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nerdygirlramblings · 3 months ago

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Hello! Ive been binging poly!141 and I keep coming back to your writing for my fix (because by now its basically an addiction😅)

I had this idea that the 141 are together with a civilian reader. And civilian reader works in retail, part time, and is mostly at home. Normally, they would be home by the time their boys came home, welcoming them with open arms, a hot plate of food, and time to rest and relax. But this time, the 141 get home early and realize where reader works: Walmart (or equivalent). Reader has been keeping this a secret cause they know its not cute like a coffee shop or cool. Its just their job. And now the most important men in their life know. Im thinking the 141 found out because they went grocery shopping and happened to come across reader or something similar to that.

I work at Walmart and it sucks🥲 thought that maybe something like this might help😅

Tysm, nonny! So happy to hear you like the writing. I hope this does your idea justice. (Walmart doesn't have stores in the UK, but they own ASDA.)

Also, thank you for my first request! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

pure fluff, bad accents (per usual)

Your boys find out you work part-time at ASDA on a random rainy Thursday in March.

You don't really need a job. All four of your lovers are officers with the British army. Prior to you, they all lived in base barracks. Prior to you, they lived fairly Spartan existences. Prior to you, most of their income sat in the bank, quietly accumulating.

They have plenty of money saved up that they love using to spoil you, when you let them. You know that if you asked, they'd give you everything, but you draw the line about asking them for an allowance like some tradwife. You want some pocket money of your own. Thus, the part-time job at the ASDA in town.

You're a people person, good at handling big personalities. You need to be to keep up with your boys. Between John's need for control, Simon's stoic dominance, Johnny's aggressive enthusiasm, and Kyle's blinding charisma, you aren't some shrinking violet. Within a week of your hire, your manager watches how you weather a nasty piece of work trying to demand concessions you aren't permitted to give and immediately puts you in customer service.

You're nearly unflappable in the face of frustrated pensioners and harried parents and entitled young professionals. Over and over, you're the one they call when a customer is going spare. Which is how your boys find out about your job.

They've been deployed for over two weeks, and you have no idea when they'll return. John had originally said they'd be gone for at least a month, so you aren't expecting them home any time soon. However, they'd come home much earlier than anyone thought, and they wanted to surprise you.

You're always so good about making the house feel like a home, with your bright smile and warm laughter, your home cooked food and soft touches in decor. You make them feel like people, not weapons, and they want to return the favor. This last deployment had been hard, and all four of your boys were missing your sweet voice and tender care. They wanted to show you that they loved and cared for you the way you always showed your love and care for them.

It was Johnny's suggestion to prep a meal for you as both a surprise and a thank you. After debrief, they pile into the car and decide to stop at ASDA for everything they need before heading home to surprise you. It's John who causes the code call.

You hear Susan's voice over the store-wide address system. "We could use a little Sunshine in the floral department." That's your cue. You finish with the pensioner at your till as Jacob, your manager, comes over to relieve you.

You take a deep breath and square your shoulders. In your experience, a Sunshine call in floral is a man angry the store doesn't have the fancy arrangements listed on the website. You wish the signage on the site would be more clear that the beautiful bouquets are online orders only. It would save you having to explain why the offers in store are so limited.

You hear him before you see him, smokey voice grumbling, "But if they show the bloody thing on the site as available, you should have it hear." You'd recognize the voice anywhere. He's not angry, not really, but Susan doesn't know that. Add in the sheer size of him, and Simon looming over his shoulder, it's no wonder she called for support.

You have never wanted to walk away from a situation as much as you want to right now, but before you can make an escape, Susan notices you over John's shoulder. Her little wave is enough for your men to notice, and they turn as one to see you coming towards them. Immediately their demeanor shifts. Simon's back sags as though his strings were cut, leaving him loose-limbed. John stands a little straighter, chin up as if to impress you. They've both broken out in smiles, though Simon's are only evidenced by the laugh lines you know to look for. It's only as you get close do they zero in on the badge on your shirt.

"I've got this, Susan," you say to your co-worker. "Jacob's on my till. Can you cover?"

Susan wrings her hands. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay and-"

"They're nothing I can't handle," you tell her, cutting off her worried rambles. There's a cheeky glint in your eye as you flick your gaze at your men. You clap your hands together and say, "Right, let's get this settled, then."

Susan takes one quick look between you and the now slightly less intimidating men and heads towards the front of the store.

Once she's out of earshot, John's face breaks into a frown. "What're you doing here, love?" He glances at your name on your chest again. "You work here?" He sounds almost hurt by the revelation. You can tell Simon wants to reach for you, and the only thing stopping him is you working.

You hear heavy footfalls behind you as Johnny's Scottish lilt reaches your ears. "Och, Cap! Ye said ye'd only be a moment. Gaz and I had a hell of a time getting the trolley on its lift ta find ye. How hard is it to buy bon..." His question dies on his lips as you turn around. "Bonnie?" He, too, sounds hurt to find you working here.

You can see Kyle over Johnny's shoulder, confusion written across his features. This is not how you wanted your boys to find out about your job, if you ever wanted them to actually find out. You thought maybe you'd surprise them with tickets to Hereford FC's opening game in a few months. And if they asked how you afforded them, you could handle this conversation then, but it's out of your hands now.

And as much as you don't want to have this conversation, especially not in the middle of the floral department, you can't stop the wide grin at seeing your boys again, home and whole.

"Hi, boys," you say, opening your arms. Disappointed he might be about finding you here, Johnny's no fool. He immediately steps into your embrace, and the others quickly follow suit. You're swallowed up by the smell and feel of them. The hug lasts one minute. Then two. Then they all slowly step back.

You can see the questions and cut them off before they get started. "I have another three hours before I'm off. We can talk at home, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

John nods first. He recognizes your tone. You won't let them derail you for answers now, and they would be wasting their breath to try. "You heard the lady, lads. Let's get home."

They start to walk away when you tease, "Captain? Was there a reason you were arguing with Susan about the flowers?"

He halts his steps and turns to you, flush creeping up his neck. He brings his hand up to rub it as he says, "Er, I, we, wanted to get ya something nice, but they don't have the same ones as online."

You melt a little, watching the way your men shift nervously behind their captain. You smile softly and reach over, plucking a bouquet of rainbow poms from the rack. "These are what I usually get for myself when you're away."

John takes them gently from your hand and passes them to Gaz to put in the trolley. "We'll see you at home, love," he murmurs, leaning over briefly to kiss your cheek. Simon kisses the top of your head, fabric brushing your hair. Johnny pulls you in for another bruising hug and kisses your other cheek. Gaz puts his hands on your waist, drinking in the sight of you, before taking your hands in his and kissing your palms.

You watch them leave, wondering how you'll make it through the rest of your shift.

Three hours and fifteen minutes later, you cross the threshold of your shared home to the most delicious scents wafting from the kitchen. After slipping your shoes off next to the piles of boots at the door, you follow your nose back to the kitchen and the spread laid out on the large wood-topped island. There's a roast and mushy peas and mashed potatoes and stewed carrots and battered cod and crisps and spinach all surrounding the flowers you'd suggested, nestled in the vase you love most, the Caithness one Johnny'd bought you on your first trip with them to Scotland.

At the table, your men sit, plates made for everyone, waiting on you. They've changed since you saw them. Gone are any traces of fatigues and tactical gear. Instead they're all in casual civvies, truly home for the first time in nearly three weeks. Simon stands as you come in and pulls out your chair, smile on his scarred lips. "Come sit, doll," he tells you, not quite an order.

You look quickly around. "Let me change," you say, tugging at your uniform top. "I won't be but a minute." You back out of the room before they can stop you. You hurry to your bedroom, pulling your top off as you go. Once behind the door, you slip from your trousers into comfortable leggings and a large jumper, one of Kyle's you think.

By the time you make it back to the kitchen, your men are more than a little antsy. Simon's smile is a little strained, Johnny is fidgeting, Kyle keeps glancing between you and John, and John is staring at you. Your chair is still out. He waves a hand at it, and gently says, "Come sit, love." It's couched as request, but you know a command from your lover when you hear it.

You take your seat at the table. "Listen-" you start, but John cuts you off.

"Are we not providing for ya, love?" You see the hurt in his eyes, how much it bothers him to think he, they, aren't doing enough for you.

"Oh, John, dear, no!" you reply, putting your hand over his on the table. "It's not that at all."

"Then what?" Simon asks.

You look at them all, the expectant faces waiting to hear how they failed you. "I get restless sometimes. I love you, and I love our life. I'm happy to take care of the house and make sure you're all fed after a long day. But I wasn't built for sitting around doing nothing. I like people; being home on my own all day can get lonely. Especially when you're deployed. I also like having my own pocket money."

John opens his mouth, and you know what he's about to say, so you continue. "I know you'd give me any money I need or want, but I like having my money. Money I earned myself." You look around at them, willing them to understand. "It's only part time. Helps me keep a little busy and have a little extra to spoil you and me with."

Johnny is frowning, but you see Kyle, head cocked, looking at you as a puzzle. "I think I understand," he says softly. "You were making you way just fine before us, and you gave up everything for us."

At his words, the crease between John's brow deepens, and you're sure he's remembering the job you had, that you'd somewhat enjoyed, when you'd first met them. You'd been working at RAF Lakenheath, living in a cozy flat in Cambridge, near The Backs, when the 141 had been coming through the base after an op. An injury had put Kyle in the med center for a week, and while he could have been transported to Hereford once stable, Laswell had worked it out for the whole team to have some R&R near the base.

You'd quite literally run into John one day, rushing to your office, after which he suggested lunch as an apology. You quickly became close with all four, smitten with them from the start. In turn, they fell hard for you. They wooed you over the course of several weeks, stopping through Lakenheath on deployments to spend some time with you. Six months in and you were completely gone on all four of them, so when they'd asked you to move to Hereford, you did without ever looking back. But it meant giving up the life you'd led.

Somewhere along the way, your happiness overshadowed all you'd left behind. After a few weeks, being home alone while your men worked started to feel isolating. You liked being a little busy, and there weren't enough projects around the house to keep you busy enough. You'd always been independent, but you didn't want to be stuck in a job with long hours anymore. You wanted to be home for your men. So you'd found the job at ASDA.

Kyle reaches over to where you hand is still on John's. "I'm sorry we didn't ask how you were coping us being gone all day," he says. He looks you in the eye as he continues. "I understand wanting to do something, wanting to be a little busy, and if this makes you happy, then I'm all for it, doll." He gives you a small smile and squeezes your and John's hand.

"Gaz is right," Simon rumbles. "We were so happy to have you here we didn't think about what you did all alone all day." He puts a heavy hand on your thigh, the warmth of him seeping through your thin leggings. "'m glad you have something to keep you from getting lonely."

"Sorry, hen," Johnny murmurs, just above a whisper. "We didnae think a' ye enough." You smile widely at him.

"Johnny, you think of me all the time. This isn't about neglect at all!" You try to catch his eye, but he's looking hard at the table in front of him. "You did nothing wrong, love," you tell him gently.

He looks at you, blue eyes bright. "Ye sure?" You've never seen him this nervous before, and you break a little.

"I'm sure love."

He smiles then, a little smile, but it brightens his face and shifts the mood in the room. You look at John who's been surprisingly quiet this whole time.

He's smiling, but it's a little sad. "I know ya said we didn't do anything wrong, but we feel like we did. We didn't notice you were bored, didn't ask if you were lonely." He flips his hand over under yours and threads your fingers with his. "Yer giving us a gift by not blaming us, and we'd be stupid not to take it, even though it feels like yer giving us an out. Thank you." He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it softly.

"Thank you. I was worried you'd be mad," you admit.

"Never could make us mad with something like this, hen," Johnny reassures you. "I'm sorry we had to spoil your day is all."

You turn back to look at the food on the island. "You didn't spoil my day. You made it. You're home early, and you made such a lovely spread. I think we should tuck in, yeah?"

Simon chuckles. "Point made, doll," he says, scooping a heaping helping of mash onto his fork. The rest take it as a sign to start eating too.

The room is silent save for the sounds of food savored until John pipes up, "Why'd ya come to florals, love? We might have missed ya altogether if not for that."

You giggle. "The sunshine call, John."

"Yeah?" He clearly doesn't understand.

"It's the shop call for a difficult customer. When I'm on shift, it's my job to handle those." You look at each of your lovers in turn. "Seems I've got a knack for dealing with muppets," you tell them with a smirk.

main masterlist

#nerdygirl answers #cod #poly!141 #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #kyle garrick #johnny mactavish #john price #simon riley #nerdygirl says

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reidsmanuscript · 3 months ago

Text

Cracks in the System

Summary: What happens when a string of murders tied to the District Attorney's office lands on the BAU's desk, a high Spencer Reid struggles through withdrawal, and reader, the genius A.D.A., stumbles upon Reid's darkest secret? Tensions rise as professional and personal boundaries blur, leading to revelations that could shatter them both. Pairing: Spencer reid x lawyer!reader Genre: HEAVY ANGST, a little bit of comfort, open-bittersweet-ending Tw: spencer's addiction arc, no y/n but reader has a lastname and a nickname bc it would be impossible otherwise, mental health issues, mention of food and skipping meals?, imppliead reader's past with drugs and abuse (not graphic tho), canon typical cm violence, reader dislikes gideon as father figure wc: 9.2k! A/N: i always HATED how reid´s addiction got portrayed so here´s my take on it, english is not my first language part I - part II - part III - ... - masterlist

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In the chill of autumn morning, while the BAU reunited for the debriefing of a case where their help had been specially requested per the District Attorney, old college friend of Hotch, a string of murder had been recently connected due to the victim’s correlation to the office.

Morgan, Prentiss, Gideon, and Hotch sat in their usual spots, reviewing the files as JJ prepared to brief them. Spencer Reid entered late for the second time that week, a distant look in his eyes, his demeanor unusually absent. No one acknowledged his lateness.

JJ took it as her cue to begin. “A string of murders have been committed around the capitol's perimeter, 3 women all killed and found at the surroundings of their home, Sarah Jennings, 23, defense attorney. Found in a downtown alley.." She clicked to the next slide, revealing another victim. "Second, Nicole Hart, 25, paralegal. And finally, Emily Russell, 30, judge. Found just outside her apartment. All victims were killed within a three-month span. Each one of them were found with a different note”

"Your silence speaks for itself."

"Mitigating circumstances should not overshadow the gravity of the crime."

"Your behavior demonstrates a pattern of reckless disregard for justice."

“M.O.?” asks Prentiss. “Strangulation and multiple stabs to the chest were revealed by the reports” answers JJ.

Morgan adds “So overkill and legal connection, did they knew each other?”

“Families have denied any possibility of any of them being friends with each other” JJ answers.

Reid, who has been anxiously tapping his fingers in the arms of his chair, huffs in frustration, ignoring how annoying his subtle tremor is “So outside a simple note no connection.”

Gideos shoots him a glare but before he can say anything Garcia appears through the tv screen “My dear fuzzy friends, i have found something," She adjusts her glasses and clicks away at her keyboard. "All four victims have recent ties to cases handled by the District Attorney's office, big ones, too. Corruption charges, high-profile lawsuits, political scandals. It's a feast of legal drama."

Morgan leans forward, his interest piqued. "Anything specific about their involvement?"

"Funny you should ask," Garcia says with a wry grin. “Jennings provided testimonies in ongoing cases. Hart did legal research for one of those cases, and Russell? Well, she worked directly with the DA's office on prepping trial strategies. But here's the kicker—none of them worked together. Different cases, different departments. And all of them seemed to be very successful on their own"

Prentiss raises an eyebrow. "So 3 successful women with overkill, that sounds like envy to me"

Reid, his voice laced with a nervous edge, blurts out “Envy could be a factor, but it's also the level of violence. Overkill is usually a sign of a deep personal rage. It's like the unsub is targeting not just their professional lives, but something deeper, maybe the idea of success they represent.”

Gideon glances at the screen. "Any connections between the cases themselves?"

Garcia shakes her head. "Nothing that stands out yet, but I’m digging deeper. Let me keep working on it. I'll be needing access to the information the D.A. office has”

Gideon folds his arms over the table. “If they're found around their personal home it could mean the unsub is following them or getting the information from somewhere else. Someone inside the DA’s office could be leaking it."

Morgan shakes his head. "How do we narrow it down? A place like that probably has dozens of people handling sensitive information."

Hotch rises from his chair. "We need a list of who has access to it and interrogate them, but first, we should brief the DA. If someone in their office is compromised, they need to be aware of the risks."

JJ nods. "The District Attorney requested our help specifically. She mentioned an ADA, Woodvale, her right hand, who might be able to help us get a clearer picture of the internal dynamics in their office.” A photo of you in professional attire, looking sharp with an almost predatory confidence appears on the tv screen while JJ explains how you have been working with all the victims for different cases.

Morgan smirks. "Sounds like she’s got her hands full with this mess."

Reid rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Perfect. Another overachiever."

The team exchanges uneasy glances but says nothing. Hotch sends Morgan and Reid to the D.A. office while Prenttis, Gideon and him go to the victims' workplace. As the team disperses, Reid lingers behind, rubbing his temples in frustration. Gideon notices but says nothing.

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At your office, returning from Judge Gibson’s chambers after pushing for a warrant, your assistant, Molly, looks up from her desk.

"Austin’s waiting in your office," she says, a small smile tugging at her lips.

You thank her and add, “Call the detectives and let them know the warrant is secured.”

As you step into your office, Austin is lounging in the chair across from your desk, a familiar paper bag dangling from his hand.

“Your mom sent you this,” he announces, lifting the bag as if it’s a prized trophy.

You let out a sigh, already knowing what’s inside and taking off the clip that holds your hair in a half pony off, relaxing a bit. “Can you stop going to my parents’ house without me? It’s kind of weird.”

“It’s not weird. She always gives me sweets and pastries. You should see the look on her face when I take them.”

“Well, I’m glad someone enjoys them” you mutter, dropping your leather bag in your chair, taking the bag and peeking inside, finding a full banana loaf and a neatly packed sandwich that your mom always sends every couple weeks to ensure you eat enough and take time to rest.

You grab the loaf and glance back at the door. “Molly, I’m taking fifteen for lunch” you call. As you step toward her desk, handing over to her the dessert, you notice two men standing in front of it.

Neither of them looks familiar, no badges in sight, so they're not cops or detectives. One of them’s dressed too casually to be a lawyer, and the tall one has a leather messenger bag just like yours. He seemed distracted, his sharp features catching the light as he frowned slightly, visibly uncomfortable with the brightness in the room.

Molly glances at you, then back at the men. “They asked to see you, Ms. Woodvale.”

You study them for a moment, your fingers still wrapped around the paper bag from Austin. The tall one stood out, his tousled hair, a quiet intensity in his eyes. You quickly push the thought aside. “And you are?”

The broad one steps forward, offering a warm but professional smile. “Agent Morgan. This is Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, not out of distrust but because an unannounced visit from the FBI rarely means good news. “FBI? What’s going on?”

Morgan’s gaze shifts between you and Austin who is now standing behind you with his arms crossed, casually leaning against the doorframe. “Can we speak in private?” he asks, his tone calm but firm.

You frown but nod slightly, feeling the sensitivity of the conversation, opening the door widely for them to enter, looking at Austin apologetically, and you see him frowned as well but gets the hint.

Austin pushes off the doorframe, clearly reluctant to leave. “I’ll be outside if you need me, Woody.” you would’ve preferred he did not use the dumb nickname he gave you in front of the feds, but at least it softened the tension in the air. It was a subtle reminder that you had allies.

Once inside, you clip your hair back and slip into professional mode as they take in your office, your diplomas, the little wooden chess board your father gifted you when you were 15, your little trinkets arranged through the shelfs. You set the paper bag down on your desk, smooth your blue suit, crossing your arms as Morgan steps forward, his tone polite but serious. “We’re here about the leak in your office. The D.A. suggested you might have information that could help us.”

Your expression hardens, a mix of frustration and worry bubbling beneath the surface. You’d been working to deal with the fallout, but if the FBI was here now, it meant the situation had escalated far beyond your control. “I’m already working with the detectives assigned to the case,” you say, keeping your tone even. “Why is the FBI suddenly involved?”

“Because people are dying,” answers Reid sharply and a bit too harshly, with a too obvious expression.

Morgan glares at him briefly, before stepping in to clarify. “We believe the leak in your office is connected to a string of murders. The unsub is targeting individuals tied to the office, we believe is a male driven by envy towards powerful and successful women and possibly has someone from here leaking personal information. Does that ring any bells?”

Your brow furrows as you digest the information. “Envy over women?” You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “That doesn’t help or narrow anything down in a place like this. And ff there’s someone leaking information in this office, I would’ve—”

“Maybe you’re too close to it to see the cracks,” Reid interrupts, frustration clear in his voice. His gaze is sharp, challenging, and for a brief moment, you feel like you’re being dissected under a microscope.

“Excuse me?” The words come out clipped, your irritation flaring at his insinuation.

Morgan steps in, shooting Reid a pointed look that speaks volumes. “What Dr. Reid is trying to say,” he begins, his tone patient, “Is that we’re not ruling anything out yet. We’re here to figure out how the information is getting out, not to place blame.”

Your eyes linger on Reid for a moment. His posture is rigid, his hands curling around the straps of his bag, fingers flexing into fists before relaxing again. There’s something raw about him, an edge that feels out of place but oddly familiar. You can’t decide if it’s irritation, exhaustion, or something else entirely.

“And what exactly makes you think the information is still coming from here?”

Morgan reaches into his jacket, pulling out a thin file. He places it on your desk and flips it open, revealing photos of victims and case files. “These are the people we’ve identified so far. All of them were connected to cases your office has handled in the past 3 months. The timeline suggests the leak is ongoing.”

You skim the photos, the pit in your stomach growing heavier with each passing second. “And you’re sure this isn’t coincidental?”

Reid answers again, his voice tight. “Murders tied to your office’s cases? That’s not a coincidence. It’s a pattern.”

“Reid,” Morgan says firmly, his voice a quiet warning.

Reid exhales sharply, scratching his neck he mutters, “Sorry. I mean... it’s statistically significant.”

You straighten up, your gaze flicking between the two agents. “What do you need from me?”

Morgan’s grin softens the tension in the room. “Your insight, the D.A. said she trusted you to be our inside guide. We think you can help us fill in some blanks.”

You go through the file and nod “Fine. But if we’re doing this, I want access to everything you have so far. I don’t work blind.”

“Fair enough, we will also need a list of the people who have access to sensible information for our tech analyst, and if you can come to our office it would be useful” Morgan says.

“I'll have my assistant send it, let me just get some stuff” they nod and step out of your office, you grab your coat, satchel leather bag swinging it over one shoulder and eyed the untouched lunch.

“She’s going to be pissed if you give that to anyone else,” Austin says from the doorframe. You roll your eyes and bite the sandwich, your mother is an incredible woman and baker, but in your opinion she always excels herself when it comes to savory. “What was that about?” He asks.

“Apparently we have a mole in the office that's connected to murder by someone who’s envious of women” you answer halfway through that sandwich.

Austin’s expression sharpens as he steps closer. “Need me to look into it?” he offers, he’s an experienced private investigator who’s helped you through more cases than you can count. His connections, street smarts, and knack for digging up information have been invaluable to you, especially when things get too tangled for the usual channels. You could call him your best friend; though sometimes you threaten to kill him for knowing way too much about you.

You nod, finishing the sandwich, crumpling the paper bag and walking to the door “I'll text you if I need your help” you leave the office, going through the hallways to find the agents who lead you to their SUV on the way to Quantico.

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At headquarters, you stand in a room in front of the plastic board, all the victims, your ex-colleagues, none of them were truly friends, just girls you have worked with and you have lamented their deaths when you find out. You never thought their deaths could be related, less so to your office. You never thought their deaths would affect you so… personally.

You had already been introduced to the team, they all seemed professional and grounded, though you already knew Agent Hotchner from when he was a prosecutor, you shaked hands with Prentiss, Gideon, and JJ, letting your coat and bag in one of the chair’s arm in the conference room after being hand out the files.

The team gathers around the plastic board, Reid standing slightly to the side, tapping a pen against his palm with restless energy. He was looking at you and the way your eyes moved through the board, like you were physically trying to connect the dots, the way you were flicking your nails unconsciously, it was driving him crazy.

They had given the full profile of the unsub. Male from 30 to 35, probably has a job in the criminal justice world but his work goes unnoticed which lead to him being envious of women and blaming them when it comes to injustice, therefore the accusing notes.

You could think in a couple names from that description, but none of them were capable of murder, let alone how violent the crime scene pictures showed. From the list of people with recent access you had gave out, you secretly wished they were wrong about a mole. Although something sat wrong for you when you looked at the notes, why would someone-

A bright sound cuts through the room and your thoughts, Garcia’s voice, announcing through the screen, “Okay, folks, I’ve cross-checked the office access records with everything we have so far, and guess what? We have a match.” She sounded confident “Someone on the inside had access to all of the victims’ files. And it’s not just anyone. We have a name, and a face.” she announced showing a picture of a Paralegal friend of you, no. “Ana Lopez” Garcia continues, the name sounding almost foreign as it leaves her lips. “She’s been in and out of the office with access to every victim’s file, and I’ve cross-referenced her movements—she’s had a direct connection to every single one of them. And what's more... she had an unusual interest in the victim's case files long before things escalated.”

“it´s not Ana” the words leave your tongue before you can stop them.

Prentiss looks at you with a concerned expression “is she your friend? look i know it can be hard to digest that she-”

“She's very advocate to the victims,” you interrupt, with a voice tight, as you shakes your head. “Ana's been one of the most outspoken advocates for justice in the office. She’s passionate about these cases, about the women who get overlooked. She doesn’t fit the profile. This isn’t her."

“People can do out-of-character things when they’re pushed to their limit” Gideon interjects calmly, cutting through your spiraling thoughts and rambling. His voice is soft, but there’s an undeniable weight to it. “We’ve all seen it. The pressure can change people. It’s not always what it seems.”

Hotch nods, already stepping into action. “We’ll have to bring Ana in for questioning. Morgan, JJ, go to her house, Garcia will send you the address.”

Morgan gives a nod, and JJ’s gaze flickers to you, but she doesn’t say anything, respecting the heavy tension that hangs in the air.

You stand still, a knot of frustration tightening in the chest. You couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness in all of this. Partially because Ana was a steady paralegal who wouldn´t hand out sensitive information, and partially because you felt there was something else buried deeper, and you needed answers.

“Look… let me dig further into this,” you reach for your phone, desperately avoiding the feeling of becoming someone who clings to conspiracy theories. “How are you planning on doing that?” Hotch’s voice is firm, questioning, but not dismissive.

“You have your sources, and I have mine,” your tone sharp as you speed dials a number. The phone rings once, twice, before it clicks. “Austin,” you step into the bullpen to take the call. “They think the mole is Ana”

“Lopez? That can be it. One time, I saw her take down a guy who was trying to cut corners on a case. She was too righteous about it, if you ask me.”

You exhale sharply, a mix of frustration and confusion clawing, making the room too warm for your liking, leading you to take your navy blazer off and settle it over a desk chair. “I don’t know, Austin. My gut tells me there's something more. I need answers.”

“You think someone’s using her name? Hacking her or setting her up?” Austin asks, picking up on her suspicions.

“Exactly,” you answer quickly. “I don’t know how they’re doing it, but I need you to dig into everything—anything that could explain this. There has to be something we’re missing. Get me answers, Austin.”

“Understood, Captain,” he replies, his voice laced with a touch of humor despite the seriousness of the situation. “I’ll get to work on this and call you with anything I find.” he hangs up.

You save your phone, square your shoulders and take a deep breath, noticing Prentiss walking towards you, concern in her eyes. She stops just a few feet away and speaks gently, “Hey… I know this is a lot, and I know it’s close to home for you. Do you want some coffee? It might help clear your head for a moment.”

You glance at her, tired but appreciative of the offer. A small sigh escapes your lips as you nod. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

She leads you to the break room, a quiet part of the office where the noise of the investigation feels a little further away. The sound of the coffee machine brews in the background as she pours two cups, and you deny when she asks for how much sugar. She hands one before sitting down across from you at the table.

You take the mug in your hands, feeling the warmth seep through, the bitter and burn taste grounding your thoughts. “I get that you’re all just doing your jobs, Prentiss. I understand that. It’s just... as an attorney, you learn to read people. And sometimes, you have to trust your gut. Right now, my gut is telling me I missed something, not about Ana but about all of this.”

Prentiss nods like she understands what you are saying, letting the silence settle between you for a moment “You know you seem young to be A.D.A.” she jokes lightly.

Raising up your cup “That’s what the defense always says before losing” you say back, thanking internally for the attempt to ease up “I'm 22… I graduated from law school at 18 and immediately got an internship… so since then i’ve been working up my position”

Prentiss chuckles softly, leaning back in her chair. “Don't tell me you are a genius too… I can see why though. You’ve got a sharp edge to you—good for the courtroom, probably not so great for poker.”

You chuckle, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Well, let’s just say I prefer chess.” Sensing where the conversation might go, you subtly steer it away, curious about what she meant by too but before you can say more, Austin’s ringtone erupts, cutting through the quiet hum of the break room. You quickly pull your phone out and answer. “Got you answers” he says.

That was enough for you to put him on speaker mode and head back to the room with the rest of the team.

“Turns out Ana had an intern who’s been frequenting closed files, Daniel Reeves” he states, and when you don´t recognize the name it weirds you out. “I don’t recall that name”.

“That’s because he was at the office while you and I were on vacation in L.A. in February,” Austin explains. You’re too focused on connecting the dots to notice Gideon’s raised eyebrows or Spencer’s subtle eye roll.

“Anyway,” Austin continues, “This kid’s good with computers and had access to her credentials. Nobody paid too much attention to him, but an officer told me he’s been prowling around the file room for the last couple of months. I can’t guarantee he’s your guy, but it’s definitely worth looking into.”

“Daniel Reeves…” Garcia says through the desk phone speaker. “Graduated top of his class in computer science, specialized in cybersecurity, and interned with several law firms before Ana’s office. If anyone could hack a system and cover their tracks, it’s him.”

“Looks like he had access to the same systems Ana uses,” Garcia adds “And—oh, this is interesting—there’s a flagged incident from his previous internship. Something about unauthorized access to confidential records, but no charges were filed.”

Hotch steps forward, his posture commanding as always. “Garcia, send the new address to Morgan and JJ. I’ll let them know we found the mole”

“On it, Hotch. They’ll be there in no time.” She answers.

You take a deep breath, rubbing your forehead and letting settle the satisfaction that you are being useful to stop this madness. You glance at the phone, and press the speakerphone off. “Thanks for your help, Austin.”

The voice on the other end crackles with a slight delay, but Austin’s tone is unmistakable “Glad I could help Woody, take care”. You smile faintly at the nickname. “You too,” you say before hanging up and saving your phone in your bag, returning your attention to the team.

Reid, still fidgeting with the files in front of him, looks up briefly, his gaze lingering just a little too long. The flicker of his interest escapes you, your thoughts focused on the notes but you don't acknowledge it, choosing instead to focus on the case.

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There was something oddly familiar about the notes; and, of course, you were the only one noticing it. Since Austin’s discovery, they had brought in Daniel Reeves, who confessed to being blackmailed, claiming he had no idea who was behind any of this, so it was almost a dead end. You flicked your nails unconsciously, if you had a pen you would swirl it and if you weren’t so anxious you would be seated with your leg bouncing.

"Your silence speaks for itself."

"Integrity means different things to different people. Some get to define it for themselves."

"Your behavior demonstrates a pattern of reckless disregard for justice."

"Your behavior demonstrates a pattern of reckless disregard for justice." That one had stuck up with you. Reckless disregard. Reckless disregard. Reckless disregard. The way it rolled through your tongue gave you the clue of something else. You knew you had used those words before, if you could only place where; thousands of citations, warrants? Your eyes would move from point to point like you were physically searching, your nails would flick faster and faster. Where?

“God, could you stop doing that!?” Reid snaps, his gaze sharp with annoyance, and you look at him with the eyes of a deer caught in headlights.

You have learned over the years to not take stuff thrown at you personally, whether it is an out loud objection, a dirty trick in court with a judge, an inmate yelling at you for getting a sentence, an annoyed face in the search of a judge to sign a warrant, you do-not-take-it-personally.

But the look on Reid’s face made you feel like a 15-year-old misfit again, the girl who would cry, jump, and be on the verge of a panic attack if anyone accidentally touched her or if something too sweet triggered memories of hands creeping up, a teenager surrounded by college students who believed she was a narcissist egomaniac violent freak, a look you were afraid to find in your parents eyes when the therapist had told them about your anger issues and impulsiveness after you had destroyed the lamp in your bedroom, a look of plain annoyance not for what you had done but for who you are and what you represent, a mere obstacle, you were awkward and overwhelmed by everything. For a moment, the confident prosecutor, the woman in charge, vanished.

And you knew everybody in the room had noticed it, even after you had recovered from that second, you noticed it in the look on Derek's face, the way he looked at you apologetically, “Reid.” Gideon said, like a father scold his kid.

“It's okay I'll.. i need a coffee” you excuse yourself out of the room as fast and collected as you can, looking for some air.

In the room Reid senses his outburst has landed harder than he would’ve imagined. “Reid, go back to the scene. Start digging through the evidence again. There might be something we missed.” Hotch’s voice cuts through the air, and he opens his mouth to protest “Now.” Hotch remarks, which stops him from going further.

It was just so fucking annoying, the way she flicked her nails nonstop. Why did nobody see it?. So on his way out he grabs the leather bag that’s in one of the chairs of the room and finds it so irritating when Gideon follows him to notice there’s another satchel, in his desk chair covered with a blue blazer, his satchel.

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You had poured yourself another cup of extra bitter coffee, why did it affect you so much? god it was pathetic, you had faced worse than some guy calling you annoying. Maybe because you haven't seen it coming, maybe because it was so… reckless.

Reckless disregard. Reckless disregard.

Now where the fuck did you know that from? While being focused you sensed someone coming and discovered it was Morgan’s footsteps echoing through the bullpen, drawing your attention back to the present.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low as he stepped into your line of sight. “How you holding up?”

You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself. “I’m fine, just… thinking. I guess.” you tried to brush off, your mind was already elsewhere.

“Look, Reid is going th—”

“I’ve had it worse, really. I mean, law school is not for the weak,” you interrupted, joking, before he could start feeling pity for you.

He huffs with humor and decides to drop the apology on Reid’s behalf. Instead, he leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes watching you carefully “Occupational hazard I suppose... you know sometimes I wonder what happens after we catch the Unsubs”

“Well the fight doesn't end there, it does bring peace to the victims but believe me.. the legal battle sometimes is worse than the haunt.” you stare at the wall as you recall some of the people you have helped over the years.

“What do you mean?” Morgan's brows furrowed as he leaned closer, genuinely intrigued.

“Well…” you began, taking a deep breath, “The system is messy. It’s not like TV where the bad guy just goes to jail, and everyone walks away happy. Families have to relive their trauma during trials. There are plea deals, technicalities, appeals... It drags on. And sometimes,” you pause, gripping your cup a little tighter, “Justice doesn’t feel like justice at all.”

Morgan tilted his head, his voice softer now. “You’ve seen that happen, haven’t you?”

You exhale sharply, giving him a sidelong glance. “More times than I’d like to admit. You work so hard to get the right outcome, and then… loopholes, errors, or even just bad luck. It’s like pouring water into a cracked glass. It never fills up.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “And the people who go through that… they don’t always come out the other side, do they?”

“No, they don’t.” You look down into your coffee, your mind turning over the notes again. “Sometimes they snap under the weight of it all, the pain, the guilt, the blame, the...”

Blame

Your head snaps at him as you realize. “Blame.” That was it.

He furrowed his eyebrows not catching your thoughts “What?”

The cup clatters onto the counter, the sound sharp in the quiet hallway, but you’re already moving, your steps brisk as you head toward the conference room. Morgan calls after you, his voice a mix of confusion and concern. “Hey, hold up! What’s going on?”

You don’t answer immediately, your mind racing as you burst into the room. The others look up, startled by your sudden entrance. Without a word, you grab the bag containing the notes from the board, your hands moving with purpose as you spread them out in front of you.

“Blame,” you say, your voice firm, almost breathless. “These notes and murders—they’re not coming from someone who’s envious, but from someone who’s blaming the system. Not because it didn’t recognize them, but because it failed them!” The words tumble out faster than you can organize them, your thoughts racing ahead of your mouth. You’re not even fully conscious of what you’re saying, already dissecting the next connection in your mind.

JJ steps closer, his brows furrowed in curiosity. “Failed them how?”

“They’re not jealous of the people they’re targeting,” you continue, pointing to the scattered notes as your mind sharpens. “They’re angry. Angry at the system for not delivering justice, for letting them down when they needed it the most.” You reach for one of the notes, holding it up as you ramble. “Look at the phrasing they’re accusatory they’re challenging the idea of accountability, of consequences it’s not about wanting what these people have it’s about punishing them for what the unsub sees as complicity in their pain.”

In your state of mind you barely recall the sound of Hotch’s phone and him stepping out of the room, too focused on looking at Morgan, Prentiss and JJ.

“The profile is wrong” Prentiss says, nodding slowly as she starts piecing it together herself. Her eyes flick to the board covered with crime scene photos and victims’ profiles. “That’s why he’s targeting people from both sides, defense and prosecution. It’s not about personal grudges against individuals; it’s about what they represent.”

“Exactly,” you reply, your voice firm. “He sees them as symbols of a broken system. Defense attorneys, paralegals, judges—they’re all complicit in his eyes. They’re the ones who allowed the system to fail him.”

Prentiss gestures to the timeline on the board. “But what was the trigger? What pushed him from feeling betrayed to committing these murders?”

You take a deep breath, your eyes scanning the notes again. “It’s got to be personal—a case he was directly connected to. Something happened that made him feel like the system didn’t just fail, but actively betrayed him. He have go to the records”

Morgan pushes off the table, already reaching for the phone. “Hey, Babygirl, we need you to go through court files and find something that stands out, any cases around three months ago when the murders started.”

“Okay, do you have anything more specific to know what I’m looking for?” Garcia’s voice crackles through the speaker, the familiar clacking of her keyboard filling the room as she prepares to search.

“We need to focus on high-profile cases that could have shaken the system. Look for any parole hearings, controversial verdicts, or any case that resulted in a big upset—something that would’ve made the Unsub feel like the system betrayed him,” He explains, already pacing with his phone pressed to his ear.

"Got it," Garcia responds, her fingers already flying across the keyboard. "I'll start pulling up all cases with defense or prosecution lawyers involved. High stakes stuff."

But before all of you could start digging and theorizing, Hotch’s voice cuts through the air, leaving you all frozen. “They’ve found another body with another note.”

The tension in the room thickens. Your breath takes off and without missing a beat, you all gather your things, it takes you a minute to find your blazer but in the heat of the moment you didn’t question why and how had your bag gotten under it, instincts kicking into gear as you rush to the scene.

“JJ you are with me, Gideon and Reid are already going to the scene” they all nod at the commanding voice of Hotch and you rush to get in the back seat of the black SUV with Morgan and Prentiss.

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In the car you take a moment to breathe and collect your thoughts to be able to think of anyone who can feel betrayed enough to commit murder. The problem is that anyone can feel betrayed enough to have an outburst. Hell, you were no one to talk about outburst if more than a couple times you had imagined yourself throwing something to inmates or smashing their heads against the table when all the evidence pointed at them being guilty and insisted on dragging the trials off.

“Can I ask why L.A. in the winter?” Prentiss' voice from the passenger seat brings you back to the car.

“What?”

“I mean it wouldn’t be my first choice for a romantic getaway” she thinks out loud.

“Ohh.. wait, romantic? Austin is not my boyfriend.. I just don’t like travelling alone” you are quick to correct her. You weren't lying, the statistics show how dangerous it is for women to travel alone and it gave your parents some peace to think someone will be there to keep you company that they trusted, plus he’s a good travel buddy because he knows when to bother and when to not do it.

Prentiss nods, as if taking mental notes, probably profiling you. “I just thought L.A. in the winter was more of a vacation spot, you know? Beaches, sunshine... not really the first place you’d think of for a quiet getaway.”

“They hold the biggest Doctor Who convention there during that time of the year ” you mumble, noticing how both Morgan and Prentiss look at each other as if sharing a thought and before you can ask, the blue and red lights hit you, announcing the arrival to the apartment complex, the crime scene.

You all step out of the car, the place is full of officers and you rush to where Gideon and Hotch are standing, note in hand. You notice how Reid has some urgency to tell you something but when JJ hands you the bag that secures evidence with the note.

"No one is above the law. Except for the guilty who’ve been given second chances."

Glancing at the note, your mind races, piecing together fragments of information, second chances. “Parole,” you murmur “The unsub is a victim, and their victimizer got out on parole!” Your eyes dart from point to point, connecting the dots. “That’s what he means by second chances.”

Hotch nods sharply “Garcia is already going through parole records.”

Just as the words settle, a new idea strikes you like lightning, and you barely take a breath before blurting, “I think I know something about the notes!” The sudden burst of realization sends you sprinting to the car, leaving the team, and a startled Spencer Reid, in your wake.

“Wait-” Spencer starts, his voice tight and laced with something unspoken, but you’re already too far gone to hear the rest, leaving him with panic in his eyes and an open mouth as he was about to say something.

Fumbling through your bag, your hands shake with the adrenaline coursing through you. “Your silence speaks for itself. Integrity means different things to different people. Some get to define it for themselves. Reckless disregard for justice. Second chances...” You mutter fragments aloud, recognizing the phrases. They weren’t random. You’ve read these words before, somewhere specific. A draft of a closing statement? A court transcript? Your fingers move frantically, searching for your phone, your notes, something. Why did you brought your copy of Crime and Punishment? and why did it look a little bit newer than yours? Where's your phone? Where are your files?. Not every criminal can get out on parole—they need good behavior, a stable support system… Maybe you put it in the front pocket.

Your hand grazes something cold and smooth. Glass. Then something sharp, metal. You freeze, pulling the objects into view. Two small bottles of Dilaudid and a needle. Your throat tightens, and you feel the air around you thin and the familiar warm that comes with anger starts to settle down your back.

You glance up, almost instinctively, and your furious eyes land on him. Spencer’s standing a few feet away, his expression is a contorted pale mask of fear, guilt, and helplessness, his eyes wide and pleading as they lock onto yours, making you look away at the full disclosure of a crime scene.

The chaos of the crime scene rushes back to you. The flash of blue and red lights dancing across every surface, the sharp crackle of radio chatter blending with raised voices, the metallic tang of blood still fresh in the air. Officers move purposefully, their dark uniforms a blur of activity as evidence is collected and barriers are secured.

There are 3 things going on in your brain right now.

This is not your bag, it's Spencer’s.

Spencer is an addict.

You are in the middle of a crime scene, surrounded by cops with a full stash of illegal drugs.

You have to think, think fast and now. The unsub, the drugs, the notes, his sharpness, the victims.

You see Morgan stepping out of the building, his sharp gaze scanning the scene. Panic rushes through you like ice water. You shove the Dilaudid and needle back into the bag, your hands trembling as you close it. Your mind races, desperate to piece together what to do next. “Morgan I need you to drive me to my office”

“What? Why?” he looks at you like you are out of your mind.

“I need a file I thought I had it with me but I don't and it would be faster I don't think the words of the notes are random I think I have seen them before in some legal file that could lead us to the Unsub” the words rush, you are rambling desperate to get out that place, clutching the strap of the bag to your chest.

Morgan’s sharp gaze lingers on you as he signals the car. “Get in,” he says before telling Prentiss and Hotch about it and getting in the car.

You slide into the passenger seat, gripping the bag so tightly your knuckles ache. Morgan settles into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, the rumble of the car barely masking the tension between you. As you approach your office building, you mentally rehearse your next steps. Get upstairs, dispose of the drugs, and look for the file. Your mind spins with the weight of the discovery, but you shove it aside as Morgan pulls up to the curb.

You get out of the car and enter the building. It’s past 10 pm so no one is around, except you two, as you get closer to your office you hear a noise somewhere that makes Morgan instincts spark up. “It's probably the janitor” you brush off.

“I’ll take a look” you nod and ask for his phone to call Garcia if needed, he gives it to you as he takes off his gun and you thank whatever mess that cleaning man was making, giving you the opportunity to execute your plan alone.

You open the door and rush to the bathroom taking the bottles out. How could Reid do something like this? Did his team know? The anger, a familiar flame, burns through you as you flush the contents of the bottle and went back to the office to look for the paper bag that had contained your lunch this morning.

It was irrational for you to be this angry at him without even knowing him but it was there, simmering under the surface. How could someone do this to himself? To his team? To the people who rely on him?

The crumpled paper bag from earlier sat on your desk, you broke the needle off, and shoved it inside with the empty bottles to dump it deep into one of the trash cans in the hallway. Out of sight, out of mind. At least for now.

You go through your cabinets, looking for the draft files. “Where is it?” you muttered under your breath, flipping through yet another folder. The contents were a jumble of case summaries, old briefs, and legal drafts, but none of them held the connection you were chasing. You were good with names, especially if it was tied to a legal document, which could be sad but right now is useful when you finally stumble upon a file that felt too familiar. You pulled it out, the edges worn from use, and opened it. A closing statement you’d written 5 years ago during a case.

Lawrence Finch. Larry.

Father of two kids with a wife, family that was taken away from him because in a car accident where the other driver was a rich guy who was too high to understand anything and got out harmless, Evan Grayson was his name. You remember how hollow he looked and how much he had thanked you after you got the guy sentenced. In your closing statement you spoke about the depth of his loss, about the void that could never be filled. You'd used his words, his pain, to hammer home the injustice, the lives lost because of one reckless decision. You remembered how his face had softened in that brief moment of relief after the sentence was handed down. He’d shaken your hand and said, “You gave me my justice.”

Glancing at the words you realize how the words you’d written, once so full of conviction, now echoed in your head, twisted and distorted. The Unsub had taken your closing statement—Lawrence Finch’s words—and turned them into something chilling.

"Your silence speaks for the victims. They can no longer speak for themselves." had become "Your silence speaks for itself."

"Integrity is the foundation of justice. It means holding those responsible accountable, no matter who they are." was now "Integrity means different things to different people. Some get to define it for themselves."

"His behavior demonstrates a complete disregard for human life, a pattern of recklessness that cannot go unpunished." had morphed into "Your behavior demonstrates a pattern of reckless disregard for justice."

And the final sting, the one that had sealed the fate of the driver who’d taken a family’s life, was now twisted into something far more personal "No one is above the law, not even those who believe their privilege protects them from it." turned into "No one is above the law. Except for the guilty who’ve been given second chances."

He wasn’t just echoing your words—he was using them, warping them into a weapon.

You grab Morgan’s phone and look through the contacts before pressing call “Garcia, I need you to look up something for me,” the urgency was clear in your voice.

“You are not my chocolate thunder but speak and you'll be heard” Garcia responded, always upbeat even when the stakes were high.

“Evan Grayson. I need everything you can find on him—parole status, criminal record, anything recent,” you said, pacing the room as your mind spun with connections you were still piecing together.

"Got it! Give me a second, I’ll dig into the system,” Garcia said, her voice clicking into business mode. A few moments of silence passed, you hear some rustling outside but ignore it, before she spoke again, her tone more focused. “Okay, here we go. Evan Grayson, 27, convicted of vehicular manslaughter five years ago. Served three years, got released early on good behavior.”

“Garcia, they guy murdered almost an entire family five years ago, the only one left was the father Larry Finch, he’s our unsub, he’s been using the words of trial for the notes!” you said, your voice tight. “We need to localize him and inform the rest of the team that-.”

Before you could finish, a scuffle echoed from down the hallway, followed by a muffled shout that cut through the silence of the building. Morgan’s voice calling your name with an edge of panic. Garcia’s voice asking what was going on felt far.

You bolted toward the sound, heart pounding in your chest. The door to your office was ajar, and you caught sight of Morgan wrestling with someone, a blur of motion. The other figure was struggling, trying to break free, but Morgan’s grip was like steel.

"Get down!" Morgan barked, his voice gruff with exertion.

Your eyes widened as you recognized the man, Larry Finch, the very person whose family had been torn apart in the accident. He was here. Right here. In your office. Probably looking for you.

Your mind raced, trying to process the situation, but Morgan didn’t give you time to think. He quickly subdued Larry, pinning him to the ground with the precision only years of training could provide. The fight drained from Larry’s body as Morgan cuffed him, his breath coming in ragged gasps with his gaze towards the officers that were running towards him.

His words pierced the air, heavy with accusation. “You promised me he would never get out! You failed me! All of you failed me!” Larry’s voice was raw, full of grief and rage. This wasn’t the grieving father you’d met 5 years ago, this was a man hollowed out by loss, filled with nothing but rage and betrayal. His words struck deep because he wasn’t wrong, you understood profusely the feelings and you had failed him somehow and maybe if you had known about Evan Grayson getting out you could’ve done something. Those eyes full of hurt and betrayal were locked on you as they pulled him away, Morgan´s concerned gaze on your figure frozen behind the door of your office, with your hands still clenching the statement.

He went to put a hand on your shoulder to comfort you “Wanna step outside for some air?” he offers. You shake your head, moving on to the next task, locking your feelings away “i’ll meet you outside, I just… I need to do something real quick.”. He hesitates but nods and leaves you alone giving your shoulder a brief squeeze as you walk back to your desk, focused on the pace of your breaths and working on keeping them even. You see Morgan’s phone screen with a message from Garcia “i heard noises and called for backup”

So everyone was downstairs. Everyone including Reid. Reid. Dilaudid. Your fault. Anger.

You exhaled slowly, willing yourself to stay in control and not destroy or throw anything that was at your reach, you grab the black desk phone, speed dialing 9 without even looking. When a calming “Hello?” sounds in the other line you breathe deep again, the grip on the phone getting tighter, you close your eyes, steadying yourself as you grab a pen and paper with shaking hands.

“Dr. Fitzgerald i… i need your help”

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You step outside just as JJ and Reid emerge from a black SUV. JJ barely spares a glance before rushing toward Morgan, Prentiss, and Hotch, but Reid stops. His gaze lands on you, then drifts lower to the satchel slung across your body. His satchel.

Your breath catches for half a second, but you don’t give him the chance. Before he can take a step in your direction, you move first. Quick, deliberate. You make your way to another SUV, open the backseat, and set the bag inside without so much as a glance in his direction. Then, with Larry’s file gripped tight in your hand, you head straight for the team.

You don’t look at him. You can’t.

But it doesn’t stop you from feeling the weight of his stare. From sensing the way he lingers, trying to find a moment, an opening, to talk to you alone. You know exactly how that conversation will go, how the fury and frustration bubbling under your skin will erupt the second he speaks. If he tries, you will yell. And you don’t trust yourself to stop.

So, instead, you focus. You lay out what you’ve found to the rest of the team members, flipping through the notes, explaining the connections, your voice steady despite the storm inside you, trusting that he’ll have the decency to not approach you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch movement. Reid. He’s walking toward another SUV, the leather bag, your leather bag, slipping from his shoulder as he places it inside without hesitation.

He caught on.

You force yourself to keep talking, to keep your focus on the case, but inside, you're torn. Part of you wants to be grateful that he understood, that he’s playing along. Another part of you hates that he did.

Because it means he knows. And that’s almost worse.

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You watched the chessboard, considering the game’s progress. The case was wrapped up, but you still had some files and reports to gather. More than that, you liked talking to the team, there was something about the spirit of family among them that you hadn’t expected. It was a strange feeling, one that tugged at you.

“Would you like to play?” you heard someone ask you, making you turn around to see Agent Gideon, speaking of “family”, you had noticed how he acted like a mentor or father to Reid, maybe he was. You knew fathers weren't perfect, you guess that extended to figurative ones too, but how could someone so proud of playing that role ignore something as obvious as Reid’s addiction? No help, no support. Did he even know what it was like to battle something like that? did he even know what it was like having an addiction? did he know Reid has one?

“Yes” you answer to him, chess has always played an important part in your life, a way out, literally and metaphorically, a board of 46 squares and more possible moves than the amount of atoms in the universe, a regulated and controlled space, where you had all the control.

You both sat at opposite sides of the board, rearranging the pieces. “Black or white?” he asked. “I'm fine with either”. You didn't believe in luck or coincidences, so when he grabbed both queens and made you pick, drawing black, you didn't think much of it. Mathematically you were at a disadvantage, when two machines play chess, black always loses. But you’d gone through enough to know better than to give up on a weak starting position.

So move after move, you weren't playing to win really, and judging his moves he wasn't either, you can tell a lot from someone's way to play chess. “It's nice to play against someone new you know?”. Gideon glanced for a second at Reid with a brief smile. That made you doubt your next move, because your rage has always made you freeze for a second and erratic the next. How could he?. Yes, you have been avoiding Reid at all costs. No, you didn't know if he and Dr. Fitzgerald had talked. You had helped him in the best way you could've possibly found fighting to not panic too much.

So you hummed in response, letting the wheels in your head turn as you shifted your strategy, so when you started playing to win, the game was too advance for him to do a proper counter attack.

“Checkmate” a smile appeared on your face, the same one when you knew the inmate was going to get convicted, when your closing statement had convinced the jury. When someone underestimated you.

Gideon tilted his head, eyebrows raised, lips pursed. He glanced between you and the board. “Didn’t see that one coming,”

With your fingers still resting lightly on the queen, you paused for a second. “Yeah there's a lot of things you either don't see or choose to ignore, Agent Gideon” your piercing stare and a cool voice, heavy with the weight of frustration.

Gideon’s smile faltered, and for the first time, his eyes showed something more than just the calm resolve he always projected. Your words had hit the mark. He knew it wasn’t just about chess.

You had outplayed him, just as you had outplayed the situation. And just as you had done with Reid, by realizing and taking action, something that clearly no one else had.

After talking to Hotch, reports in hand, as you walked out of the Headquarters and stumble upon Morgan, who gives you a warm and friendly smile as he says hi.

"Hey umm.. I wasn't really able to thanked you the other night after you saved my life, I truly thought it was just a cleaning lady" It felt so shameful how unaware you had been at the danger that night because of your meltdown.

He moves his hand as it was nothing. "Hey I'm just glad I decided to go with you instead of waiting in the car"

Reaching for one of your presentation cards, neatly saved in your new black leather bag, holding it between your index and middle finger to him "Well... I still own a big one. So if you ever need legal help or anything else, don't hesitate to reach for me"

He takes it nodding and reads it out loud your full name with a funny pace "I'll hold on to that one Miss A.D.A. Woodvale".

You laugh at his way to pronounce it, feeling too formal for the moment "Please just.. call me Woody"

He chuckles "Wait like the Toy Story character?"

You chuckled too "Yeah it's uhh.. dumb name but.." you shrug as a friendly smile paints your face as you realize you had made a new friend which was weird for you but felt oddly satisfying as you said your goodbyes and walked in opposite's directions.

Your thoughts wandered to Spencer, against your better judgment, they always did recently. It was infuritating the fact that your mind always went back around him, you couldn’t quite say why exactly, because if you would've have never found out what you did, he would've have stayed as the rude and annoying agent you met once.

But then you remembered the other side of him—the trembling hands, the lost stares, the outburst, the bottles you found in his bag. You couldn’t unsee it, couldn’t separate him from the shadow of his addiction. And it broke something inside you, because you knew what that darkness looked like, how it devoured people whole.

You wanted to reach for him, to offer more than the cold anger and frustration you’d shown, but you were too afraid. Afraid of what it might mean for both of you if he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, fight his way out. Afraid that you would fall too, trying to save someone.

You hoped he would get help. You prayed to gods you didn't even believe in for it. You knew all too well what it felt like to be trapped in that cycle, in your body. You couldn’t bear the thought of him staying there, lost.

And so you walked away, keeping your distance, even though a part of you that you didn’t understood ached to stay.

　　　　　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　　　　

part II Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3

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janeyseymour · 6 months ago

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All To Myself

requested by @schemmentisbaby

Summary: Your little girl is getting ready to go to Abbott- not that your wife's coworkers know.

WC: ~3.6k

Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher at Abbott Elementary, your wife, and mother to your beautiful little girl: Grace Marie. Melissa Schemmenti, a woman who rarely talks about herself, so all that her coworkers know about her is that she’s married- and even then, she wishes they didn’t know that. It’s not that she has anything to hide or like she’s ashamed of you, but after growing up the way that she did, she’s learned that keeping her mouth shut about personal information is probably for the best. The fact that people know she’s a Schemmenti holds enough weight as it is.

Your wife has been able to keep it quiet that she has a little girl due to the fact that while she is present on Facebook, and so are you, there are very few people that she has on there. The only people that she’s so graciously allowed to friend her on that social media app are you, her family (yes, Kristen Marie included), and one Mrs. Barbara Howard. Those that are present on your social media aren’t aware of the weight that your last name now holds, having grown up just outside of Philly in the suburbs. So when you post images or updates on how your life is going, it doesn’t much matter, and Melissa doesn’t mind.

The second grade teacher has been relatively successful at keeping the personal and professional lives from mixing. That is going to change though, because Gracie is getting ready to head into kindergarten at none other than Willard R. Abbott Elementary School.

“Hun,” you sigh to your wife quietly as the two of you begin to grasp the fact that Grace is going to be attending your wife’s workplace.

“I just didn’t think it was going to be happening so soon,” Melissa mumbles. “I mean, it’s like she was born yesterday, and now she’s getting ready to enter kindergarten.”

“You’re telling me,” you chuckle. “I feel like we were hearing her heartbeat for the first time, and now we’re getting ready to send our baby to school.”

“Jesus, we’re gettin’ old.”

As it turns out, Grace is more than excited to be heading to school- she’s so excited to see the place where her mother works, and she can’t wait to be a big kid. And luck just so has it that your daughter is placed in her Aunt Barbie’s class.

“I get to be with Aunt Barbie all day?!” Grace squeals out with excitement when you tell her who her kindergarten teacher is.

You can’t help but chuckle at how precious she is. “You do, but at school she’s Mrs. Howard, yeah?”

Your little girl nods her head with enthusiasm. “When do I get to go?”

“School starts in two weeks, but Mommy goes in next week,” Melissa tells your little girl at the dinner table. “And on that Wednesday, they have a special night for kindergarteners to meet their teachers and get familiar with the school.”

“I can’t wait for school!”

“Oh, but I can,” your wife grumbles so that only you can hear her.

The day before Melissa goes back to Abbott for professional development days, she’s a bit more moody than usual. Because of this, your little girl spends most of the day with you. The redhead is stressed beyond belief trying to ensure that she has everything packed into her car to take to the school for the new year. She’s focusing on meal prepping so she can just grab things and go. Her outfit for whatever reason is stressing her out more than it usually would.

“Honey,” you mumble as she stands in your closet staring at all of her shirts. You wrap your arms around her waist and set your chin on her shoulder before kissing her neck gently. She hums as she leans into your affections.

“What has you so worked up tonight?” you prod gently. “Usually you don’t care what you wear to work.”

“I just… these are the last few days where my coworkers will see me as just Melissa, not Grace’s mother,” she admits. “Reminds me I’m gettin’ older.”

“We are getting older,” you remind her. “But that just means that we’re one step closer to retirement, to having a beautiful daughter to take care of us, more years of love under our belt.”

Your wife sighs softly and cranes her neck to look at you. “How do you always know what to say to help calm me down?”

“We’ve been married for years,” you chuckle. “Practice.”

The next morning, Grace cannot for the life of her understand why she doesn’t get to go with Melissa to her new school. She’s gotten herself dressed and ready, adorned with the backpack that is just about the size of her, and her new sparkly shoes.

“Mi amore,” your wife sighs as she kneels down to pull your daughter into a hug. “Mommy has to go do boring things at the school. Trust me when I tell you, you would rather stay with Momma and play at home for these last few days.”

“But I want you!” your little girl pouts. “I want Aunt Barbie!”

“And you’ll get me tonight,” Melissa tries to placate. “And I will talk to Aunt Barbie and see if she can come over today after work to play for a little bit, how does that sound?”

That seems to satisfy your daughter who comes bouncing over to you. She curls into your arms as your wife makes her way out the door.

At work, the redhead is happy to see her work wife, but she isn’t necessarily thrilled to be back at work for the school year.

“I saw Gracie’s name on my list for this year,” Barbara whispers to her friend when she’s certain no one else can hear.

“She’s real excited to have you as her kindergarten teacher,” Melissa chuckles softly. “She’s asking for you already. I told her I would see if you could come over after work today.”

“She’ll be sick of me by the end of this year,” the kindergarten teacher laughs.

Green eyes are rolled. “I doubt that. I’m fairly certain my kid loves you more than she loves me or Y/N.”

“You know your little girl has the most love for her mothers,” Barb smirks. “And then of course for Aunt Barbie. I’ll be there.”

“And I’m going to need every hand on deck for kindergarten orientation on Wednesday,” Ava announces. “This is the biggest class to come through Abbott since the 90s.”

“No can do,” Melissa states in front of everyone. “Have business I need to take care of, and it ain’t like you’re payin’ me.” She shoots her boss a look that dares her to challenge.

The principal quirks her lips to the side before rolling her eyes and sighing loudly. “Every hand on deck except for Red Hot.”

After the workday is done, the kindergarten and second grade teachers make their way back to your house. You and your little girl are sitting in the living room reading a book when you hear the front door open and close. All thoughts of the game are abandoned when Gracie jumps to her feet and goes to the door as fast as her little legs will take her. She launches herself at Melissa, who catches her with ease. Then she’s throwing herself at Barbara, who has just barely kneeled down to embrace her.

“How’s my baby girl?” Barbara asks as she kisses your daughter’s head.

Your little girl soaks up the attention. “Good! I want to go to school though.”

“Well, that comes next week, but I’m sure Mommy’s told you about how you’ll get to come see my classroom in a few days.” When Grace nods with excitement, Barbara continues. “And I know at home I’m Aunt Barbie, but at school I have to be Mrs. Howard. Think you can remember that for me, baby?”

“Pinky swears,” your daughter holds out her pinky with a grin.

“That’s my girl,” the kindergarten teacher smiles as she links pinkies with your little girl. “Now, what are we going to do today?”

Come Wednesday, after a long day of professional development in the morning and prepping for open house on Thursday, Melissa comes home to you and your excitable daughter.

“Mommy!” Grace goes running over to the front door, abandoning her station to help you prepare dinner.

“Mi amore,” your wife sighs happily as she lifts your daughter to her hip. “My beautiful girl.”

Grace giggles incessantly as the teacher pecks her cheeks continuously. Then your wife is making her way over to you.

“My gorgeous wife,” she whispers as she kisses you softly. “You’re the best.”

“I’m making your favorite,” you tell her quietly as you lean in to kiss her again.

Grace makes a face at your affections. “Ew, moms. Stop kissin’!”

The two of you roll your eyes in a playful manner. “You know I just love your momma so much,” Melissa laughs that low laugh that you find irresistible. She kisses you again.

“Are you ready to go see Aunt Barbie and your new school?” the redhead asks gently as she sets your daughter back down on the chair you have pulled up to the counter.

“Mrs. Howard,” Grace corrects with a toothy smile as she picks up the spoon to begin mixing the salad again.

Melissa rolls her eyes and pokes your daughter in the belly. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

After dinner, your family makes their way down to Abbott. Grace clings to your hand the entire time. At the thought of going to a new school, she was excited. But now that the time is upon her, she’s nervous.

“It’ll all be okay, Gracie girl,” Melissa promises. “You know Mommy wouldn’t work here or let you go here if it wasn’t a good place to be.”

That seems to settle your daughter’s nerves just slightly, but she still remains close to you.

You and Grace walk in and head right to the little check in, knowing immediately where to go. Barbara just smiles and checks off your daughter’s name before greeting your wife who is trailing a few paces behind.

“Melissa!” you hear the boisterous voice of the principal of the school. “You said you wasn’t coming!”

Your wife just rolls her eyes and shrugs. “What can I say?”

The incoming class of kindergarteners are ushered into the gym for a quick presentation of teachers that they might come across throughout the school year. Of course, Barbara is up on the stage with all of the kindergarten teachers, but so is your wife and the rest of her work crew, as well as some other staff members that she rarely mentions.

Once that’s over with, they begin to move the children down to the classrooms that they’ll be spending most of their time in for the year. Grace takes your hand gently and guides you towards the correct line.

Abbott is a special school, you can see that just by walking through the halls. It’s filled with artwork from students, there are several plaques with various award titles on them, the teachers who are helping to guide students around are warm. Aside from the odd lingering smell, you can understand why Melissa works here and has worked here for years.

Your wife lingers in the room under the guise of just helping out her work wife- it makes sense to the rest of the staff that she would go with Barbara. Grace finds her desk with ease, knowing all of the letters in her name. She squeals with happiness when she sees the few little goodies that Mrs. Howard left on the students’ desks.

“Momma,” your little girl tugs on your shirt. “Sit with me?”

You oblige her request with a smile, settling in her chair before pulling her on top of you. Grace brightens and gives your wife a thumbs up before beginning to color the princess page Barbara had placed there. You can’t help but press a soft kiss to your girl’s temple before looking up at your wife with a smile. She’s absolutely precious. Melissa tries to hide the fact that she was sneaking a picture of the two of you, but it’s no use. Her cheeks tint just slightly red before shrugging her shoulders with a bashful smile.

The rest of your daughter’s class settles in and is allowed to color for a few moments while Barbara and Melissa chat with parents- no doubt answering questions that will surely be answered within the next few minutes.

Your wife’s boss makes her way into the classroom, and she eyes the redhead warily before teasing her. “I shoulda known you’d find your way into Barb’s classroom.”

“Well, she is-”

“I don’ care,” Ava states. She turns to scan the room, and her eyes immediately land on you. She winks.

You have to fight to roll your eyes. It’s funny that she chose you to focus in on, but it will be even funnier when she realizes that she just hit on her shadiest teacher’s wife.

Before the principal can say anything too out of line, Barbara claps her hands together and begins her spiel about herself as a teacher, the classroom that the students will be in, and the school itself.

Grace seems more than content to sit in your lap and color quietly while Melissa nods along to the things that her work wife is saying. She knows it all already, but it’s nice hearing what will be expected of your little girl while she’s in Barb’s classroom.

“And now, while the parents are filling out the paperwork necessary for the beginning of the school year, I figured I might take the students on a walking tour of the areas in the school that they’ll be in,” the kindergarten teacher explains with a clap of her hands. “So, we’re going to practice lining up and walking in the hallways like big kindergarteners.”

She manages to line up the entire class quietly before walking them out the door with Melissa. You sigh and begin to quietly fill out the paperwork for your little girl. It’s a while before you hear footsteps come back into the room, just as you’re getting ready to write down Melissa’s name under the second guardian spot. When you look up, you expect to see Barbara, your wife, and the students in tow. Instead, it’s Ava again, and she’s looking directly at you- you can practically feel her eyes on you.

“Does anybody have any questions about Abbott?” the principal asks.

A few hands go up, but she blatantly ignores them. She points to you. “What about you, angel face?”

Your brow goes up. “I think I’m all good, but thank you.”

“Surely you can’t know everything there is to know about this school,” Ava frowns. “You have to have at least one question.”

“Not that I can think of,” you tell her. If you do think of a question, you doubt she’ll know the answer to it anyway.

“Is that little girl of yours your first one to go through Abbott?”

You nod. “But I know all about this school.”

“Oh?” Ava smirks. “You did your research?”

Instead of telling her that your wife is Melissa, you just nod. Sure, you had done your research and asked your wife about the building, but you know the ins and outs of this school- the things that go on behind the scenes.

You think that’s the end of the conversation and start to write “Mrs.”, but she makes her way further into the room, and she stands over you sitting at a student desk.

“Where’s the wife?” Ava asks you as she leans against the desk. She drapes a gentle hand over your wrist. “Because I know someone as fine as you has one.”

You look up to her with a smirk before beginning to write down Melissa’s name.

Almost comically, the principal gasps and her hands fly to her mouth. She stands straight up. “You ain’t telling me Melissa is your wife, are you?!”

With impeccable timing, Melissa walks back into the classroom with Barbara and the kindergarteners.

“I am,” is all your wife states as she folds her arms over her chest and stares down her boss. “Why? You got something to-”

“Bye, y’all,” Ava runs out of the classroom as quickly as she had come in.

Barbara just looks to you with the silent question of if the principal was flirting with you, and you nod subtly.

Your wife sees red for a split second before she makes her way over to you with your daughter and wraps her arm around the top of your shoulders.

“Idiot,” Melissa grumbles as she plants a kiss to the top of your head. “Flirting with my wife like that.”

You reach up a hand and lay yours gently over hers. “She didn’t know because you didn’t tell her.”

“‘Cause she has no business knowin’ about my personal life,” your wife mutters.

“She will now,” you remind her. “Grace is goin’ here now, and you know that Ava’s gonna open her mouth about it the first chance she gets.”

“Which will be once everyone is out of the school, and we somehow get corralled into helping break everything,” Melissa rolls her eyes.

It’s a bit of time before Ava makes the announcement that all families should head out of the building to allow the teachers to get home for the night. But when you think that Melissa is going to try to book it out of there as quickly as possible, she begins to help her work wife straighten up her classroom.

You know that the two of them are quite close, but it is something else to see them working together in silence. It’s like how you and Melissa work- in sync, with ease, naturally.

And then the rest of the group begins to come in, asking questions before they even fully enter the room to see you and your little girl sitting quietly on the carpet reading a book together. Okay, you’re reading, but Grace is touching each word as you read.

You pause your reading as the boisterous group comes in. Their eyes immediately go to you, and they halt their questioning.

“I’m sorry,” a shorter woman, who you can only assume is Janine, speaks quietly. “I didn’t realize you still had a student in the room.”

“They’re fine,” Melissa cuts in before anyone else can say anything. “They’re with me.”

Gregory furrows his brow. “Why would they-”

“Melissa Schemmenti, when the hell was you goin’ to tell us you have a daughter that was going to come to Abbott?!” the principal yells as she struts in. “And that your wife was fine as-” She cuts herself off at the challenging look green eyes give her.

“They’re with me because that’s my wife and my daughter,” the redhead points to the two of you. “Gracie, come say hi to Mommy’s friends.”

Your little girl jumps out of your lap and runs over to your wife, who lifts her onto her hip with ease. “I’m Gracie, and I’m five!” she holds out an entire hand for emphasis. Her smile is enough to melt their hearts.

“Oh, Mel Mel, she’s so cute,” Jacob grins as he high fives your daughter.

“Mi amore,” Melissa jerks her head for you to come over.

“Y/N,” you smile that charming smile of yours as you wrap an arm around the Melissa. “Mrs. Schemmenti, if you will.”

“How the hell didn’t we know about this now?” Mr. Johnson wrinkles his nose. “That’s a load of bull… trash.”

Emerald eyes are rolled. “Because the boss don’t look at the rosters to know who’s comin’ in.”

“I did!”

“Did you?” Janine narrows her eyes as she looks to the principal.

Ava looks offended. “So what if I did or did not? Overseeing an entire school is hard! It ain’t my fault Melissa never told us she had a daughter!”

“You didn’t tell them about me?” Grace frowns, and she looks a bit wounded by that knowledge.

“Mommy just wanted you all to herself,” your wife promises as she dots a few kisses along your daughter’s hairline.

That seems to placate your daughter, who snuggles right back up to the redhead before yawning. “Aunt Barbie is my teacher.”

“She is,” you chuckle as you smooth down a few of her wild locks. “But at school she’s Mrs. Howard, remember?”

“Mrs. Howard is my teacher,” your little girl yawns out.

“I think it’s about time we head home,” Melissa chuckles softly. She looks to you. “Are you about ready t’head out?”

You nod and grab your purse from where Grace will be sitting next Monday. “Well, it was really nice to finally meet you all,” you chuckle out. “I know she’s in good hands here at Abbott.”

The group seems to have more questions for the redhead that is quickly escorting you out, but she ignores them and ushers you out.

Just as you’re leaving, Ava shouts down the hallway, “Girl, don’t think we ain’t talkin’ ‘bout how youse are milfs tomorrow!”

There’s a loud chorus of “Ava!” that can be heard right after. You have to hide the smile. You’re already well aware that your wife is hot.

“Momma?” Grace looks to you with curious eyes.

“Yeah baby?” you ask.

“What’s a milf?”

“Ava is dead tomorrow,” your wife grumbles.

“You love your boss, and your coworkers,” you remind her.

Melissa sighs heavily. “They’re freakin’ lucky.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

#melissa schemmenti fanfic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #barbara howard #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction

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the-californicationist · 7 months ago

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Cali's Kinktober: Day 01

post cibum - "after a meal" - Kinktober Masterlist TF141 x f!reader Kinks > wet/messy, food play, objectification Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

Your new job as a professional nyotaimori model pays all the bills and then some, but tonight, you are serving a group of soldiers who want more than just the novelty of eating fancy sushi rolls off of a naked woman. After they’ve had their fill of the nigiri and the rolls, they want you for dessert.

“That’s fine, sir. We can do a seven o’clock tonight. Have you had a chance to choose your selections from the menu?”

You strained your ears as you listened to your maître d' consult with a customer over the phone. You were prepping in the adjoining room, going through your normal routine, but the growling, Manchester accent coming through the speaker was making it difficult to focus.

“Yeah, give us a full spread. The works. No barriers.”

It must be a big party, you thought. The full spread option included a large array of sushi and sashimi. Asking for no barriers was quite adventurous, and you felt your skin flush with excitement.

“Yes, sir. And would you like your artist bound or unbound?”

“Mm,” he thought for a minute, and you tried to send telepathic messages to the gruff stranger, “Let’s have ‘er tied down.”

Yes, you celebrated, already imagining the feel of the ropes crossing over the big, wooden table and pinning you to it, forcing you to stay in place all night long.

“And will you be including the sake option?”

“Yeah, sure. Johnny’s a bloody lush.”

Your heart began to race just imagining what sort of night you were in for. The sake option meant needing to shave your sensitive pussy completely bare, so you added that step to your process. Being a food model wasn’t something anyone seemed to take seriously, but you felt like a true artist, and you wanted your guests to have an unforgettable experience when they came to dine with you… on you.

“Alright, sir, that’s –”

“And we want the additional package. I’ll pay extra. Whatever it costs. Just put it on the tab.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like A, B, or C?”

The additional package? How did he know about that? You’d never performed for this man before – you would not have been able to forget that voice – and only your regulars knew about your secret options.

“A and B, but keep her mouth open, yeah? In case she gets hungry…”

His dark laugh made your blood burn in your veins. Your add-on package meant that he wanted to fill your holes while you lay on the table for him. Option A was for a large glass dildo in your pussy, warmed and heavy, option B was for a bulbous anal plug made of the same body-safe glass, and option C was for a rubber ball-gag in your mouth. But, he wanted to have access to you there, and that made you almost see stars when you thought about the implications. What did your mystery Manc have planned for you?

“Yes, sir. Do you know how many will be in your party tonight?”

“Four. The one with the mohawk is the birthday boy.”

“Thank you, sir. I will add that to the notes. Any allergies?”

“No.”

“And the name for the party?”

“Riley.”

“Thank you. See you later.”

When she hung up the phone, you listened to her boots clack against the marble floor as she came into your dressing room,

“Hey babes, here’s your ticket for tonight. Table of four. Bunch of soldiers. Sure you’re up for it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, not feeling as confident as you sounded, “Just make sure to keep their drinks coming. They tip more when they’re drunk.”

You winked at her and she laughed, closing the door behind her to let you finish grooming and cleansing your body.

Each swipe of your razor was another tantalizing part of your ritual. Once you were fully shaved, you cleaned your skin with special antibacterial soap before applying neutral oils that wouldn’t affect the taste of the food. No perfume, no deodorant. Those were the standards. You weren’t allowed to talk, or to move if you were bound by the tight ropes that pinned you to the table, and you were simply there to be a beautiful platter for the immaculately-made sushi.

At more traditional restaurants, your position was revered, and guests were forbidden from interacting with you directly. You’d worked at a number of venues that hosted nyotaimori events, all with varying levels of standards and rules, but this one paid the most. This place allowed their guests to do almost anything they wanted, and those high risk situations added to the excitement and to your bank account. However, you’d never felt safer. There were cameras, guards, and highly trained staff all over the premises, and if you ever needed to press your emergency button, you could do so. You wore your panic ring at all times, and you’d used it effectively once or twice; it worked like a dream.

But, you had to admit, it wasn’t just the money that kept you coming back here. You liked the clients. You liked feeling their hands and mouths eating off of your warm body. You enjoyed the more adventurous customers who wanted to taste you and touch you after they were done with their food. It was exhilarating, and you loved being at their mercy.

Just before your call time, your attendant brought you your glass dildo and anal plug from the back. They had been sanitized, and you used a little lube to insert the familiar, rigid shape into your pussy. You felt yourself already wet from anticipation, and although the glass phallus was thick and heavy, you took it with a satisfying ease.

The anal plug was another story. You used much more lube and began to play with your hole with your fingers before you committed to pressing it through your tight rim. The pressure from the fat dildo in your cunt made it even harder to accept, but after a few deep breaths, you felt your body relax and allow the round bulb to sit inside of your ass, pushing against all of the sensitive nerve endings inside of your stretched hole.

You washed your hands thoroughly and cleansed your skin again, just to be sure. Eventually, you finished with your prep and walked through the hallways to lay on your long black table. It was a chabudai, a short table where guests would sit on mats on the floor, and the dining room where you served was dimly lit, very minimally decorated, and had instrumental music playing softly through the speakers. You looked up into the corner and saw the camera light go from red to green. It was showtime.

Your attendant returned to perform your shibari. You were laying on your back, and she tied your wrists to your thighs, making sure to position your thumb so that you could press your panic ring easily. Then, she began to lay the ropes over your ribs, framing your breasts, using the ties to make them stand perky and proud on your chest. Finally, she fed the bindings under the table and fastened them down. You were stuck. You could bend your knees and twist your body, but that was about it.

“All good, ma’am?” She asked.

You nodded,

“Yes, thank you. All good.”

“Alright. I’ll tell chef.”

She left you alone, and you tried your best to focus on your breathing. The dildo was nudging a very sensitive spot inside of you, and you pulsed against it, attempting to find some relief. But, you were just making it worse. Your clenching muscles were allowing it to thrust against you, and no amount of wiggling was going to grant you any reprieve. So, you stopped. You shut off your mind as much as you could, listening to the music and imagining an infinite, empty expanse in your head.

The door clicked open and the sushi chef came in with his two other servers. They set to work, laying slabs of salmon and octopus sashimi across your breasts in a spiral pattern, using delicate roe to dust the inner circle over your hard nipples, making it look like the pollen-covered pistil of a flower, the fish serving as your beautiful petals.

A row of maki trailed their way down your belly and each arm. More sashimi were laid on all the places where a roll wouldn’t sit, and one of the chef’s assistants began to place thinly-sliced mango across your neck like a choker. Your legs were covered in sushi and more fruit, and finally, right in the join of your legs, you balanced a bowl with a single lotus flower inside.

The door cracked again, and your attendant poked her head in,

“Chef, your party is here. Should we send them in?”

The chef nodded, and everyone left the room. But, this time, the silence was deafening rather than zen. Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t wait to see and hear and feel what these four guests had in store for you.

Finally, the door opened, and you heard their jovial laughter and talking.

“Cannae believe you got a reservation, LT! Been dyin’ to try this for the longest.”

“I know, Johnny,” you recognized that deep, Manchester accent, “Won’t shut up about it.”

Johnny finally came into view. He peered down at you with a uniquely boyish wonder, staring at your face and your body like a kid at Christmas, eager to unwrap his presents. His friends surrounded him on both sides. You guessed that the wry blond was Simon, your vocal crush. You didn’t know the other two, but they were just as nice to look at. One of them was enormous, over-muscled with a bit of a belly, and an odd beard. The other was like a professional athlete, chiseled and masculine, with big brown eyes and dark, smooth skin.

“Sure is a pretty plate, huh, lads?” The beard spoke with a growling, gravely Scouse accent. He was a smoker, that was for sure.

“Fittest table I’ve ever seen,” the athlete smiled, his full lips revealing sharp, blinding teeth.

“Please, have a seat, gentlemen,” your attendant put on her best sexy customer-service voice, “First round is on the house.”

“Oh, shit,” Johnny laughed.

He and his friends ordered an absurd amount of alcohol, and then you were left alone with your party.

“Think we can get started?” Johnny asked, “Is that alright with you, bonnie?”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as the bearded one hit him lazily on the arm with the back of his hand,

“She isn’t supposed to speak, MacTavish. Didn’t you fuckin’ listen, or is all the blood that’s meant to be in your brain stuck in your prick?”

“Here, Captain,” the athlete called the bearded one over, “Try this.”

You felt the soft wood of your restaurant’s polished chopsticks graze the side of your breast as he lifted a slab of salmon off of your skin.

The captain grabbed the fish with his fingers clumsily, but he slurped it down, groaning with pleasure,

“Mm, that’s not bad, Gaz.”

Johnny reached out to you, his hands steady and sure,

“Lemme try…”

You felt his warm thumb graze over the top of your nipple, pushing some of the fresh roe onto a cut of octopus, and as he curled the fish, he let it drag over the same spot he touched, purposefully teasing you.

Once they started, they didn’t want to stop. Their hands were roaming all over you, picking up food and feasting on what you had to offer.

“Look here,” Gaz commented, letting his fingers swipe up the side of your ribs, gathering up dark sauce and licking it off of his knuckle.

“Oh, tha’ looks tasty,” Johnny smiled, leaning his head down and using his tongue to lick up the rest of the flavor, taking great pains to get as close to the side of your breast as he dared.

They were getting braver, but you could tell they still weren’t sure what they were allowed to do.

Before long, your attendant was back, ready to get more drinks and appetizers for your men, and you listened to them politely dismiss her, too focused on their task at hand: uncovering you from your delicate morsels of sushi.

“Mm,” Simon grunted, “Not bad, hm?”

“It’s proper tasty,” the captain agreed.

“I’m so glad to hear you’re enjoying yourselves,” your attendant encouraged them, “Could I interest you in a sake presentation?”

“Wha’s tha?” Johnny asked with his mouth full, excited to know more.

“Your artist has more than one talent, gentlemen,” she smiled coyly down at you, kneeling beside the table, carefully removing the bowl from where it was so carefully perched on your pussy.

The whole room stood still as your smooth, oiled vulva was revealed. Your attendant leaned over you, pouring warm sake into the divot between your closed legs and your mons, filling the space with drink. She made sure the men were looking at her with rapt attention, and she bent to suck the alcohol from your body, her mouth sucking right below your clit, slurping up the delicious sake until it was almost gone.

“Creepin’ Jesus,” Johnny said under his breath, “Can I do one, lass?”

“Yes, sir,” she smiled, “Of course! You can do anything you like.”

“Anything…”

Johnny’s eyes watched as she filled the crevice between your legs again, letting the sparkling fluid pool and ripple against your skin. Then, when she was done with her pour, he bent to drink from you, putting his mouth exactly where hers had been, gulping and swallowing the sweet brew, his eyes fixed on your pretty pussy until you were empty. Then, he stole a lick, shoving his tongue between your lips to tease your clit, testing the limits of what was allowed, trying to find the boundary.

“I’ll leave the bottle, yes?” Your attendant asked, leaving it on the table without waiting for an answer.

“Thanks, love,” the captain smiled, watching his friend hovering over your wet quim as Johnny considered going back between your legs for seconds.

“Go on, then, Sergeant,” Simon encouraged him, “For what I fuckin’ paid, you better enjoy it.”

That was the only permission the mohawked birthday boy needed. He sank his hot mouth down onto your pussy and began to suckle at your clit like it was part of his meal. He laved his tongue inside of your swollen lips, licking you in rhythmic, rolling thrusts.

You tried your best to control your reactions, but there was only so much you could do to contain your pleasure. Gaz noticed when your eyes rolled back in your head, your lashes fluttering closed as you tried to breathe through the feeling.

“Delicious, aren’t ya, babe?”

He bent his head to your breast, feasting on the two pieces of sashimi that were left behind, using his tongue to pull them into his mouth. You could feel the warmth of his full lips on your skin as he ate from you, and every little touch was electrified by Johnny’s feast between your legs.

As Gaz chewed on his bite, he used his thick finger to scoop up the fresh roe that remained on the peak of your nipple. Then, he bent over you, smiling like a demon,

“Open up.”

You obeyed, and you melted into your submission. The hard, unflinching stare from those big brown eyes was enough to crush your will to dust. You felt your skin flush across your whole body as you surrendered to him, as if allowing him to control you made you even more sensitive to the touching, licking, kissing, and groping that was happening to you.

He slipped his finger past your lips, placing the roe carefully on your tongue. You felt the tiny eggs spill into your lips like beads. Just when you were about to swallow them, he grabbed your chin in his hand sharply, his face turning darkly serious,

“Hey, open, I said. There’s a good girl. Stick that pretty tongue out for me. Say ahh, pretty girl.”

You did as you were told, and to your shock, he bent his mouth over yours and spit into your throat. You could feel the bubbling drool pooling in your cheeks and sliding to the back of your tongue, but there was nothing you could do about it. His lips turned up into that same dirty smirk as he said,

“Swallow.”

You took the roe into your mouth and swallowed it along with his saliva, the salt of the fish eggs mixing with the salt and alcoholic tinge in his spit. He must’ve been drinking at the bar before his party sat down at your table because the herbal scent of gin was unmistakable.

He pet your cheek with the back of his hand, praising you with his touch, watching your face twist with pleasure as Johnny became almost uncontrollable between your legs. The mohawked man was sucking so hard on your clit that the slurping sounds from his mouth were filling the room.

Gaz bent to kiss you, and you kissed him back. The softness of his lips lulled you into an even deeper sub state, and you felt like you were melting. Suddenly, he forced his tongue into your mouth and wrapped a huge palm around your jaw, holding you in place as he began to slide his slippery muscle in and out of your cheeks. It was as if he was fucking your throat with his tongue, and your mind fed you an imaginary scene of how his cock might feel in its place.

When he pulled away, you felt Johnny stop his kisses as well, and your body writhed without your consent, desperate to feel them tasting you again.

“This is the best fuckin’ birthday I’ve ever had,” Johnny smiled, wiping a hand across his shining mouth.

The man who’d made the booking, Simon, sat beside his friend and pointed between your legs,

“Pour us one, Johnny.”

“Aye. Here ya go, lads. Slàinte mhath.”

You watched as he poured sake into the divot between your legs again, but he over-indulged. He began to pour it across your belly as well, letting it pool in your belly button and settle in the dip of your sternum.

The captain was the first to take a sip. He lapped at the pool of sake that splattered across your mons and lips like a hound, aiming to taste you more than he was the alcohol. Then, he followed Johnny’s trail, dragging his hot tongue along the swell of your tummy, aiming for the well of spirits in your belly button. He hovered over it when he found it, and as he leaned down to drink from you, you could feel the tickle of his mustache, making you squirm.

His filthy, gravelly chuckle made your blood run cold. It seemed that he enjoyed forcing your body to respond to his touch.

“Ticklish, love?” He returned to your lower belly, letting the bristles of his beard tease you until your breathing became ragged, your lungs trying to suck in, doing your best to pull away from him and yet not being able to escape.

Your tormentor shoved Gaz around the table so that he could tease your breast with his bearded mouth, and Gaz followed suit, both of them fighting for the puddle of sake between your breasts before suckling on your tight nipples. They had such different agendas. Where Gaz seemed to suck because he wanted to see you squirming from pleasure, the captain seemed hell-bent on keeping you from it.

You could feel him biting into your delicate flesh with his sharp teeth, causing just enough pain to pull you out of your relaxed, pleasure-induced haze. Then, when he could see your eyes flash with just a hint of apprehension, he would retreat, rewarding your responsiveness with a long, deep suck or hungry, flat licks with his tongue, a barely-there smile twisting across his cheeks as he did.

You felt something brush against your leg, and Simon was using a napkin from the table to wipe the rest of the food off of your legs, not giving a shit about the hundreds of pounds worth of sushi being gathered up in the cloth. Dinner, apparently, was over.

Your mind raced. This was far and beyond the bravest party you’d ever served before. They worked on you as a team, giving each other silent feedback, and when Simon finally bent to drink from between your legs, your mind was throbbing from the overstimulation.

You weren’t supposed to, but you began to let long, cracking moans escape from your throat. Anything you did to hold them back was just making them worse, and your voice only seemed to spur these men to double down on their efforts.

Simon did not eat you like Johnny did. His Scottish companion ate you out like you were the food, but the Manc was more like his captain. He wanted to see where your buttons were, and when he found them, he began to press them just like a lad playing with a shiny new toy.

His tongue found the body of your clit and swirled around it, avoiding the searing head, swollen and sensitive to the point of discomfort. Instead, he pushed the tip of his tongue just below it, lifting it up, making the hood stretch just enough to apply its pressure.

You bucked your hips, the sake that rested in your thighs sloshing out, ignored by your new master. He didn’t give you a smug grin like his bearded boss. In fact, you could barely tell what emotion he was feeling. It wasn’t until you met his gaze that you noticed the fire behind his eyes.

Only then did he begin to drink from you, emptying the alcohol from your body, letting his tongue venture down into the crevice of your thighs and licking between them as if they were your cunt. He had gone deep enough to feel the edge of your dildo, and when he found it, he turned to the others, getting their attention,

“Had them do something special for Johnny. Wanna see your surprise?”

Johnny had been busy sharing a nipple with Gaz, leaving hungry little hickies across your skin. But, when Simon called him over, he seemed all too eager to return between your legs.

“Aye,” he smiled rakishly, “Gonnae spoil me, Si.”

All four men shifted to the foot of the table, their eyes wide and focused on you like hyenas with a wounded gazelle, selfish and ready for their next taste of you.

Simon took your legs and lifted them up, bending your thighs at the hip, showing the others how two fat, glass dildos were shoved deep inside of your holes.

“Oh, bonnie…” Johnny reached forward, grabbing the dildo stuck in your pussy gently between his fingers and giving it just the slightest twist, “For me? Such a good lass, innit she?”

Simon reached down below Johnny’s hand and began to tug at the anal plug. The resistance was driving you mad. You tried to relax, but he was not waiting on you, and the pressure began to build and build until finally, your muscle relented and you felt the heavy bulb slip wetly out of your asshole, soaking in lube.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz murmured, not wasting any time, sticking a long finger into the gaping hole left behind by the plug, testing the stretch of your ass with his strong hands.

Simon pressed it back in, forcing Gaz away, slowly fucking the heavy toy back into you, letting it sink inside of your body with a sloppy pop, pushing on it just a little harder than he needed to so that it would feel like it was thrusting inside of you.

Then, Johnny did the same with the dildo in your swollen pussy. He didn’t pull it all the way out, choosing instead to fuck you with it, shoving it into your hole with wet, slicking sounds, marvelling at the sight.

You were so drunk from the pleasure that you hadn’t noticed their captain sneaking around to the head of the table. He startled you, grabbing you beneath your arms and yanking you and your ropes up, strong enough to move you even though you were tied down. He had pulled you far enough that your head hung off the edge, and you found yourself staring at his black slacks, amazed at the thickness of his thighs. Then, you watched him roll down his zipper, stroking his cock until it gleamed with his precome.

You felt his other hand supporting the back of your head, holding you at just the angle he wanted. Then, he purred his command to you,

“Let me in, pretty girl.”

You allowed your muscles to weaken, opening you mouth wide, unsure if you could pry your mouth open enough for his girth to fit inside of you. He chuckled in that same, devilish way, slapping his sticky head against your lips twice before feeding his head into your cheeks, settling at the back of your throat, letting you gag and cough around him all you wanted and doing fuck-all about it.

Between your legs, you felt the dildo slip out of your pussy, replaced with eager fingers and a tongue. Now that you had the captain’s thick cock to block your noises, you let yourself whine against him like a gag, moaning and crying out from the overwhelming feeling of being used.

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, lads,” he grunted, “Make her scream for me.”

Both of his hands were cradling your head as he fucked your throat, guiding his fat dick in and out of you like a piston. You breathed when you could, but it was only just enough, and you felt yourself going light-headed.

A mouth found your nipple again, and a hand rolled itself beside your clit, making frantic circles from above. Then, below your thighs, a round prodding cockhead pressed its way into your lubricated walls, making your dildo seem like nothing more than a thick finger or two. You were being well-stretched, and your body flooded your cunt with wetness to try and ease his way, doing everything it could to make it easier for whoever it was to fit his prick into your warm body.

He rested your ankles against his neck, and your bare feet scraped the side of his head. Buzzed hair. It was the birthday boy afterall.

“Mmmph, fuckin’ hell, bonnie. Too tight. Too goddamn tight. Fuck…”

As he pumped himself into you, his movements made free and fast by the lube and your dripping cunt, your whole body began to jerk across the table. These men weren’t just large; they were stronger than you could’ve ever imagined, and you felt like you were nothing more than a mere toy to them.

The fingers teasing your clit were sending your mind into a panicked orgasm, and your whole body convulsed as you let yourself tumble into the swirling madness of your bliss, your eyes wrenched shut and flashes of rainbow light dancing across them as you came violently.

Apparently, that was enough to send the captain over his edge because as you were trapped in the throes of your orgasm, he shoved himself all the way inside of you and began to pulse hot shots of his come into your belly. You were desperate for air, but there was nothing you could do. They were in control of you, and you were ashamed by how much you enjoyed being at their mercy.

“Ohhh, Cap’n. She loves tha’, dontcha, lass?”

“Knew she would,” the captain slipped out of your throat, smiling down at you as you gasped wetly for a breath, “Filthy little slag.”

You watched as he shifted to the side of you, his thighs leaving your line of sight, being immediately replaced by a pair of dark jeans. You knew it was Gaz when his wide thumb reached down to wipe the drool and come from your lips, lovingly cleaning up after his captain’s mess.

“Being so good for us. Still hungry, baby?”

You couldn’t answer him, but he didn’t care. He tugged his long, curved rod out of his pants and let his balls rest on your mouth. You started to suckle on one of them, taking it into your mouth and letting it roll between your lips.

“Yeah, she is. Mmff-fuck, tha’s it.”

Gaz lifted your head up with his hand to help you reach, stroking his huge shaft with the other, jerking off as you did your best to pleasure him, trying to be careful with his sensitive sack.

Johnny’s thrusts became frantic. Simon and his captain were taking turns pouring sake across your belly and sucking it off of you, and you were dizzy from the feeling of being fucked with your heavy plug inside of you. When you began to come again, it hit you slowly, building and building in waves, making you tremble from the suffocating joy of it.

You cried out, and your mouth was open wide in a silent oh. Gaz took the chance to feed you his cockhead, giving you something to scream around. You felt Johnny pause deep inside of you, his cock nestled as close to your womb as he could get, and he began to fill you with his come, shamelessly bending himself over you to fit his rod down to its root in your wetness.

“Christ, bonnie! Come for me. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Hnngh…”

He slid himself out of you, but almost immediately, someone filled your empty hole with your dildo, keeping his load sealed safe inside.

Gaz was still jerking his cock as he rested his tip inside your mouth, and you could feel him shuddering above you, his fingers twisted and tugging at the base of your scalp.

“Suck on me harder. Yesss,” he groaned, “Just like that… mmfgh. Good… girl…”

You felt him throbbing, pulsing, and ready to come. Then, just when you were ready to taste him, he pulled out and painted your mouth, chin, and neck white with his seed. There was so much of it, and whatever your tongue could reach, you licked it up, sucking him clean when he let you have the tip one more time before he smeared the remnants of his dripping cream across your cheek.

Suddenly, Gaz’s hands returned to the back of your head and lifted it up. At the same time, another man yanked your whole body back down the table, making the wood creak from the stress. Now, you could see what was happening to you.

Simon was holding your thighs, playing with your pussy, making sure your dildo was nice and snug. Then, he removed your anal plug again, twisting it out with a steady tug. When you made a whimpering cry, he looked up at you, and you saw that same light in his gaze, a hunger unlike that of his other friends. Something uncanny and secret about his message that you failed to decode.

He began to pry open your asshole with his fingers, exploring just past the rim. First, it was just one, but then it was two. They twisted, curling inside of you, plunging deeper and deeper and testing how pliant you were. Your plug was pretty large, so you weren’t usually concerned about a man’s cock being a challenge. But, the way he was preparing your hole made your whole body tense with anticipation, worried about what was going to happen to you.

You watched him rest your heels on his shoulder, just like his friend had done, and his tattooed hand held your thighs as the other placed his swollen head at the rim of your asshole, teasing it, barely even touching you.

You thought he would plunge inside, but he never did. He just kept painting little warm circles around you, pressing on the outside yet never allowing himself to slip into your ass.

“Mngh…” You whined, twisting your hips as much as you could, begging for it.

“What’s that? Speak up, love. Can’t hear ya.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, knowing you weren’t allowed to break your ceremonial rule but desperate just the same. He let himself smile softly down at you, planting his head at your hole and using the weight of his cock to rest it there.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Tell me you want it. It’ll be our little secret.”

His friends were kneeling around you, spent but still groping your body, licking and kissing you lazily, enjoying watching Simon torment you.

“She doesnae wanna break the rules, Si. Good lass tha’ she is,” Johnny cooed, letting his fingers rest on either side of your clit, drawing deep ovals and watching your face twist in desperation.

“Let him hear it, love. We won’t tell,” the captain whispered in your ear, using his fingers to slide Gaz’s come from your chin into your mouth, making you taste his salty seed. He kept his fingers inside of your lips, pushing them all the way to the back of your throat, letting you suck on them, “Tha’s right. Our perfect little slut.”

Your mind went blank, and all you could focus on was the feeling of relief that would come to you if you just broke your rule…

The captain removed his hand, returning to your tits to suck on them and pinch your nipples. Then, Simon pressed forward just a little more, giving you his head before immediately taking it away, leaving you hollow.

“... please…” You whispered, your voice so shallow and small.

“What? Cannae hear you, bonnie,” the Scot smiled, moving his hand faster between your pussy lips.

“I think I heard something, did you?” Gaz joked, raising his eyebrows at Simon, smacking your ass cheek with the palm of his hand.

“Say it,” Simon growled.

His team was all smiles, but he was dead on. You locked eyes with him and said it again.

“Please.”

“Fuck,” Simon’s eyes rolled back in his head, the whites peeking through his long lashes, and he sank himself deep into your asshole in one punishing thrust.

He was as thick as your plug, but he was so much longer, and you had never felt so stretched out in your whole life. As he began to fuck you, he wrapped his hand around the dildo in your pussy, covered in come and lube, and he fucked you in time with his own prick, making it seem like he was in both places at once.

“You ready for more?” Simon asked you breathlessly, checking in with you.

You nodded, fuck-drunk but just as submissive as ever. Whatever he asked for, you were ready to give it to him.

When he saw your shallow nods, he began to fuck you at an incredible pace. Your whole body was shuddering every time he slammed himself forward, and the strength of his thrusts was making you feel like his cock was even bigger than you thought, your poor asshole stretched past the point of comfort.

“She’s takin’ it so good, Si,” Johnny sighed, watching your face go slack as his friend railed himself into you.

You weren’t even moaning. You were barely breathing. Your mind only had one goal: making you come and come and come.

“Spread her legs,” Simon commanded his team.

You heard the schnick of a knife’s blade being unsheathed, and then the ropes around your ankles were sliced away. Gaz and Johnny pulled your knees up to your chest, forcing you open for him like a book.

Johnny bent down over your pussy and spat onto your slit, smearing it with his fingers. Then, he slapped you gently a few times, increasing the pain each time his hand came down until you were literally screaming from it. But, it didn’t hurt. It just made you come even harder. The pleasure was muting the pain to an incredible degree. You wanted him to give you more, but you were too far gone to ask.

The captain was kissing your mouth, using his hands to feed you come again, and you couldn’t even kiss him back. Your body was frozen, your muscles tight and stuck in a loop of pleasure. You were coming in cyclical waves, unsure of where one started or ended, just suspended in blissful torment, sucking in breaths when your lungs allowed you to.

Then, Simon’s movements stuttered, and he slowed, sinking into you as deep as he could fit before pulling out in one swift movement and jerking his cock right in front of your swollen, punished pussy.

He slid the dildo out of you, leaving you feeling empty to the point of grief, and you watched as he hovered at your entrance, shooting his load into your already-filled cunt. Rope after rope of milky come seared its way into you, messy but accurate. Then, he replaced the dildo and sat back on his heels, out of breath.

His friends let your legs back down, and they all moved away from you, leaving little kisses on your body as they retreated.

Once they recovered, they had one more shot of sake together, and Johnny poured one into your mouth.

“There ya go, bonnie. Job well done, aye? This birthday party willnae be topped anytime soon.”

You swallowed the shot, tasting just not the alcohol but the remnants of Gaz’s come as well when it slid down your throat in tandem.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” the captain said, “You don’t have to say your goodbyes yet.”

Simon peered down at you over his shoulder,

“Riverbend street, apartment six, right?”

Your eyes went wide. How did he know where you lived?

But, before you could ask him, they let themselves out, leaving you stunned, full of their come, and thrilled about what you would find when you finally made it home tonight.

#cali's kinktober #kinktober 2024 #cod kinktober #call of duty kinktober #graviora manent #by the californicationist #captain john price #captain price x you #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #tf 141 x reader #tf141

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thewitchblue · 2 months ago

Text

"Is it done yet?"

You asked excitedly. Jason had just finished baking a cake for you to decorate and you already had ideas. Bruce's birthday is coming up, so you made him a cake. Well. Jason made the cake. You're the decorator.

Jason just finished baking and watched with raised eyebrows as you started getting everything ready. You practically danced in the kitchen as you made everything. You were happy every time he bakes and it just melts his heart watching your excitement bubble out of you.

"Careful, cupcake. You only get one shot at decorating."

He knows you'll do it perfectly, but he needs to remind you so you can focus again. You get too excited and then whine when you calm down and start seeing any flaws that only your professional eyes can see.

He did try to sneak a peek at the cake, but your body blocked the cake when you noticed. You gave him a cheeky smile and scolded playfully,

"No peeking."

He watched you work with a smile on his face. He has no idea how he managed to get in a relationship with you. You were so bubbly whereas he's broody. You simply decided one day that you'll make him yours and that's what you did. You took him by the hand and pulled him into your life with a smile and a cheek kiss.

"Aaaaand, I'm done!"

You said with a grin after seemingly forever. Jason looked over and gave the cake a low whistle. It was beautiful. Perfect, even. Every time he bakes, he forgets how gorgeous your decorations are. It was a layered cake, but each tier was done perfectly. You actually asked Jason to make multiple cakes for the tiers, one complete cake for Bruce and one for Batman, and you danced excitedly around him the entire time he was making the cakes.

The colours were impressive. You seemed to make the buildings of Gotham perfect and the illuminating lights shine. The cake even had Batman's cape circling the tiers like a cloak more than a cape and the batsignal was obviously incorporated.

Bruce's cake was so elegant even Jason, who was used to your gorgeous cakes, was impressed. It looked more like a wedding cake than a birthday cake, but you expected a gala to happen within the upcoming days and you wanted to make a big impression.

You could make a bakery with how beautiful the cake looked.

It was a glittering cake. A mix of wine purple and pure white with piped purple buttercream frosting that circled the cake like flowers with gold flecks carefully placed in the centre of every flower you added. It looked breathtaking.

"Cupcake, you outdid yourself."

Jason said almost in a whisper as you dragged him to the cake by his hands. You beamed. You were covered in frosting and sugar, but you looked as good as the cakes.

"Do you think Bruce will like them?"

You asked, suddenly worried now that your vision was in front of you instead of in your brain. Jason couldn't imagine Bruce hating either of the cakes. Bruce is many things, but he would be shocked if Bruce didn't like the cakes. He'd probably complain about the taste before he complains about the masterpiece you created.

"He'll love the cakes more than the one who baked it."

Jason answered. He tried to make it sound like a joke, but you bumped him with your hip and gave him a stern look.

"He loves you, sugar. He's worried about pushing you away when he shows you love."

How do you know that? He wanted to ask, but he stopped himself. You were probably right. Bruce and him had a complicated relationship, but he knows Bruce doesn't hate him. Bruce never hated him, but he never showed that he loved him the way Jason wants to be loved.

You showed Jason the way he wants to be loved. He loves your little love notes scattered across his apartment. He loves your stealthy kisses that turn into a full tackle and ends with both of you laughing in a heap on the floor. He adores that you always make huge meals because you know he loves leftovers. You know his favourite meals and you meal prep for him if you can't be around him for long periods of time. You know he sometimes barely has the energy to even fall asleep let alone eat, so the easy meals helped him immensely.

"Growing boys needs food."

You said cheekily. At the time, he was tempted to remind you that he's already fully grown, as he was a giant build like a god among the mortals. He oozed intimidation, yet here you were telling him he's still growing. If he grew any more, he'd tower over everybody like the king of height and the body of a death god. Why is the soft cake decorator with the massive guard dog?

Everybody often wondered how you two ended up together, and he does too sometimes, but all you did was gave everybody a mischievous wink and said it's a secret recipe.

#gn reader #jason todd x reader

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magical-regical · 25 days ago

Text

King of My Heart

A Leona Kingscholar x gn!Yuu fic

Word count: 2021 words

Today I'm thinking of Leona with a Yuu who he takes home to the Sunset Savannah for the Cloudcalling Festival. He didn't want to, but his sister-in-law really wanted to meet them and he won't say anything against that. Besides, he knows his s/o has also been curious about the rest of his family and the Sunset Savannah ever since their last Cloudcalling Festival so at least it's a win-win for some people.

They emerged from the mirror and were received by Falena and his son.

"Ojii-tan!" Cheka ran and tackled his uncle, almost knocking him over.

"Doesn't a king have more important things to do?" Leona grumbled as he tried to peel his nephew off of him.

"Now, now, I'm sure the kingdom won't collapse if their king breaks away for a minute to welcome his brother. Especially when he's bringing his special someone with him." Falena turned to Yuu, giving them a warm smile, "A pleasure to meet you, Yuu. I am Falena Kingscholar. Leona's older brother, and the crown prince of the Sunset Savannah."

Leona let out a growl, wrapping his arms around their shoulders, "They know who you are. Now let's go, I bet you left Nee-san to handle the affairs while you're out messing around."

As soon as they stepped into the throne room, Falena was met with a lecture from Kifaji about shirking his royal duties. As the crown prince hemmed and hawed, a laugh could be heard from the other side of the room.

Yuu's eyes couldn't help but follow the queen as she descended from her throne, her every movement commanded your full attention and respect. Cheka ran to his mother, who lifted him into her arms.

"It's alright Kifaji. It was a quick matter, just as he promised." She said, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek.

"Welcome home, Leona." she said.

Leona let out a small 'hm' while bowing. Yuu followed his lead.

"Nee-san, this is my partner." he said.

"Ah yes, Yuu, I believe? We've heard a lot about you from Leona's letters. All good things, rest assured. Thank you for taking care of my dear brother-in-law."

"It was no trouble at all. Leona's been a perfect gentleman." Yuu said, their hand wandering to hold his.

Leona's grip on their hand tightened, an action that didn't escape the queen's keen eye.

She smiled, "I'm glad to hear that. I hope you enjoy your stay here. If there's anything else you need please don't hesitate to let me know."

Over the next few days the palace was a whirlwind of activity. Yuu only had about a day or two to enjoy the festivities of the Cloudcalling Festival with their boyfriend before Leona had to go tend to his duties as the leader of the Sunset Warriors.

Falena had decided to make this year's 'guardian lessons' a more hands-on experience by incorporating combat drills and mock battles. A decision Leona was definitely not happy with.

"Fine. I'll put them through training that will really show if they're warriors or just mewling kittens who'd only learned how to use their claws." That's what he'd said before walking away.

Yuu sent silent condolences to all the sunset warriors. Left to their own devices they wandered through the halls of the royal palace, gazing at portraits and miscellaneous memorabilia of past royals until reaching the doors of the royal kitchen.

Dinner service was over yet the chefs were still as busy as ever. The head chef noticed them lingering, "Ah you must be Yuu-sama. Please come in, come in. What can we do for you?"

"I'd like to help everyone do prep work for tomorrow's meals. Would that be alright?"

They paused to gauge everyone else's reaction before continuing,

"All the food I've eaten here has been absolutely delicious and I'd like to learn more about how each dish is made. I have experience working in a professional kitchen (Mostro Lounge) so I promise I won't get in the way. You can kick me out if I do."

The head chef smiled, "No need to be nervous. His highness has told us to give Yuu-sama full access to the kitchen so of course you're allowed to help. I have to warn you though, I can be quite strict."

"Yes chef! Looking forward to working with you, chef!" They said while putting on the apron the head chef had tossed them.

The prep work included chopping vegetables, pre-seasoning some meat, tossing a different kind of meat in a marinade, and, most surprisingly, making dessert. On the dessert menu for lunch tomorrow was baobab ice cream.

Baobab juice was extracted by boiling the fruit and straining the seeds. The juice was then combined with powdered milk and condensed milk and poured into molds before being put in the freezer to chill overnight. The leftover seeds were coated in a sticky syrup made of sugar and a blend of spices that turned it a striking red color, turning them into candies that were enjoyed by people from all walks of life.

A portion of the candy was set aside for the royal family while the rest were packed into small plastic bags and distributed to every chef and servant in attendance.

"Thanks for helping out today, Yuu-sama. If you want to help out again sometimes or have any special requests, feel free to stop by. The doors are as open to you as they are to the royal family."

Yuu thanked the head chef before wishing everyone a good night. They were halfway down the next hallway when they remembered the had planned to ask for some fruit as a small snack for when Leona gets back.

They immediately turned back to the kitchen only to hear a passing conversation amidst the sound of sweeping.

"Yuu-sama is so nice aren't they?"

"They really are! Honestly, I didn't know what to expect when I heard Leona-sama was bringing their partner."

" I know right? I mean, Leona-sama tends to be quite moody. I heard he had another fight with the crown prince a few days ago and now he's taking it out on this year's sunset warriors."

"Oh man seriously? My brother's a sunset warrior. I hope he's doing okay... I'm worried now. I mean, with Leona-sama's unique magic and all..."

"Hey come on. He wouldn't do that... Would he? I mean a guy like that wouldn't be with someone as nice as Yuu-sama unless..."

The sound of sweeping was replaced by the sound of approaching footsteps. The two servants almost crashed into each other when they saw who was standing behind the door.

"Hello!" Yuu's tone was cheerful but their smile didn't quite reach their eyes.

"Yuu-sama! How long have you— I mean, uh, what, what brings you back to the kitchen?" One of the servants said.

"I wanted to see if there was any fruit I could have as a snack."

"O-of course, Yuu-sama. We can help you with that right away. What kind of fruit would you like?"

"Mm... I'm not sure... Do you two know what kind of fruit Leona likes?"

The two servants flinched at the mention of the second prince. They rambled some gibberish until someone placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

"My, my, is that any way for royal chefs to act? You two must be exhausted. Why don't you return to your quarters for tonight? I'll handle things here." The head chef said.

Relief flooded the two servants' faces as they scurried away like a pack of rats.

"My apologies Yuu-sama. I'll be sure to put them through the proper disciplinary actions tomorrow."

Yuu nodded, "Thank you. Now, could I have some apples please?"

The head chef watched silently as they grabbed a knife and started cutting up the fruit.

"Were you angry at them?"

"What makes you say that?"

The head chef chuckled, "Well, I've never seen anyone make bunny apples with such intensity in their eyes."

They sighed, "Fine, I'm a little angry. I mean okay, Leona can be lazy sometimes... most of the time, but he's no slouch! He runs rings around almost everyone at Night Raven. He reads people like books and he can gauge a situation in a second even with his eyes closed. He's a great leader too! Everyone in Savanaclaw would follow him to the ends of the earth and the spelldrive club members trust him with their lives whenever they play a match."

The head chef nodded along as they continued their rant,

"Also, what's with everyone being scared of his unique magic? Do they seriously think he's the kind of guy to use it on a whim? Just because he isn't as cheerful as his brother, it doesn't mean he's a psychopath. No matter how annoyed he gets he never raises a hand against anyone unless they cross a line and even then he'd never turn them to sand."

They let out a frustrated groan, eating a few candies to calm down.

"It seems Leona-sama is very loved." The head chef said.

Yuu felt heat rise up to their cheeks but they didn't look away. "Damn right he is. He's a great prince and the best boyfriend I could ever ask for. There's nowhere in this world that makes me feel as safe as when I'm in his arms."

"That so herbivore?"

A pair of arms wrapped around their shoulders. They look up to find Leona staring back at them, still in his lion garb.

"I was wondering who was chatting it up in the kitchen at this hour. Who would've thought I'd find my partner and the head chef rubbing shoulders?"

His gaze fell on the head chef who was suddenly very interested in the floor tiles.

"You're excused for the night. Get out of here."

"Yes your highness! Thank you!"

"Finally..." he rested his head on Yuu's shoulder, settling into the crook of their neck.

Yuu reached up to stroke his hair, "Long day?"

"Oh you wouldn't believe it. Those idiots were practically foaming at the mouth waiting to punch something after sitting through etiquette class. Fucking amateurs."

"You poor thing." They said, semi-sarcastically, "Here, I cut you some apples."

"Apples? What am I a monkey? And what's with the cutesy shape huh? I'm not a kid."

Despite his grumbling he still opened his mouth when Yuu held a slice to his lips and of course, he finished the entire plate.

"You want some candy too?" They asked once all the apple slices were gone.

"Mmm."

They pretended like they were going to feed him before pulling away at the last second and popping the candy into their own mouth, "Too bad. These are mine."

Leona growled, "You're forgetting something herbivore."

He tilted their chin up and kissed them, prying their mouth open with his tongue. When he pulled away he had successfully stolen the candy.

"You're mine. So what's yours is also mine." He whispered into their ear as he lifted them on to the counter, leaning in for another kiss. "Just like what's mine is yours."

It was the kind of kiss that left them breathless and coming back for more. The kind that leaves one utterly defenseless against the predator hovering in front of them.

The pout on their face when he pulled away was so cute he couldn't resist giving a playful bite to one of their delightfully red cheeks, "Don't give me that look. You knew what you were getting into."

Yuu broke into a giggle, "I do... And I don't regret it."

Now it was their turn to kiss him. They kissed his cheek, his nose, and all over his face, whispering sweet nothings in between each one.

"I love you.

I really, really love you.

My strong, smart, protective boyfriend.

You're really amazing you know?

The king of my heart."

Leona closed his eyes and let out a content sigh as they continued to shower him with affection. His arms settling around their waist and his tail wrapping around their leg. The world seemed to come to a halt. The silence only broken by their voice, and their heartbeat, beating in sync with his. In the midst of the peace fatigue crept up on him, making him let out a yawn.

"Let's go back to our room. Then you can conk out whenever you like." Yuu paused for a second before adding, "After you shower."

"Anything for you, princess." He said, nuzzling their forehead before scooping them up and carrying them out of the kitchen.

Omake

"Wanna get in the shower with me?"

"Only if you promise to behave. It's late and I'm also kind of sleepy."

"Oh you will be after I'm done with you."

"Leona!"

-END-

Divider by: @/cafekitsune

#a/n: I kind of don't like how long this is. But I'm way more down bad for Leona than I am for Vil #as you can probably tell by my last few twst posts #this took so long to write tho #partly because I started it close to the end of the semester #twisted wonderland #disney's twisted wonderland #twst #twst x yuu #twst yuu #leona kingscholar #twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader

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unlversegirly · 1 year ago

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•.¸☆ ː̗̤̣̀̈̇ː̖́ ☆¸.•˚ how to plan your week according to the planets •.¸☆ ː̗̤̣̀̈̇ː̖́ ☆¸.•˚

Monday: Moon Day ☽

If you notice you tend to feel a moody energy at the start of your work weeks; you can blame our dear friend the Moon. Monday's are ruled by the Moon, which presides over our intuition and emotions. Moon Days can bring a low or heavy energy to the day.

Things to do on Moon days:

☆ Light exercise (walking, yoga, etc)

☆ Self care

☆ Reflect on emotions/journal

☆ Meditation

☆ Prioritizing rest + quiet time

Tuesday: Mars Day ♂

Tuesday is a shift from Monday as it is ruled by Mars, the planet of action. You may feel more confident and motivated; more like you're ready to take on the world.

Things to do on Mars days:

☆ Get started on new projects you've been thinking about

☆ Get as many tasks complete from your to-do list as possible

☆ Avoid unnecessary drama/fights

☆ Get a morning workout in

Wednesday: Mercury Day ☿

As Wednesday is ruled by Mercury; the planet of communication, creativity, + curiosity, thoughts and words come more easily. It is one of the most productive days of the week.

Things to do on Mercury days:

☆ Respond to texts/answer emails

☆ Research topics

☆ Make long-term plans

☆ Apply for jobs/schedule interviews

Thursday: Jupiter Day ♃

Since Thursdays are ruled by Jupiter, the planet of abundance and expansion, you may feel more generous or optimistic.

Things to do on Jupiter Days:

☆ Take a vacation day at work

☆ Take a college class

☆ Offer to tutor others

☆ Volunteer work

Friday: Venus Day ♀

Friday's are ruled by Venus; the planet of love, romance, + indulgence. You may feel more outgoing or flirtatious on Venus days.

Things to do on Venus Days:

☆ Spa day/night

☆ Movie night with friends

☆ Go for a first date/get dinner with a partner

☆ Enjoy a night out with friends/a partner

☆ Buy concert tickets

Saturday: Saturn Day ♄

Saturday's are ruled by Saturn; the planet of structure and discipline, so you may feel more motivated to get some of your to-do list done.

Things to do on Saturn Days:

☆ Update your weekly schedule

☆ Listen to motivational podcasts/TED talk

☆ Improve your morning routine

☆ Meal prep

☆ Grocery shop

Sunday: Sun Day ☉

Sunday's are ruled by the Sun which presides over our self expression and ego.

Things to do on Sun Days:

☆ Spend extra time with your pets

☆ Get brunch with a friend

☆ Go for a drive

☆ Read your favorite book

★ .* . ∅ ° ☆ * ･thank you for reading ★ .* . ∅ ° ☆ * ･

I am not a professional astrologer, these are suggestions based on the studies i've done so far but i am constantly studying and nowhere near a professional🫶

#astro community #astro posts #astroblr #astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astro tumblr #astro placements #zodiac #planets

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cuteandhughesy · 6 months ago

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Us. | William Nylander

summary: you work as one of the assistant chefs for the toronto maple leafs organization, often taking charge and helping with team buffets and meetings. your job is hectic and crazy and you wouldn’t give it up for the world. william nylander can relate, and his role on the toronto maple leafs is his top priority. when the two of you end up falling for one another - and being pushed away from each other, the job becomes more complicated.

[word count] 5.5k

a/n: based off this request! I went a little off topic with the plot, but the general idea is very much inspired by the anon request! this fic moves between past and present timelines, so if the paragraphs are in italics, it is my way of writing in the past! I hope you all enjoy :)

🎵us. by gracie abrams (feat. taylor swift)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

when you applied to culinary school, you never thought your journey would lead you to your current position. of course when studying to be a professional cook you are aiming to work in the field, no matter the level of hierarchy you end up at - but you never thought you'd get this lucky.

at just 23 years old and 5 months fresh out of culinary school, you were hired to work as one of the assistant chefs for the toronto maple leafs culinary team. getting hired at such a prestigious job at your age was very uncommon, and when you'd gotten the classic you're hired phone call, you initially thought it was your younger brother trying to play a prank on you.

news flash it wasn't your brother and now you're 3 months past your first day on the job.

throughout the first few weeks of your job, you were understandably nervous. your head chef had 30 years of experience, you were cooking for athletes with very strict and varying diets, and you were new. thankfully that very first week, the leafs were on the road, so you had time to train and meal prep in a somewhat relaxed environment.

you spent more time with the players than you were expecting to, which although was surreal was also very nerve wracking, and you were scared one of them wouldn't like the way you scrambled eggs and throw them back in your face. when damien - your head chef - assigned you to work the buffets for team meals, that egg fear became even more intense.

but you were pleasantly suprised with how nice everyone was. you had heard rumors about professional athletes and how they were rude and ignorant, angry if they didn't get their way, but the toronto maple leafs players were just the opposite. sure, some of them were quiet and particular about food, but they are just professional athletes who want to preform their best at any means necessary - you didn’t take offence to that.

in the 3 months you had been organizing and running team meals, you've learned a lot about the players. you've noticed that jake mccabe never fails to tell you a dad joke when he sees you, and how mitch marner always complains about being full but never fails to come up for seconds. you notice how joseph woll is always the last player to serve himself, and how david kampf, no matter how he feels, always smiles and uses manners with him.

but who's habits you've really noticed over the course of your time as an assistant chef is william nylander's. in fact, it's not just his habits that you see, but it's everything else too. the way at breakfast he always struggles between choosing sausage or bacon, and how he's never shy about asking for food he doesn't see on the table - which at first had you taken back, but now it's something you look forward to.

you stand behind the buffet table with ridged shoulders. your eyes are moving over everything at a rather frantic pace. it's your first time on the buffet table and to say you were nervous was an understatement. not only was this the first time you would be seeing the mouths you were cooking for, but it was one of your first shifts out of training.

as players slowly filtered through the doors of the dining room and gathered their serving of breakfast food, you've been consistently on edge. you were constantly checking that everything look presentable and that it was all stocked.

"do I feel like sausages or bacon?"

the question has you snapping out of the frantic organizational process going on in your head. you look up to see a tall, blonde and presumably hockey player. even though you've lived in the city you whole life, you’ve never followed sports. sure you know famous athletes names from the press, but you'd never be able to put a name to one's face.

you blink, "sorry?"

finally the man in question looks away from the meat options and you're immediately taken back. he's very handsome - a mature handsome that has you feeling petite and giddy.

the corner of his lip quirks up. "I don't know if I want bacon or sausage, so I was thinking out loud."

you blush, "oh, i'm sorry. I thought you were talking to me."

"I think i'm feeling bacon." he shrugs, but he makes no move to plate the food, his eyes still on you. "unless you think I should go with sausage."

you lick your lip, moistening the rather dry skin. "well I always think if you're second guessing your first choice, maybe the second choice is the one you're truly needing."

the blond hums thoughtfully, "that's smart." with that he grabs three round breakfast sausages and loads them onto his plate. the remaining sausages slide down from the loss of the ones he took, and your itching to reach for the tongues and adjust them again.

"you must be new."

you exhale shakily, "is it that obvious?"

he shrugs again, a smile still on his round face. he moves onto the eggs, using the tongues to grab some of the over easy style and adds them to his plate. "i'm william."

"y/n." you nod professionally and politely. "i'm the new assistant chef and the new director of the dining hall and menus."

"so, y/n, you're saying this isn't the only team ill see you?" william is now moved onto the display of fresh cut fruits, and he's taking a dent sized amount of orange slices. you'd think his question was one stemmed from disappointment if it wasn't for william's playful smile and the twinkle in his eyes.

you find yourself smiling as well. "no it's not."

"good."

since that very first meeting between you both, you and william found yourself in this dance of sorts, where the two of you would move around one another in ways to complete the other. you and william just worked.

once you were aware of william's lighthearted, carefree personality, you embraced his teasing remarks and sultry smirks. you'd look forward to taking his orders and serving his food, and he look forward to you as well.

william was instantly attracted and impressed by your work ethic and skills, especially at your age. he had seen chefs in this organization who took years before reaching your levels, and he couldn't help but grow enamoured for you.

what started as friendly banter and conversation slowly evolved into something more flirtatious- intimate.

william would make a point to wait around after meals to walk you out to your car, just so he could chat to you and watch you flush under his teasing words and gaze. he would always spend too much time chatting with you at the buffet table and then have to scarf his food down because time was limited afterwards. william would text you all day; compliments on your food and looks, funny tweets he'd think you'd enjoy, invitations for movie nights, simple small talk and questions.

it didn't take long for that to progress and 2 and a half months into your job, you and william were practically dating.

you never properly discussed labels, but neither you and william harped over it. you were both happy with the right now of it all.

you both decided to keep your relationship separate from your work life. nobody needed to know what was happening between you both, and you were very adamant about that. you didn't want anyone, player or staff member, to treat you differently because you were with william, and he wanted the same.

but it was hard to try and ignore william - it was and always has been. you'd find yourselves locked in knowing stares with one another, and you couldn’t help yourselves from standing suspiciously close while trying to keep your voices hushed and inconspicuous. the accidental not-so-accidental brushing of limbs, sneaky smiles and even occasionally sneaking off to unoccupied rooms to be alone. you and william weren't doing the best at showing restraint and being secretive.

so although neither of flat out told anybody apart of the leafs organization about your blooming relationship, it didn't take much to figure out something was happening between you.

you walk through the training hallways with a determined step. you've finally gotten the menu submission you'd been hounding william for (at work and after) and when he dropped it off to you this morning, you thought you could finally rest and get to work - but no.

he was trying to be funny. instead of properly filling out the required form for the kitchen, he'd chosen to write either ridiculous answers like he preferred ketchup flavoured fruits or overly sexual things like he preferred you for dessert.

with the original forms in hand as well as a brand new set for him to fill out (correctly this time) you continue to weave through training staff as you walk through the athletic department of the arena. you knew that william was in the gym right now, just like he told you when he sneakily kissed you goodbye after giving you his forms this morning.

you should've known something was up when last night william asked if anybody would be seeing the menu submissions besides you, and when you said that it was only for you, his smirk grew.

you enter the open doors of the physical therapy room when you caught sight of his familiar thick head of blonde hair.

you approach william with determination.

a couple of the guys around notice you and they make snickering noises like little school boys do when a classmate gets called down to the office. the sound has william looking up just as you reach him, his conversation with liligren and jarnkrok coming to a stop.

"I need you to fill out a new form." you hand him the blank papers quickly.

williams smirk grows ridiculously large. "why? what's wrong with my other one?"

you sigh, "can you just do it babe-" you cut yourself off as a horrified look takes over your face. williams eyes widen, but he looks rather enamoured with your slip up and that has you feeling even more horrified. "william. I mean william."

jarnkrok and liligren both snicker knowingly, and calle even pats william's back in a congratulatory manner as the two swedes walk away from you.

william takes the empty menu submission form from your hand. "I'll fill this out."

you exhale shakily, "much appreciated."

he eyes you, "even though I think the real reason is because you want to frame the original one in your apartment." william's iconic laugh follows suit, and you find yourself hiding your face behind the inappropriate forms.

calling william babe wasn't even the most damaging slip up that williams teammates had caught you to in, and there were many close calls of almost being caught doing undeniable acts.

"willy," you sigh heavily, basking in the feeling of his calloused, large hands running over ass. "we should stop"

he hums against your neck, not once detaching his lips from there attack on your neck. clearly william has no interest in stopping the exchange between you and to further his point he rolls his clothed crotch against yours once again.

once william found out you were still at the rink after the team finished up with practice, he had practically dragged you away from food prepping and into the first available spare room.

it ended being the staff room, which was definitely a risky spot, but that didn't stop william from sitting you on the lunch table and immediately begin kissing you with need.

after a good 3 minutes of hot and heavy making out, you managed to reluctantly detach your mouths. but that didn't stop william from moving further down your body with his lips - the sucking against your neck a reminder of just that.

"somebody could walk in." you remind him.

"I know." he pants, pulling away and finally ending the assault on your neck in favour of meeting your eyes. you're both flushed and breathless, but the knowing smirks don't disappear off either of your faces.

"I need to get back to work." you slip off the table, brushing his erection through his pants as you do so. william groans out - a combination of uncomfortable and pleasure, his dick twitching in his pants.

you giggle, adjusting your crumpled apron.

just as you do, the door swings open and a confused looking auston matthews enters. once he spots willaim his shoulders relax, "dude i've texted you three times - you're my ride today remember?"

then the scene infront of him clicks, and auston is immediately smirking. the sight of your messy hair and plump lips combined with william's red cheeks and akward hand placement, he knows everything.

"yeah, right. sorry man I was just helping y/n/n with something."

"yeah, for sure."

when auston turns away to leave the room, william following behind him slowly, you make sure to whack william on the arm as he walks by.

all he can do is laugh.

for those weeks of constantly spending time with one another and basking in the honeymoon phase you two so desperately loved, was something that you cherished.

but a week ago, something changed.

it started when one of your closests friends, jenna, had come down from out east to visit. you had obviously told her about the situation with william, and how you two were thriving together in your secret relationship.

"wait," jenna's eyebrows pull together in confusion and her hands shoots out in your direction as if to halt your story. "why are you keeping it a secret."

you shrug, "because of work. we don't want it to complicate anything."

"what would it complicate?"

you open your mouth to speak, but no noise comes out. when you try and think of a reason why your and williams situation has been hush hush, you can't find one that actually makes sense.

jenna continues, her tone gentle. "I love you and i'm so glad you're happy, but I think you should have a conversation with william. it doesn't make sense to me why you guys wouldn't tell anybody about this thing going on, as well as why you haven't put labels on it yet."

your shoulders deflate. you can't help but feel insecure and unsure now about your relationship with william. was he embarrassed of the age gap between you and didn't want his teammates to get on him about your immaturity? did william not want to sacrifice his job with the leafs by putting a label on you? was he worried he'd get in trouble or traded if he was caught with somebody so young who worked for the leaf organization? was he worried about the fans dissecting a relationship between you both and calling him out for dating you?

was your relationship doomed from the start and eventually meant to crumble.

when you started to really think about it, you get plunged into a deep, dark hole of guilt and regret and fear all sourced from your and william's relationship and the secrecy that came with it.

because what if william didn't want a girlfriend out of you because of your age and inexperience with life and he was only looking for a physical partner temporarily.

so your next day at work when william tried to flirt with you while you plated the various salads at the grab table, you didn't give him any eye contact and mumbled some excuse about being really busy.

willy was confused of course, but he brushed off your dismissal. he believed when you said you were busy, and he knows how important your job is to you and he didn't want to disturb you while you're working - but the next day it was the same thing. you were practically ignoring him and when william did come up and try and start your usual fun conversations, you were short with him.

after a few days of the same unbothered demeanour from you, william gave up on trying to crack you. he was clueless on what shifted between you, especially when you won't tell him, so he has no choice but to believe you are no longer interested in him.

and that hurt, so instead of acting like a grown adult and trying to find a solution to this mystery problem, william pretended that he was unaffected by your sudden absence.

——

morgan rielly must be able to sense your shift of energy, and instead of bringing up his favourite taylor swift song of the week (which is obviously a weekly discussion between you two), he only sends you a closed mouth smile as he plates up his meal.

it makes you frown, because you think william must've mentioned something to someone on the team, that now has the once interactive, bubbly roster acting tame and quiet around you.

you almost say something to morgan about his change and plead for him to talk about your favourite blonde musician, but you let him go.

this is what you didn't want to happen. the awkwardness and always having to step around eggshells because of your relationship with william (or currently, lack there of) was something you never wanted for you, william or anybody in the organization.

you never wanted to end up feeling so lost and out of place at work and when it came to william. you can understand your way of dealing with your insecurities wasn't ideal, but you can't help but to shut down when something doesn't feel right - you've always been that way.

but william wasn't helping in any way. not that it was his fault, you can understand that. but you can't understand why he now seems to be showing absolutely no interest in you or why he’s stopped trying.

and you know you should've had a conversation like jenna suggested and figured out the labels and deeper meanings of the relationship you and william have - or had. but you weren’t thinking of having a talk when you were spiralling.

you needed and wanted william to pull you out of that state and reassure, not act like he doesn’t know who you are anymore.

your thoughts are halted as out of the corner of your eye the movement of matthew knies catches your attention. the rookie sends you his usual smile, seemingly unaware of the thick tension weaving throughout the dining area. like usual, matthew loads his plate with mini hash browns, and the normalcy of it all has you laughing.

he looks up at you, a smile widening across his attractive face. amused and seemingly pleased, matthew moves to plate himself up some scrambled eggs, although he doesn't take much because he claims that eggs taste like shit. thankfully, you convinced him to at least take a spoonful at every breakfast.

"I didn't think I'd get to see you smile today. you've been a little off for a few days....are you okay?" matthew's eyes flicker between you and the fruit platter, eyeing your exhausted features.

you're momentarily taken back, blinking quickly to try and see if you're hallucinating what's happening right in front of you. but matthew is very much there and asking you that question. you clear your throat, "i'll be fine, thank you, matthew."

"good," matthew smiles before taking a gigantic bite of some plain toast, crumbs falling over his team branded hoodie. he doesn't seem to mind the mess and he wipes away any lingering toast from his face with the back of his free hand. his warm smile has yet to fade, and you find yourself joining him. matthew continues, "you look so pretty when you smile - I've been missing it these pass few days."

he walks away then, leaving you a flustered and shocked messed at the expense of his flirtatious compliments. you're taken back momentarily, and you're left staring at the spot matthew was just standing in, going over the mini exchange in your head.

you briefly wonder if matthew has always been flirtatious with you, but you'd been too previously distracted with william to notice.

matthew is your age and attractive and still new to the whole sports lifestyle just like you are. maybe matthew was better match for you and trying to build a strong relationship with him was more realistic than it ever was with william.

the warmth of william nose running along your cheek is comforting. the tickling, soothing movement is almost lulling you into a sleep and your eyelids feel heavy as you blink lazily.

against you, william shifts. he shuffles upwards on your mattress, and the soft rustling sound of your crisp sheets follow suit.

your head lolls towards him against your fully pillow and you're met with william's blue eyes twinkling back at you. he's leaning on his palm as his elbow supports his body weight. his hair is still tousled from your hands running through his locks during your previous activities and william also looks a little sleepy.

his flushed cheeks are surely a reflection of yours, and his chest hair is still dampened with sweat - sticking flat against his hard pecks.

"what?" you questions gently, eyeing his sleepy smirk. you turn onto your side and tuck yourself against him. the angle is a little awkward, but you still manage to connect and you wrap your arms around him, letting your chin press in between his pecks.

he looks down at you softly, that same fond expression still there. "I just really like you, y/n/n." william's words are barely audible, and if you had emptied your dehumidifier like you had planned too earlier, the noise would've drowned out his confession.

but you didn't empty it and you can hear every soft word perfectly.

you smile. "I really like you too, willy." to further your point, you press a quick kiss to the skin of his chest. that slaty sweat flavour on his skin is another reminder of what you and william had just finished doing only a few minutes, and that has you flushing all over again.

with his free hand, william gently takes ahold of your face, tilting your head back so you were once again looking at him. you can see the thoughts running through his mind, and when william gently knaws the skin of his bottom lip around his never ending smirk, you wonder if he's also thinking what you are.

suddenly william drops down, and his hands wrap around your waist so he can fully roll you onto your back once again.

you giggle, your legs falling open automatically to make room for william. he leans down and begins to attack your flushed face with quick, loud kisses.

but that's not true - you know that now. it was never hard with william. the rather insignificant age gap between you was never an obstacle and neither was your job position. the only obstacle seemed to be how you were too nervous to put a label on the relationship in fear of ruining what you had.

you think what you and william had was too special to just ignore and give up on - you don't want to give up on him.

a hand reaches for one of the silver serving tongues in front of you, and you look up to find william standing there.

he looks away from you as soon as you make eye contact, and he busies himself by serving himself some of the pork sausages.

you clear your throat nervously. "hey."

at the sound of your voice, william looks back at you. his eyebrows are pulled together tightly and he analyzes you confusingly. his uncertain gaze has you nerves deepening, but you don't back down - determined to begin the process of moving forward with william.

"hi." finally, he responds. he shuffles further down the table, searching for the fried eggs to add to his new spread. you follow him from the other side of the long buffet table, eyeing him carefully.

"can we talk later?" you words are hushed as you try to not attract any unwanted attention to you both. you're still not sure if william told anyone and if he did, you don't know exactly what he said. so you were still feeling a bit weary of that situation, but you were ready to talk about it and clear your rollercoaster of thoughts.

william almost scoffs, the once usual happy and relaxed laughter you were so used to hearing from him has quickly turned into something more unsettling and your heart just about bursts. "now you want to talk?"

you blink. "I-"

he stops you from continuing, his plate of food long forgotten as he directs his attention to you completely. "because last week when you started acting all entitled and uninterested you didn't even have the decency to give me fucking eye contact. but now you want to talk? why, so you can come up with some excuse and tell me that you like me and want to move forward? well too bad because i'm over it."

you can feel the emotion building thickly in your throat and your eyes start to blur as you desperately try and hold in the waterfall of tears wanting to slip out. "so you don't want to at least talk about this? about us?"

he shakes his head in disbelief, that same scoffy laughter making another appearance. william meets your water filled eyes, and his face shifts. his mouth falls into a straight line and his eyes change to a more somber state. "what us?"

you look away to try and hide the way your mouth trembles with emotion - pain, hurt, sadness, embarrassment. you didn't actually think everything you'd be insecure and worried about would become the truth.

you don't give william the satisfaction of seeing you upset. you turn away and signal to another kitchen personal to take over. thankfully, they make their way over and as soon as their feet move, so do yours and you're leaving the dining area as fast as you can.

you barley make it through the busy hallway and back through into the kitchen staff room. thankfully because of the working hour, nobody else was in the room because as soon as the door swung shut behind you, the building of emotions all come out and you could no longer stop the flurry of tears.

you cover your mouth to try and mask the sound of the sobbing sounds of heartbreak, desperate to hold on to any dignity you have left.

your embarrassment quickly turns into anger.

william saying such hurtful words to you in a room full of both your colleagues, even if they weren't listening, is just aggravating. even if william never believed that you and him had anything meaningful and he believed your relationship wasn't leading to anything serious, he should of at least had respect for you.

the door opens behind you, and you know it's william immediately. your body reacts to his presence in the way it always has. your skin prickles with pleasure as if it was anticipating his touch and your face heats up further regardless of your current pain.

"please, william if you've come to further embarrass me and make me feel like shit i'd rather you just leave."

you've never called him anything other than willy. when the two of you first staring seeing one another, you told him the name william was too formal for him and willy better displayed his fun and lighthearted personality.

and even though everyone called him by his nickname, something about it coming from your lips was much more intimate.

he shakes his head even though you can't see him. your back is still turned to him because you don't want him too see you so distraught from his words - you can't give him the satisfaction of your raw emotion.

"I didn't mean that, y/n/n." william's words are gentle and full of guilt. "I shouldn't have said that."

you turn, eyes pointed with anger. "no you shouldn't of."

williams face furthers into a regretful expression. "I'm sorry." he walks further into the room, now standing close enough to touch you. but he doesn't try and touch you, and he keeps to himself regardless of how badly he wants to hold you and touch you after days of not.

"I thought you liked me." your words a breathless whine, and you wrap your arms around yourself in search of comfort.

"yeah and I thought the same." he admits sadly. "but then something changed and I don't know what the fuck happened. I felt completely left in the dark because you just completely stopped spending time with me, and talking to me and looking at me. it felt like you didn't like me at all, y/n/n."

you use your shoulder to wipe away the drying tears left sitting on your cheek. the little blush still on your face smudges into your white chefs top, making you look even more of a mess. "I was in my own head," you admit your defeat, "all these insecurities kept getting in the way of what was right infront of me. I thought that you wanted to keep us a secret because you were embarrassed of me - my age and my inexperience were something that you wanted to keep hidden."

you continue, "I thought you didn't want to further our relationship into one that held more serious value- had a title - because you didn't want to build something with somebody so young and lacking of life knowledge and experience. so I pushed you away because I didn't want to end up hurt when you inevitably admitted you could never love me that way - that I was just a fucking booty call."

he shakes his head, lips tugging downwards into a painful frown. "I don't care that you're younger than me and your age has never been an issue when it comes to my feelings about you and our relationship. just because you're younger doesn't not mean that you're inexperienced, y/n/n. in fact you're one of the smartest and experienced people I know."

"so what was it that stopped you from bringing up what this relationship between us was? what were you working towards, willy? when it came to me?"

william almost turns into a puddle at the use of his nickname. he has missed you and your presence so much these past few days of no contact, it's been killing him.

as soon as you walked away from him and his hurtful insinuation back in the dining room, william immediately knew he messed up. not just with the burst of anger only a few minutes ago, but with how he handled the relationship between you two after you seemingly were shutting down and turning away from him.

"when I noticed that something was going on with you and in your head, I should've been more supportive and I should've reached out to try and have a conversation to help squash these fears, and insecurities you were dealing with. i'm so sorry, y/n/n." he breathes out, pausing to collect his racing mind. "I want to be your boyfriend and the entire time we've been together I was so desperately hoping that you would want the same. I don't care if anybody thinks of me differently and I don't care if people think that we aren't good - I think we're great."

"willy," you huff, arms falling back to sit against your sides. "i'm sorry that I shut down instead of just talking to you - I feel so stupid." you pause shakily, trying to blink back the new wave of tears. william reaches out to you then, rubbing his hand comfortably around your hip. it's the comfort you've been missing - craving. you continue, "I really like you, willy. I wish that this never happened between us."

he nods understandably, squeezing the dip of your hip as if to tell you that you're not stupid, it is okay, I really like you too. "where do you want to go from here?"

"I want to...." you pause. "I want to start over. I want to date you for real with the labels and the pictures and everything else in between." you bite your lip nervously, trying to gauge william's face to try and understand what he's thinking. "where do you want to go from here, honestly?"

"I want to pick up right where we left off. I don't want this miscommunication to change our relationship anymore than it already has. the only thing I want to change is that I can call you my girlfriend and refer to you as such all the time."

"I want that too."

"good," william smiles, pressing his body against yours. with the new position, you have no other choice but to bring your arms up around around his neck - not that you minded of course. “I really like us, y/n.”

“I really like us, too.” your confession is a tickling whisper against his lips as william can’t help but let his mouth brush over yours, so close to connecting them together is a much needed kiss.

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #hockey imagine #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #hockey fic #william nylander blurb #william nylander x reader #william nylander fic #william nylander fanfic #william nylander imagine #toronto maple leafs blurb #toronto maple leafs imagine

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kayhi808 · 9 months ago

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First Crush - 8

Your dinner & movie date was great! Dinner came out well. Bucky enjoyed it. He hadn't had a home cooked meal in a while. Bucky helps you clear the table, "I'll have to give Abby a bath & get her ready for bed, but if you want...to hang around for a bit..."

You feel his hands on your hips as he turns you around. "Yea, I think I can do that." He leans in & kisses you softly. His lips, soft but firm makes the butterflies in your belly take flight. You take his bottom lip between your teeth & tug, eliciting a soft moan from Bucky's throat.

"Mama?" Bucky jumps back, looking over his shoulder at Abby standing 3 feet away. "What doing?"

"Hey, Baby. I was on my way to get your bath started. Can you pick out your pajamas for me? You can also pick out 2 stories for tonight."

"Mama?"

"Yes."

She waddles over to hold Bucky's hand, "Can Bucky reads me a story"

You both look at Bucky. "Sure." He smiles down at her.

She claps & bounces up & down. "One story for Buckys & 2 story for yous."

"What? No, ma'am. You only get 2 stories. One for me & one for Bucky."

Abby bends over cackling, "I almost tricks yous."

"Nice try. Go find your pajamas & stories. We'll be right there." Abby skips out of the kitchen and then you're able to crack a smile. "She's only 3! By the time she's a teenager, she'll be too smart for me." Bucky drops a kiss at your temple as you pass him to get Abby's bath ready.

*****

Your evening didn't end like you would have hoped. Abby wouldn't fall asleep as long as Bucky was there. She came outside for water, monsters in her closet, monsters under the bed, to ask very important questions about Moana's Chicken if it knew how to swim in the ocean...Her interruptions were endless. Bucky left because Abby wouldn't go to sleep otherwise. Cockblocked by your own child!

You and Bucky decided that once he returns from this mission, you'd set time aside for a real date. Just the two of you. You've been so limited to lunches in your office or phone calls after Abby goes to sleep. You're dying to go on a grown-up date with Bucky.

Wednesday morning started like any other day, until an alert came in that Bucky's mission went sideways & the team suffered injuries. The med bay had to be alerted & prepped for the incoming quinjet. Bucky had been shot and one of the other agents under him was in serious condition.

It was hard for you to concentrate on work knowing Bucky was hurt. This is exactly what scared you about starting a relationship with Bucky. The fear you'll feel with every mission he leaves on. You both have kept it professional at work, but Bucky's friends know you've been seeing each other. You weren't assigned to Director Fury today, so you aren't abreast with details of the mission.

Sam drops by your office, "Hey."

Leaping up from your desk, "Sam! What happened? How is he?"

"He'll be fine. They're checking him out now. It was a through and through.

"And the other agent?"

"He's in surgery now, but it looks good." You nod, biting your bottom lip. "Want me to take you up?"

Tears fall, "I'm still working. I don't want Fury..."

Sam laughs, "Fury already knows EVERYTHING that happens here. It'll be quick. Once you see him, it'll put your mind at ease."

Wiping away your tears, "Please?" Sam nods & as you pass him, he puts his arm around your shoulder giving you a quick squeeze.

*****

You get to the med bay and Bucky is on a bed, his side patched up with a large bandage & his arm in a sling. You gasp & cover our mouth with your hands, trying to silence yourself. "Buck." It's the first time you've seen him without a shirt, you see the way his Vibranium arm in attached to him. The scars.

It's overwhelming. The abuse his poor body has taken.

"Hey, Doll." Sam nudges you towards the bed & leaves to give you both privacy.

You brush his hair off his forehead & drop a kiss on his brow before placing one on his lips. "Can I get you anything?"

He closes his eyes and shakes his head clasping your hand in his, "Nope. This is good."

You know he's medicated, so you stay until he falls asleep before you leave him.

*****

You made arrangements with a neighbor to pick up Abby from daycare, so you can visit with Bucky after work.

When you get there, Natalie, Clint & Steve are there joking with him. He looks much better than this morning.

"Hey, doll! What are you still doing here?"

Lingering in the doorway, "I asked my neighbor if she could get Abby from daycare because I'd be a little late. I wanted to check on you before I left."

Clint teases, "You don't have to worry about him. He's like a cat with nine lives. Thankfully he's able to put himself in harms way to save the day, with his super serum."

"Shut up, man."

Natasha sees you flinch, "He'll be good as new. The serum does accelerate the healing process. There's nothing to worry about."

You give her a small smile, "Yea, that's good to hear."

"Y/N?" Bucky hears the strain in your voice.

"I'm glad you're feeling better. I...I wanted to know if you needed anything before I left but looks like you're well taken care of."

"Could you guys give us a minute?"

"No, I can't stay. I need to get Abby. I don't want to be an inconvenience; you know how Abby gets. We'll talk later." You quickly go to him & drop a kiss on his brow & turn to leave, giving a small wave to the others.

*****

The following morning Director Fury had you with him in meetings. When you got back to your office, you found Bucky sitting there waiting for you. "Bucky? What are you doing here? Did they release you already?" You notice the bruise and scrapes were already healed. He still had his arm in a sling though.

"You didn't answer your phone last night."

"I'm sorry. I texted you this morning. Abby was in a mood and I fell asleep early. I was real tired." Bucky just stares at you and it makes you nervous. "Did you want me to pick up lunch for you?"

He shakes his head & continues to stare at you until you finally make eye contact with him. "Talk to me, Y/N." He waits out your silence.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Whatever's bothering you, we can talk it through. We can figure it out. At least give me a chance."

"I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning works best," getting comfortable in the chair, signaling he's not going anywhere.

"Abby's father. He was a fighter pilot with the Air Force. He had a dangerous job but he didn't die in the line of duty. It was because he was reckless. He was careless & lost control of his plane. He did that to himself."

"And you see him in me?" You see his jaw clench.

"I don't know. I know that i'm scared now. I feel more connected to you, than I did to Jason in the short time I've known you. My daughter absolutely adores you." You see a cocky smile on his face. "Those aren't good points, Bucky." Frowning at him, "Your job is dangerous and you risk your life to save others. I can't have someone else in my life who puts me & Abby second."

"And you think I'd do that?"

"I do. Clint said that because you're a Super Soldier, you take extra risks because you know you'll recover. You take a bullet for someone on the team because you know you'll survive and they will die. That's brave and heroic and I commend you on that."

"Y/N."

"But if I'm honest and selfish, if I let myself fall in love with you, where does that leave me? Abby? I don't think we have a place in your world. Your team, Mankind, will always outrank us."

"It's like you've got this all figured out."

Shaking your head, "I don't. And that's what scares me. If it was just myself I had to think about, my concerns would be different. I'd be willing to risk more." Taking a deep breath, "I'm protecting Abby the only way I know how."

"And if I promise to put you & Abby first?"

That wasn't an option you were expecting. "I don't understand."

Bucky stands and leans on your desk, "If I swear to put you and Abby first. Will you give us a chance?"

"How?"

"Let me work it out. I'm asking you to trust me? Can you do that? Can you give me time?" You silently nod as he pulls you in for a kiss. The chill of his vibranium hand on the nape of your neck giving you goosebumps. Or is it just the kiss itself?

Next chapter

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @ozwriterchick @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @enchantedbarnes @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x abigail rose

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dreamdolldiary · 2 years ago

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#𝟏𝟎𝟎𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

This is how we are NOT going to wait until the new year (or a new whatever) to be the best version of ourselves, we are going to change now.

When you want to change, change. Don't wait for anything.

There are about 100 days until the new year. That is 3 months. You can get so much done within that timeframe.

But with the "new year" aside, please know that there is absolutely no rush to improve. It can be July and you can still decide to "reinvent" yourself. This is just a fun thing to do and keep track of.

Not a "challenge" but a way to stay accountable for your goals for a better you.

୨୧ Here is how we are going to absolutely kill it!

1. Pick a number of goals (3-4, both small and large) for every aspect of your life.

Physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, professional, personal.

Physical: 10k steps a day, working on being sober, moving your body around more, getting into bed earlier, reducing screen time, cooking healthier meals, brushing your hair, wearing the nice clothes you're saving for a "special occasion", trying out new looks and clothes, venturing out new styles, upgrading your basic hygiene routine, celibacy, drink more water

Mental: writing down your thoughts, keeping track of your emotions both negative and positive and what triggers them. Get rid of the negative triggers and bring in more of the positive triggers.

Emotional: getting in touch with a therapist, dedicating a journal to release you emotions instead of bottling them in, talking to friends, anger management

Professional: working 1 hour or more of deep work to improve your skills, networking events

Personal: find your old hobbies, discover new ones, pleaseee get a hobby. seriously! trying out new restaurants and cafes, complimenting people and be open to making new friends.

Spiritual: meditation, prayers to yourself or religion you are a part of, nature/solitude walks. These are super important, it brings you peace of mind and a time to really be with yourself and be at peace after your jam packed days

Finance: learn how to budget, no impulse spending, learn how to invest, find a way to increase your income

Important habits to have: waking up and going to bed early, planning your next day, having a set routine and freedom to change it to fit your priorities

Important skills to build: time management and how to focus better

These are just some ideas and I know looking at this list can be overwhelming so you need to remember and understand that you are not going to be doing every single one of these every single day. You are going to pick a few from each category (and seriously, if you think about it, I discuss this in the next section about time blocking, it really does not take a lot of time. Trust me.) and include them into your daily routine.

2. Setting up reasonable time blocks for these goals. Revamp your schedule to fit your goals around your life.

Getting up early is how you get more done in a day. Yes, you can reach your goals even with a full time job.

I work almost 12 hour shifts every week day while taking care of kids, my dog, basically running a household and I still get so much done.

So you've picked your goals. Great. Now take a look at your schedule and figure out what things are taking up most of your time. Is it a long commute? Spending too much time scrolling on your phone? Waking up late? Going to bed late?

Example of time blocking/a schedule:

☆ Mornings:

4am-5am: exercise, pray/meditate

5am-7am: study

8am-4pm: get ready for the day and go to work.

during your work break, you can read a book, get steps in, meditate, have a nice meal.

☆ Evenings:

4pm-5pm: get back from work, eat, catch up with family or have alone time

5pm-7pm: review any notes, clean, meal prep, attend a class you may have, do laundry

7pm-9pm: plan the next day if you have appointment or deadlines, shower, go to bed

Assess how you spend your time and utilize it. Instead of scrolling on your phone during your free time, spend time with your loved ones (pets, kids, partner), instead of staying in one place while you're on a call, walk around to get steps in, there is always a way to implement your goals into your daily life.

Notice how I say fit your goals around your life. You don't want to be taking away important things like errands, jobs, school, being a parent just meet your goals- no. Use your time wisely. That's all. You can fit them.

On the larger goals like taking up a class/large skill, like dancing and painting. On fridays, you'll have dance class and on other days that you have free, you'll be painting a piece or reading your anticipated book, learning a language, trying out a new recipe, planning the next day, taking a spontaneous art class, etc!

Weekends.

Because I work a lot, I like to use weekends to really do deep work. Intensive study sessions. And because I deep work (work with no distractions) I don't need to study all day. I'm getting so much done in little time that I'll be done by the afternoon and I can go out and do errands, get all dressed up and have a nice day out in the city, or just have a relaxing day by doing chores, watching a nice movie and more!

3. Setting up a system so you can actually stick to those goals.

Keep a journal to keep track of what you did today. If you didn't reach a goal that day (and that's okay), ask yourself why? and how does it make you feel? Then take action on what you can do to reach it tomorrow.

Switching. We all know it’s best to not push yourself so hard. For example, don’t do intense exercise everyday. Walking and dancing throughout the day counts as exercise too, so by switching (depending on YOUR goals), you’ll have time for your other goals as well. Here is an example: on a rest day of no exercising, maybe that day is the night I have a ballet class. That is exercise as well. So instead of exercising in the very early hours of my day, I can use that time instead to do more studying OR have more time doing something else.

which means I can do one do the following: spend more time with my pet, read a few pages of my book, make a new recipe, etc.

Ex. 4am-5am - on a no-exercise day, i can study during that time instead. 6am-7am - more time to tackle my other goals.

Create a foundation. If you have an amazing day, felt very productive and accomplished, what's a habit that really helped? For me, it's always getting up early. If I wake up late because I slept late or my alarm didn't go off, my day is thrown off by a landslide. So if you had an off day, figure out why and maybe your foundation can help.

★ That’s all!

If you have questions or need an example to jump off from, click below to read more on how I personally did my reset and how I am still able to get much more done with a full time job.

Stay safe, prospering, and amazing!

Share your accountability posts with the tag #100DaysWithDDD or we can chat through my inbox if you need extra tips, questions or want to share how you're doing/did.

I will be logging my days too, you can find my goals here.

Welcome, welcome!

Here is an example of what I did when I did my reset and still doing now with working.

I chose my goals. I was studying deeply, spending more time with my dog who I felt bad would be bored during my study hours, be more active, get through my books.

How did I start? First of all I got up earlier and went to bed earlier. I noticed that I focus better in the mornings so I would stretch, workout and started studying. Next, I would get ready (nice clothes, my face is clear, hair is brushed), take my dog out, play with him, etc and head to work. See? I already tackled so many of my goals there! Physical, personal, and professional.

Want to get more books in, want to meditate, want to journal? Listen to an audiobook or podcast while you drive, commute, or have a lunch break at school or work. Or don't. Sit in silence and let your mind wander, let those unconscious ideas come up! That's also a form of meditation and having more creative skills.

During my study breaks, I would stretch, walk my dog. Another break, I catch up with the kids, do any short tasks like laundry, mini tidying up. Any break, at all I would do micro-task.

I stopped doing useless things like spending so much time on my phone for what? If I was truly bored, I had done all my tasks but I didn't feel like getting up or doing anything, I would go on my phone... to clean out apps and my camera roll (which has A LOT of things on it I still need to get through). That's the only time I would go on my phone really. The lack of storage on my phone makes it lag- I'm heavily scolding my past hoarder self for keeping so many photos on there

If you work a desk job, get up for phone calls, take laps when there is nothing to do, just get your body moving! Stretch! There is always something to do, you just have to know how and what.

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bitchesgetriches · 1 year ago

Note

Hypothetically if someone wanted to include their ability to schedule appointments, organize events and transportation, and meal plan and prep for their family on their resume how would they word that

We LOOOOOOVE the "how do I reframe unpaid labor on my resume" question. This is like Bitch bait.

Ok, so this sounds like you are an Organizational Specialist, or a Personal Assistant to a Head of Household, or an Organizational Consultant to a busy professional. List of responsibilities should include event planning, nutritional development, essential transportation, scheduling and booking, and administrative management.

Pick the corporate buzzwords that most fit with the job you're applying for, stare them directly in the eyes, and know that your unpaid labor for your family is VALUABLE WORK EXPERIENCE.

Here's more advice:

How to Frame Volunteering on Your Resume When You’ve Never Had a Job

If this helped you out... tip us!

#resume #resume tips #unpaid labor #job application #how to get a job #job search #job hunting #resume and cover letter #career advice

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obae-me · 1 year ago

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Dumb Injuries- Pt 2

This may or may not be based off of real events that may or may not have happened a few days ago... Only I was on my own with no sweet demons, just my panic, a bloody sock, and a bunch of tissues. I bet it's going to leave a scar...

Warning: Blood, glass, injury. Note: I am not a medical professional, so do not use this as advice on what to do in a situation like this.

A gleeful little hum came from your mouth as you walked about in the kitchen. Today was your day to make dinner. And while sometimes you loathed these days, expecting nothing but needy demons practically clinging to you as you cooked and begging for a taste as if they were all Gluttony, today was different. Today everyone was giving you the proper space to work on your own. The peace was much needed. You’d felt like you’d been running around non-stop going from room to room, reading message after message, fulfilling your duties with hardly a chance to rest.

You loved these people, but boy did they run you dry sometimes.

However, despite your exhaustion and perhaps slight irritation, dinner was still being made with much love. You figured, perhaps, if the meal was fulfilling, they’d all be calm the rest of the evening.

Even from here you could hear them bickering.

Something had been up with all of them all week. They were picking fights with each other constantly. Or, should you say, more than usual. If that was somehow even remotely possible. In fact, they very nearly destroyed the kitchen a handful of days ago. Someone had eaten Satan’s special cat-shaped cake he was saving for himself after a day of testing. So, naturally, he went ballistic. He assumed it was Beel, but Gluttony- for once- swore it wasn’t him. After being blamed too many times, he got frustrated. Lucifer of course had to get involved. And let’s just say he wasn’t in a very good mood that day. Luckily, no appliances were harmed, but you recall how long it had taken them all to clean it up. And now they were all still on edge as the culprit had still yet to come out with their crimes.

With an audible sigh, you shook your head. Demons will be demons as some of them so often liked to say. Moving away from the stove and towards the table in the middle of the room, you reached out for the cutting board of vegetables you’d prepped earlier.

Pain. You gasped loudly, hurting your throat in the process. You stumbled, completely dropping the items that had been in your hand. They struck the ground with several noisy clangs. As you grasped for balance with support from the table, you clenched your teeth. The nerves in your body sparked, starting from the bottom of one of your feet and all the way up your back. Even if you wanted to swear, you were so stunned, you couldn’t. You leaned harder against the furniture, curling your leg up and raising your foot to spot an inch long piece of glass sticking out of your heel. While the adrenaline was still pumping through your body, you reached forward and plucked it out. It didn’t seem to have much blood on it. Shaking hands wrapped the little shard in a small wad of paper towels before it was chucked in the garbage.

Apparently, whoever had been in charge of cleaning the mess after the fight from a few days ago missed a spot… Of course you had to be the one to find it… Limping, keeping your injured foot on the tip of your toes, you headed towards the door to the kitchen. Thank Diavolo that your room was nearby. Hopefully you could make it there and patch yourself up before—

The door swung inwards, just a few inches away from smacking you in the face. You staggered back a bit. Mammon nearly barreled into you, grasping at your shoulder’s and steadying you to keep you from falling over. “You alright?! I mean… what did ya do this time, huh?” He blushed a little at his worried blurt before glancing by you and seeing the mess of scattered vegetables on the floor.

A heavy sigh from a second voice rang out behind Mammon. Your heart nearly stopped for a moment. Lucifer glared at you with narrowed eyes. “You couldn’t have waited another few weeks before making another mess of the kitchen?”

Well, at least so far, neither of them had noticed… You lowered your hurt foot a little flatter, keeping your heel just barely hovering over the ground. “I-I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I’ll get it cleaned up, don’t worry about it.”

The eldest, while usually appreciating those who fixed their own messes, was not satisfied with that answer. Exhaustion filled his eyes as he brushed past you and further into the room. “You can work on cleaning up your mess while I finish dinner. If we are even a few minutes late serving the food, Beel might go on another rampage.”

You nodded, gulping down a painful lump in your throat as your heel began to sting and throb. “Okay. I just have to grab something from my room real quick.” Lucifer just hummed at you, already pulling out replacements for everything you’d dropped. You looked up at Mammon, who was staring at you suspiciously, remaining unusually quiet. Walking as steady as you could, you squeaked past him and out into the hallway. Your hand pressed against the wall for support, fingernails almost digging into the wallpaper as you worked hard to remain quiet and upright.

Thank goodness your room was right next door…

All the sudden, the hallway flipped. Your head felt light and your chest squeezed as the floor was no longer right under you. You slipped, completely thrown off balance. You held our your arms, ready to catch the floor, but instead caught someone’s shoulders.

“I got ya…” Mammon sighed as he seemed to reach you just in time.

You leaned into him for a moment, trying to calm your wild heart. Then you straightened yourself, pulling away and looking down to see what you had slipped on.

A bloody streak covered the hard ground. Wide eyes looked down in shock, both Mammon’s and yours. You turned to look over your shoulder. Drops of blood made a pretty dotted trail all the way down the hall, stretching from your feet to—

“Lucifer…” You spoke as your gaze met his own. He no longer seemed exhausted, but now stunned, standing just outside the kitchen door.

“What the hell happened?!” Mammon shouted, his voice projecting far down the hall.

Oh great...

Like curious little mice, the Dining Hall opened as several demon heads poked out of the doorway, eager to see who was getting in trouble. You noticed Beel sniff the air and turn pale, muttering a single word to the rest of them that had all of them scurrying down the hall.

Either panicked or jealous, you were suddenly swept up into Mammon’s arms and absconded away. The House was a series of blurred colors before a door slammed open, nearly breaking in half. Mammon used one arm to sweep several items on the bathroom counter onto the floor before setting you on the empty space by the sink. You curled your leg and raised your foot again. Blood coated nearly your entire foot, steadily gushing and dripping onto the floor.

A hand ran through his own white hair as he nearly looked ready to pass out on your behalf. “L-Let’s wash it off…” Mammon whispered, his voice shaking as he turned on the sink and held his hand underneath the stream till it felt warm.

The other brothers were starting to flood into the room now, varying levels of shock, awe, and worry coating their faces. However, they were starting to learn about proper care, and how to not have a complete meltdown anytime you got hurt. But there was still a bit of a scene, the demons pushing each other aside and crawling over the others to get closer to you, reeling at the sight and smell of your blood.

Mammon cleaned your foot off, but frowned as it crimson continued to spread across your skin. Levi rushed over and placed a little Ruri-Chan bandaid across the injured spot. It bled through the bandage and started dripping again within a few seconds…

Now they were all starting to panic.

“We need to stop the bleeding!” Asmo shouted!

“Oh, do we?!” Belphie huffed sarcastically.

Satan pushed his way forward. “We need to add some pressure to stem it.”

Lucifer pulled out a first aid kit from… somewhere. You were starting to swear they had one in every room now… The eldest handed out specific items from the kit. Mammon continued to clean off the dripping blood. Asmo pressed a small folded cloth over your heel. Belphie started wrapping a cloth bandage around the injured spot. Beel gently pressed his hand down over the bottom of your foot to add some pressure.

“A-Are you okay? Does it…hurt?” Levi stammered from behind his other brothers.

You responded a little sheepishly. “It stings a bit, but… I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Probably the adrenaline,” Satan sighed, bending down to pick up the items off the floor that Mammon had thrown down in a frenzy.

“What in the world happened, hon?” Asmo wondered, coming over to pet your head in a bit of comfort.

Biting your lip a bit, you took a breath. “Stepped on glass…”

A very gentle flick struck the back of your head. “Do you remember that little conversation we had where I told you to be wary of the kitchen floors?” Lucifer shook his head at you, his furrowed brows laced with worry, and perhaps a bit of guilt if you were reading his expression properly.

“I… thought it was fine.”

Pride opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Mammon instead. “You gotta be more careful!”

Beel rubbed his thumb over your foot before removing his hand. “I don’t think it’s bleeding through anymore.” Taking a peek, he appeared right. You didn’t see anymore blood seeping through the bandages.

His twin looked over at you. “So, you’re okay now, right?”

“I think so.” A little squeak came out of your mouth as you were suddenly picked up again. Satan hardly said a word as he took you out of the bathroom.

“Hey! No fair!”

“Satan!”

Wrath ignored them all as he walked on. “Don’t worry about dinner tonight. We’ll take care of it. You stay off your feet.”

It didn’t quite sound like a suggestion…more like a command.

Well…it sounded quite like you wouldn’t be walking anywhere on your own this week…

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me nightbringer

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wing-ed-thing · 2 years ago

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Konoha 12 Domestic/Spousal Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Boruto Doesn't Exist, No Mentions of Children/Adoption

Completed versions of these headcanons will be linked on the character's name.

𓆃 Choji

THE BEST COOK ON THIS LIST NO ONE CAN COMPARE

Loves bonding over cooking and baking— whatever you like! If there's anything you're ever craving, Choji is taking to the kitchen to make you a gourmet meal as good as any professional chef!

Prime rib, lamb, tartare, croissants, macarons, soups! It doesn't matter your allergies or preferences, Choji can and will make you any food your heart desires.

Offers excellent cuddles. 11/10 squishy and soft.

Is very understanding, a fantastic listener, and naturally positive.

Never lets the romance l die, and after a hard day at work, will feed you ice cream while you rant about your day.

𓆃 Hinata

Traditional wife who has always wanted to be a traditional wife since she was a kid.

Content with cooking, doing laundry, and other domestic work.

Although, because of the society and the way she was brought up, she might feel insecure transitioning out of shinobi life.

While being made to feel weak isn't something Hinata is a stranger to, she is sensitive to comments from others about her domestic life.

Be sure to give her lot of reassurance and validate her work around the house.

𓆃 Ino

Also wanted to be a wife growing up, but the stay-at-home life is clearly not for her.

She'll try it for a period of time after your wedding or union, but she's far too restless for cooking and cleaning.

You supposed that she thought it would be relaxing and aesthetic, but if anything, she's getting frustrated and throwing the potato across the kitchen as soon as it slips out of her hand.

Ino will eventually find important work to do, come home to complain about it over dinner, and buy you something nice in a half-brag about how much more money she's making.

This is, of course, not to say she's bad at housework or doesn't do her share. She's perfectly good at domestic work and does the bulk of it, but the moment you expect it from her is the moment she stops.

𓆃 Kiba

A slob who, if allowed, will live in heaps of trash.

For the bulk of his 20s, he'll be super unsure of the whole settling down thing. You could make a whole bingo chart out of the cliche bachelor lines he spouts.

I'm not really a marriage kinda guy. I don't wanna tie myself down to a ball and chain. I just wanna meet people. I'm looking for someone who doesn't take themselves too seriously. Nah, I'm not looking for a relationship.

That is... until one day he wakes up and desperately wants a family of his own. To an extreme extent. Like his expectations are absolutely insane.

As a husband, you'll need to reevaluate those and have a nice long chat because at the beginning of your relationship he will certainly not be pulling his weight.

𓆃 Lee

Sweet, clingy, loving and sincere man.

Ah, you are the sun, the moon, and the world to Lee. He is constantly thinking of or doing the sweetest possible thing he possibly could for you at any given hour of the day.

Is his execution great? You'd give it a 50/50. Does he ever take a break? NO.

Whether it's breakfast in bed or going on a grocery run to get it off your plate, you're sure to have to put out one fire and learn how to use 20 carrots in your meal prep for the week.

He really tries his best, he just gets a little excited.

𓆃 Naruto

Another slob, although well intended.

Naruto never had a formal family growing up, and so he has little ideas of what's expected.

Much of his idea of what a partnership should be comes from media or stupid things that Shikamaru probably told him on the playground growing up, so you'll have to work together as a team to set expectations.

A lot of what he does for you is in his language (you have to learn that him making you both ramen cups is indeed a romantic gesture for him), but he loves exploring things that you like!

Naruto explores your likes and hobbies in a very genuine and non-performative way. Sharing things you enjoy together will be the foundation of your relationship.

𓆃 Neji

You'll spend your first year of marriage focused heavily on strict boundaries, expectations, and other couples work.

The way Neji was brought up completely fractured his sense of family. Not to mention, no matter what you're like Neji will certainly have to fight with his family in a silent battle over clan politics.

Because even though the Hyuga clan has stopped certain practices, doesn't mean that everyone in the clan is in mutual agreement or share similar attitudes with each other.

This will be a marriage built on structure and meaningful confrontation. Neji is determined to break the cycles of his family to make a healthy life with you.

𓆃 Sakura

Wasn't sure if she'd end up with a partner. She really wanted it, but with everything that happened in her life, she had her doubts.

Most definitely too hard on herself. Sakura pushes herself to almost fall over you to ensure you're pleased. Whether it's housework or cooking, there's a part of her that feels the need to prove her work ethic.

It's the small things with Sakura. Even after a long day at work, she'll still bring you your favorite home for dinner, even if the place is out of the way. She'll stay up an hour later to spend time with you even if she has an early morning.

𓆃 Sasuke

An ironic mix between Naruto and Sakura.

As a kid, Sasuke 100% wanted to be a husband when he grew up. 100% wanted to have a spouse to provide for and had similar dreams that some kids often do when they think about families.

But after the Uchiha Tragedy, much of Sasuke's outlook about his future has been skewed. Any relationship will start off as rather unstable and you can almost count on Sasuke being emotionally distant

It's about how the two of you work through his baggage and his willingness to be vulnerable.

𓆃 Shikamaru

Surprisingly well-adjusted?

He knows how to do basic life skills. Pulls his weight and sometimes even does your tasks. Shikamaru is generally clean and organized.

Where's the problem? He's terrified of commitment.

Most of the relationships in the Nara clan seem to consist of passive Nara men with verbose spouses who have no issue bossing their partners around.

But at the same time, Shikamaru doesn't mind this dynamic. He wants to laze, but he's also almost seemingly afraid of dynamics that allow him to laze.

He'll be just fine around the house, just a bit dramatic if you ever ask him to do anything. He'll get over it.

𓆃 Shino

Great husband and great family to marry into.

Just overall very balanced, if not quiet. The Aburame clan is close, but respectful of each other. You'll never have to deal with nagging in-laws because Shibi has already taken you in as one of his own.

Enjoy fresh meals of produce expertly tended to from the garden.

While Shino has his more talkative side when it comes to people he's close to, he's still quiet by nature. Don't expect that to change just because you've gotten married.

The obvious con is the massive amount of insects that will constantly be around you. You're not allowed to trap them or kill them.

You will have to get used to bugs crawling on you.

𓆃 Tenten

You're always doing something crazy.

You don't think any of the other Konoha 12 ever expected that Tenten would have the most exciting marriage, but look at her now.

You're always innovating, making new things for her business, and taking spontaneous trips to check out crafting techniques.

Anything and everything you set your mind to, you support each other in. There are ten million projects scattered around your home.

You roll up to get-togethers (when they seldom happen), being the most traveled and bringing the most unique gifts.

No one knows what you're going to be up to next.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I apparently had a lot more opinions on all of these characters than I expected. When I make multi-character posts, I like to keep each section sort of short, so if you are interested in more in-depth hcs, tap the underlined name or visit my blog for more.

Sakura, Lee, Choji, Tenten and Sasuke are done at the current moment.

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missfrustration · 7 months ago

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very professional nights (sanji x f!reader) 18+

rating: explicit 18+, minors do not interact!

tags: pwp, smut. oral sex, pussy eating, top sanji, vaginal fingering, praise kink, "good girl," boss/employee relationship, teasing, power imbalance, edgeplay, desk sex, office sex, no use of y/n

A/n: this story inspired me to become a fanfiction writer. also on my ao3. enjoy!

word count: 4.9k

Your crew was assigned to serve meals to a hundred marines at the end of last night. It wasn’t until well past midnight that you collapsed into bed after cleaning up the aftermath. You dismissed the others for the night so they could wake up on time for the morning shift, leaving you to stay longer.

Thus, you woke up late for your morning shift. You scrambled to get ready for the next twelve hours of prep work.

Just as you were about to pass out from exhaustion peeling carrots for the 4th time today during your shift, you jolted when you felt something jab into your back.

“What do you-” You were cut off by the presence of the tall, suited figure behind you.

Sanji, the co-head chef in the Baratie, was second to the head. Rebellious as he was towards Zeff, no one on the whole boat could deny his god-like skills in the kitchen.

You have a bad feeling about this.

“Miss, what’s your excuse for coming to work so late? I was notified of your tardiness.” He spoke sternly, cigarette in mouth.

You stood up straight and put your peeler down, “I’m sorry, it was a busy night for my crew and me yesterday with all the orders we made. Zeff decided to have my group handle those marines at the last minute, and I had to stay up late to close.”

Sanji looked at you while he took a long drag of his cigarette. Thank God he didn’t blow it at you, but you still smelled the earthy smoke from where you were standing.

“While I understand the circumstances of last night, that isn’t a good excuse to come to work an hour late. Especially in those clothes.” He peered down.

Clothes? Oh, shit-

You looked down to see yourself in plain clothes from last night, not in your standard uniform. You didn’t even notice when you put on your apron for the day. You cursed yourself for not being attentive enough this morning, as well as those damned marines for being the cause of it all.

On top of that, you aren’t even wearing a bra! That’s the only piece of clothing you took off last night before you passed out. As if it couldn’t get worse, your apron doesn’t fully cover your chest area. The t-shirt wasn’t a v-cut, but someone looking straight at you could see your braless chest peeking out the sides of the apron if they glanced.

You look back up to face Sanji. “I’m so sorry, Sanj-I mean, sir. I can go to my room and change if I need to.”

His face was stern, but you didn’t miss the glance he gave at your chest. It made your face flush red with embarrassment. You would give anything to dissolve out of the boat and sink to the bottom of the sea floor right now.

“You’re already here. Although your behavior is unacceptable, it’d be a waste of time to leave on the job now…”

He did the glance again but kept the assertive glare. Something about his expression and what he just said made it off. Maybe he was holding back on firing you right on the spot to save you from the embarrassment of doing it in front of the others?

“Of course, sir.” You say, looking down at his shoes and playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Just change as soon as you finish today. Wash the dishes before you leave, too. For now, that will be your punishment. As much as I hate serving ricotta for the seventh time this hour, we must be awake to get the job done.” He took another drag of his cigarette.

“It won’t happen again, sir. I apologize for the trouble.”

His face softened slightly at your apology, but he still persevered. As you turned around to return to your station’s duties, he got your attention again.

“Also. Miss, please come to my office for remedial chores tonight. Fix today’s act, and make it eight tonight sharp. Do not be late this time.”

Before you could turn around and agree, he was already making his way out, a trail of smoke following him. You stood there for a moment. Remedial work? You know it can be dished out to rookies who mess up, but never by Sanji. It’s typically another co-head or even Zeff himself.

Were you going to get kicked off the staff?

It was a half hour before you had to head to Sanji’s office, and you found your feet pacing circles in your room. You didn’t know what to think. Were you about to do just remedial work, or was Sanji ready to kick you off the Baratie?

When you checked the clock, it was almost time to go. You hastily dressed in plain clothes, adjusted your hair, and hopped out the door in a few minutes. With only a few paces to the top floor of the Baratie, you reached the wing of the superiors’ dorms and stopped at the room with the plaque Sanji .

You reach for the handle. When you touch it, you see it swing back and look up. On the other side is Sanji, looking down at you with a dead cigarette in his mouth, leaning against the doorframe. You are startled by the sudden meeting of your eyes and quickly look away. You frantically think of something to say as you struggle to think of anything coherent.

“Good evening, Miss. You’re on time.” He smiles. You see the cigarette flick up and down when he talks.

“Hello, sir.”

You noticed his tie loosened and his shirt unbuttoned, showing his broad clavicle and upper chest peeking out.

He takes a step towards you. Without breaking eye contact, he takes your hand into both of his, lowers his head, and kisses it slowly. He gently raises his head again as he places your hand back at your side.

“Please, come in.” He opens the door the rest of the way, standing on the opposite side of the door frame as you walk in.

You nervously step in as your eyes enter the spacious office before you. He leads you to the desk area in front of windows the size of saucers. Indeed, his suite was a damn luxury. Maybe it was the gentleman in him that preferred a classy room.

As he slowly walked you to his desk, he pulled up a nice, polished wooden chair and placed it opposite the desk. As you walked up, he pulled the chair out for you to sit and motioned you forward. His hand lightly brushed your back as you walked closer.

“Sit down, please, darling.” He said warmly.

For some reason, the combination of the slight contact and gentle words of Sanji made you blush a little. You felt your ears turn hot as you sat.

He slowly pushed your chair up to the desk and walked out of the room through a door tucked in the corner.

You anxiously shift in your chair, looking down at the glossy finish of the mahogany desk by the time he comes out.

He held out an unusually large stack of papers.

Oh, you’ve got to be joking with me.

“Here is your remedial work to complete tonight. I want them completed by the time you leave. You will complete them whether it takes one hour or three.”

You take a moment to take in the situation. He hands you the stack as he stands over you, peering down with the cigarette still in his mouth. You glance over the first paper at the top of the pile. It’s… an application? You see the picture of a lady a few years older than you with her personal information and work experiences handwritten on the page.

You look back at him, slightly confused, brushing your facial features.

“Yes, sir. What do you want me to do exactly?”

“These are our second-quarter applicants for the year. You will review their credentials and determine whether they are fit to work at the Baratie. If they pass your standards, mark the top corner with an ‘O’, or mark them with an ‘X’ if not. As you know, we are cutthroat with our newcomers, so please decide on the best. I trust your judgment with the applications you reject and will review the accepted ones with the others tomorrow.”

The situation presented to you was almost comical. Almost. However, you didn’t want to complain to your superior for fear that he would fire you at any moment like you thought would happen.

So you start.

You examine the first applicant. You read over her credentials, experiences, and interests. She was a promising candidate. Alright, that deserves a pass. You grab the pen, writing an O across the paper. You put it to the side and dived into more applicants.

X, O, X, X….

After a few minutes, you started to fall into a steady routine: X , X, X, O. The pen you used was a smooth ballpoint that beautifully executed your pen strokes. It was very satisfying, and the noise it made was lovely.

As you listen to your pen making its marks, you hear Sanji’s pen, too. You look up to see him also doing paperwork, casting spells of cursive on the pages. His sleeves are rolled back, and a slight peak of his soft forearm muscles shows. As your eyes travel up his arm, you take in his expression. His soft golden hair falls over one eye as he looks at his papers with the other. His pale face is calm, with parted, soft lips. You admire him as he eyes the pages, and on top of it, his curled brow slightly furrows with every new page. He’s so…-

-Oh God. A blush quickly erupts as your eyes dart back to your papers. You barely glanced at this applicant before writing an X . Oops. Sorry about that, bro. You take a slight exhale and focus on your forms.

X, X, O, X.

You feel good about the speed you’ve been going with. You’re sure that it’ll take you under an hour to get through it, give or take a few applicants that might take a little more review. With every new applicant, you feel somewhat relieved that this will be all the punishment you’ll get. Being fired was about the worst-case scenario, and the possibility of it now diminished with the stroke of each mark.

That’s when you hear Sanji’s pen stop. You pause slowly. Without raising your head, you see his hand still holding the pen. His veins peak out as he taps the pen on the table. His forefinger methodically lifts into the air and swiftly taps the pen up and down. You slowly raise your head by traveling up his arms, enthralled by the picture you’ve painted in your daydreams.

Sanji’s staring straight at you when you look at him.

“Caught you.”

You freeze, instantly getting flustered after meeting his eyes. You quickly focus on your assignments, pretending you’ve been doing your paperwork again. He breaks the silence after a few moments.

“What were you doing, darling?”

“I- What? I was uh…” You blink, desperately trying to rack up any excuse in your head, only drawing blanks. You look intently at your papers, blurring the words and meshing them together in your head. You hear Sanji drop his pen and look up.

Sanji closes his eyes and sighs. He slowly rises from his desk, walks over to your side, and bends forward to peer down right over you. You squirm under his gaze.

“Eyes on your paper, my dear.” He says, putting a hand on your head and tilting it back down.

“Yes, sir.”

You snatched your pen, shakily marking the first page and moving to the next with feigned composure.

You can barely concentrate with Sanji’s full attention on you. You gulp and keep going. You feel his stoic gaze increase with every ‘X’ and ‘O’ you write down. He leans in closer to you as he examines your applicant choices. Your pace is relatively slow at this point, as your heart races with each increasing minute of his actions.

Sanji has always made you less anxious than your other superiors due to the similarity in age, but this was different. You arch your back slightly at the thought of his increasingly intense gaze.

Before your heart can settle again, his hands land on your chair. The familiar creek of your chair rubs against the floorboards and creeps into the air. You feel the chair give way under you. You grow confused and turn to look at him.

“Keep still. Eyes on your paper, remember?” He softly orders. His face is kind, with raised brows brushing his features. It sends shivers down your spine, and you refrain from talking. You do as you’re told, barely grasping the pen between your fingers.

The chair is slowly pulled out from under you. You gingerly raise your lower half once you can no longer sit comfortably. Your upper chest now lightly rests on the edge of the desk, and your arms firmly planted beside your paper. From this angle, you feel exposed as your ass slowly perks up. There is no way Sanji hasn’t noticed this.

There is also no way he hasn’t noticed the amount of work you aren’t doing anymore.

That’s much more implied as he gives a deep exhale that travels to the nape of your neck. The sensation makes you further perk up your ass as your mind blanks from the proximity.

The silence is bone-chilling when Sanji pauses. You see from the corner of your eye as he leans back and brushes his hair back with his fingers.

Your knees are locked, further sticking your ass up in the air. Your feet are widened more than shoulder-width apart, fully spreading you. You would fix it, but you’re too nervous to move out of fear that Sanji would disapprove. Why would he not approve? Rational thought wasn’t at the forefront of your mind.

Sanji’s hand touches the bottom of your thigh, putting you in another tailspin. You try to stop yourself from saying anything, but it’s too late.

“Haahh, hey…”

You both freeze.

You were just shy of moaning to him. His hand has stopped midway to the length of your thigh, and you shiver in fright. No doubt Sanji knows you’re considering more than just work now.

“Are you uncomfortable with this?” He whispers, slowly raising his hand so his finger barely brushes against your thigh.

You barely know how to respond. So much is running through your mind that concentration on the assignment was thrown out the window. What does he mean by this ? It would be easier to answer if you even know what this is. You slowly try to peer at him from the corner of your eye, hoping to find some answer behind his eyes, when your stomach drops.

He’s biting his lip.

Oh. So that’s what we’re doing .

Your heart skips a beat, and your core begins to tighten. Honestly, what a pretty sight for both of you. Still, you’re rightfully confused about this entire situation. You feel dizziness down to your core and can barely get a word out.

But you don’t want him to stop.

“No, I don’t think so.” You raspily confess. Your humility was hard to hide, as a deep blush formed around your face.

“Okay, let me know if you are, and I can stop.” He gently encourages you. His touch returns now, traveling from your outer thigh to the roundest part of your ass. You shiver at the touch.

Sanji leans down to meet the tip of your ear. “Care to tell me why you dressed like that today? I’d like to know.” The sensation of his breath on the back of your ear caused your back to arch more, leaning your ass into his touch.

Should you answer honestly? It was a decent reason, you thought.

“I spent the night making those orders. I hadn’t realized I showed up this morning dressed that way until you mentioned it, sir.” You say. It indeed was the truth.

“Such indecency. It would help to teach you a lesson, would it not?” He leans forward and whispers into your ear. ”Would that stick better than paperwork?”

Delicious want fills your core, encouraging you to comply with his demands. You try hard not to shift and rub your legs together, but the need to be touched is so severe.

“I think so, sir. I want to see where this goes.”

“Good girl.” He coos. Immediately, you feel a firm slap against your ass, releasing a sudden gasp from your lips. He lovingly rubs the affected area immediately after to soothe the sting.

“Stay still. Please, don't move your hips.” Sanji says. He leans behind you, reaching both arms around to tug at your jeans button. He sighs in relief as you hear the button come undone.

You feel the jeans around your waist shift as the hands behind you pull them down. The skin around your lower half slowly chills as the cotton jeans depart your side.

Only your panties remain when the jeans pool around the bottom of your legs. It wasn't that long before your underwear joined your jeans, where Sanji now gets a perfect view of your wet pussy.

You hear Sanji whisper your name, coming off his tongue like it’s a name of majesty.

“Your body is beautiful… like a goddess.” He lays silk compliments on your figure. Bringing his fingertips to touch your face with grace before trailing them down the dips and curves of your body. He brushes panties down the curvature of your ass. It drops down gracefully, and his immediate reaction pans to your slit.

“Ah. Aphrodite herself fights to have features as blessed as yours.” Sanji sings, leisurely rubbing his fingers up and down your pussy.

From his touch, your pants are intertwined with moans as your voice regains its courage. You feel the outpouring of wetness from your pussy collect on his hands.

Sanji must be encouraged by the chorus from your lips. He starts to prepare his meal.

“To make you sound like this, to feel like this, is an honor for me. I want to see how much I can please you. Tonight, allow me to indulge in a woman like you.”

Once you can agree, you shamelessly moan at the entry he makes when the pressure of his fingers breaks past your slit. Your back arches from Sanji’s touch.

He’s pressed flush to your back, letting his fingers sink deep into you as his face appears above your shoulder. His body nears as his hand caresses your cheek. Your head gives in as it is slowly turned towards him.

You look at him like it’s the first time you’ve laid eyes on him. You see an entirely new face looking at you; one flushed with pure ecstasy from the pleasures you have bestowed him. His face leans into you.

“Let me see those pretty lips, love.”

The kiss is near divine as you croon your neck to meet his face. Your moans are absorbed into his mouth as you languidly caress his tongue with yours. One hand is firmly against your jaw to leverage it. The other begins to pump into you steadily.

It's not until he touches an incredibly delicious spot that you freeze entirely. His fingers curled firmly against your g-spot that loves attention. You can’t kiss back anymore as Sanji relentlessly attacks that spot you’ve wanted him to. The sensations of pleasure hit you like a tsunami as your mouth freezes from dancing with Sanji’s.

He pumps his fingers into you slowly, coaxing a whine from you at the sensation. One that fills his open mouth connected so closely to yours.

Sanji’s face pulls from yours.

His hand follows suit as his fingers leave you. A whine of frustration comes out, but you aren’t unsatisfied for long.

Sanji's lips glide from yours as he stares into your eyes, putting his hands up to his lips.

“If you don’t mind, I‘ll taste my craft now, darling.” He says, never breaking eye contact as he laps up your juices. He groans at the taste. You swear you saw his eyes roll back.

“How are you so sweet on my tongue?” Sanji grabs your chin to look into your eyes, searching in your hues to detect the answer. He thumbs your skin so delicately, pleading for some sort of explanation.

“You… you don’t mean that.”

“No, my dear. Please know I’m going crazy for you.” Sanji whispered. “You think I would lie to you when you’re like this?”

“No… I don’t think so, but…”

“Let me show you what I mean, then.”

Sanji leans into you, gently pecking the tips of your ears, then kissing down the length of your neck. He caresses and hugs your body as his lips slowly travel, each kiss gradually delving closer to the throbs you need satiated.

Sanji handles you like a flower, so gently that you do not wilt but just enough to savor your essence.

“Your back is so beautiful.” He runs his fingers down the divot your spine makes. “Your shoulders are perfect,” Sanji brushes the skin atop your clavicle. ”Your face is heavenly, and…”

He faces your pussy, which he can describe as nothing but…

“Oh, how gorgeous you are, madam. More so than all the seas combined.”

His mouth dives into you.

Graciously, Sanji laps up the dripping wetness coming from your hole. His chilled tongue feels like ice against your magma core, hot to the touch–a seeping slick.

If that didn’t show his desperation enough, the fingernails that grasp onto your hips, rolling them back and forth, do. How he needily presses his tongue to your flower defines a prince finding his long-lost lover. The sloppy slaps of his tongue pillaging you as he rolls your clit between his lips are nothing shy of holy. Your praises come out of you like he were a deity.

Oh, he’s indulging himself, all right. The way he pressed his face to you had his nose scrunched up on your slit, firmly pressing into you as he slurped up his meal.

Your hips start to buck when his arms hug against your thighs, gripping onto them to help him leech onto you.

Your mouth is cotton from all the panting. You feel irritation in your throat from the dryness that can’t be quenched.

“God, I- haah.” You wish to say more, but words lose you with every swell of pleasure.

He comes up from your plight at your words, panting hard to catch his breath.

“I wish I could savor your taste as long as…For a lifetime, madam…” A sweet exhale escapes from him.

He leans back into your delicate flower, smushing his finger pads against that swollen clit.

The rubs are slow and sensual. It seems that the more you groan and sigh in pleasure, the more he rewards you in pace and intensity. His acute eye for your tone since being touched tells him exactly what your body feels. He senses the rise and fall of your voice when he starts building up the pressure onto that small nub.

It trains him to move into you the way you need right now. There’s no other way to please you than with his expert hands. His expertise can mold ingredients into masterful delicacies that latch onto your signals now. It’s cooking al dente , using every clue that ingredients give you to exact a recipe. To finish its course and bring it to completion.

“Oh, beautiful. Like that.”

His soothing words glide to your ears loud enough for you to hear. His volume is no more than the gentle rocks of the desk you lean on. You know it’s to mask his voice between the walls of his quarters, yet you cannot return the same favor. Your voice is loud and devilish and will no doubt be questioned by Sanji in the morning by the Baratie crew, but you know he won’t deflect why.

Sanji already knows how well you’re telling them the whole story, right now. He doesn’t need to elaborate on a plot that will be known by others once morning comes, yet he works on you knowing it won’t be a perfect story without proper buildup.

Your legs shake from his precise flicks and presses as he coaxes you further. From your mouth exits the voice of a siren but with the beauty of a mermaid swimming toward her pearly gates. To let you go without the grandest finale he could provide was a punishment no better than one a devil could give. Sanji was no devil to do such a thing, but he loved to make moments last. To savor and tenderize the course is what he does best.

His breath dissolves onto your pussy when he praises you. Quick hands switch to his mouth, and fingers divert to the spot above, protruding your pussy lips once again. This switch would’ve been undistinguishable to you if the solo work of his fingers hadn’t converged into a duo with the mouth. Nothing could’ve denied his incredible voice on your clit.

“What a princess, using a voice like that for me.”

You can't fight back the urge to voice another moan, unable to articulate any coherent words to say anything back. You needlessly jerk your hips into him, so desperate to feel more. It’s embarrassing how just his hands and mouth can undo so much of your dignity.

“P-please, sir. Go faster.” Words slip out of you so quickly you almost miss it. The delirium from the stimulation makes your whole body act without a mind of its own. You stifle yourself, feeling flushed when he pauses.

“Darling, you don’t need to call me that anymore.” He says, “Just say my name.”

“Okay, okay…”

“Well?”

“What?”

“You have something you need to say.”

You jerk your hips into him, trying to get more friction, but you know better than to disobey your superior.

“Sanji… hah.” You whine, giving in to the cook's wishes.

“Good girl. One more time, please.” He sighs like your voice was the only relief he needed.

Then Sanji curls his fingers. He curls them hard. You feel it massage your skin with force to poke through your stomach.

“Sanji! Sanji-fuck.”

“Yes, that’s it…”

You spit out his name vigorously when his pumps match your wishes. Your voice is an octave higher now, to Sanji’s delight. He conjures an angelical pitch from you that you can’t conceal.

“So needy.” He coos. “A madam like you doesn’t need manners when you look as good as this.”

Sanji’s words caress your body and weaken your hold on rationality.

You writhe in pleasure, instantly slinging your hand to grasp onto the grip he has on your hips.

“Since you’ve been so good to me, I’ll give you what you want. In return, please serenade me more.”

His two fingers relentlessly curled into his hooked fingers, now with his thumb resting on your clit. He thrusts his hand with force, using his fingers to stimulate both spots. They squelch together in a delicious harmony.

Your arms are now ironclad to the desk, threatening to tip it over with your weight collapsed onto it. Your feet threaten to hover off the floor, constantly quivering and jolting. Your chest heaves into the wood as you whimper.

“Please, please.” You chant over and over again that begging has no more meaning. You couldn’t even put your finger on what exactly you were begging for. Sanji’s arm bursts through your rationality as a waterfall breaks into the lake below it.

Sanji’s mouth adorns your back, kissing and sucking down it like he knows exactly where each sensitive spot lies. It feels even more sensitive from each pump.

The rocking of your hips mesh into the thumb onto your clit perfectly. Even with Sanji’s speed, he can get his hand so steady. So expertly .

“Louder.” Sanji huffs.

You don’t need to think about it. The feelings come to you when he twists his thrusts to circle your clit and that mushy rivet in your pussy.

You can't keep going like this without folding.

And you don’t have to. The pressure tips over without your control. You don’t need to think when you involuntarily scream from your climax. One arm stays planted on the desk as the other latches onto Sanji’s hair. He sucks a hickey onto your nape when you restrict your hand around a golden patch of hair.

Sanji hums in delight as he rides out your high— groans like a ravaged animal enjoying its feast. Especially when he sees cream drip out of you.

“How exquisite.”

A look of pure famish decorates his face when you see him admire the gift in his hand. There’s no denying what those eyes crave the most. It was an insatiable hunger, one that only you could fulfill.

He laps his tongue up and down his fingers to taste every drop of your cum. His groans are unabashed as he revels in the taste.

All you can do is quiver and listen to his words.

And with a man like Sanji, you have no choice but to believe him.

“A meal could never satiate me the way you have.”

Hopefully, this was only the appetizer.

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