, hello there!

I honestly have no idea where this idea of a (somewhat crack) fic came from, but I had an idea and I ran with it! A lot of the character development came from my own anxieties of feeling behind in life, and if you feel that way too, I feel you! Don't worry, I promise it won't always feel like this. Time is just that- time, and it's never too late to follow your dreams! I believe in you!

To: IT@millerconstructiongroup.com

Fr: J.Miller@millerconstructiongroup.com

Subject: I think I have a Virus?

12:50 AM (10 min ago)

Hey Sugar,

I know it's late, but my computer fritzed out an hour ago (a shit ton of pop-ups) and I have that presentation with The H Hotel tomorrow morning. Well, do you think you could do me a solid and help me... not have any more of those darn pop-ups? I called the number that popped up asking if I needed assistance with the virus and they asked for my credit card information but they haven't replied back.

Shit, was that a scam? Fuck. I should call Amex.  

Anyway, do you think you can help me get out of this bind, Sugar? I'll be forever and eternally grateful. If you don't, well... I'm sure Tess will rip me a new one, and I would like to not have a Servopoulos-level meltdown at 9 in the morning. Not after last time. Sorry about having to be a part of that, Sugar. At least Maria was able to pay for your dry cleaning and get you a new shirt? You should have let me check your chest for burns, I sure as hell wouldn't want scalding hot coffee being thrown in my direction either. Shit. Not check your chest as in checking out your... breasts, just the burn site. Yeah. That's what I meant. 

(Also, sorry for emailing you last minute. Shit. I'm desperate, baby.)

Thanks,

Joel Miller 

Owner and CEO, Miller Construction Group

(512) 123-4567

To:J.Miller@millerconstructiongroup.com

Fr: IT@millerconstructiongroup.com 

Subject: RE: I think I have a Virus?

1 AM (0 seconds ago)

Good Evening Mr. Miller,

I got your request and will work on it shortly. I can't make any promises, but I will try to get you out of your "bind".  

Don't worry about that thing with Tess. She was rightfully upset, and I just so happened to be caught in the line of fire. If it had to be one of us, I am glad it was me being pelted with boiling hot coffee, and not you in front of your clients. You didn't have to have Maria buy me a blouse from Neiman Marcus, nothing a little tide-to-go can't fix, right? Also, I knew what you meant about my chest, and I didn't think you wanted to look at my... breasts. Let's not refer to any of my body parts moving forward.

Also, I am not completely comfortable with the terms of endearment that you continuously call me, Sir. Please refer to me by my actual name, these emails are monitored by Tess and I would not like to be scalded with hot coffee again for a little misunderstanding.  

Please let me know if you have any other pressing questions or concerns.

Goodnight!

IT Specialist 0926,

IT Department, Miller Construction Group

(512) 765-4321

"Ok Bubbles, let's see what mess Mr. Miller got himself into this time."

Settling by your coffee table, you access your remote portal and insert your portable SSD, initiating various programs to gain entry into your boss's laptop. Securing your hair in a messy top bun with a claw clip, you find yourself biting your bottom lip in concentration. Simultaneously, you switch on your TV, finding solace in the ambient noise that fills your dimly lit apartment—a space shared with Sir Bubbles, your British Shorthair companion since your college days. There's a marathon of Criminal Minds airing on TBS, Spencer Reid's adorable face on screen as he rattles off another theory for why the unsub was an abuse victim by his prostitute mother. You turn the volume down a bit, drowning out his voice.

It's near silent in the little shoebox you call home, the only decent place you were able to afford with your meager savings- after slaving away as a Geek Squad IT Specialist for the majority of your twenties at the Best Buy down the road from your parent's house. Despite graduating with your MIS at the University of Texas - Dallas, finding a decent job in your industry was brutal, and, honestly, quite embarrassing after receiving 30-plus rejection emails in a span of a year. Downtrodden and desperate for a job, you settled on working at Best Buy temporarily, but by the time you hit your mid-30s, it's been eight years working for barely minimum wage, and absolutely nothing to show for it. 

"Do you remember those sweet Miller boys who fixed our roof ten years ago?" your mother asks during a Sunday dinner six months ago, sliding a boat of gravy your way as you absentmindedly drizzle it over your mashed potatoes. "I ran into the older one... Joeseph? James? He owns his own company now with his brother, quite the feat, right? They're working on that hotel down the road... anyway, Josh-"

"Joel," you correct her, nudging the over-steamed carrots around your plate. "I think his name was Joel, Mama."

"Yes, Joel," your mother dismissively waves her hands. "Well, I told him about how you were on the job hunt, you know, with your master's and all. Oh, remember when you used to have that silly little crush on him? He's grown to be quite the looker, you know? Anyway, he told me that they were looking for someone to replace their old IT person—apparently, they retired—"

"Mom," you groan, "get to the point."

"Well," she grins conspiratorially, "he wants you to apply, baby. He remembers you and your little crush, and he said he could never forget someone as cute as you. If you're as good as I claimed you were, well... the job's practically yours!"

Your fork slips from your grasp, the metallic clang against porcelain causing Bubbles to leap in surprise, hissing at you in irritation. "Wait, what?" you blurt out, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion.

Your mother beams at your reaction, seemingly pleased with the bombshell she just dropped. "I told him all about your IT skills and how you practically run the technology world from your bedroom. He seemed really interested, sweetie. And, well, it wouldn't hurt to at least consider it, right?"

You sit there, a swirl of thoughts and emotions whirling in your mind. The unexpected twist of Joel Miller, the older Miller boy you once had a crush on, remembering you and possibly offering you a job—it's surreal. Bubbles, having recovered from the earlier disturbance, casually resumes licking his paw, completely uninterested in the familial drama.

"I... I don't know, Mom," you stammer, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. "I mean, working for the Millers? It's a bit... complicated."

She leans in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sweetheart, this could be a fantastic opportunity. And who knows, maybe that little crush of yours could turn into something more... professional, of course." She cuts into her meatloaf, humming in contentment as she chews. "Oh, and Sweetie? Wear the red sweater with your pleated skirt, with something other than those sneakers. You're turning thirty-six in September; you can at least do yourself a favor and start dressing your age for once! I'm sure Joel would appreciate it!" she winks at you as your father grunts in displeasure, rolling his eyes, muttering "meddler" under his breath.

"Mom, it was just a crush from a decade ago. Besides, mixing work and personal feelings is never a good idea."

She chuckles, reaching across the table to pat your hand. "Well, think about it, okay? Joel seemed genuinely interested in having you on the team. It's worth exploring, don't you think?"

A wink, a handshake, and six months later, you find yourself on-call indefinitely, catering to Mr. Miller's every technological whim and folly. It's not a bad job, you reason — getting paid triple what you made at Best Buy, monitoring everyone's browsing history in the office, and fielding the incessant IT requests Mr. Miller sends your way- which was often.  Way too often.

[My laptop won't turn on.]  Did you charge it? Try doing that first.

[Why does the volume not work on my Zoom calls?]  Did you make sure that you're not on mute or that your computer volume is up? Check that first.

[Since when did we put a parental blocker on the internet?]  It was per Tess, who said that employees should be working instead of looking up anti-feminist manifestos on Reddit. I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Miller. [Oh, well shit. Do you think you could unblock it for me? I am... having a hard time accessing my... bank account.] I mean- I could, but I would have to run it by Tess first. [Do you think you could... for me? It'll be our little secret, Sugar. Don't worry about Tess, I'll handle her.]  Sure, Mr. Miller... Right. Our little secret.  [Sugar, for the last time, it's Joel. Besides, I thought we were past having a silly little crush on me, you've grown into a... rather nice young woman. Please, call me Joel.]  Uh, sure Mr. Miller.

You are broken from your silent reverie by the unmistakable ding, ding, ding of the pop-ups Joel- Mr. Miller - you correct yourself, mentioned in his email. You scoff, biting into a piece of beef jerky. Typing in a command, the pop-ups halt, the black screen granting you developer access popping up as you run diagnostic after diagnostic trying to catch the little sucker - a virus, as Mr. Miller claimed - in the act of corrupting your poor boss' laptop once again.  There you are, you little shit, you mutter under your breath as you furiously type in more commands, eradicating Mr. Miller's bane of existence for good (or so you hope).

After running what felt like the tenth diagnostic of the night and downing three cups of coffee for the last three hours, the dawn of a new day streaks through the sheer curtains against your window. With bated breath, you restart Joel's system once more, closing your eyes until the familiar chime of Windows 11 booting up reaches your ears.

Please, please, please for fucks sake... no more pop-ups...

Joel's home screen pops up in an instant, the photo of him and his two girls smiling back at you as you breathe in a sigh of relief. "Fuck yes! Finally!" you silently exclaim, a drawn-out yawn and a deep stretch escaping your body as you settle your laptop on your couch. "Okay, let's just run a few programs and check a few documents to make sure they're not corrupted and then I can finally hit the sack..." you squint at the digital clock of your microwave, "and sleep for an hour before I have to get ready for work," you groan, eyeing the jar of Cafe Bustelo in the distance. Yep. No sleep for me, you think bitterly.  Another night, another one of Mr. Miller's computer meltdowns... 

Your eyes scan his desktop, opening up the PowerPoint file he needs for his presentation. It opens up with a slight lag, something you can optimize later but you breathe out another sigh of relief anyway. You check his internet browsing history, his late-night extensive porn viewing not a surprise to you anymore as you snort at the ridiculousness of it all.  At least it's not as bad and kinky as Tommy's browsing history, you tell yourself, because you'll never quite get used to all of the roleplay porn he watches religiously, you think. Closing out of Google Chrome, You scan his desktop for a random Word doc for you to open, not checking its title as you double-click on the first one that you see, slightly hidden by the Recycle Bin icon to the bottom right.  Wants? What kind of a file name is that?

The Word doc pops open, and it seems to be a running list of random things. You blearily scan the line items, your eyes widening in shock as you read on.  

Fuck her against my office door as I cover her mouth to muffle her screams.

Spoil her with a shopping spree at Neiman's with my Amex black card.

Fulfill my breeding fantasy by convincing her to get off of her Birth Control (do you think she's on one?)

Fuck her from behind against Tess' desk (serves her right)

You quickly exit out of the document, pushing your laptop away as if it were cursed. You look at the document title once more.  

Wants.

What the fuck was this? Who is he talking about? you ponder, the guilt of your negligence weighing on you like a weight tied to your ankles as you sink into the depths of the Atlantic. You shut your laptop for good measure, covering it up with your quilt as you shake your head in disbelief.  

What the fuck did I just read?

“Mr. Miller? Do you have a moment?”

You knock on the office door once more for good measure, standing timidly as you try to occupy yourself by smoothing out your dress - sensible, a decent length, work appropriate, you think to yourself. You try to not occupy the idle time of waiting for your boss, Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction- and the thing you found while remote logging onto his computer last night - I think I have a virus, his email stated - only to stumble upon something rather telling and personal - but he was your boss, and you were a professional, and you weren’t going to think about the list… 

Kiss her in the rain.

Make love in my truck as she rides me. 

Bend her over my desk and take her from behind.

Marathon sex

Eat her out as she works at her desk.

No, Joel was unequivocally your boss—older than you by at least a decade (and maybe a few more years, give or take), and the document titled "Wants" was clearly personal, likely intended for someone else, and certainly not meant to be seen by anyone, especially not an overly curious IT specialist like you. No, you reckon that this list was meant for someone else in the office - someone beautiful, sexy, and confident— someone decidedly who isn't you. Certainly not for someone who dresses like she’s still in college, who only recently began living on her own in a shoebox of an apartment (if you can call it that) after living with her parents for the majority of her adult life, and who barely has her life together. It’s pathetic, being a woman of a certain age and with nothing to show for it, still painfully single, nothing substantial to your name, only getting your life together now while everyone around you has done everything right.  I feel so behind in life, you think to yourself.  Who would want someone so pathetic as me?

It’s not like it’s a crime to have wants, you think to yourself. Everyone has them, including you, you reason. So what if you just so happen to stumble upon your boss's deepest (and somewhat depraved) desires? Doesn’t everyone have a bucket list of their desires written somewhere? So what if your older, attractive boss with his Gen X tendencies has it typed out on his work computer? It’s not like he meant for you to open up the Word doc, right?

You knew he was single. You also knew that he had kids, at least two—Sarah, his eldest, was the head of HR, and Ellie, his adoptive younger daughter, an apprentice working under Tommy, the other half of Miller Construction—a serial flirt who asked you about your dating life in your interview a few months back. No, you didn’t think about your boss and the sheer mass of man that he was, that he smelled like cedar and sandalwood, that he winks when he tells you good morning as you pass him in the parking lot while stumbling out of your less-than-impressive shitty Corolla. You also didn’t take note that he drinks his coffee black with a sprinkle of sugar—the one in the brown packet—or that he eats in his office instead of the employee lounge because he’s a messy eater. The deep red blush trailing down his neck as Tommy scolded him about his lack of table manners during a company-mandated team-building day wasn't proof enough of that.

There wasn’t a ring on that tell-tale finger, not even a tan line, no photographs of another woman on his desk—besides his daughters, of course. Not that you were looking. Tommy had his wife Maria come down to the office often enough; wouldn’t Joel be the same with his own?

Miller Construction prided itself on being a family-run company, with Joel and Tommy at the helm and their best friend Tess as VP—more the boss than the actual Miller brothers. While Joel and Tommy preferred the hands-on work on-site, Tess ruled over the office with an iron fist. No one dared to cross her.

"You've got one job, and one job only," she declared during your office tour. "Make sure no one spends the majority of their shift watching porn, and keep Joel from messing up his computer with his boomer-isms. We can't afford to keep replacing a laptop every six months."

"Isn't he in Gen X?" you ask. "... at 56 years old, he's still considered to be in that generation, right?"

"Technically, yes," Tess replies with an exasperated sigh. "But you know what I mean. Sometimes it feels like Joel is stuck in a time warp with his 'boomer-isms.' Just keep things running smoothly here, alright?"

As the days pass, you notice an unusual trend in Joel's computer issues. It seems that every time his laptop malfunctions, it coincides with a spike in suspicious internet activity. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots, and you can't help but shake your head at the irony of it all.

After a particularly eventful morning filled with more than the usual technical hiccups, you decide it's time to address the elephant in the room. You knock on Joel's office door, half-expecting him to be engrossed in some spreadsheet or construction plans.

It's not like you have to tell him about your snooping - he would be none the wiser judging by the way he was so technologically inept - you weren't about to tell him that the reason for the virus on the computer was because he was looking at some rather specific porn - boss fucks unsuspecting secretary from behind- his internet history had listed, nor did he probably think that his computer is being monitored, including his internet browsing history- company policy, as stated on the employee handbook that every employee of Miller Construction signs on the day of their official hiring- nor does he think that it sends reports to her at the end of the day.

You don't think about how the sudden uptick of his secretary porn viewing increased since a week after your hiring.  It's just a coincidence, right?

“Mr. Miller?” You call out once more. “It’s about your IT request last night? I have an update?”

“Yeah? Sorry! Come on in!” you hear from behind the door, accompanied by the frantic shuffle of papers and a silent curse. You take a deep breath as your hand turns the doorknob. Silently, you shut the door behind you, offering a small smile as you smooth out the skirt of your dress once more.

You fidget in place in front of the door as Joel—Mr. Miller—in his green flannel and dark jeans slung just right—it really should be criminal, looking this ruggedly handsome for someone his age, you think—as he ungraciously flops onto his desk chair, motioning for you to take the seat in front of him as he clears his throat nervously. “Take a seat.”

You situate yourself in front of him, refusing to meet his eyes as you fiddle with your hands on your lap, wondering why he, out of all people, would be nervous. It's not like he stumbled upon something so... intimate. You are a professional, and you were only doing your job, you tell yourself like a mantra, trying to ground yourself. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like he would fire you over your accidental snooping, right? You nod to yourself. “So…”

“So…” he replies, Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a drink of his coffee. “Thank you for taking a look at my computer last night.” He begins, smiling at you. “I know that it was late, and I’m willing to compensate your time by giving you time and a half…”

“Oh,” you nervously reply, shifting in your seat. “No, Mr. Miller—”

“Joel.”

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Please. We’re all family here. Call me Joel. Mr. Miller is my father for fuck's sake—”

“Right,” you chuckle. “Sure. Joel. Listen, you don’t need to compensate me for last night, let alone give me the overtime rate—”

“I emailed you at midnight; surely you were already busy, or I probably irritated your husband—”

“No.”

“No?” 

“No,” you mumble solemnly, “there’s no husband, just me and my cat-“

He barks at that, the laugh so loud it makes you jump in your seat. He gives you a look, almost as if he was relieved with that bit of information. “Well, disturbing your cat, then-“

"Oh," you reply casually, waving your hands in dismissal. "I'm sure Sir Bubbles didn't mind... and I don't sleep much, really—"

"Oh?" He straightens himself, his face serious. "Is it because of all of my requests? Shit. My girls give me such a hard time about not being with the times, I'm not really interested in technology— So no husband? Boyfriend, then?"

"Uh, no," you reply quickly, not eager to delve into the details of your lackluster love life. You clear your throat, adopting a professional demeanor. "Joel, as you're aware—or maybe not," you chuckle nervously, "I receive reports of all employee internet histories at the end of the day. Being the sole IT specialist on your payroll—perks of the job, outlined in my duties���I keep an eye out for any... irregularities."

"Irregularities?" he replies, his demeanor shifting into something resembling guilt. "What are you trying to get at?" he presses.

"Well, I monitor employee computer usage to make sure that they're not... distracted from their work," you reply. "Tess was explicit about not having any employees using company time for any unnecessary personal... dalliances."

Joel gives you a hard look. "Dalliances?"

"Yes, dalliances. Tess told me it was an issue before, with employees browsing social media and visiting questionable Reddit threads?"

"I don't follow," Joel replies. "You gotta spell it out for me, Sugar. What does that have to do with my request last night? I had a late night at the office, and after... checking my emails," he gulps, "I suddenly get bombarded with these pop-up things, so much that I just... unplugged my laptop... and, well-"

How is he so oblivious about this? You bite your cheek in frustration, not knowing how to get to the point without having to spell it out for him that you caught him browsing porn last night, secretary porn at that, and although it's highly inappropriate, you hardly think he was watching it because of Gladys, his actual secretary, who is old enough to be his mother.  Not unless he has some weird mommy kink...

Unable to endure the suspense any longer, you decide to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. “I’m sorry!” You exclaim, “I didn't mean to look at your browsing history, I mean, I had to, but only because I had to find the reason why a virus got on your computer, but that is not the point! I had to open a file to make sure it wasn't corrupted, and I swear, I didn't mean to open it!"

“Open what, sweetheart?” he smiles at you, leaning forward towards you.  

"Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal."

“Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-"

You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Joel visibly pales at your confession. He adjusts his collar, unbuttoning the second button as if he were being strangled by your scrutiny. “I just want to let you know", he starts, looking you in the eye with an unreadable expression. "I respect you as a woman, and Tommy, fuck, he wouldn’t let it go, with all that teasing about you being exactly my type and all, and well, your mother did remind me about your little crush on me back then-“ he rubs his hands through his hair as he rambles on, “… and I know that this looks bad, with you being my employee and all-“

“Wait, what?” You cut him off, a confused look on your face. “What do you mean? I mean, they're your personal preferences, and the list, well, I'm sure whoever you're writing about must be some woman, not that it's any of my business-”

“Fuck. You didn’t read all of it?”

“No!” You exclaim, practically jumping out of your seat. “I quickly closed it once I realized the nature of the document…”

“Well.” He stands up suddenly, pacing behind his desk. “I wrote that drunkenly one night after the company dinner, you know, the one when you wore that dress… do you remember?”

“Yes,” you reply breathily, “… the night where-“

You vividly recall that night. It was a dinner at the recently completed new hotel project. After a few glasses of wine and an impulsive, rather expensive purchase at Nordstrom.com a week prior, you endured most of the evening in an uncomfortably tight and overly revealing dress—a poor choice for a company party, for fucks sake. You believed Joel approached you at the end of the night out of sheer pity, not because—

“Well… after seeing you in that dress, and how stunning you looked in it, sitting by yourself, biting your lip in a way that makes me-“ he stops himself, giving you a small smile. “I was drunk, and I was thinking… I was contemplating how, if I were to have you, if you, by some miracle of fate… were interested, that I would do things right, you know? That if I had a second chance at… I would do it right. Treat you right.”

“You do know I’m not a secretary, let alone your secretary,” you roll your eyes. “I’m in IT… the only person in IT actually, and you’re not the first person I caught looking at questionable porn…”

Joel bristles at that. “Shit. Let me guess… Tommy?”

That gets a small smile out of you. “I can neither confirm nor deny, but… he’s partial towards a certain porn actress, and let’s just say he is really in love with women who looks like his wife.”

He smiles. "Shit, I thought I was being obvious enough, being that Tommy has teased me about it enough... I thought you knew. I know you work with computers, Sugar. I’m not completely senile, and I know Tess has been on a warpath about people getting their rocks off at work, I figured you would look at all of my… perusing.”

You're left stunned, your mind racing to process what Joel just revealed. It's not the revelation about his desires that leaves you speechless, but the unexpected admission of his feelings toward you. Your mind flashes back to the list, the desires that seemed so out of reach for someone like you. You never thought Joel would be harboring any feelings for you, let alone express them so openly.

"I... I had no idea," you stammer, still grappling with the revelation. "I thought that list was for someone else, someone... not me."

Joel walks around the desk, his eyes never leaving yours. "You thought wrong, sweetheart. I've been trying to drop hints, but I guess I've been subtler than I thought."

A myriad of emotions wash over you — confusion, surprise, and a hint of something you can't quite place. The professional boundary between boss and employee seems to blur, and you find yourself in uncharted territory.

"But," he continues, "I get it. I'm your boss, and this is complicated. I didn't want to put you in an awkward position. I should've been more direct."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Joel, it's not about being direct or indirect. This is just... unexpected. I never thought someone like you would... feel that way about someone like me."

He reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you meet his gaze. "Someone like me? What does that even mean, darlin'? You're intelligent and beautiful, and I've seen the way you handle your work. I've noticed you, and I can't help how I feel."

A mixture of vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes makes it hard to doubt his words. You start to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, your insecurities have clouded your perception.

"I don't want to pressure you, and I understand if you're not comfortable with this. I just needed you to know. The last thing I want is for things to be awkward at work," he says, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

You take a moment to absorb everything. Joel's revelation, your preconceptions, and the unexpected turn of events. The office, once a familiar space, now feels like uncharted territory.

"I need time to process this," you finally say. "It's a lot to take in, Joel. I never expected... any of this."

He nods understandingly, his hand dropping to his side. "Take all the time you need. I'll respect whatever decision you make. And hey, if you're not interested, we can go back to being boss and employee, like nothing happened."

You manage a small smile, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "I'll... let you know. Just give me some time, okay?"

"Of course," he says, moving back toward his desk. "And, for what it's worth, I meant every word on that list. Whether it's a rain kiss or making love in my truck, I want it all with you."

You nod, silently acknowledging his sincerity. As you leave his office, you can't help but wonder how a routine IT request led to such a revelation. The office dynamics have shifted, and you find yourself navigating uncharted waters, unsure of where this unexpected revelation will lead.

As you walk away from Joel's office, a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts consumes your mind. The revelation about Joel's feelings for you is a shock, but it's not the only thing echoing in your head. The list of desires he had penned down only magnifies your own insecurities. The voice in your mind grows louder, whispering that you're not the woman he deserves—too much of a mess, too behind in life, and certainly not beautiful enough for someone like him. The echoes of your perceived inadequacies replay like a broken record, drowning out the possibility that someone could genuinely see something valuable in you. You glance at your reflection in the office window, critiquing every imperfection, every perceived flaw. The dress that seemed sensible before now feels like a sad attempt to disguise what you believe is a lack of style or grace. The weight of self-doubt becomes an invisible burden, and you can't shake the feeling that you're not enough, that you may never be enough for someone like Joel.

As you grapple with your internal struggles, a small spark of defiance begins to flicker within you. Perhaps it's time to challenge those self-limiting beliefs, to be bolder than your insecurities allow. Joel's admission has opened a door you never expected, and you find yourself at a crossroads. Despite the echoes of doubt, a newfound courage whispers that maybe, just maybe, you can be more than what you perceive.

Embracing this sudden surge of determination, you make a decision. Instead of letting fear dictate your actions, you choose to confront the uncertainties head-on. Swallowing the apprehension that threatens to hold you back, you turn on your heel and head back to Joel's office. The faint thud of your own heartbeat echoes in your ears as you push open the door.

"Joel," you say, your voice steadier than you anticipated. "I've been thinking about what you said, and I need you to clarify something for me."

He looks up from his desk, curiosity etched across his features. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You take a deep breath, suppressing the self-doubt that still lingers. "Is that list something you genuinely desire with me, or was it just a drunken fantasy?"

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, a mix of surprise and sincerity in his gaze. "Every word of it is something I want with you. Why?"

A daring smile plays on your lips as you respond, "Then let's not leave it as a list, Joel. Let's see how many of those desires we can turn into reality."

The room seems to hold its breath for a moment as Joel's expression shifts from surprise to a slow, understanding smile. The air thickens with anticipation, leaving the next steps uncertain but filled with the promise of something new and exhilarating. As you stand on the precipice of this unexpected journey, the uncharted waters of possibilities lie ahead, and you find yourself ready to take the plunge.

Taglist: @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115

For more updates on all of my fics, please follow @chiriwritesstuffnotifs

All dividers by @saradika-graphics

[adonis-koo]

sweet nothing • 9

| in which he patiently waits one day at a time|

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word count: 2.9k

Previous | Next

Note: no matter how many scenes i write, they're all sad and i'm kinda sorry bc i said this fic wasn't going to have much plot but it somehow has a lot of plot now??? and its kinda sad??? HERE YOU GUYS GO THO

The commotion going on in the estate wasn’t difficult to tell, men had been actively walking more than their usual rotations required and Jungkook knew this was a sign you were causing some sort of chaos as you seemed to do every day now. 

And upon following the trail it led him just a door down from your own room, items being moved and you were currently pouting as you sighed. 

“Do tell me what your idea is for this little renovation project.” Jungkook hummed, leaning against the door, not actually annoyed at how much you always move things around in his estate in fact…Dare he say he felt a little endeared. 

And Jungkook found himself falling into old habits, habit he found himself missing, such as being able to take the time to admire you, all thoughts of work fading from his head at the sight of your dress, just past your knees and a faded checker blue, flowing sleeves that went to your elbows for room and of course the ever growing bump. 

Your hands were set around it seemingly pouting over something before his words drew you out of your thoughts, “Jungkook, I didn’t realize you were home so early.” 

“I have a meeting I have to attend in person later,” Jungkook replied, “You didn’t answer my question.” 

There it was again, that small pout he hadn’t realized he missed so much until it dawned your lips once more, “Well…” You seemed a bit hesitant before you spoke, “I gave it some thought- what we talked about a few days ago, about a nursery and I figured you were right. It’s better we be prepared for it then not.” 

Jungkook was relieved to hear this because while he was trying his hardest to get something on Wonho, there was a smaller, more selfish part of him that enjoyed this, enjoying having you at his estate.

An even smaller part of him not wanting it to end so soon, he had to let go of you once and no it wasn’t fair, but even there was even the slightest chance…well, he didn’t want to let it slip through his fingers and have to let you go once again. 

Jungkook only nodded, “So what's with the look then?” 

“Well,” You gave him a sheepish smile, “I had all of this stuff moved out and realized I have nothing to actually put in here…” 

Jungkook couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him as he pushed off the frame stepping into the room, “Hm, that’s a strange way to ask for money.”

“Jungkook I wasn’t-”

“I’m teasing relax,” Jungkook cut you off, your lips tugging even poutier, you had always been like this, since day one in fact, always worried he’d think you were using him for money, always trying to deter him from paying even if you didn’t have the means to actually afford it yourself. 

It was sweet, “But you’re also in no position to not accept it and I have more than enough money to afford it- it’s a win win.” 

You stared at his outstretched hand, black shiny amex in his hand, “I don’t feel right just using it.” 

Jungkook sighed wistfully, “You didn’t seem to feel too guilty helping your brother with rates and statistics for drug sales.” 

Your lips parted somewhat in surprise, “That was different…!” 

“You’re right,” There it was that stupid teasing, charming smile of his, “It was probably worse.” 

You knew he was only teasing, but something about it made you feel gross still, you had a reason you were in that room, a reason that is long gone from you now, “Well it doesn’t matter anymore does it?” 

Jungkook paused at the sight of your expression dimming as you continued looking out the open window as your hand absently rubbed your bump, “I haven’t done that for a long time now…”

“Y/n I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” You cut him off softly looking back at him and there was an unmistakable look of regret in his eyes, not wanting to cross any lines with you but you were afraid they already had, “I just…I guess I just have some regrets about getting involved….I never wanted to hurt anyone,” You whispered out, “I had a reason I was there and it had nothing to do with the money...For myself at least.” 

Jungkook frowned, there were still so many things he didn’t know about you, your time together having been cut short when you both had first met, “What other reason could there be?” 

It was an indirect question, rather than a rhetorical one, you knew what he was asking. 

You hesitated, but then again, you supposed it didn’t matter now, it was all in the past, no matter how dull it made your heart ache. 

“Well…” You let out a soft sigh, “I’m sure you remember I wasn’t exactly financially stable, and for me that was fine. It was enough,” You nodded to yourself in thought, “It wasn’t much, but it was enough.”

“Until…?” 

“I received a phone call,” You mumbled, recalling the event, “A foster agency, telling me that they did a DNA test on one of their cases and it came out as a match on me and my brother. Just a week old, dropped off right outside the police station.” 

You had to bite down on your tongue, you had thought you were over it, but it still stung just as raw, “Since we were her only blood family I was given the opportunity to adopt her…” You let out a sigh trying to keep it together, “Except I was too poor, I didn’t even come close to having a qualifying salary to show that I could be responsible for her and take care of her…”

“What about Wonho?” Jungkook cocked his head to the side, baffled at this information. 

You let out a loud scoff, bitterness that you had tried so hard to let go of coming back up as you shook your head, “Wonho didn’t give a shit, told me that it wasn’t our problem but I struck a deal with him, if I helped him up until his annual evaluation with you for his first year of work, he’d help me get the expenses that were required to foster her.” 

Jungkook’s brows furrowed as he shook his head, “And?” 

There it was, that little niggle in your head that was angry about it all, angry at Wonho, angry at yourself, especially at Jungkook, “Well all of it fell apart. Very quickly, one thing after the other. I mean obviously you dropped off the face of the planet for months so Wonho wasn’t making money- I got let go of my job because of the murder- everything went void.” 

Jungkook looked away with a long inhale as if he had been mentally prepared for the moment you’d finally cave and say it, but it wasn’t as if you were wrong, you were simply stating a fact, he completely ghosted you and civilization as everyone knew it and just like that, he had left your life as quick as he entered. 

It was difficult to not be angry about it when he was the one that convinced you that the very thing you were afraid of wouldn’t happen, just for a few short months later, let it happen. And you were sure he had his reasons, you were certain of it, but it didn’t change the fact that he left you with little to no explanation and just like that, never bothered to come back, didn’t even so much as send a letter, a proper apology, nothing. 

“I’ve…” Jungkook’s eyes squinted on the ground, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, about what happened.” 

You shook your head, “Jungkook, it’s been two years,” Your voice softened, his eyes glancing up to meet yours and once again you felt the dull ache that never went away, “I shouldn’t of brought it up, I’m sorry…it’s in the past now, life went on.” 

“Well it didn’t for me.” Jungkook let out a small breath and you could hear a hint of bitterness in his voice. 

Your lips quivered a little, “Do you have any right to say that?” 

“Probably not,” When did he get this close to you, “But it doesn’t change how I feel.” 

Old feelings were like a dam bursting inside you and you began to shake your head, “I’m not ready to talk about this Jungkook- can’t we just keep pretending like nothing happened?”

Jungkook shook his head, “We’ve both tried this and neither of us are good at it Y/n, I can’t, not when I have a second chance.”

You raised your brows, “No! No this is…” You took an immediate step back, “This is not what this is Jungkook, what happened is over. I’m only staying here because Wonho has a target on his back and you were kind enough to keep me out of the crossfire.” 

“Maybe that’s how it started out,” Jungkook replied just as quick, taking another step closer to you, “Look…I know it’s not fair,” He frowned, as if he hated saying it, “I had every intention to stay out of your life, it wasn’t fair to drag you along back then and that’s why I didn’t, but…You’re here now, right in front of me. So yes…I do see it as a second chance, and if there’s any way I can make it right, I will.” 

You groaned, “It’s not just making it right anymore!” You wanted to scream! “I have baggage now Jungkook!” Your eyes threatened to water as your hands dropped from your stomach, “A lot of it. It’s not just me anymore I’m getting ready to have a baby, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I know exactly what I’m asking for.” Jungkook sharply replied, eyes brewing with anger, “And what I’m asking for is you, all of you.”

“You had your chance and you left me, plain and simple, you left. I don’t understand why now…Out of all the time, two years later, now…!?” You hadn’t meant to raise your voice, but you were angry, perplexed, scared. 

Scared just the way you were when he was upfront the first time in that stupid bakery you wanted nothing more then to pretend like didn’t happen, you wanted to pretend like you never got drunk at that stupid bar, that he wasn’t late that day, that he didn’t sat down and offer to pay for your meal for making you wait. 

You wanted to pretend like he had actually listened for once when you declined him asking you out, that he didn’t visit you every morning at work, and more then anything you wanted to pretend like you had a stronger will, that you didn’t let him convince, your mind was flooding with so many memories of him. 

His hand trailing down your thigh while drunk in the back of his car, his eyes when he saw the bust in your lip, his smile when your fingers intertwined with his, his skin etched into yours for the first time, ushered sweet nothings that he’d love you forever. 

But at the time you didn’t realize that forever would only be a short three months then just like that, it was over, and oftentimes you were left many sleepless nights wondering, was it even love? Everything had happened so fast, it felt like forever. 

But two years later, standing in front of him you realized it had been two agonizingly long years since you saw him in person. 

“I made a choice,” Jungkook defended himself, “I stuck to that choice…I was leaving you alone, even if I didn’t want to and then…” He ran a hand through his hair, revealing his face in full detail his eyes baffled as if trying to understand himself, “Suddenly one night you’re dropped in the middle of my office. I didn’t have any pretenses, I was just being nice letting you stay here, I had fond memories of our time together, I didn’t want to let you get caught in the crossfire- it was the least I could do after everything.” 

You crossed your arms as he continued, “And then…I don’t know,” He muttered, “I look at you, I see your smile, I see you standing here pouting and trying to do it all yourself, like you always tried to do. And suddenly it’s two years ago and we’re both drunk sitting at the bar talking about what it would be like to be in love. And I feel the exact same way I did back then, looking at you and wondering if maybe I had finally found it.” 

You felt physically sick, it was like he was intentionally wanting to break your heart all over again, “You sent them to raid my home, you can’t tell me this wasn’t planned…”

“I didn’t expect them to fuckin’ kidnap you Y/n!” Jungkook let out a hurt laugh, running his hand through his hair, “In fact I gave them direct instruction to do the shakedown while you were at work and to not destroy your apartment- you were supposed to be at work!” 

“Well I wasn’t!” You shouted back, “I wasn’t feeling well and my coworker offered to cover! You can’t do this to me! You can’t, not after all this time…” You voice died down, “You can’t just…open all of this back up as a second chance because you’re feeling nostalgic over a fling-”

“You were never a fling to me-”

“That’s how I felt after you left-” You suddenly winced, hand immediately pressing to your stomach, instinctual almost despite the pain coming from your chest, Jungkook’s eyes immediately widening and he had closed the small gap between you both. 

“Let’s get you sat down…” Jungkook murmured and you couldn’t help but stare at his hand, big and calloused, multiple rings just the way you remembered, pressed against your bump and a wave of intense sadness thrummed in your heart, what you’d give to go back and change everything. 

You were too tired to fight his touch, and a smaller part of you crying– begging inside your mind to just give in, to put your worries aside and roll the dice again, maybe he’d actually keep his promise this time. 

But you refrained from leaning against him too much as he sat you down on the bed in your room, phone immediately in hand as he called Doctor Choi, after hanging up the air was thick with a silence and tension. 

Jungkook sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed, “...If you don’t wanna talk about it, we won’t. I don’t want you going into preterm…But…I want you to know I didn’t make that decision because I wanted to, and I didn’t do it easily either.”

You self soothed, rubbing your tummy as your eyes closed, “I know you didn’t. At least that's what I told myself the last few years, that surely there was a really good reason…And you wanna know the worst part Jungkook?” You whispered, sad eyes as you opened them to look at him, “I waited…I waited every day, sat at that stupid register hoping you’d come, even after Wonho stopped talking to me I went to the Red Light anyways, hoped maybe you’d be there. There wasn’t a day I didn’t check my phone only to be disappointed by your name not being on the screen…”

It was silent again before you tried to hold back your tears, “You broke my heart. Right in two, promised you wouldn’t leave me, and then you did. And now you’re asking me for another chance?” 

You said you wouldn’t cry, but here you were softly weeping in your bed, feeling like a child once again, helpless and wondering why no matter how hard you tried, nobody ever stayed, you had thought he was different, but it turned out he was just like the rest. 

Jungkook’s hands cupped your cheeks, thumbing the tears away as he pressed his forehead down to yours, “For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” He murmured, “I’m just as much a sinner as anyone else, I’m ill-tempered and cruel, I’ve killed a lot more people then you could ever imagine, but most of all Y/n, I’m selfish, I’m not really a good man. But I could be good, for you.” 

“You don’t know how bad I really want to believe you,” You whispered out, “But I had so long to think about it, to look back and realize I know nothing about you. It was my own fault really, you’re not a good man and I knew that back then, just like I know it right now.”

“I know I hurt you,” Jungkook had a sort of determination in his eye, the kind that you knew was unwavering, he meant every word he was saying, “But there hasn’t been a day I wished it could be different. I’ll do whatever is necessary to earn your trust again.”

You pressed your lips together for a long moment, “I’m not saying it isn’t possible, but you have a long way to go if you really want it.” 

Jungkook’s long slim finger traced down your jawline, “I’ll take it one day at a time, just like the first time.” 

[mintmatcha]

Bakugos pro hero girlfriend got the highest ratings out of anyone in their friend group and because Bakugo can’t be smug about his own winnings he’s smug about hers. Mhm yeah my lady was 14!!!!! Unlike yall losers who were TWENTY or BELOW ha !

income is also ranking based so he's making half of what his top fifteen gf makes- but he's sooo smug about it.

"babe- put it on the amex" as if it's his own money

[eqt-95]

alone / sunburn

supercorptober / whumptober quinn's superwhumpcorptober master list

Fly Ferris Air | We look forward to welcoming you on board soon. Your flight to Jamaica (FA3417) is departing on time from Gate 5, Terminal E at 10:07 AM.

*Missed call from Alex 🔫*

Alex 🔫 [8:11am]: jamaica? really? Alex 🔫 [8:14am]: i did no such thing. sam spilled the beans 

*Missed call from Alex 🔫*

Sam [8:25am]: sorry! i didn’t realize it was some big secret!

Alex 🔫 [8:27am]: we have a guest bedroom for a reason

*Missed call from Alex 🔫*

Fly Ferris Air | Your flight to Jamaica is now boarding at Gate 5, Terminal E

*Missed call from Alex 🔫*

*New Voicemail*

Alex 🔫 [9:42am]: don't go ghosting us luthor. 

*Missed call from Kelly*

*Missed call from Esme 🌸*

Alex 🔫 [9:49am]: really? even your own god daughter.

*Call from Esme 🌸, 3 minutes*

Alex 🔫 [10:03am]: i did no such thing. they offered their phones Alex 🔫 [10:07am]: you too,we love you enjoy the sun Alex 🔫 [10:08am]: don’t forget sunscreen

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Jess [2:26pm]: i’m already handling it; enjoy your time off

Andrea in ‘The Three Amigos’  [2:26pm]: well that didn’t take long: catco.com/breaking-news/super-and-a-luthor-on-the-outs-? Andrea in ‘The Three Amigos’ [2:26pm]: what good is being editor-in-chief if she can’t keep a lid on the rumor mill? Sam in ‘The Three Amigos’ [2:26pm]: ignore her. jess is dealing with the press Andrea in ‘The Three Amigos’ [2:26pm]: ‘press’ is an interesting way to say ‘ex-wife’

~*~*~*~

Andrea in ‘The Three Amigos’ [2:41pm]: it was just a joke, sweetie Sam in ‘The Three Amigos’ [2:43pm]: 🐶🏠 Andrea in ‘The Three Amigos’ [2:46pm]: shut up sam

*Sam changed the group name to ‘the two amigos and toto’*

Fly Ferris Air | Your bag #5006561792 is now arriving at carousel 6 in MBJ.

Amex Platinum Card: CCR LTD - $428.37 

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BFV Spa & Care [5:13pm]: Welcome to Bluefields Villa & Spa. Your inclusive couples deep tissue massage is confirmed for tomorrow at 11:00 AM. We look forward to seeing you. BFV Spa & Care [5:14pm]: Cancelled: your couples deep tissue massage has been cancelled. To reschedule please REPLY. BFV Spa & Care [5:13pm]: Your deep tissue massage is confirmed for tomorrow at 11:00 AM. We look forward to welcoming you. *Esme 🌸 reacted with 🤩* Esme 🌸[6:44pm]: take me with you next time!

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*Missed call from Kara ❤️*

*New Voicemail*

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Ruby [10:28pm]: Mom says we can catch the next flight out, but only if you agree Ruby [10:31pm]: ok 🥺 Sam [10:36pm]: what? so sue me for letting someone else be the bad guy Sam [10:44pm]: you know we’re just concerned, right? Sam [10:46pm]: i know, but you don’t have to do it alone Sam [10:49pm]: love you too, babe

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LL Foundation | Marketing meeting starts in 10 minutes

Jess [10:21am]: sorry, i meant to clear your calendar. no need to attend - i’ll send you the meeting minutes

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*Andrea changed the group name to ‘sam is an asshat’*

Andrea in ‘sam is an asshat’ [1:23pm]: @LL please tell me you’re at least enjoying the beach Sam in ‘sam is an asshat’ [1:27pm]: don’t forget sunscreen

*Sam changed the group name to ‘sam looks stunning in a hat’*

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Esme 🌸 [10:44am]: picture Esme 🌸 [10:44am]: what do you think? *Esme 🌸 reacted with 🙄*

CatCo Breaking News Clear All Local authorities split over Supergirl’s late… Lena Luthor missing? Foundation in chaos…

*Missed call from Andrea*

Andrea in ‘sam looks stunning in a hat’ [2:41pm]: @LL we need to talk about this Andrea in ‘sam looks stunning in a hat’ [2:43pm]: i know you need your alone time, but these headlines are out of hand Sam in ‘sam looks stunning in a hat’ [2:48pm]: don’t put this on kara. you know she abstains from personal headlines Andrea in ‘sam looks stunning in a hat’ [2:450pm]: it’s not just catco. last night is on every news channel and front page from here to metropolis Andrea in ‘sam looks stunning in a hat’ [3:02pm]: @LL i will do no such thing Andrea in ‘sam looks stunning in a hat’ [3:14pm]: this is entirely within my purview. i told you years ago when i took this role this would become a liability and now i have a mayor’s nosy intern breathing down my neck Sam in ‘sam looks stunning in a hat’ [3:15pm]: you’ve never complained about that before Andrea in ‘sam looks stunning in a hat’ [3:17pm]: this is serious; they’re threatening a lawsuit

Jess [3:23pm]: of course

*Call from Jess, 21 minutes*

Jess [3:52pm]: they’ve agreed. i’ll keep you posted.

*Missed call from Kara ❤️*

*New Voicemail*

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Outlook *Priority* | Jess The Secretary - Draft Press Release (for Immediate Issue)

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*Missed call from Kara ❤️*

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CatCo Breaking News Clear Kara Danvers to take leave of absence as C…

Alex 🔫 in ‘Fairy Godmother’ [9:34pm]: i don’t need the details, but i hope you know what you’re doing Kelly in ‘Fairy Godmother’ [9:42pm]: I think what Alex means to say is that we’re here for you and support you and Kara equally in whatever you two decide Alex 🔫 in ‘Fairy Godmother’ [9:44pm]: how is that different from what i said?

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Amex Platinum Card: Bluefield C&B - $7.56

*Missed call from Kara ❤️*

Esme 🌸 [11:13am]: picture Esme 🌸 [11:14am]: better? *Esme 🌸 reacted with 😘*

*Missed call from Kara ❤️*

Amex Platinum Card: Bluefields Villa & Spa - $28.55

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BFV Spa & Care [4:11pm]: Hello Mrs. Luthor. Yes, we can confirm the package has been inspected by security. A note has been included. Advance opening requires your authorization.

BFV Spa & Care [4:11pm]: Yes, of course Mrs. Luthor. The contents are an 8oz container of aloe gel. The message says ‘Because I know you forgot sunscreen. - KD’

*Call from Kara ❤️, 42 minutes*

[youwouldntdownloadapizza]

The Pleasures of The Unknown | Kate Middleton x The Unknown (Glasgow Wonka Experience 2024)

masterlist | ao3 | follow @youwouldntdownloadapizza and turn on notifications for updates

When Kate Middleton mistakenly ends up at a magical chocolate factory in Glasgow, she finds herself drawn to a mysterious cloaked figure with a penchant for dark chocolate.

pairing: Kate Middleton x The Unknown (Glasgow Wonka 2024)

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.2k

tags: crack, crack treated seriously, crack fic, smut, mild smut, finger sucking, chocolate, sex and chocolate, light BDSM, choking, thigh riding, rpf, bald harry styles, balddry, infidelity, glasgow, willy wonka experience - freeform, glasgow willy wonka - freeform, Balmoral, british royal family, unhinged innuendo

chapter warnings: smut, infidelity

Kate Middleton stared at her bangs in the Buckingham Palace bathroom mirror.

"I can't go out like this," she complained to William. "The Sun will rip me a new one!"

"Kate, my dear," he kissed her on the cheek, turning to lean against the counter. She continued tugging at her botched fringe until he took her hand. "It's just hair. It'll grow back."

"That's rich, coming from you."

William looked down at his royal bunny slippers with a frown. Even they had more hair than he did. Perhaps he should have them fashioned into a wig. He'd have to ask his frenemy, Harry Styles, for wigmaker recommendations.

"I don't know what to do." Kate looked up at her husband with tears in her eyes. He wiped them away with his royal hanky.

"I do," he smiled. Sliding his hand into his back pocket, he produced the royal AmEx.

"Take a holiday, Kate. Go to Balmoral or Hollyrood for a few weeks. Grow them out. Maybe even get that BBL you've been talking about getting. Scotland is a great place to recover from surgery. What with all the free healthcare and all, innit?" he said Britishly.

"You're so right, William. I'll leave first thing tomorrow."

---

Kate double-checked the address her husband had given her as she stepped out of her royal Uber Black.

"This can't be the right place. Balmoral was never this colorful!"

The cabbie rolled down his window. "Don't worry, ma'am, this is Willy's place! Be quick and get inside, it's looking like rain."

With a soft 'innit', the driver pulled away, and Kate was left on Willy's doorstep.

She assumed 'Willy' was short for her husband 'William', but as she entered the foyer, she began to have her doubts. The place appeared to be some sort of magical chocolate factory.

Although sparsely decorated, the place maintained some air of whimsy. Well, less of an air, more of a spritz, but clamato, clamato.

"Soo la voo," Kate shrugged, walking beneath the sparkly, styrofoam rainbow and towards whatever fate awaited her here.

"Ahh, more guests! Welcome!" A depressed-looking woman in a green wig approached her.

"Here, compliments of Willy," she said, sliding a plastic cup containing a splash of what appeared to be sparkling lemonade into Kate's left hand. Into her right went a single jelly bean.

"What is this?" Kate asked.

"Our welcome gift to you! And only $40, such a deal."

Kate supposed $40 was a fair price for such splendor. After all, if bananas were $10, this was surely worth four times that. She popped the jelly bean and washed it down with the lemonade.

"Carry on down the hallway. Your future awaits."

Kate left her luggage and her empty cup with the so-called Oompa Loompa and proceeded down the bare linoleum hallway. That uncanny-valley candy landscape tapestry really ties the place together, she mused.

A voice greeted her at the end of the hall.

"What. Is. That?" A blonde man in a red top hat and coattails pointed towards an unassuming mirror.

Why, that's me! Kate Middleton! Kate Middleton thought to herself.

Kate nearly leaped out of her skin when the creature emerged from behind the looking glass.

"It's...THE UNKNOWN!!"

That's when Kate fainted.

When she awoke, her head was spinning. "Where am I?" She asked to the blackness that surrounded her.

A deep voice answered her. "You're in the walls. This is my home. My own dark chocolate factory."

"Your what?" Kate asked.

As her eyes adjusted, she realized she was in a small bedroom combined with a confectionary workspace, almost a studio apartment of sorts.

"My dark chocolate factory. You see, Willy Wonka seeks only to pump this world full of river-churned, high-fructose, milky delicious bullshit. What I aim to create is something far more sophisticated. Far more complex. And far, far darker."

"Oh? Might I try some?"

"Why of course," the silver-masked, black-hooded creature pulled back its sleeve to reveal long, nimble fingers.

He crossed to his chocolate worktable and dipped his index and middle fingers into a whirring chocolate fountain. The creature stalked towards her, extending the sample.

Kate leaned towards him, but froze. "Before I suck on your fingers, I should probably know your name."

The creature angled his head, as if considering her. "I have no name. I am only...The Unknown."

Kate's heart raced in her chest. That chocolate, those fingers, it all looked simply divine. And if William could be unfaithful, why couldn't she do the same? She deserved it, just this once. As a treat.

She opened her mouth, and The Unknown slid his fingers past her lips. She sucked deeply, the flavor sliding across her tongue and down her throat, the complex flavor and intensity of the delivery method sending shivers down her spine.

"Are you cold?" He asked.

"A bit," Kate admitted.

"Well then," she could hear the smirk in his voice even if she couldn't see it on his face. "Perhaps I'll have to warm you up myself."

Kate bit her lip. "Would you...put your willy? In my chocolate factory?"

His fingers closed around her throat. She drew a sharp breath.

She could feel his breath as he whispered in her ear, "Forget willies. Forget chocolate factories. Allow yourself to submit, to embrace the pleasures of The Unknown."

Kate let out a shuddering breath as she gazed up at that shiny mask. She didn't know what lurked behind it. She didn't care.

She kissed him then, the plastic of his mask hard against her soft lips. And then she was sprawled on the bed, his knee between her legs, and she was grinding against him.

"Oh, The Unknown!" She moaned.

"Please, there's no need for formality. Call me The."

So Kate did. She sounded like the gilded first word of a sponge's term paper as she wailed his name over and over again, into the dark stillness of this secret room behind the walls.

"I'm close," Kate moaned.

"Good girl."

He leaned down to kiss at her neck. The rough edges of the cheap mask scratched at her sensitive skin, but she didn't care. She was lost in the pleasures of The Unknown.

It was the hair that brought her to the edge, something her husband could never give her. The chemical scent of his cheap, black wig filled her nostrils as she rode his thigh, dangling there on the precipice.

"Ohh!" Kate screamed as she came, her thighs shaking with pleasure as she clenched around nothing.

A low, satisfied chuckle rumbled at her throat, and she swooned. After all these years of marriage, William had never rocked her world like this masked stranger just had. As they lay there together, she slipped into the chocolatey darkness of slumber, utterly content.

---

When Kate returned home, butt bigger and bangs longer, William had wanted to hear about her experience in Scotland.

"What was your favorite part?" He asked.

"I learned a lot about myself on this trip," she told him. "But the most valuable lesson was in learning to embrace the pleasures of the unknown."

"See, a little uncertainty is good sometimes!" He teased, tugging on her much-improved bangs before giving her a soft kiss.

"Mm," he smacked his lips. "Tastes like chocolate."

[foundress0fnothing]

leave a kiss but in the cup

Summary: Cassian gets roped into helping organize Rhys and Feyre’s wedding when, on a whim, the two decide to throw it at the winery in the small town where the brothers all grew up. The problem? He has to work with Feyre's older sister, Nesta. And she hates him.

Chapter 1/?: 3.1k words, eventual E rating for smut

For @nessianweek

Another late entry for Nessian Week! This was supposed to be posted on Day 4, but I spent that day in the aforementioned ER, so here it is today. There's not update schedule, and I don't have any of it prewritten.

Read on ao3 or below the cut!

As he stretches out on the pontoon that he chartered for Rhys’ bachelor weekend, drunk on sun and local beer, Cassian can’t think of any place he’d rather be. 

He’s spent time backpacking around the world, seen big cities, and explored natural wonders but still—he’s positive that there’s nowhere better than the lake town where he grew up. There’s something about the water and the slow pace of life and the easy warmth of the people that he hasn’t managed to find anywhere else, and so even though the drive to his hometown takes an ungodly fourteen hours from where he lives now in Philly, he still makes the trip every year. The exhaustion and the stiff back from too-long driving shifts and the fact that he has to put up with Az’s edgelord playlists are worth it every time.

And this year, there’s even more reason to make the drive—his brother is getting married in a week and wanted to spend his last few days as a bachelor in the place they all still called home. 

They all met Feyre six months ago at a restaurant in Fishtown when she was their waitress, and from the moment she called Rhys a prick for ostentatiously flashing an Amex Black Card when it came time to pay, Cassian could tell that his brother had finally met the one. Their love had been a messy whirlwind of drama and passion as they navigated exes and family troubles, but it wasn’t long before Feyre had Rhys’ family ring on her finger and was picking out a wedding dress. Cassian knew that once Rhys found what he wanted, he’d do anything to make it his as soon as possible—Feyre was no exception.

When it came time to plan the bachelor weekend, then, Rhys only had two requests: that it take place in Cherry Hills and that there weren’t any strippers. Cassian had almost laughed out loud when Rhys told him that. Sure, he had his bro-y moments, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that strippers would be the right thing for his brother just before he was getting married.

Plus, the former request precluded the latter—Cherry Hills wasn’t the kind of place he’d find strippers easily. Interested in idyllic boat trips on one of the rivers or lakes? Great. Hoping to spend a few hours outdoors and then end the day with a round of minigolf? Even better. Looking to hire professional entertainment for the evening? Extremely challenging. It was the quintessential Midwestern small summer tourist tour—busy for a few weeks with vacationers and outdoor enthusiasts and day-drunk parents and popsicle-sticky children that then shut down the moment October hit and brought the first snowfalls. Not the ideal place for establishing any kind of nightlife. If you wanted that, it was at least a 45-minute drive south down M22.

And since Rhys only wanted his brothers there anyway, Cassian had planned the weekend to be more of a homage to their high school days than the usual bachelor bacchanalia. They had kayaked on the river where they first learned to swim, hiked the sand dunes where they used to race each other to the top to drink shitty beer and talk about what they’d do when they finally got out of Cherry Hills, and ate in the cash-only restaurant that had been around longer than any of them had been alive. 

They had saved the boat ride around the lake for their last day because somehow, despite doing nothing besides sitting and drinking and eating, it always manages to exhaust them. It’s the good kind of exhaustion, at least, this heaviness that comes with too much sun and too much food—a perfect way to end a perfect bachelor weekend. Not that Cassian is bragging.

But still—he had done a good job.

A voice breaks through his self-congratulatory haze. “So, what’s next?” 

“What do you mean, what’s next?” Cassian sits up to glare at Rhys who has draped himself over a few seats on the opposite side of the boat. Azriel raises an eyebrow at Rhys from where he’s perched in the driver’s seat but doesn’t say anything, apparently content to let his brothers argue it out. Bastard.

Rhys shrugs with all the indolence of a lazy housecat. “The boat’s due back to the rental place in 30 minutes, yeah?” Cassian nods. “So what’re we doing after that?”

Cassian frowns and says, “What else do you want to do?” He’s planned an evening of takeout pizza and video games back at their rental, but he has the sinking feeling that’s not what Rhys has in mind.

“You’re the one in charge. Surprise me.” 

Rhys waves a hand in his direction as he says this, and Cassian thinks, for just a few moments, about how easy it would be to murder his brother and dump his body overboard. The lake is shallow though—too shallow to get away with it—and so he settles for a clipped, “You know this town as well as I do. We’ve done everything there is to do.” Rhys doesn’t answer, and so Cassian tries to remember how much cash he has left and whether it would be enough for a final round of drinks at the Tavern. Probably not, but he resigns himself to paying the $7 surcharge to use the ATM outside of the restaurant. “We could always go to the Tavern—” 

“There’s a new wine tasting room,” Azriel interrupts, and both Cassian and Rhys turn to look at him, the latter pulling his sunglasses up to rest on his head for a moment. Azriel shrugs. “They opened in April apparently.”

“And they’re good?”

“Didn’t have that on the flier in the IGA, sorry.”

Cassian glances at Rhys. “Will that satisfy you, asshole?”

“Yes, I think that’ll do quite nicely, thank you,” Rhys says, slipping his sunglasses back down over his eyes. 

Cassian gives Azriel a long suffering look, but Azriel only snorts and turns the engine back on, signaling the return of the party to dry land and the start of whatever this wine tasting is about to be. Cassian only hopes that it’s cheap and strong.

—----------------------------------------------

The wine tasting room—creatively named Cherry Hill Wines—is situated just off the main road on the first floor of a two-story house that’s been converted into a storefront. Cassian can’t quite see the lake from where he stands on the front porch, but it’s close enough that, in the lulls between children’s shouts and tourists’ conversations, he can just make out the sound of the water. 

The shop itself is busy with people dropping by for happy hour, and Cassian is glad of his extra height as he steps inside and surveys the space from his place at the back of the short line. There’s a small menu on the wall above the bar and a row of fridges lining the sides of the room stocked with ice cream and small, pre-made charcuterie plates. A shelf by the front door has local crafts for sale—candles and coffee mugs and keychains all proudly emblazoned with images of Cherry Hills. There are only a few open seats at the bar, but through the French doors at the back of the room he spies a handful of fire pits with chairs set up around them, cornhole boards and bags, and a wide grassy lawn perfect for picnic blankets or lawn chairs. It’s cozy, Cassian thinks, and clearly something already beloved by the tourists if the number of people packed into the space is any indication. 

And then he sees her. 

She’s standing behind the counter taking orders and pouring glasses of wine while she chats with the customers. Her hair is golden brown and braided into a tight coronet  of her head. Her eyes are a storm of blues and grays, flashing with an inner fire that makes something in Cassian sit up and pay attention, and he wonders how the hell someone who looks like that ended up in Cherry Hills. She sure as hell didn’t grow up there—Cassian would remember her. 

He nudges Azriel with his shoulder to get his attention and nods his head toward the backyard, although his gaze still lingers on the woman behind the counter. “Grab a spot outside. I’ll get the first round.”

Azriel arches his eyebrow, following Cassian’s line of sight to the woman. He snorts and says, “Good luck with that.” Before Cassian can respond, however, he grabs Rhys and steers him outside.

Cassian flips him off behind his back, laughing at Rhys’ confused expression at being ferried outside, and then turns back to the counter to find the woman glaring at him. The line had dissipated more quickly than he expected, and Cassian realizes that she must have been waiting for him to finish goofing off with his brothers.

He puts on his most charming smile, the one that’s gotten him out of trouble ever since he was a little boy. “Sorry.” He shrugs. “Brothers, you know?”

If anything, her glare only intensifies, and Cassian almost preens at the challenge it presents. 

Hands on her hips, she asks, “Well? What do you want?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. What’s good?” He leans in and winks. “You?” He half hopes she falls for his charm, half hopes she continues glaring at him. The prospect of either—of her fire, her attention turned on him, no matter the reason—makes him crave more.

Her eyebrow arches, and she ignores his flirtation to answer acerbically, “All that time in line and you couldn’t be bothered to make up your mind? 

“Were you watching me? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be. It’s hard to miss an oversized brute when he invades my store.”

“Your store? Very impressive, sweetheart—

But she interrupts him, looking behind him and calling out, “Next!

“But—” Cassian starts, but before he can say anything, her voice, flinty and angry, cuts him off again.

“You can go to the back of the line since you need more time to make up your mind.” She glares at him again as she says this before returning her gaze to whoever is standing behind him.

He blows out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes at her dramatics. “Whatever, I’ll just get three glasses—”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t hear Mrs. Stephenson’s order.”

Cassian stiffens slightly and turns around to see his former history teacher. The woman had made his high school years absolutely miserable—she was suspicious and shrew-like, always handing out detentions to him for things that no other student—ones with active parents who drove them to school in new cars and came to parent-teacher conferences wearing Rolexes and Birkin bags—got in trouble for. 

She glares up at him. “Still causing trouble, I see

“No, ma’am. Just taking advantage of this lovely lady’s willingness to let me gather my thoughts. Please go ahead.”

A few more tourists had entered while he had been at the bar, and Cassian sighs as he moves to get in line again behind them. If he has to hear shit about taking a long time from Rhys and Azriel, he’ll go home and have pizza and play video games by himself. Fuck it.

The line moves quickly at least as a redhead joins the ice queen at the bar, and it isn’t long before Cassian is once again staring down into the blue-gray eyes of winery nemesis. She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

The redhead glances over, clearly confused by the strange stalemate taking place next to her and says, in a voice slightly tinged with exasperation. “Nesta, can you get his order?”

“That depends. Is he able to actually place one this time?”

“He is, Nesta,” he fires back, savoring the feeling of her name on his tongue. “One Pinot Grigio and two Farmstead Reds.”

“Amazing. Commendable work. You made it through a basic human interaction,” she says as she ducks beneath the bar to grab three glasses.”

“All thanks to your outstanding service, Nes.” He watches her nostrils flare at the nickname.

“Nope.” She sets the empty glasses down on the bar with a harsh clink. “I’ll send you to the back of the line again.”

He meets her glare with one of her own, and it is perhaps fortuitous that his brothers choose that moment to make their way back inside. 

“Cassian, what the fuck is taking so long?” Rhys says when he reaches his side.

Azriel is close behind and murmurs to Cassian with a smirk, “He’s only mad because I beat him at cornhole. Twice.”

Cassian rolls his eyes, thinking wistfully of video games and beer and time spent without demanding brothers and snooty women. Another night. Instead, he shrugs. Just took me a while to pick out the right thing for you assholes. That’s all.

There’s a snort from the bar that Cassian pointedly ignores. No use getting into it with the ice queen again in front of the other two. 

But it catches Rhys’ attention, and his gaze lingers on the woman long enough to make Cassian’s hackles raise. It’s not like Rhys to really pay attention to anyone else anymore now that he has Feyre, and Cassian doesn’t like that it’s this woman who’s the object of his attention. Not that Cassian has any claim to it either. And yet.

He doesn’t intervene when Rhys takes a step closer to the bar, his eyes still on Nesta, as asks, “Are you Feyre’s sister?”

And then Cassian can see the resemblance. The hair color and the eyes are almost exactly the same, but where they make Feyre seem alight with youthful energy and warmth, Nesta’s are worn almost like a cold, brutal suit of armor against the world. Or again him, at any rate.

And apparently against Rhys, because she’s glaring at him as she asks, “How do you know Feyre?”

“I’m her fiance.” Rhys smiles. “It’s good to meet someone from her family.”

Nesta raises an eyebrow. “You’re the restaurant asshole she’s marrying? Didn’t you guys just meet?”

He shrugs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “When you know…”

Nesta looks at Cassian, who’s just watching the interaction, and rolls her eyes. He snorts quietly, despite himself. Because she’s not wrong. He would agree with her generally—marrying someone after knowing them for only half a year is crazy. 

But he’s seen Rhys and Feyre together, and what they have works for them. Would it be what he’d choose? No. But it seems—good.

Rhys is still talking. “I didn’t know you lived here.”

“Clearly.”

Another voice, coming from the stockroom, politely expands on Nesta’s brusque answer. “She moved up here with me and another friend after college.”

“Em?” Cassian exclaims. Standing there before him is his old friend, Emerie Alvarez.

Cassian scoops the woman up into a giant bear hug. They haven’t seen each other since he graduated high school. She had been a freshman when he was a senior, but he knew what it was like to have a shitty family in a place  like Cherry Hills, and so he always looked out for her while he was there. The town was small enough after all—with only 20 or so kids in each graduating class, it wasn’t hard to know everybody's business.

He gestures proudly around the shop. “This is yours?”

She nods, clearly pleased. “We—Nesta, Gwyn, and I—bought the winery off my dad three years ago before he moved to Ohio. But it’s a little far out from the tourist scene, so we bought a place here this year to do tastings.”

“Look at you, Em.” He gives her another hug, ruffling her hair in a brotherly fashion until she jams her elbow into his side, hard enough that he winces. He’s pleased—beyond pleased, really—that she managed to shake off her family and do something for herself in the town he knows she loves just as much as he does.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Nesta looking at him, but her face has turned contemplative, curious rather than coldly calculating. 

“What brings you all back up here?” Emerie gestures to his brothers. “It’s good to see you, Azriel, Rhys.”

Cassian smiles and steps forward to throw his arm around Rhys’ shoulder. “Rhysie’s getting married and wanted to do his bachelor party here.” His grin turns into a smirk. “And guess whose sister he’s marrying?”

Emerie follows Cassian’s gaze to Nesta, who only shrugs and says, “Apparently.”

Rhys frowns slightly. “You got an invitation. I know Feyre sent one.”

“I’m aware.”

“Nes—” Emerie starts, but Nesta continues on before Emerie says anything else.

“I’m going to the shotgun wedding to support Feyre, don’t worry.”

“It’s not a—”

“Okay, here are your drinks! Please find a spot. Outside.” The redhead—Gwyn—who had been observing the conversation and apparently getting their drinks while Nesta was distracted, intervenes and hands them to Az, cutting Rhys off.

Az smiles at her thankfully and once again herds Rhys out the door. Gwyn, Cassian notices, is blushing slightly.

Before following his brothers, he turns back to Nesta, who still seems to be fuming slightly. He can’t help but stoke the fire of her temper, and so he says, “Aww, Nes, we’re going to be family.”

“Nope.” She shakes her head decisively. “And don’t call me that.” “You’re right.” He nods and then smiles lasciviously. “I’m not sure I’d want to call you my sister.

She catches his meaning and glares. “Pig.”

“You love it.”

Emerie shoves his shoulder. “Stop being an ass. You’re better than that.”

“She brings out the best in me, what can I say?” He quips, shrugging, but something churns within him anyway. Enough. Shaking his head, he takes a step back from the bar. “Em, it was good to see you again. Gwyn, it was good to meet you. And, Nes,” he smiles, “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

—---------------------------------------

The next morning, Cassian wakes early and begins puttering around the rental’s kitchen, gathering trash and cans and bottles as he goes. They have to check out by 10 a.m., and there’s a fair amount they have to do per the house rules: strip the beds, take the trash out, clean the surfaces, run the dishwasher.

Hearing the noise, Rhys saunters out of the bedroom and perches on one of the stools by the kitchen bar. “Why are you doing so much cleaning?”

Cassian blinks and looks at him in confusion. “Because it’s checkout day?”

“Mmmm, not anymore.”

Crossing his arms, Cassian leans against one of the counters. “What do you mean ‘not anymore’?”

Rhys brushes some invisible lint off of his plaid pajama bottoms. “I called the owners and extended it.”

“But the wedding—”

“Feyre and I talked about it last night. We don’t want to get married in Philly anymore.”

Cassian closes his eyes, because he knows what’s coming next. 

“We’re getting married here. At Cherry Hills Winery.”

[anotherbluesunday]

✨Fic Release: In Technicolor—Ch. 1: Hell in a Handbasket (Pugsley + Cheryl)✨

____________Pugsley/Lee____________

Just past the shopping center that housed the Erewhon Wednesday silently hissed at and Bertie audibly boo'ed was our new school. A glittering beacon of narrow-minded thinking disguised as liberalism if I'd ever seen one, I'd read up on the place. Had Jug and Reggie fill me in on what to expect and it wasn't good.

Insidious racism veiled as social work and fundraisers. Sender students being made into charity cases to make donating families and businesses feel better about themselves while they donate to political campaigns for politicians who couldn't give two shits about the working class. I could see it in the way they looked at us as we pulled up into the student parking lot and hung up the parking permit from the rearview mirror. They were sizing us up. Knew without having to ask that we were from somewhere else. Somewhere where it wasn't commonplace for sixteen year old's to have access to their parents Amex Black card.

Eyes down on the steering wheel for a moment as the girls to our right sat in their brand new canary yellow Jeep Wrangler "whispering" loudly about how dirty the truck was, Bertie reminded me it was only for a year and that chances were not everyone would be as bad as I was making them out to be in my head. Wednesday snorted a laugh from the backseat and I shot her a glance through the mirror saying "Probablemente sean monstruos chupadores de sangre." With a hard reluctant sneer, I forced myself to unbuckle. Grabbed my backpack from the backseat, slipped on my sunglasses, and heaved sigh.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this."

Shrugging her backpack onto her shoulders, Wednesday stood beside me staring at our new prison. "Just close your eyes and count to ten. It'll be over before you know it."

"Promise?"

"No."

Should have known better than to ask. But it made me laugh nonetheless. And that was the only upside here really. I wouldn't be going at this alone. I'd have Wen and Bert and a couple friends if Toni made it through the testing process since her mom made her apply too. We'd be okay. Not great. Not fine. But we'd be okay.

We'll survive.

.

.

.

____________Cheryl____________

Routine on repeat like some b-rate film that used timelooping as a metaphor for repeating the past until the main character righted their wrongs, I put on my morning music playlist as I stepped into the spacious en suite bathroom that had been warmed to seventy-two degrees for me. My shampoo and conditioner never seemed to run out. My bodywash was always in supply. Shaving razors never dulled and toothpaste never emptied paste the halfway point. The only thing I was burdened with was remembering when to restock my skincare items which, even when they did run out, it was never a problem because there was nothing that couldn't be handled with a quick call.

Perfectly controlled and acclimated. It was like a dollhouse inside of a greenhouse.

Everything's monitored and privacy is a privilege.

You missed practice this morning. It was from dad, the message brightening the screen of my phone as I stepped out of the shower. We'll double up tonight's session and split it for before and after dinner.

Staring at the message, I hesitated. Could hear the small scream itching at the back of my neck like nails dragging down the nerves hidden beneath my skin.

I wanted to throw up and I hadn't eaten anything yet.

I'll have homework. I told him.

You can do it afterwards. Slacking off once leads to habitual laziness Cheryl. No excuses.

My stomach knotted. Worked itself up until the familiar aftertaste of vomit ghosted itself on my taste buds.

The cold sweats that came with it.

The dizzying nausea.

Looking at myself in my vanity mirror, I dissected the bags under my dull brown eyes. Examined my hairline to see if it had thinned anymore than what mom had pointed to over the summer when we went on vacation to Portugal. "It must be from the stress. You should sleep more darling" she had said. At least my lashes had grown back after my nervous snap over spring semester.

.

.

.

*IMPORTANT NOTE!: Please do keep in mind while reading that the characters Pubert and Pugsley have nicknames that they go by and will go by for most of the story. For Pugsley, his nickname is “Lee” and for Pubert, his nickname is “Bert” or “Bertie.” Wednesday sometimes goes by “Wen” but I feel like that is a known in the Wednesday fandom but I wanted to mention it quickly for readers in the Riverdale fandom so that they’re in the loop.

.

.

.

[the-yuri-librarian]

Review: After Hours by Nishio Yuta

Summary: After Hours starts in media res, at a club at the beginning of the night. Asahina Emi enters the club on the phone, trying to find her friend Meyumi. She doesn't find her, and instead has a chance meeting with a self-described clubbing afficinado named Kei. By the end of the night, Emi goes home with Kei, who ropes Emi into helping her DJ at a club later. Emi reluctantly agrees, but, when she actually goes through with it, she falls in love. From there, Emi and Kei become close, their new relationship just starting to bloom. But, not without tribulation, as Emi is struggling with the aimless path her life is on, her own insecurities, and coming to terms with her feelings for this woman she has now become entangled with.

Review below the cut (trying out a new format too!)

If there is one word that can be used to describe After Hours, it is potential. From the moment Emi and Kei meet, this manga feels special. The backdrop of Tokyo nightlife serves as a beautiful canvas where Emi can explore who she is, who she wants to be, and exactly wat Kei means to her. She is shy, yet bold, a personality combo that causes her to thrust herself into the story before really considering the consequences of her actions. Kei is also incredibly well-written, not only as Emi's love interest, but also as her narrative foil. A little older, she seemingly has everything figured out. But, there's trouble brewing beneath her cool exterior, and as her and Emi both struggle against their own problems, they are forced to grow, sometimes when they're not ready.

Unfortunately, potential is where most of the good of After Hours ends, and it is also where the problems begin. Near the beginning of the story, a large group of Kei's DJing friends are introduced, and they all have various histories with her and work well as the main supporting cast. But, they are severely under-utilized in the story. Not only that, but all of Emi's problems are under-developed and, quite frankly, a little vague. She doesn't know what she wants to do with her life, she has a boyfriend who is never on screen, and she has never been romantically interested in a woman in her entire life. And, while many of these issues are resolved by the end of the story, their resolution is as fleeting as their introduction. Thus brings forth the biggest problem with After Hours; it is too short. Sitting at 17 chapters, this story could easily double in size without having to introduce any new story elements. As it is now, the story ends as quickly as it starts, and it leaves a empty disappointment once it is over.

Before it ends, however, it does hit a high note in chapter ten. Chapter ten contains scene where Emi and Kei's relationship becomes more concrete, and it is beautiful. Half-make up, half confession, it is a heart-warming and genuine to a surprising degree. As Emi and Kei tenderly embrace, their affection for each other shines, becoming the real highlight of the story.

Overally, After Hours starts out incredibly strong, and held back by its length, peters out at the end. Despite this, I still reccomend this series due to chapter ten alone. Combine that with the Amex vibrant setting and charming characters, and this manga becomes a real treat.

Rating: B

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 12 – OTHER MARVEL SHIPS

STEVE/SAM

Not the Destination by KiaraSayre

Pairing: Steve/Sam Rating: NR Words: 8,007 Tags: Road Trips, Demi Steve, Armchair Therapy

Summary: Before they leave New York, Tony Stark (Tony Stark, Jesus, Sam's not over it, never ever over it) hands him an AmEx Black and says, "Don't let Cap spend it all on egg creams and quarters for the jukebox." "That is exactly what I'm gonna do," Sam says. "Egg creams and jukeboxes, nonstop. That's how we roll."

Reasons why I love it: All the fluffy feels! I love Sam basically coaching Steve into a bit of happiness, and I'm so happy that Steve is the one to finally take that last (first?) step. This whole fic is so sweet, and I adore all the stops they make along the way, the progression feels so natural. So yeah, it's fantastic, and I highly recommend it!

Closer to flying by Odsbodkins

Pairing: Steve/Sam Rating: M Words: 2,405 Tags: First Time, Canon Adjacent, Past Steve/Bucky

Summary: Sam Wilson had thought he had excellent gaydar. The sort of neighborhood he grew up in, then the military, a near-flawless gaydar was a survival essential. He was going to have to revise it to “has excellent gaydar in person”. Because he had never had the slightest inkling that Captain America might be gay.

Reasons why I love it: Steve being an experienced gay icon, we stan. I love the Steve Rogers is Not A Virgin trope, and this fic does it incredibly well. I also really enjoyed the hopeful note that this fic ends on. It's fantastic, and I hope you go and check it out for yourself!

Easy Does It by astolat

Pairing: Steve/Sam Rating: M Words: 6,489 Tags: Post-CA:TWS, Sex Pollen, Marriage

Summary: “It just seems like—it should mean something,” Steve said plaintively. “Well, I guess it does,” Sam said, after a thoughtful moment. “Means you’re not a virgin anymore.”

Reasons why I love it: Oh my god, that ending scene is the fucking best. I love how this fic strikes the perfect balance between being fluffy, funny and angsty, and does all of them equally well. Steve hanging out with Sarah and the kids is adorable, and I love Sam and Steve's banter throughout. This fic is wonderful, and I hope you check it out for yourself!

between our bodies there's a battlefield by thingswithwings

Pairing: Steve/Sam Rating: E Words: 4,805 Tags: Porn with Feelings, Anal Sex, PWP

Summary: Sam hadn't ever had cause to think about it, not really, but if someone had told him that he would end up in a pity fuck situation with Steve Rogers, gorgeous kind superpowered American war hero Steve Rogers, he would've assumed he was the one being pitied.

Reasons why I love it: Sam reading Steve like a book and giving him exactly what he needs is really fucking hot. And oh my god, Steve asking to be held down, and that anecdote about Tom? Scorching. Steve's desperation just makes it all even hotter, goddamn. I love this fic so much, and I bet you will too!

you can see it with the lights out by defcontwo

Pairing: Steve/Sam Rating: M Words: 4,702 Tags: Falling In Love, Past Relationship(s), Insecurity

Summary: “Will you believe me if I tell you that this is a normal thing that happens between two guys that are friends?” Sam says, and yeah, he’s pretty sure that that came out as weak as it sounded in his head. Steve leans up on one elbow, looking down at Sam, that same crinkle around the edges of his eyes noticeable even in the gloom of the motel room light. “I know it’s been seventy years since I last had sex with a man but I’m still pretty sure that’s bullshit, Wilson.” Sam Wilson falls in love. Like everything else, it's a process.

Reasons why I love it: Gaaah, this fic gives me ALL the feels! Sam's conflict is so relatable, and I love the hopeful ending. Steve is such a sweetheart too. This fic is incredible, and it deserves all the love in the world, so I hope you check it out!

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Girl in IT - The List (Updates as Series Progresses!)

Read the first chapter here!

Post Rating: 18+ (MDNI - Minors, please DO NOT interact!)

You quickly exit out of the document, pushing your laptop away as if it were cursed. You look at the document title once more.   Wants. What the fuck was this? Who is he talking about? you ponder, the guilt of your negligence weighing on you like a weight tied to your ankles as you sink into the depths of the Atlantic. You shut your laptop for good measure, covering it up with your quilt as you shake your head in disbelief.   What the fuck did I just read?

A/N: Yall, you have no idea how long it took me to make this fake desktop from scratch, but I think I did pretty good! Please don't throw tomatoes at me for the poor quality!

Joel's Sexual Bucket List™ behind the cut!

Please click on the image to expand!

The List:

ask her out for coffee

take her out on a date and buy her the biggest bouquet

kiss her in the rain

spoil her with a shopping spree with my Amex black card

fulfill my breeding fantasy by convincing her to get off her birth control (do you think she's on one?)

fuck her on top of Tommy's desk and leave a little gift (hehehehe)

fuck her from behind against Tess’ desk (serves her right)

Fuck her against my office door as I cover her mouth to muffle her screams.

Make love in my truck as she rides me. Close enough!

eat her out at the movies

Marathon sex

eat her out as she works at her desk - Needs to be circled back to at a later date, Fuck you, Tess!

bend her over my desk and take her from behind.

ask her to move in with me and fuck her against my our front door.

buy her a new car, any car she wants (because fuck that piece of shit Corolla, my baby deserves better)

come clean about my silly little crush on her since we first met ten years ago

get my girls to love sugar as much as I do - Working on it, Sarah down, Ellie next!

get sugar to love me since i pussied out the first time.

Convince Sugar that I love her despite this list.

make sugar believe that she's everything good and make her forget about all of the bad things she thinks she is.

[dweetwise]

[Riconti] What happens in Vegas... (part 4)

Rated T | 1k words | ao3 link [previous] [next]

Back at his hotel room, Felix didn’t hesitate using his rediscovered wallet to order room service for both him and Ace.

Getting out of the sun and being able to brush his teeth had already done wonders for Felix's hangover. But it was the reassurance of having Ace sitting in bed next to him, smiling and cracking jokes and calling him all sorts of silly nicknames, that really made Felix feel much better.

And while they were enjoying their coffees and club sandwiches that Felix had ordered, Ace filled him in on the details he'd missed out on the night before.

Apparently, after the shared dinner with the rest of the survivors, it had proved difficult for thirty-something people to agree on which tourist attraction to visit first. Meg had wanted to go on a sightseeing bus, Kate was looking forward to clubbing, and Nea, of all people, had insisted on hitting a strip show.

And while the others had organized splitting into smaller groups, Felix had turned to Ace and asked if he wanted to go to a casino.

"I tried to tell you I didn't mind doing something else, but you said you wanted to see me in my element and having fun. I probably made some ridiculous heart eyes at you right then and there." Ace chuckled. "Poor Jeff didn't read the room right—to be fair, neither did I at that point—and tagged along. He must have felt like such a third wheel, poor boludo."

Oh. That was what the text Jeff sent Felix had meant: the artist had realized what was going on and had excused himself to give them space.

"It was a blast to teach you some of the games,” Ace continued excitedly. “Neither of us won shit, though. And you probably funded my little losing streak more than is healthy—that's why I had to borrow your wallet for the burgers, since I’d lost all of my own money trying to impress you."

Ace shot him a sheepish look over his sandwich, yet Felix felt nothing but fond.

"Don't worry about my money,” Felix said. “But what about you? Will you be able to get home? Do you need—"

"No, see, that's exactly what you tried to do last night too." Ace snorted and shook his head. "Here, Ace, take my black Amex, I don't use it anyway. I had to distract you with pancakes to get you to stop, or you'd have gotten mugged waving that thing around."

Huh. “That's where the pancake place comes in?”

“Yeah. And I was craving something sweet.” Ace shrugged. “But that's also when the… handsiness started.”

Felix nearly choked on his sandwich.

“Oh, god,” he groaned. “I'm sorry. That must have been inappropriate. Did I just…just spring that on you, or…?”

“No, you, uh.” Ace took a strategically timed sip of coffee before continuing. "In the cab, you grabbed my hand. I mean, I'd been flirting my ass off the entire night and you were really…smiley and touchy-feely, but that simple hand-holding was when it really hit me that yeah, this is happening.”

Felix sighed in relief; that didn't sound bad at all. At least he hadn’t gone straight for Ace’s crotch.

“And at the diner you insisted on sitting next to me in the cramped booth. And then, like a true gentleman, you ordered chocolate chip pancakes and a coke for me. So romantic,” Ace sighed exaggeratedly.

Felix cringed. He'd have to take Ace out properly during the weekend to make up for such a lackluster first date.

“Our orders took some time—there was probably just that one girl on the night shift there, gotta love those shitty working conditions." Ace winced sympathetically. "So we talked. Or, well, you kept clinging to me and spilled your heart about how hot and hilarious you find me, and then got upset when I wouldn’t accept the compliments—”

“That doesn't sound like words I would use,” Felix said.

“Okay, you caught me,” Ace said. “It was more like…handsome, and funny, and good friend and smart and selfless, which is obviously complete bull—”

“Oh, look: I'm upset again that you won’t accept the compliments,” Felix deadpanned.

“Yeah, well, that's when you dropped the l-bomb,” Ace said. “And made that whole speech of how much you've wanted me for years but never had the guts to tell me before.”

Felix swallowed the last of his sandwich. “And what did you do?”

Ace smiled. “What I should’ve done a long time ago: I kissed you.”

Felix stared at Ace: at his bedhead, at the faint freckles on his nose, and at the pink lips curved up into an easy smile, and thought about how unfair it was that he didn’t remember kissing him.

Ace’s smile stayed in place even as he slowly set his sandwich down on the nightstand. His gaze dropped down to Felix's mouth and Felix took it as the invitation he hoped it was.

Felix leaned in first and Ace met him halfway.

Blood rushed in Felix's ears and pleasure flooded his body. Ace's lips were dry but warm and his body fit so perfectly against Felix's where they leaned into each other. It was nerve-wracking, finally getting to do this after dreaming about it for so long, but Ace’s mouth stayed firm and languid against Felix’s—after all, Ace had plenty of experience kissing Felix from last night.

Ace’s confidence soothed Felix's own worries. He slanted his mouth and brought a hand up to cup Ace’s neck, causing Ace to hum low and satisfied into the kiss as his hands caressed up and down Felix's chest.

When they pulled apart, they were both panting and Felix was already half-hard in his pants.

He swallowed. “What happened next?”

Ace smirked. “We inhaled our pancakes and went straight for the nearest hotel.”

Felix glanced at Ace's half-eaten sandwich. “Would now be a good time to shower—”

“Yes!” Ace shouted, then cleared his throat and adjusted his pants. “I mean, yeah, now would work perfectly. Let me just—”

Ace reached for his sandwich and shoved it into his mouth before pulling Felix to his feet and into the bathroom.

[shit-talk-turner]

Ok so IF Alex had paid rack rate for this hol we are looking at 12k for the hotel and likely 10k for the flights. Now l know people waaaaayyyy richer than Alex and they really don't waste money like this- if they are spending that it would be at a very beautiful unique hotel/apartment/ski chalet - or getting some beautiful furniture/art etc. Not some business hotel which does Amex rewards. So QED....he didn't pay for it - his rewards and air miles accrued during 18 months of global touring did. I suspect that is why he looks a bit sheepish.

we would believe this. It’s a nice hotel, sure, but idk about you guys, for $3k a night I’d be expecting to be lounging by the ocean having someone bring me fresh towels and complimentary drinks every hour plus maybe a foot massage

[stony-ao3-feed]

Black Card

Read it on AO3

by AvengersNewB

Stuck in Sokovia and desperate to get urgent medical care for his unborn baby, Steve uses Tony's Amex Black card—the one Tony had refused to take back when they broke up years ago.

What Steve does not expect is for Tony to travel half-way across the world and show up at his bedside.

Words: 4994, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Steve Rogers, Alpha Tony Stark, Bad Boyfriend Brock, Pregnant Steve Rogers, Hurt Steve Rogers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Protective Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Making Up, Getting Back Together

Read it on AO3