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schemmentigfs · 15 days ago

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Sweetening The Deal. (part 4.)

Summary: you learn more about the mysterious fiery redhead and things start to change..

Tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @greencurlyhair @schmentisgf @dopenightmaretyphoon @pitstopsapphic

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Next Chapter.

Settling into the passenger seat of Melissa’s sleek car, you tried to calm the flutter in your chest. The entire morning felt surreal—first being invited to stay in her luxurious penthouse, then getting a full tour of her space, and now… a personal shopping trip with Melissa Schemmenti herself deciding everything for your upcoming change of pace on life. You cast a shy glance her way as she adjusted her orange sunglasses, already focused on the road with that steady, unruffled confidence that always seemed to surround her.

Seconds later, the engine hummed to life as she pulled out onto the streets of Center City Philadelphia. The redhead woman had one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the center console, close enough that you could almost—almost—reach out and take it.

But you didn’t. The fear was too strong.

The drive was smooth, and for a moment, the silence between you felt almost too comfortable. You stole another glance at her as she focused on the traffic, her olive eyes hidden behind those pairs of designer sunglasses. She looked so effortless, so polished. Every detail about her—her crisp, tailored blazer, the way her auburn hair caught the sunlight—seemed intimidatingly perfect. You fidgeted with your hands, unsure of how to break the silence.

You hadn’t expected to feel so nervous. After all, you were just on your way to the mall to pick up a few things. It wasn’t a big deal. But the truth was, ever since that dream—that pornographic dream—you hadn’t been able to look at her the same way. You wouldn’t. You’d never told her about it. It was too embarrassing, too raw. She didn’t need to know, not when things between you two had been just fine as it should be. Right?

The images were still too vivid in your mind. The way her grunts sounded in your ear, the soft pressure of her lips against your skin while her hands had gripped you, steady and strong, the feel of her clit sliding against yours. And then, somehow, that moment had shifted—becoming more intense, more dangerous. The vivid image of Melissa in her bedroom, her pale body stretched out in front of you, her ass glowing under the dim lighting of the room. You tried to suppress the memory, but it lingered like an unwanted guest, haunting you every time you tried to look at her.

The silence stretched on, and finally, you cleared your throat, gathering the nerve to ask her something, anything at all, that might distract you from the thoughts that haunted and terrorized you.

“So… what do you do for living?” you asked, your voice soft but hopeful. “When you were on your way to my apartment complex, you said something about meetings?”

Her fingers curled slightly around the wheel as she gave you a quick glance, just a flicker behind those sunglasses, before returning her attention to the road. “You’re looking at it,” she said, her voice clipped and cold, as if the answer should have been obvious. “When I’m not being some bratty kid’s sugar mama, I work in real estate. I manage a few properties. Very high-end stuff.”

“Oh, that’s—” you trailed off, unsure if you’d be bothering her by asking more and honestly, you felt a bit annoyed by the way she referred to you as a brat. Her responses were so curt, almost as if she was reluctant to share even the basics, and still here she was, driving you around, letting you stay in her penthouse, arranging this shopping trip. “Cool..”

“If you say so... I guess that’s one way to put it,” she sighed quietly.

You took another deep breath, hoping to calm your nerves, and tried again. “What about… hobbies? Do you have any of ‘em?”

Melissa snorted, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I got hobbies.” She paused, glancing your way briefly before continuing in a tone that seemed half-reluctant. “I like to smoke. Cigars, mostly. Relaxing as hell after dealing with some motherfuckers at business meetings. And, uh, I watch Real Housewives sometimes. It’s a guilty pleasure, alright?” She smirked, but you could tell there was no real embarrassment there. She wore her quirks with confidence, her own unique brand of unapologetic pride.

“We all have guilty pleasures, Schemmenti,” you pointed out, feeling more comfortable. “What else?”

“I go to church sometimes,” the redhead added, softening a bit, turning distant. “Not every week, but, y’know… enough.” Her words seemed to falter, like there was something there she wasn’t quite saying. She swallowed, adjusting her sunglasses as she spoke, her tone strangely vulnerable. “Goin’ there, it helps me… forgive. Or try to, anyway.” She let out a small, humorless laugh, as if forgiveness wasn’t exactly something she found easy to come by.

The shift in her tone made your chest tighten. You wanted to ask what Melissa Schemmenti needed to forgive—or whom—but something in the features stopped you. Instead, you just nodded, letting her know you were listening, taking in each layer of herself she offered, even if she didn’t realize it.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, she fell silent. Her words ceased, and the hum of the road filled the gap. It was as if the conversation had taken a sudden detour, one that left you both in the moment of reflection. You could see her green eyes flicker to the rearview mirror, not really looking at anything but maybe thinking about everything.

She shifted in her seat, straightening her posture a little, but there was something new in her body language—a subtle withdrawal, almost like she was pulling back from herself. It was an instinct you knew too well, the way people guarded themselves after they’d shared something too raw. Melissa was never one to open up lightly. But now she seemed to be processing something else, something she hadn’t said yet. You wanted to reach out, to break the silence, but you hesitated. Something in the stillness of the moment felt important.

You couldn’t help but notice the way her hands tightened around the wheel, the tension in her shoulders, and the soft furrow between her brows. Her reflection in the mirror showed someone more guarded than she’d been a moment ago, as if the vulnerability she’d offered just a moment ago had been too much to bear. It wasn’t just her words she’d closed off—it was her entire presence.

Melissa didn’t speak again, but you felt it—the shift. And you couldn’t help but wonder what had caused it, what hidden part of her she was wrestling with now.

You glanced out the window, trying to steady your thoughts as the car moved through the city streets. As you sat there, trying to distract yourself from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind, another thought crept in—one you hadn’t dared to voice. You hadn't really thought about it until now, but the more you focused on the silence between you, the more you realized that you'd never seen much of the Schemmentis around.

Her penthouse was immaculate—every surface polished, every corner filled with the sharp edges of modern luxury—but there were hardly any family pictures, no casual snapshots of her childhood or moments with relatives. Sure, there were photos of friends, some from vacations or casual nights out, but when it came to her family, it was almost like a void. That lack of familial presence was... strange, especially considering how many photos of her with some of the Schemmentis were across the internet.

You found yourself wanting to ask, but hesitation gnawed at you. Was it inappropriate to ask about her family? Did it make her uncomfortable? You tried to imagine how she’d respond—whether she’d offer an easy, casual answer or if it would send her retreating into that unapproachable shell she sometimes slipped into. Maybe she didn't want to talk about them, and maybe you shouldn't pry.

But you couldn’t help it. Curiosity gnawed at you like an itch you couldn’t scratch. You wanted to know more about the redhead—the parts of her life she hadn’t yet shared, the side of her that wasn’t just the successful, confident woman you’d come to know.

The absence of family mementos seemed deliberate, almost as if she were keeping her history behind some invisible line you weren’t allowed to cross. You’d heard her mention her family here and there during one of your meetings to arrange your sugar mommy deal—her Italian heritage—but nothing in detail. And the one time she had let something slip, she’d quickly clammed up, her face shifting to that same, unreadable mask she wore now.

But why?

Did she have siblings? Were her parents close? Had she grown up in a family like the one she’d created for herself—one that seemed full of strength, but also a quiet kind of distance?

You turned your gaze out the window again, pretending to focus on the passing scenery, but your mind raced through all the questions you couldn’t ask. The truth was, there was something deeply personal about the idea of her family—or lack of it—that had piqued your interest more than you were comfortable admitting.

What kind of upbringing had made her the way she was? And why had she chosen to leave so little of that behind in her penthouse? Your thoughts spiraled, pulling you deeper into that place of uncertainty and wonder, your chest tightening as you realized just how much you wanted to know.

You felt guilty for even thinking about asking. It wasn't like you had any right to her history, and maybe it wasn’t fair to put her on the spot like that. So you kept quiet, watching her as she drove, her face set and unreadable.

Still, the curiosity lingered.

“Melissa,” you started again, your voice softer than you intended. “You mentioned Pearl earlier. I didn’t realize she’d been around that long.”

“Yeah, she’s been a part of the family for years. Practically helped raise us—me and my siblings. Eight siblings, yeah. Big Italian family—South Philly’s finest.”

You nodded, glancing down to your lap to avoid her gaze. “Eight siblings… that’s a lot. Must’ve been a full house.”

Melissa let out a soft scoff. “You could say that. It was chaos, pure and simple. We weren’t exactly living in luxury back then. Half of us had to share a room.”

The idea surprised you, though you supposed it shouldn’t have. The woman beside you was successful now, living in a penthouse and offering you a fresh start, but she hadn’t always been here. You couldn’t imagine her any other way, though—fierce, determined, always in control. It was… comforting. Attractive, even.

You bit your lip, realizing you were staring, and quickly turned your gaze back to the road ahead. “I guess it taught you to be tough?”

She chuckled, though there wasn’t much warmth in it. “You don’t survive in a house like that without learning a thing or two.” She paused, then cast you a quick look, her expression softening just a fraction. “I don’t talk about my family much, you know. Or my fuckin’ past.”

Her honesty caught you off guard, and you felt a strange sense of privilege knowing she was sharing even this much with you. “Thank you for sharing,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Melissa waved it off as if it were nothing, but the way she looked at you made your heart skip. “Enough about me,” she scoffed, her tone firm but not unkind. “Today’s about you. We’re going to get you set up properly—starting with a wardrobe overhaul.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, though your cheeks felt warm. “I don’t think I need that much—”

Green eyes shot you a look, one brow raised. “I’m not taking no for an answer, brat. You’re with me now, so we’re doing this my way.” She glanced at you again, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Besides, I like spoiling you, you little shit.”

Ignoring the last words, your heart fluttered at the way she said it, so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then, before you could think too much about it, she leaned over at a red light and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You froze, heat flooding your face as her lips lingered for just a second longer than necessary. When she pulled back, her gaze was steady, almost challenging, as if daring you to react. But words seemed to stick in your throat, and all you could do was stare at her, wide-eyed and flustered.

“Cat got your tongue?” Melissa teased pressing a hand on your thighs, the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement.

“N-No, I just… wasn’t expecting that,” you stammered, cursing yourself for sounding so awkward.

“Get used to it, honey. Mama’s got a habit of getting what she wants.”

The rest of the drive passed in a haze, each kiss she placed on your cheek or forehead leaving you breathless and aching to feel her plump lips on yours. You wondered if she could tell, if she noticed the way your hands fidgeted in your lap or the way your gaze kept flickering to her lips when you thought she wasn’t looking. But if she did, she didn’t say a word.

When you finally arrived at the mall, Melissa led you inside with a hand on the small of your back, her presence steady and grounding. You were still a little dazed, still reeling from every soft touch and lingering look she’d given you in the car.

The mall was bustling, but with Melissa by your side, you felt a strange sense of calm. Or maybe it was just that her confidence had a way of rubbing off on you, making you feel like you belonged, like you deserved to be here with her. She guided you through the maze of stores, her hand warm and reassuring on your back, and you tried not to think about how natural it felt, how right.

As you walked, she glanced at you, a thoughtful look in her green eyes. “We’re going to find something that suits you. Something… fitting.” She stopped in front of a high-end boutique, her tongue clicking as she turned to you. “Because from now on, you’re mine. And I want you to look like it.”

Your mouth went dry, and you felt your heart skip a beat at her words. Hers. The idea made your stomach flutter in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

“Y-Yours?” you stammered.

Melissa smirked, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. “That’s right. My property, my rules.” There was an unmistakable edge of possessiveness in her voice, one that left you feeling both nervous and exhilarated.

You swallowed, your cheeks burning as you nodded, unable to find the words to respond. But She didn’t seem to mind. She simply took your hand and led you inside, guiding you through racks of designer clothes with an expert eye.

“What about this?” the redhead prompted, holding up a sleek black dress, her gaze assessing as she looked you over.

You fidgeted, feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny. “It’s… nice.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your lack of enthusiasm. “Nice isn’t good enough. You’re going to try it on. And a few other things, too.”

Before you could protest, she had already gathered a small pile of clothes and was steering you toward the fitting rooms. Her hand was warm on your back, her presence reassuring even as she pushed you a little out of your comfort zone.

Inside the fitting room, you tried on each piece she’d picked out, feeling more and more like a different person with each outfit. The clothes were sleek, sophisticated, a far cry from the simple, practical pieces you usually wore. But when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel… good. Confident, even.

Melissa seemed to sense it, too. Each time you stepped out to show her an outfit, she looked you up and down with a smile that was equal parts approval and pride. “Now this,” she said, adjusting the collar of a suit you were wearing, her fingers brushing against your collarbone. “This is what I’m talking about.”

Her hand lingered for a moment, her touch sending a thrill through you that left you breathless. And then, without warning, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to your nose, soft and warm against your skin. The act was quick but enough to make you widen your eyes.

“Perfect,” she murmured. “You look perfect.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you ducked your head, trying to hide the smile that tugged at your lips. But the Schemmenti woman wasn’t having it. She tipped your chin up with a gentle finger, her gaze intense as she looked at you.

“Don’t hide,” she spoke softly. “I want to see that smile.”

You couldn’t help it; you smiled, a soft, shy smile that felt a little too vulnerable, a little too real. But Melissa just smiled back, her gaze warm and unwavering.

“Good girl,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, let’s go pick out some accessories. Can’t have you looking half-done, can we?”

“No, ma'am,”

You followed her out of the fitting room, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. Each touch, each lingering look left you feeling more and more like you were on the edge of something—something you couldn’t quite name, but something you wanted more than anything. And as you walked by her side, her hand resting on your lower back, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you were already hers in more ways than you could admit.

As you followed Melissa through the boutique, your mind was still buzzing with the strange excitement and nervousness from her words. You had tried on a few outfits by now, each one more elegant and polished than the last. But something about the idea of being hers lingered in the back of your mind, making your pulse race and your hands tremble ever so slightly.

“Let’s check out the lingerie section,” the green eyed woman suggest, smooth and confident as she steered you toward a secluded corner of the store. The racks here were lined with delicate lace, silk, and satin, all in a rainbow of colors. But it was the deep purple set that caught your eye first.

It was beautiful—luxurious and eye-catching, a perfect shade of rich purple with intricate lace detailing, the kind of lingerie that made you feel like you were stepping into a world of indulgence. You reached out for it, running your fingers over the smooth fabric. The soft, luxurious material felt like a secret, something that belonged to you alone.

The older woman noticed your interest right away. Her gaze flickered to the set, then to you, and the corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smirk.

“Like what you see?”

You felt your heart race as you nodded, a small, awkward laugh escaping your lips. “It’s... it’s gorgeous.”

“Good,” she murmured, taking the set from your hands with ease. “I think you’d look perfect in it. And, if I’m being honest, I’m not just buying you clothes... I’m making sure you're well taken care of in every way.”

You swallowed, the intensity in her voice making your stomach flip. You tried to compose yourself, but it wasn’t easy. The idea of her buying you something so intimate felt overwhelming in the best possible way.

Without waiting for you to respond, Melissa walked to the register, the purple lingerie in her hands like it was already meant for you. She turned over her shoulder as she moved, her expression softening. “Don’t worry,” she added, “you’ll wear it for me soon enough.”

“What?”

You couldn’t help but shiver at her words, a heat flooding your body at the thought of her seeing you in it, touching you in it.

At the register, Melissa didn’t hesitate. She handed over the lingerie set along with a few other items, her face unreadable but her eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place.

When she came back to you, the shopping bag in hand, she gave you a little wink. “You’re gonna love it. And so will I.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Your mind was still reeling from the intensity of the moment, from the way she made you feel like you were hers in ways you hadn’t even fully understood. The thought of wearing it for her, of being the person she chose to spoil and take care of, sent a jolt through you, and you weren’t sure if it was nervousness, excitement, or something else entirely.

But as Melissa led you back toward the exit of the boutique, her hand once again gently resting on your lower back, you couldn’t help but feel grateful, in awe of her confidence, her ability to make you feel seen and wanted in ways you’d never experienced before.

As you both made your way to the door, the weight of the shopping bags in your hands seemed to make the moment feel heavier, more real. Your nerves, still buzzing, didn't help the heat in your cheeks from all the attention Melissa had been showering on you. You could feel the weight of the purple lingerie in your bag like a secret, a promise, and it made your heart thud in your chest.

But then, as you approached the car, you hesitated. Your fingers clenched around the strap of the bag, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if you were excited or terrified. You glanced up at her, who was busy unlocking the car, her back to you.

The way she’d spoken earlier, the way she took control, was almost too much to process. And then, as if sensing the shift in your mood, she turned to face you, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your lost expression.

Her face softened as she noticed the hesitation in your steps, but her voice dropped into something more serious. “What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet since we left the store, sweetheart.”

“I-”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You felt as though something was building inside you, a storm of emotions that you couldn’t quite name. The purple lingerie, her touch, the overwhelming sense of being wanted in ways you didn’t know you could be—it was all too much to process.

But before you could speak, Melissa raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a teasing but commanding smirk. Suddenly, she stopped walking. Her hand shot out, gripping your wrist with an unexpected firmness, pulling you gently but decisively toward her.

“Tell me. What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, you stood there, caught between the pull of her touch and the weight of her gaze, knowing that this moment was more than you could handle and yet somehow not wanting it to end.

And just like that, you were left hanging—unsure of what would happen next.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x y/n #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfiction

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skay-ali · 1 month ago

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The Forgotten Daughter

A slightly slow plot but I prefer it that way, that the obsessed characters appear little by little

Chapter 2

Damian Wayne... he was an enigmatic child for you.

The truth is that you still don't understand how you managed to get along with the boy, his curt, unfriendly and arrogant personality was difficult to deal with, if not impossible.

After his first visit you didn't expect to see him again, his upset face with a curt goodbye was the last thing you expected to see from the boy, not receiving another visit from him a few days later.

You would be lying if you said that your life became more miserable with the child, even with his witty hurtful comments they made you smile, perhaps because you did not take the child's words seriously, because you did not feel familiar with him, or because after being bothered he an adorable scene with your baby that took away his threatening appearance.

You compared him to a chihuahua, those adorable little dogs that tried to look brave and like a big threat, but they were just adorable little creatures.

You also attributed your great attitude towards the child's visits in large part to the fact that you had matured, you were already a responsible adult with a daughter who sweetened your life even more, you became one of those television mothers who was positive, above all, wearing a big smile with an air of friendliness.

“Because you smile like a fool,” the boy commented, annoyed when he saw the attitude his sister was wearing.

You snapped out of your thoughts and paid attention to your surroundings again.

“Ahhh.. it's just that you two look so adorable playing around” you defended yourself.

In a way it was true, seeing the child sitting on a puzzle-style rug that you put together in the living room, playing with some baby toys, with your little daughter, while the little girl tried to play with the child and moved her hands with excitement, It was something that warmed your heart.

You received a displeased grimace from Damian at your words, he stopped paying attention to you and looked back at Alice.

“Hey, don't bother about that, if you keep making faces you'll get old.”

“I'm not the one who should worry about getting old you know” the boy responded, but this time without paying much attention to you.

“Am I getting older, can I tell?” You worried about his words, it was a valid worry, at least for you.

This time you did not receive any attention, neither from the child, nor from your baby, great, now I will exchange you for that bad excuse of a refined child, you noticed his taste for being from a wealthy family, something that you never liked very much, although Having money and having no limit to spend it was fantastic, having many gossip about your life, seeing how luxury and money controlled people, the carelessness of some parents and others who put pressure on their children to make them their perfect puppets, no. It was something very nice.

“Well men still flirt with me, so I guess I shouldn't worry about my appearance until they stop” you joked, you were going to leave aside the fact that you were getting older with each passing day, month and year, forget that Time was still ticking for almost everyone in the world, worrying about it was stupid and a martyrdom, it caused nothing but depressive and anxious feelings.

“Who went and where?” The boy got up from the ground in a hurry and faced you.

Damian got upset when he heard that, dogs trying to seduce you for their dirty desires, he wouldn't allow it, that would affect his little niece, if his niece, it's not that he cared about you, that's clear, although you were kind to him and You treated him like a member of your family, he didn't feel anything for you…. TRUE? You were just a woman who shared blood with him, his sister, he wasn't going to admit it.

“Uggg, you sound like a protective father” you made a disgusted face.

“That your useless husband wasn't taking care of you” he ignored your mockery and continued with his interrogation.

“whaaat?” His words surprised you “Haha, I'm married, I think you hit your head.”

“What about that man who was at your house when I met you?” he asked you again, this time you could see that his calm temperament changed to an aggressive one.

“The man we had dinner with?” Damian nodded “yes that man, Alice's father?”

"Hahaha he's not Alice's father, where did you get that idea from?"

The boy didn't answer you, he just looked at you questioningly, waiting for you to continue talking.

“That man you met was Nick, Alice's godfather,” you explained, “and as for this little girl's father, he is not part of our lives.”

Thanksgiving was a very lively date in your home, your friends visited your house and had a delicious dinner, it was one of those days where the whole house became full of life and there was laughter in every corner, there were small arguments, but They all revolved around who gained little Alice's favor. Although she reacted well to Damian's company, she was not the same with your friends. It means that the little baby develops a demanding side with the people around her except for her family.

Today your younger brother did not attend the party, even though you invited him, it was something you expected, unfortunately, he had a family to celebrate with, his father and brothers, you assume, in his conversations he never mentioned his mother, so you assume that she It was not listed in its current home.

The surprise was pleasant, when you found the child visiting you in the early morning of the new day, although you wanted to sleep, seeing the child visiting you so late at your invitation, you suppose, warmed your heart and you accepted that the child came in. your house.

The nagging doubt of how it was possible for him to come from so far away in the middle of the night unaccompanied to your house was in your head, naaa... you would let him get away with it, he is not your son after all, and knowing the story familiar, Damian is also supposed to play superheroes like the others.

You watched as Damián devoured the food left over from the party, for some reason he decided to go out to the balcony of the house to eat and you followed him so as not to leave him alone. Yes, you were saying goodbye to the food you planned to eat the following week. At least you could save breakfast by reheating the little leftovers.

“You know you look like dad” you said looking at the child, maybe it was the dream or the silent atmosphere, between you and the child, but seeing him made you a little nostalgic.

It's funny, because even though that man never did a well-deserved action to receive such a title, you still called him your father, you hated yourself for that, you wanted to stop being stuck in a place where you were still deep inside yourself expecting something from your paternal family.

Dad... oh dad, why did you never give me such an opportunity to call you that, that man, even without effort or interest in your life, took an undeserved title.

You realized that the boy had stopped eating, to pay attention to you and your words. He didn't say anything which is a surprise, given his defensive attitude every time they spoke.

“Don't look at me like that, it's true... you look like him in many ways” you looked Damián in the eyes, you were lying with your head on the bars of the balcony without wanting to move it, with a face empty of emotions.

“I remember seeing him eat just the way you do, I never forget it, him eating with a stoic face and an air of superiority surrounding him, as if he were royalty” you did not move your eyes, always on a fixed point, observing the child who He was the exact copy of the first man who broke your heart “They are the same when eating, even if you don't believe it.”

Do you remember well when you would sneak out of your room or the kitchen where you spent your time with Alfred, just to see your father for a moment, there was something that stopped you from facing the man, sometimes he looked very tired, he was talking on the phone or someone She accompanied him at his dinner, like the women who visited the mansion with Bruce and stayed the night with him.

“Your appearance also reveals you as his son, after all you are his spitting image” you finished your ramblings, you looked away from the boy, it was better not to say anything else to him, you didn't want to bother him anymore, if he took your words the wrong way. You blame your lack of sleep for causing an impending disaster.

You'd better concentrate on observing the dark landscape full of lights that the balcony offers.

“You look like Bruce too,” Damian comments as he composes himself after being surprised by your words.

"..." You were left speechless by his sentence, how come you two looked alike and never noticed it? They had to change what made them similar to their father or treasure it with all their hearts.

You waited to hear the boy as you climbed onto the bars of the balcony and sat down, needing to clear your mind of the next words that would come out of the boy's mouth.

“You and Bruce… you are not careful in your romantic adventures and you end up with unexpected children,” he said without mincing words.

“Ahhh how embarrassing you don't say that” you tried to hide your face from the child's sight, you didn't expect him to digest something similar.

You laughed a little at what he said, in a way it was true, you didn't see it, but Damián also smiled when he saw your reaction and your smile, you didn't get angry or say anything bad against him because of his words.

He followed your steps and also sat on the bars of the balcony.

Although the adrenaline surged through your body from hanging at a high altitude above the ground, you left your worries behind and enjoyed the moment. You still kept your hands on the bars, to avoid incidents.

“Yeah, I'm sorry if what sounded bad before, the truth is that seeing you here makes me happy, I've never done something like that with dad and seeing you doesn't… wakes up emotions in me” you apologized, although the words you said were unintentional. you threw at him, you know very well that they had a bit of resentment in them.

“You are... you are the family I never had.”

Oh how stupid you were to say that, if only you knew that that closed your destiny, if you knew that by saying that, the boy whom you just started to consider a brother would see you as a valuable person in his life that he would not have the luxury of losing. , using methods at any cost to have his sister and niece by his side.

In another place very far from your house and the family scene you had.

Another great scene broke out, all because the "eldest" of the Wayne children went to look for his younger brother after their family dinner, but when he got to his room he noticed his absence.

This worried him, even more so knowing that he wasn't even sneaking around the city in his vigilante form.

Where had the little demon of the family gone? He scanned the boy's room, trying to find a clue to his whereabouts.

Even though he meticulously searched the entire large room, he found nothing, and about to give up, a book caught his attention.

An art book, it was rare that Damian left something visible, Dick took the moment to review his brother's art, upon seeing his few projects before he noticed that he had great talent.

He scanned the pages slowly, capturing every detail of the drawings and paintings, his brother was undoubtedly talented, but there was something, some leaves in particular, that stopped him from thinking about them.

A woman was drawn on it, a woman that he vaguely remembered, she was very familiar, but no matter how much he searched his memory he couldn't remember who she was.

When he was finally able to change the page, he noticed that all the other pages contained more drawings of the woman, or of a baby.

He took a photo of the drawings, something told him that this woman was important, he had to remember who she was.

It's time to add more characters, the good thing is that we already have a yandere.

Reader never specified that it was the paternal family that she never had, because although with Damian now they are more like brothers, she had her friends and her mother as family, may she rest in peace.

tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog

#x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere platonic

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felibrary · 4 months ago

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╭──╯PAIRING: aventurine x fem!reader

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: Out of everyone this could’ve happened to, of course, it struck you. As a barista, you meet new customers every day but a fateful encounter with a stupid(ly handsome) stranger, turns into two and three and to the point of no return, and somewhere along the way catching yourself faltering for his persistent charms annoyance.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

CONTENT & GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, barista!reader, cursing, light angst if you squint, fluff, march is the n1 shipper, vague mentions of ratio, banter and bickering (more from readers side), no beta-read we die like baiheng

AUTHOR'S NOTE: the last chapter was posted like 2 weeks ago? i think not sure. sorry guys i just had no motivation in the previous few weeks at all 😭😭 but here it is, enjoy! also just cause this took super long to write doesn't equal it being super good 😓

ART CREDITS: none of the characters or art belong to me all art credits go to @/kkuekkue on x!

TAGLIST: @azullumi,@sunananaa, @milksnake-tea, @iceunhie, @nayukiyukihira, @jjzlisu, @raideneiari (if you want to be added to the tag list write a comment or send me an off anon ask! ^^)

PREVIOUS || MASTERLIST || NEXT

“Order for uh.” you abruptly stop your sentence. Furrowing your brow in confusion you look at the questionable name that is written on the paper cup that you’re currently holding in your hand. Your gaze drifts over to the barista behind you. “March..” you whisper through gritted teeth, trying to maintain a smile while pausing for a brief moment to study the face of the girl with the cotton candy-like hair.

The short girl hums quietly, “What is it?” she tilts her head to the side, a milk-frothing pitcher in her right hand, almost empty. “And why are we whispering?” admittedly you’re not even sure yourself, after all, people come up with silly names all the time, so why are you refraining from saying this name out loud?

“Well, I'm whispering because I don't want the other customers to listen into our conversation, but, are you sure that you wrote the right name here?” you ask the girl behind you doubtfully before directing your view towards the letters that were written in cursive and were adorned by little stars and flowers drawn by none other than March.

The '*•.¸♡𝓐𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮 ♡¸.•*' which she wrote in cursive (and if you may add, kind of crooked) made you raise your eyebrows as you held the cup in front of her face for her to see.

She always had a habit of drawing cute smiley faces or hearts onto the cups, reasoning it by saying that it’d sweeten the customers' day. Although you’re not sure if that’s really necessary, their day probably already gets sweetened enough from the amount of sugar and sweetener March puts into the drinks.

She huffs, feigning hurt and acting offended by your question “If you want to suspect someone, blame her!” March’s eyes drift over to the silver-haired girl who is currently sitting next to the trash can near the staff rooms, playing video games and thus blocking the way: Stelle.

The girl in question quickly lifts her head and just smiles sheepishly as if not knowing what’s going on right now. “She’s the one who gave me the receipts and told me the names before you took over, I just added the condiments and started creating cute latte art!.” you sigh at that. Well, whoever gave Stelle their name will probably be able to recognize it sooner or later anyway.

The worst case scenario that could probably happen is the customer putting their hands on the counter and starting to scream and yell at you to the point where their spit lands in your eyes. Urging to talk to your manager: Pompom. If the customer would see them the customer would probably start scolding you for bringing out the mascot instead of the manager, leaving the shop and giving you zero stars on Maps. (definitely not talking from any former experiences.) Yeah, hopefully, that won’t happen.

You let out a throaty cough before loudly shouting once again “Order for Aventurine!” you really wonder whose mom named their kid after a quartzite stone now — hell, if you let your guard down, the next person who you’d have to call up is someone named Ashleigh or Jonaslian.

What’s up with women who are only maybe one or two decades older than, and their obsession with horrible baby names?

“Hellooo” the o of the greeting gets dragged out by the owner of the sing-song voice. “Earth to the cashier.” The next thing you know is a hand that is covered in a black leather glove, waving at your face, moving in a repetitive up-and-down motion. The gesture makes you snap out of the haze which you were in, and slightly shake your head, before looking up at the customer and getting a good glance at them.

In front of you stood possibly the hottest man you’ve ever seen. Blond silky hair and was dressed in a crisp black waistcoat that was draped around his slim torso, wearing a turquoise button-up underneath it that was adorned with gold decorations around his collar. His tie that matched his waistcoat was adjusted perfectly so that it sat in the right place. Black leather gloves envelop his slender fingers.

The last time you were enamored by someone was when you were 9 reaching 10, and seeing Asami Sato bumping into Mako with her motorcycle on TV for the first time made you fall head over heels in love with her. That woman had younger you in a chokehold.

You feel your body tensing and heating up slightly. Fuck, has it always been this warm here? Your eyes sway over to the air conditioner behind you. No, that can't possibly be it, you made sure that the A/C was on the highest level before opening the cafe.

The blond in front of you raises his eyebrow and looks at you expectantly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes shift over your face as if studying your expression. There’s amusement that settles onto his face — smugness would be the best word to describe it.

Shit, there was no way he found out that you were fawning over him.

“Take a picture. It lasts longer sweetheart.” he shoots you a small wink and you’re not sure whether to feel impressed or horrified at the fact that he was able to read you as easily as an open book where the most important words are already highlighted in a bold colour.

So you remain silent — speechless, to be precise. There’s a familiar feeling bubbling up in your chest, one that makes you all giddy and nervous. How can someone whom you never met enarmour you so much? It’s weird, but it’s weirder that it feels all too familiar. Suspicion arises within you.

“Hmm?” Aventurine — or whatever his name may be, tilts his head to the side, a questioning and innocent expression manifesting on his face that it almost makes him look like a young boy who still has to grasp the concepts of the many fundamentals of the world.

“Spacing out already? Am I that handsome?” Yeah, keyword: almost.

It takes a second to compose yourself again before speaking up again. “Yeah.” Your eyes form into crescent moons as you give him a small faux smile (how March likes to call it: your customer service smile) before your face contorts into an expression of unpleasantness “No, in your dreams Mister. Also please hurry up, you’re holding up the line.” You point behind him and he angles his head backwards to see..no one?

“There’s no one there.” This time it’s him who looks unimpressed, a deadpan expression gracing over his features and you do have to admit that he looks kind of cute with that expression. Oh god, what were you thinking? “You know you’ll have to do better than try to tri-”

Before he can even finish his sentence you quickly cut him off. “With cash or with card?” Your customer service smile from before finds its way onto your face once more. “Miss, you’re so cruel! You didn’t even let me fini-” “I repeat. With cash or with card?”

Your patience was running thin. Lucky for him he’s somewhat respectful and cute while bothering you and not going on your nerves. If he were some weirdo, you would’ve scurried away already. People like him (unfortunately) remind you that pretty privilege does exist.

His gloved hand dives into the depths of the pockets of his slacks before pulling out a leather wallet and revealing a black card. Oh great, a rich guy. “With card.” he sighs dramatically. Do all rich people behave like this? “Sir, this is a café not an acting audition for some teenage romance drama.” You’re not sure what to think of this guy, on one hand, his attempts are cute on the other it’s kind of weird that he’s flirting with a cashier whom he met 5 minutes ago. “Just.” You hesitate before speaking up again. “Just type your PIN in here and you’re done.” He nods and continues to do so which the small sound the machine makes confirms.

At that, you give him a small nod as a gesture of thankfulness, before attempting to kick him out again. “Great, thank you. Now please go and I wish you a good day.”

“But how am I supposed to have a good day without yo-”

“You’ll live.” you wave him goodbye and that leaves him with no other choice but to step back and leave.

Maybe you’re hallucinating and maybe you’re just imagining it but before he leaves he gives you a small smile. The soft and charming glow that emanates from his eyes resonates well with the dusking sun as if they were reflecting the last golden rays of sunshine before they were to be engulfed by the warm hues of the sky and later on painted black like the night. An inexplicable feeling rises in your chest as he bids you goodbye, wishing you a nice day.

“Oh he so has a massive crush on you.” you shudder upon hearing March’s voice. Her words ring in your ears like Christmas bells chiming during the holiday season. Loud and obnoxious. You try to drain the thoughts away but how can you when the source who started it all is right behind you? Continuously gushing about how that handsome stranger must have an enormous crush on you.

“The group chat has to know about this!” March enthusiastically squeals and quickly fishes her phone out of her pockets. Before you’re even able to realize what is bound to happen let alone prevent her from aggressively typing on her phone, she’s already sent the first message.

At that you can only bury your face into the palms of your hand, face sinking into your hands in embarrassment. As much as you love March, it sometimes feels like she’s the oldest of the group and not Mr. Yang. Not in terms of matureness and wiseness, no more like in the sense of the kind of mom who has to share each and every one of her baby’s accomplishments online, but not as bad though, of course. Still.

“I hate you,” you complain, words muffled by the palms of your hands.

“I love you too.” she quips cheerfully, a smirk on her lips.

Safe to say March was in charge of cleaning and tidying up the café for the whole shift.

“Aww the handsome guy from yesterday isn’t here today.” March coos into your ear, a frown is displayed on her lips. She frowns, but you can see the hints of playfulness that linger in her expression. “Put on such a nice show yesterday only to chicken out. Booo, lameeee.” March rolls her eyes in amusement, giggling while doing so.

Although you didn’t want to agree with what March had to say, she’s somewhat right. You full-heartedly believed that he’d visit again today after the move he pulled off yesterday or perhaps you wanted him to visit him again.

You quickly shook your head at that thought, brushing the idea of someone paying you a visit at work off to humor you a bit. There was absolutely no way you wanted to see him again.

“It’s early in the morning and you’re trying to shake the dandruff out of your hair already?” “Not funny Mar-” There was no fucking way.

If this wasn’t a deja vu, you don’t know either. It’s almost as if the interaction of yesterday was replaying right in front of your eyes and once again catching you off guard.

“You know it’s not polite to blatantly stare at people right?” he spoke with a chuckle as he observed your irritated face. “Frowning like that will make you gain wrinkles.” The twitching on your right eye doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he can only chuckle at that, seemingly amused by your morning misery.

“What are you doing here.” you can only mutter a single question out, dumbfounded by him appearing in front of you once again. “Hm, am I not allowed to come by? I mean, everything’s quite affordable in here and this place isn’t far away from my workplace either sooo.”

Well, you can’t judge him for that. “Then, what do you want?” with a sigh you pluck one of the sticky notes of the block of colorful sticky notes, ready to write his order and name down. “Someone’s in a bad mood.” he chirps. A blank stare is the only thing you provide him as an answer and at that, he can only chuckle, it’s obvious that he’s enjoying this. “An Iced Americano would be nice. Thanks.”

“Mhmm, noted.” you quickly scribbled his order down onto the quadratic paper before shouting March’s name over your shoulder. “Can you come here to keep our dear customer company? I’ll prepare his drink in the meantime.” you shoot Aventurine a heavy side-eye before darting your gaze back to March. The girl only giggles in response before happily skipping over to the counter.

“Aww, do you want to extra prepare my drink?” upon hearing his remark you turn around. Meeting a pair of pink eyes which were covered behind long blond lashes, scanning your figure from a close distance.

Nervosity crawls at your skin as you feel yourself getting watched by him. It’s weird — screw that, he’s weird.

“Close!” a giggle accompanies your words. “Actually, I just really wanna get away from you. Have fun with him March.” scoffing, you turn around again.

It didn’t take you long to prepare his order, filling a cup with ice cubes and pouring some shots of espresso over them was a piece of cake. “Here” You hand him his drink and he nods in contentment before handing you a few coins, a cheeky grin appears on his face and you can see the amusement glimmering in his pink eyes. “See you tomorrow” he chuckles and upon that March nudges your side, which in response you can only give her an exasperated groan.

“Yep. Head over heels in love.” she quips as soon as Aventurine is out of sight, and you have to fight the urge to slam your forehead against the counter.

Your third encounter with Aventurine occurred on a fairly rainy day. With sluggish movements and wet clothes, soaked from head to toe he slumped over to the counter and grinning as soon as he saw you.

“Hey.” it takes you a moment to process the situation and reluctantly you reply. “Hey.” Your eyes scan over his figure, his white dress shirt is completely translucent now and you can’t help but let your eyes drift to the tattoo on his neck, down to his collarbone which is visibly poking out, and his slim waist, ribs only covered by a thin layer of pale skin.

Aventurine seems to catch on pretty quickly and wraps himself into his blazer, seemingly uncomfortable by the way you’re looking at him.

You quickly gather your words, and voice an apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shamelessly stare, that was rude again, I’m so sor-” “It’s fine.” Aventurine interrupts, cutting your apology curt while huffing out a tired sigh. The exasperation that resides in his voice implies that he obviously doesn’t want to dwell on this topic any further.

A meek nod is the only response you’re able to give. “Can I just get the same thing I’ve had last time? Thanks.” he pulls out his card, ready to pay for his order.

“Really? An Iced Americano during this weather?” you let out a small chuckle with which you’re trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere that built up between the two of you.

At the sound of your light laughter, Aventurine’s eyes flicker over your face. “You remember my order?” he asks dumbfounded.

“Well yeah, no one besides teenage girls order an Iced Americano.” you joke, the usual sarcasm back in your voice. It quenches his former uneasiness, your light-hearted words soothing him like a cool steam dripping into his parched heart.

The corners of his lips twitch and he can’t help but smile. “Oh, shut up.” His signature smirk graces his lips and upon catching sight of it you can’t help but also let out a fond smile.

“Will.. a freshly black brewed coffee do?” you’re careful when asking him. Nervousness crawls at your skin in anticipation.

“Black coffee?” he hums. “Yeah, that should work. Thanks.” the reassuring smile he gives you makes your tense shoulder drop in relief, easing the worry that previously swam in your stomach.

You disappear into the kitchen, searching for the container that stores the coffee beans to prepare his drink, in the meantime, Aventurine quickly types into his phone before erasing the words as fast as he wrote them.

The fresh scent of coffee beans engulfs your nose and you can’t help but smile. Freshly brewed coffee always reminds you of home; someone in whose arms you can bury yourself in, nudging your nose into their chest as they cage you with their arms, softly embracing you. The rattling of a coffee machine in the background rings in your ears, but the only thing you can focus on is a voice that softly caresses the shell of your ear.

Domesticity washes over you — it’s all too familiar.

Aventurine’s drink is prepared in no time and you set it on the counter which makes him look up from his phone, giving you a weak smile before wrapping his hand around the drink. It’s still hot to touch, the warmth spreading over his hand in an instant like wildfire, it’s nice — the feeling of warmth enveloping his cold hand is nice.

“Well, I’ll get going now.” his announcement catches you off guard, and impulsively you reach out to tug on his sleeve to prevent him from leaving. The action leaves both you and Aventurine surprised. Curious, the blond raises an eyebrow and grins (oh how much you want to wipe that stupid grin off his face), expectantly awaiting your next move.

“Sorry.” you cough apologetically before quickly letting go of his semi-dried sleeve. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to go out again when it’s still raining. If I were you I’d just wait until the rain stops.” Upon hearing your sincere suggestion, Aventurine’s grin falters and instead slowly molds into a fond smile that makes you inexplicably warm.

“Aww, don’t tell me you're worried that I might catch a cold?” You counter his playful remark with one of your own. “Well, yeah. Who else is supposed to give me a generous tip?” At that Aventurine can only laugh and the smile you’ve been trying to hold back escapes.

“Touché.”

From there on visits from Aventurine became frequent, always coming during your shift or during your break to chatter with you about mindless topics. You got used to his visits, and even when you gave off the impression of showing no interest in his ramblings, you always lent him an ear, carefully listening to what he had to say about his pets or his grumpy friend.

(He told you that the both of you resemble each other in some way, aloof on the outside but caring on the inside. In response, you shot him a big side eye, cause what does he mean by aloof?)

The small conversations exchanged between the two of you, ranged between topics of the latest spots that have just opened, to operas and musicals and eventually work.

His work to be specific.

Curiosity got the better of you and you couldn’t help but ask: “Aventurine.” upon hearing his name sliding off your tongue, he hums in acknowledgment. “What is it?” you scan his attire, the material of his black blazer is slightly crumpled and the turquoise button-up he’s wearing underneath seems to be the same one as the one when you first met him.

“What the hell do you even work as? I mean what kind of job requires you to wear a new suit every day?” befuddlement manifests on your face. “Ah, well.” Aventurine hesitates for a moment, mouth slightly agape before closing it once again as if searching for the right words to say. “I’ve told you that I work here right down the street right? I’m a teaching assistant at St. Freya University for my friend.” he gives you a small and coy smile.

“Oh, that prestigious university for rich kids?” at that Aventurine slightly raises his eyebrows as if surprised by your remark before quietly laughing. “Mhm, I suppose you could say so.” “I should’ve known that you taught there, I bet you also went there for university.” It’s only a joking remark you made upon impulse but the amusement on Aventurine’s face slightly dissipates, replaced with a sheepish expression.

“I didn’t go to university.”

“What?”

“What do you mean you didn’t go to university? I mean as teaching a-” “I-i started working from a very early age on and not as a teaching assistant it’s only a job for me to help my friend with.” he quickly corrects himself. “Oh.” “Yeah.” he hums, looking away.

The silence is unbearable. It’s weird and unusual for you to not hear Aventurine chatter into your ear. “So uhm.. what do you teach or help with?” the embarrassment quickly rises to your cheeks and you turn your head downwards to avoid any eye contact. God, why’s initiating a conversation so hard and always fucking awkward.

“Interested in joining? Want me to sign you up?” you’re relieved upon hearing Aventurine immediately responding, lifting your head only to be met with soft pink eyes that are already earnestly admiring you.

Your deadpan expression tells him more than enough and he chuckles more to himself than to you. “Well, my friend, he has high expectations for his students. To some people, he might appear strict, but really, it’s for their own well-being — not his. He cares about his students a lot. Sharing his knowledge about certain topics and seeing the potential in all of them, for them to pick the information up and be able to use it. So the things he does in his classes differ, from practical to theoretical classes and I’m just there to assist with my knowledge.” the small smile that quirks at his lips doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Okay, okay, well enough about me, what about you? Any plans for the weekend?” Aventurine smoothly changes the topic.

Upon being asked what your plans are your eyes immediately light up with excitement. “I’ve been meaning to visit the fair for a while now. Trying out the new rides and stuff you know?” Aventurine momentarily pauses. “Ah, I’ve actually never been to a fair.” his admission comes over as surprising to you.

“Wait what? You’ve never been to a fair? You’re lying!”

“I’m not! Or maybe I am.” he laughs. “Well, I might have gone to some but I can’t recall anything like that. Perhaps I was too short, too young, or too much of a pussy to try out one of the rides.”

Before you can even think of how to respond to that, you blurt out a: “Go with me then!” You’re not even sure how you had the courage to ask that, especially to someone whom you’ve only met a month or hell a few weeks ago, you’re even less sure where that question even came from.

From what you can read off Aventurine’s face, he seems to be as equally surprised as you, mouth slightly agape and lips forming a smile as he stares at you with expectant eyes.

“Really?” Disbelief settles onto his face.

“Thinking about it now, nope.” The light in Aventurine’s eyes immediately dies down, suddenly looking like a kicked puppy who didn’t get any belly rubs. It somehow makes you feel bad — somehow you sympathize with him. “..Fine.” you mumble. You can’t believe yourself. “Though there’s one condition: You’ll have to pay for everything.”

“Sure, no problem.” Aventurine agrees without any hesitation and that makes you skittish. “I was joking!” He gives you a boyish grin “Well, I know but it’s not like it’s a big deal either. Also, can this be considered a date?” he props his elbow up and places his cheek onto his balled fist, smirking while doing so.

“Aventurine,” you say in a stern voice. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Your irritated eyes meet his fond ones. “I’m glad.” he expresses and you’re caught off guard by his sincere tone. There’s no teasing or playfulness behind it, just pure gratefulness.

“Is it alright if I have your number? It’s easier to reach you then.” the smirk plastered on his face is enough to tell you what the actual intention behind his words is.

“Admit it. You just want my number, don’t you?” you deadpan him.

“Hmm, who knows?” the grin on his face only grew wider, amused by the fact that you caught on so quickly.

Swiftly you fish out your phone from your pockets, unlocking it before showing him your phone number, and before you can even ask how he’s saved your number; which contact name he typed in for you, he pulls his phone away. Smiling in triumph upon seeing your irritated face.

He gets up from the chair he’s been sitting on for the past few minutes. “Well, your break is about to end soon, so I’ll take my leave.” your eyes follow him as he checks if he’s got everything. “See you tomorrow then:” he says in a playful tone before leaving.

Yeah, you’re going to meet your demise, you just know it.

END NOTE: this is just idk man we're gonna progress more in the future chaps okay 😔

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macfrog · 1 year ago

Text

state-of-the-art sex on fire chapter two

*chants* ceo joel ceo joel ceo joel

part 2 to you shook me all night long!!! massive credit to @whore-4-pedro again for the concept this is SO much fun. work trip coming soon babies!!! masterlist here, ao3 here 💓

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel’s had a rough week at work. you figure you know the perfect way to relieve some of his tension

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) more teasing and touching, oral (m receiving), getting handsy in public + fingering, unprotected semi-public piv sex, creampie, daddy kink, softdom!joel, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, workplace relationship

word count: 6.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

The stretch is too much; he’s all the way in down to his knuckles, curling and then uncurling his fingers deep inside you. Your hips are slowly circling by instinct, rutting against his hand as it fucks you, sending fluttery waves of pleasure all over your body. You ball up your fist, nails digging half-moons into the skin of your palm, attempting to fight the tidal wave fast approaching as Joel’s fingers snap harder into you, a third beckoning your orgasm nearer and nearer. You’re there – right where he wants you, almost throwing your head back with the feeling he’s giving you. And then you make the mistake of looking at him, catching that ever so Joel smile when, shielded from the others by his hand, he breathes, “There’s my girl.”

The black mug. Not the one with the gold handle – that’s one of Martha’s. She doesn’t use it much – at least not as much as the one with her granddaughter’s face printed on it – but she once left you with a stack of paperwork to shred all by yourself just ‘cause you made yourself a tea in it.

No. Just plain black all over. No words, no pictures. Plain. Black.

Few spoonsful of coffee into the filter, hard granules sprinkling over the white paper. Close the lid, flick the switch, and then wait for it to brew. Once it’s done, fill the mug almost to the top – until the coffee kisses the bottom of that one chip in the ceramic. No sugar. No sweetener. No nothing.

Just plain black.

“Thanks, darlin’.” Joel takes the mug carefully from your hands as you wander over, then you perch yourself by his side on Martha’s desk. He takes a sip and nods like usual, confirming what you already know.

You make a damn good cup of coffee.

“You’re worth, what, a few hundred million? You can’t buy a better coffee machine?”

“’s wrong with that one?” he asks, mug on his bottom lip.

“Works like it’s from the eighties or something.”

Martha clears her throat behind you both. “I am gonna give you five seconds to explain what you mean by that.”

“I mean…it’s not exactly state-of-the-art, is it?”

Joel’s jaw drops dramatically. His head wobbles like it’s about to implode, hearing what you just said. “You hear that, Martha? We ain’t state-of-the-art anymore, you ‘n me. We’re older ‘n that coffee machine, you know.”

Martha’s shaking her head, clicking away at her computer.

Joel nudges your arm with a soft chuckle and you sigh, turning away to watch the four men in his office; stood an awkward distance apart, small talking, pacing, adjusting their suits. One of them is messing with some trinket on Joel’s bookshelf.

“You think they’re nervous?” you ask, and he laughs from behind you.

“I reckon they’ve a lot to be nervous about.”

“Was it that bad? On Monday?”

Joel had spent the better part of four hours locked in that conference room, right after you two – you know. He was late for lunch by the time he was ushering them out, collars loose, jackets slung over arms. It was probably a good thing you’d tired him out a little beforehand, or he’d have been way more unforgiving than he was.

Three departments in Joel’s company have gone over budget. It isn’t a huge deal. He has the money. Just, he wants the right people in charge of it, and right now…he clearly doesn’t have that. Honestly, you hate to admit it, but it makes sense. You’re kinda on Joel’s side.

He’d given them to the end of the week to come up with action plans, figure out how to undo the mess. This is the end of the week. This is supposed to be the big reveal.

Joel runs a hand through his hair, palm hooking around the back of his neck.

“Wasn’t great,” he mutters.

You knew that much. You’d asked what he wanted to eat as he passed your desk en route back to his office, and he’d waved his hand and told you to order whatever you wanted with his card. When his door closed, you glanced over to Martha, who shrugged, and went back to playing solitaire.

You figured he wasn’t down for more sex. He didn’t reappear until five o’clock, when he walked you down to the street, carrying your jacket for you, and helped you into your cab.

The elevator dings and the brass doors separate, revealing a figure behind.

George Mackley. Short. Stout. Obnoxiously bright red tie. Head of marketing.

He waddles in a hurry toward the three of you, nodding curtly to Joel as he passes. His shaking hand fumbles around the handle of the office door, which he pulls on instead of pushing, and gives an awkward chuckle before rushing inside.

“Fuckin’…finally,” Joel grunts, passing you his mug and standing up.

“Should I order my own lunch again?” you ask, looking up at the man stretching his arms out before you. Like he’s about to go in and punch sense into them all.

You’d probably love him to do that. It’d make for some great sex afterward.

“I’ll be takin’ a lunch break,” he replies, tapping your knee, “whether we’re done or not. Be out at one.”

You nod, and he stalks off to his office. His mug’s still warm in your lap. You’re still staring when he enters the room, watching how all five men immediately file into the couches across from his desk just at the sight of him. Watching how Joel’s lean figure sits back against his desk, his ankles crossed. His arms folded at his chest. His broad shoulders beneath that tight white shirt.

He has that way about him. Commanding, confident. Strong. It’s probably what convinced you to fold, if you’re honest. Sure, he’s kind, and he’s a good boss, all things considered. He’s funny. But he’s cool. It takes a lot to shake Joel.

This meeting? It’s not shaking him. He’s barely even giving these guys enough attention to sit up straight. He’s so damn breezy, so laidback that when he pushes off of his desk and stands up, you give a small gasp.

You lift his mug, drinking from the same spot his lips touched only minutes ago.

“Thought you hated black coffee,” Martha murmurs.

“Stress sipping,” you reply. “Fucking hell…”

Joel’s erratic. Waving his arms, pacing around the room. You swear the men cower as he approaches; shoulders hunched and heads low until he’s past them.

He looks…Yeah. Fuck it. He looks a little shaken.

Martha tuts. “Shouldn’t be idiots with his money.”

“He has money, though,” you offer. “Like, this ain’t that big a deal, is it? He can afford to go over budget sometimes.”

“Joel doesn’t like anyone messin’ with what’s his,” she tells you. “Doesn’t like other hands on his toys. It’s not the overspending he’s pissed about. It’s the crossin’ the line.”

Your eyebrow cocks. She can’t see your expression, and good thing, because it’d probably give you away. Doesn’t like other hands on his toys.

A flash of movement from Joel’s office drags your eyes from the dregs of his coffee back to the transparent wall between you. He’s whipping the shades closed one by one, putting a barrier between his office and the outside world.

It can’t mean anything good, right? It doesn’t look like they’re about to sit in a circle and braid each other’s hair. Sure as hell aren’t about to see Joel’s good side.

“I gotta go in,” you declare, lifting off of Martha’s desk like you’ve taken flight.

She calls your name, almost tired of your antics. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

But you’re already scooping up a notepad, slipping it under your arm and fishing a pen from your desk. Already walking over to the office door, hearing the dangerous hum of Joel’s voice through the wood.

Your knuckles rap three times. You don’t wait to be called inside. Just push the handle down and slip in.

He’s stood against the frame of one of the windows, hands in his pockets. When you materialize from behind the door, his face relaxes. Brows loosen, jaw slackens. Lips almost tug into a smile.

“Sorry I’m late.” You sidle over to his desk and sit down in his chair, biting on your bottom lip, casting an unsure glance around the room.

Five pale faces turned to you. George Mackley looks like he’s about to weep.

Joel thanks you and then steps forward. “So, Ken, we were at last month’s sales.”

“Uh, yeah…” Ken draws his gaze from you when Joel moves in front of the desk. As he waltzes by, he spins slowly, giving you a look as he passes.

Kill me, he mouths, rolling his eyes. You smile, looking down at your blank notebook. You’re not here to take the fucking minutes. You know that, Joel knows that. You’re only here so he has something to keep him from losing it. Something to sit and look pretty, and calm him down.

Also: you kinda want the gossip. What the fuck did these guys do with all of Joel’s money, right?

Almost two hours in, a dozen games of tic-tac-toe against yourself, and one very crude drawing of Monday morning’s activities, Joel startles you by slamming a file down onto his glass coffee table.

“And you think that’s a solution?” he spits, voice laced with fury.

“Joel, you gotta see it from my side. I’m managing thirty people down there, it’s–”

“’n I’m managing five idiots from up here. Mackley,” he turns to the face as red as the tie below it, “you got anythin’ else for me?”

George Mackley shakes his head. His hair’s unkempt; it was gelled flat to his head when he arrived, but his hands have been through it more times than Joel’s lapped the office.

“Alright. Y’know what,” Joel seethes, backing up and motioning for them to stand, “everyone out. Meeting’s over. Go.”

“Joel–” A tall man with blue eyes stands up.

“If you ain’t about to offer me somethin’ that can fuckin�� fix this mess, then shut your mouth and get out of my office. All of you.”

The men sheepishly collect their briefcases, their documents, themselves, and stand, filing out of the door one by one. You rise from Joel’s chair, taking your notepad between your fingers, and slowly wander around the desk.

He’s standing with his head in his hands, shoulders swelling with his breathing. Does he want you to leave, too? You don’t want to rile him more; certainly don’t want to be the first face his angry self sees. But you want to make sure he’s okay. Want to check on him.

Plus, he’s kind of hot when he’s pissed.

You’re tottering toward the door when Joel drops his hands from his face, notices you, and says, plain as the coffee in his mug, “Not you.”

You turn back, pushing the door closed behind you.

“Didn’t mean to yell.”

You don’t reply. Your hand lifts to find the lock blindly behind your hip, and you click it. Now there’s nobody, no one to disturb you both. No one to walk in, no one to see.

You approach him.

He’s still talking: “Didn’t want you to have to hear all that. I spoil your morning?”

Your head shakes and you mutely take his hands, leading him around to his chair and pushing him back into it.

“Baby, what–”

You part his legs with your own, his fingers still interlocked with yours. Then you think he gets it. Understands where you’re going.

You sink to your knees between his thighs.

“They were bein’ idiots,” you say, fingers undoing his belt. “’n you didn’t spoil my mornin’. You gave me a little bit of excitement.”

Joel’s breath shudders as he watches you tug his belt through the loops of his pants and drop it to the floor. Still, he laughs, and asks, “Is that so?”

“N– Oh, fuck. Not like that. Like–” You pause, breathing out a sigh.

Yeah, okay. Like that, if you want. I’m down if you are.

His pants are open, lying loose on his hips. The waistband of his boxers visible. You hook two fingers over it and peel it down a fraction, following Joel’s happy trail as it grows thicker and darker, when he puts a hand over yours and breathes your name.

“Relax,” you mutter back, nudging his hand off of yours. “Just let me take care of you.”

His head falls against the back of his chair and his shoulders sink into the leather. You pull on the elastic and take hold of the base of his cock, already stiff, slipping it out from beneath the black cotton.

Joel’s knees fall slack when you take a hold of him. Two hands, because he’s so fucking big. Your fists pump him a few times, feeling him harden in your grasp, warm skin rock solid in your hands. You lean forward on your knees, thick bead of saliva falling from your lips onto his head, dribbling down his smooth shaft.

Joel’s watching through hooded lids. Caressing your hair, petting you. Your fingers collect your spit and drag it up and down him, and you swear he almost fucking whines.

Almost isn’t enough. You want to really hear him. So you slacken your jaw, part your lips, and slide them down, tongue flat against the underside of his length as he fills your mouth. Joel’s fist tightens, pulls harshly on your hair for just a second, until he’s breathing out again in relief, body relaxing to the feel of your wet tongue around his hard cock.

“Don’t need to – do this, babygirl.”

“Mhm,” you mumble around him.

“Fuck…” he whispers.

Your elbows are hooked over his thighs, holding yourself up in place between his legs. He tastes salty; skin warm, smooth. Your tongue flickers over his head, collecting precum, and Joel groans.

You pull off of him and lick your lips.

“What you gonna do?” you ask, fingers squeezing and dragging saliva and Joel’s arousal up and down. “About the budget stuff?”

His chest is heaving, hips lifting out of the seat almost like he’s trying to put himself back where he belongs. “What…can I do?” he asks through desperate pants. “Can’t – fuck – can’t drum sense into ‘em.”

You wrap your puffy lips around his tip, kissing it, tongue playing with him again. Swirling around, gathering him on your tastebuds. “Why don’t you cut ‘em loose, then?”

Your head dips again, lips sucking around his shaft, tongue still darting around his swollen head.

He can barely fucking answer. His eyes close over and, with a groan either side of the sentence, he replies, “’s not that easy, baby. Fuck. Keep doin’ that.”

You loosen your lips enough to let your reply pass them. Your voice is muffled, thick. “Sounds easy to me.”

“Shut up,” he grunts. “Keep fuckin’ – usin’ your tongue.”

You obey, running your tongue up and down his length and coming to rest to pay more attention to his tip.

“Yeah, just like that. Good girl.”

You hollow your cheeks and let your lips trickle up and down for a bit before releasing him with a pop. Joel’s writhing underneath you, leaning almost horizontal in his chair.

“Gonna cum, daddy?”

He nods, eyes still screwed shut. “Yeah, pretty girl. You want it down your throat again?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck – dirty girl.”

It’s all the encouragement you need. You widen your jaw, taking him in your mouth in full, until he’s choking you down to what feels like the bottom of your fucking neck. You fuck him with your throat, bobbing up and down, his fist in your hair pushing and pulling even though you don’t need him to. Your mouth meets the skin at the base of his cock over and over, dark hair brushing against your glossy lips.

Joel’s moaning each time, when his cock kisses the back of your throat, when you involuntarily choke around him, when your tongue drags along his length as he pulls you up and down. And soon his breathing loses rhythm, hips tense, and you know he’s there.

He cums, hard, at the back of your mouth. Warm release spilling out over your tongue, neatly running down your throat as you wait for him to still. His cock throbs with each shot of cum, swelling and jerking between your lips. When Joel sinks back into his chair again, you slip him out of your mouth and back under his boxershorts.

Your head lulls to the side, resting on his big thigh as you swallow him with a smile on your lips. His grip on your hair loosens, turns instead back to soft stroking, chest still panting as he comes back down. You watch him through glazed eyes; his shoulders rising and falling, breaths passing his lips like waves at the beach.

He’s twirling your hair gently around his finger, looking down at you like you’re made of twinkling gold dust.

Eventually, Joel takes a deep breath and sits up straight, beckoning you to do the same. He tucks his shirt back in, redoes his pants, then leans forward and hooks both hands under your arms, pulling you up to him.

You giggle as he lifts you onto his lap, straddling him with your knees either side of his waist. Your elbows rest on his shoulders, hands linking at the back of his neck.

His jaw turns upward, and you lower yours, your lips meeting in a soft embrace. You laugh against him, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, pushing yours into his.

“Better?” you ask once you part.

“Better, darlin’. Thank you.”

He kisses you again, a little more rushed, little less tender. Then his hands squeeze your ass and you squeal into his mouth, jumping up off of him.

You pass him his belt and lift the empty coffee mug off of his desk. “Refill?”

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks,” he says, slipping the leather through his belt loops. His shoulders are lifted, tummy sucked in as he feeds it through. He almost looks cute.

You smile and then turn on your heels, wiping the corners of your mouth as you emerge from the office.

—————

“Is he comin’, or what?”

“Huh?”

Martha jerks her head in the direction of Joel’s office. She’s stood at your desk, hands on her hips, bag over her shoulder.

“He’s…Yeah, he said he would be. Let me go check.”

You close over the budget report file you’d been reading through and shimmy out from behind your desk, trying to amble as casually as possible over to the shuttered blinds.

You turn the handle, poking your head around the door.

He’s stood at his desk, raking a hand through his hair, top button of his shirt undone. Tie sitting loose around his collar. He spots you and gives an apologetic smile.

You comin’? you mouth.

Joel points to his phone. Some panicked voice fills the silence between you both.

“…so I gave the two of ‘em a tellin’; they shouldn’t make any more purchase orders without my permission. Without your permission, Joel, I mean…And about last month’s sales, too…”

You step over to his desk, slow, suspicious. Mischief on your mind.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

You cock your head, brows furrowing. You’d been looking forward to lunch with Joel all day; something to take his mind off the meeting this morning.

Martha had called his favorite restaurant, they’d told her they had no space, she’d mentioned it was for Mr. Miller, and a table had magically opened up. Then you’d encouraged her to ask Deb, knowing she’d inevitably ask James, her admin assistant, and, before you knew it, your small lunch was a party of five.

Worked for you. You and Joel would probably be too caught up in each other’s company to notice the rest.

Except, the way things are looking, Joel isn’t getting off this call anytime soon. Soon meaning within the next thirty seconds, given the reservation is in ten minutes.

You’re growing desperate. Running out of time, knowing if you don’t do something to shut this guy the fuck up, your little daydream of sitting side by side with Joel, so close you can feel the heat off of him, feel his chest vibrate when he talks, maybe even feel his hand trailing up your thigh…won’t come true.

“What if you just…” Your fingers walk along Joel’s desktop, heading for his phone. “…lost…connection…?”

He doesn’t say a word, but the smirk that forms across his lips grants you all the permission you need. Your fingers clutch the receiver, lifting it barely an inch, then drop it back into its cradle. The panicked voice cuts.

“Oops.” You shrug, straightening up in front of Joel.

“Oops,” he repeats, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders and pulling you into him again. You lift your jaw to kiss him only quickly, before you’re pushing yourself off of his chest and dragging him away from his desk.

“Sorry, Ken!” you call as Joel yanks the door open, the pair of you laughing like schoolkids.

You meet the others outside the building, huddled together at the bottom of the concrete steps. Deb puts her cigarette out on top of a trashcan when you both approach.

“Well, we thought you weren’t comin’,” she utters to Joel.

He lifts his eyebrows in response, hands slipping into his pockets, and glances around the group. “We goin’?”

“Waiting for your driver, Mr. CEO.” Martha winks.

“Aha,” Joel replies, face unmoving, “funny.”

“It’s, like, two blocks, we can walk,” you say, setting off down the street. Joel’s quick to follow, strolling at your side, but there’s a chorus of groans from the rest of your party. “Come on!” you yell over your shoulder.

“We’re supposed to be dining with the head of the fuckin’ company!” Martha cries, and Deb cackles.

“I gotta live like the rest of y’all sometimes,” Joel shrugs, walking backward, “keeps my feet rooted, doesn’t it?”

“I hate you,” you mutter, and he knocks into your shoulder with his own.

The Courtyard is bright, modern, and…beige. It’s only Joel’s favorite because it was a buddy of his from grad school who opened it, but you’re the only person he’s entrusted with that information. It’s decent food – they do a great chicken risotto – and it is always busy, so Drew must be doing alright with it.

You walk under a fake ivy plant covering the entrance, past twinkling fairy lights and to a rustic wooden reception area. Some hyper server comes bounding over and introduces himself as Jake, before Martha gives the name of the reservation and he batters it into a keyboard.

“Lopez?” you ask Martha, screwing your face up.

“Yeah. Comma Jennifer. I like to make it exciting.”

“If you wanted exciting, go for Beyoncé, or something. Lopez?”

“You really think Beyoncé is gonna come eat here?”

“You really think Jennifer Lopez is?”

She bats you away, turning her attention to Deb, who finds the JLo joke hilarious. When Jake springs off, beckoning you all to follow him, Joel leans in close to you.

“She used to use Pamela Anderson. Glad she’s evolved a little.”

You snort and follow Jake toward the same table Joel always sits at: the very back of the restaurant, quieter, separated by screens of more fake greenery. Windows looking out over the busy streets. Bare lightbulbs hanging from unnecessarily long wires over the tables.

Joel pulls your chair out for you and slots in beside you, on your right. Martha, Deb, and James – who hasn’t said or done much more than chortle at anything Joel’s said – sit opposite. Jake borderline frisbees the menus at you guys and tells you to give him a shout when you’re ready to order.

You turn to Joel who shakes his head, hand cupping his chin.

The five of you scan down the menus – at least, you, Joel and Martha pretend to. You’ve been coming here regularly enough for long enough that you know what you’ll inevitably end up ordering. James is asking Deb if the steak might fill him up too much before his squash practice later on tonight when you feel a familiar heat on your leg, and look past your menu to see Joel’s hand curving around your thigh.

You hold back a smile, pretending to be really into the laminated sheet in your hands. So long as he keeps it PG, and James keeps rabbiting on about squash being good for your hand-eye co-ordination, this is fine. This is…enjoyable.

This is exactly what you fucking wanted, when you organized lunch.

But when Jake returns to collect the menus under his arm then scurries back off, and Martha and Deb start discussing some TV show they’re both hooked on, Joel’s hand begins to rake higher. Taking the hem of your skirt with it. You suck in a deep breath, pretending to watch the two women and trying your best to listen to the words they’re saying, but he’s getting dangerously close to your–

“You ever try squash, Joel?”

“Huh?” Joel’s hand halts instantly. You exhale.

James is sitting forward, elbows on the table, nodding with a perfectly innocent smile on his face. “Squash. Yeah. I play every Friday evening, straight after work. It’s fantastic for shakin’ off that week-long stress, y’know? Not that workin’ here is a stress, but sometimes it can build up, sometimes you just need something to…” He balls his fists and jerks them, gritting his teeth.

You choke on a laugh and play it off as a cough.

Joel shifts a little in his seat, his palm still clamped around the top of your thigh. “Never played squash. More of a golfing guy.”

“That what you’re gonna do this weekend? Burn off all that stress you’ve had with a round of golf?” you ask Joel, lips almost trembling with the effort it’s taking you not to burst out laughing.

“Not what I had in mind, naw,” he almost spits back.

“Well, if you ever wanna try it, you know who to call. Squash, I mean. I mean – sorry, I don’t mean call squash. I mean call me. To try squash. You won’t find a better stress reliever.”

“Thanks, James,” Joel mutters, fingers fumbling with the cutlery on the table in front of him.

You could fucking burst. No better stress reliever than squash, right Joel? Nothing like it. Not even the one sitting next to you, her thigh under your grasp. Nope.

You’re thankful when Martha calls your name and averts your attention.

“You have got to watch it. I reckon she’d really love it, right?”

Deb nods eagerly.

“What’s that?” you ask.

They both start chirping away, describing the plot of some mystery thriller. It’s hard to keep up, what with them both speaking over one another, deciding which parts are safe to tell you and No, we can’t tell her that, that’s a spoiler, which actors are in it and how many episodes it took for them to really get into it.

Not to mention Joel’s hand, which has resumed its climb up your leg.

“There are three seasons,” Martha says, finger drawing shapes on her placemat, “and do not go lookin’ online for anything, because at the end of season two, there’s a massive death, and…”

Your thighs are bare again, skirt rolled up and held at the top of your legs by Joel’s wrist. He’s squeezing as he goes, massaging, driving you fucking insane as he adds more and more pressure. Still, your legs part for him the higher he goes.

“W-what– where can I watch it?” you ask, your eyes closing over as Joel’s fingers loosen their grip.

Deb says something, but it’s muffled. Drowned out by the ringing in your ears. Joel’s right hand sits under his chin, elbow propped on the table as if he’s musing over the weather or considering what to do with his weekend.

His left moves swiftly over to run along the elastic of your panties. Sift his thumb down below them. Fingers drop to cup you over the lace fabric. Suddenly, you’re sitting upright, your arms propping on the table, then falling to your lap, then one elbow up, then both down again.

What the fuck– how the fuck do you make this look casual? Being touched by your boss at lunch, with three colleagues sat opposite you?

Joel seems to be enjoying watching you squirm. You hear him breathe a laugh into his hand, and then his fingers begin to travel even further south, moving your panties to the side to sift through your folds.

Which are, regrettably, fucking soaked.

“Hm,” you hear Joel hum, and you can’t look at him. Knowing he’s found exactly what he was looking for. Knowing he’s achieved exactly what he set out to do.

You sit stunned, staying completely still for fear you might draw attention from your company. But then he’s dipping a finger in, pushing deep inside you, and your jaw falls loose, a silent moan escaping in the form of a sigh.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Martha addresses you and Joel, “as requested, flights organized. You leave for Paris next Friday morning, fly home Monday afternoon.”

“Yep,” you reply, shuddering slightly. “Sounds good.”

You’re not fucking listening to a word she’s saying.

“Thanks, Martha,” Joel says, as casual as if he were telling her the time. Almost bored.

You drop your hand and it clamps around Joel’s wrist; you’re sure you’re scratching him, but you don’t care. Not only does he deserve it, but it’s all you can do to stop yourself from screaming out when he inserts a second finger.

You ball up your fist, nails digging half-moons into the skin of your palm, attempting to fight the tidal wave fast approaching as Joel’s fingers snap harder into you, a third beckoning your orgasm nearer and nearer.

You’re there – right where he wants you, almost throwing your head back with the feeling he’s giving you. And then you make the mistake of looking at him, catching that ever so Joel smile when, shielded from the others by his hand, he breathes, “There’s my girl.”

It’s the last push. The last fucking shove.

Your walls clamp around his fist, your entire body screams, a scream that forcibly dies out in your throat as you lean forward and –

You slam your fist down on the tabletop, the sudden jolt of cutlery and glass making the three opposite you jump.

“Are you– what’s wrong?” Martha asks, leaning closer.

“Cr– fuck– cramp,” you mumble, eyes screwed shut, hand still gripping Joel’s wrist. He slowly drags his soaked fingers out of your tight cunt, casually maneuvering his arm back where it belongs whilst the table’s attention is still on your head and shoulders.

“Cramp?”

“My – fucking – leg. I’ll be – right back.” You’re almost hyperventilating as you shakily stand, shoving your chair back with your legs only for it to be caught by the hand Joel had inside you seconds before.

You waddle off to the front of the restaurant, nearly breaking out into a run when you reach the hallway leading to the restrooms. The door to the ladies room bursts open and you throw yourself against a sink, gripping onto the ceramic, chest heaving, shoulders hunched. Your cunt is still throbbing, waves of your orgasm slowly losing power and retreating.

You wave your hand under the faucet and cold water automatically flows, filling your cupped hands, cooling your blood, cooling your skin when you dab it onto your cheeks. You sigh with relief, leaning against the sink, catching pathetic glimpses of yourself in the mirror.

And then, the door pushes open. And his silhouette sneaks inside. He leans back against the wall, hands in his pockets. Face with a smirk you want to slap off of him.

“How’s the cramp?”

“Are you fucking–” You flick your hands toward him, splashing him with water as he throws an arm up to dodge it, laughing. That fucking laugh.

He wanders around you, looking your shaking body up and down, and comes to a halt with his chest against your back. His chin leans into your shoulder, and you look at each other in the mirror.

It takes everything in you to fight the smile growing on your lips, but when Joel mirrors it, you can’t help it.

“Fucker,” you whisper, and he kisses your shoulder. You lean back into him, ass pressing against him, feeling something you already suspected would be there.

“Feel what you did to me?” he asks, voice muffled into the cotton of your shirt.

“Mhm,” you reply, and you drop your hand to take the outline of him through his pants.

“You wanna fix it for me?”

Your head rolls back against his shoulder, smutty grin melting across your face. “Yeah, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he tells you, lips dragging across your neck, hands at his belt.

Your fingers clutch your skirt, still hiked halfway up your thighs, and pull it further. Joel’s hands replace yours on your hips and he shoves his pants apart, lining his bulge up with your core. Then his palm is at the bottom of your back, pushing you forward into position. Your knuckles whiten around the ceramic sink.

“Fuck,” you whisper when you feel his tip at your entrance. You’re already soaked through, no need for him to take his time. Not that you have time, anyway, with three coworkers out front waiting for the two of you.

Joel thrusts forward, entering you in one go, filling you up so fast you nearly double over. He keeps a tight grip on your hips, dragging you up and down the top of his cock a few times before slamming all the way into you again, eliciting a cry from your lips.

“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, low, dangerous. “Just gettin’ you warmed up.”

“Your hand wasn’t enough of a warmup?” you throw over your shoulder, and he takes your arms and pulls you flush against him.

“You gonna run that pretty mouth the entire time we’re in here, or you gonna let me fuck you?” he breathes around the shell of your ear.

“Both.”

You bite back a whimper when his hips buck into you painfully. A telling: don’t start.

Joel establishes a pace quick enough, both of you aware you can’t take too long in here. His grunts match the rate his body snaps against yours, your panting matches the rate you bounce up and down on him.

You’re watching the sight reflected in the mirror: Joel hooked around your shoulder, lips against your ear, whispering praises and filth, and you, leaning back against him, rutting on his hard cock with a thick smile on your lips.

“Daddy…” you whine, and Joel’s vice grip tightens even more.

“Good girl,” he pants, “so fuckin’ good for me.”

It’s not long before that heat is swirling around your core again, sparks of lightning jolting through the whirlwind of pleasure Joel’s hips create between yours. You take a hold of his arms for stability as you begin to feel your orgasm crest the horizon, knowing by the sounds he’s making in your ear that Joel isn’t far off, either.

“Cum in me,” you whimper, watching for his reaction in the mirror.

He pulls a face that’s almost…defeated. Groans like you’ve given him an impossible problem to solve.

You plead with your eyes. “Cum – in – me.”

It’s like you’re pressing on the weakest part of a porcelain vase; daring it to break. Daring it to fall apart. Joel knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s more sensible not to. But the way you look, body against his, whining and whimpering and fucking smiling right back at him – the way you feel, so warm and wet, squeezing him so tight he’s surprised he’s even lasted this long…

He can’t fucking help himself.

He moans and his hands clamp on your waist, forcing you forward as he ruts into you once, twice, three times before he’s twitching deep inside, warm seed spilling out and coating your walls. Your release floods over you, then, too, your head falling forward as your legs give for a few seconds, Joel’s grip the only thing keeping you upright.

Stars in your eyes, you pull the strength to lift your head and look at your reflection; Joel behind you, face to the ceiling as he slowly stills between your legs.

Your cunt throbs, and you move your hips back and forth gently, drawing a noise from Joel that you wish you could never stop hearing.

“Baby,” he lulls, looking down to watch as your dripping cunt rocks back and forth, taking him all and then letting him go again.

It’s a minute or so before you both return to reality. Bodies still connected, Joel places a steady kiss to your cheek. You lean into him, turning to place your lips against his. You’re both hot, sweaty, it’s probably pretty noticeable you just fucked.

And you don’t care.

Joel slips out of you and backs up, letting you fix yourself in the mirror as he stuffs himself back into his pants.

“You think you can walk back to the office?” he asks, smirking.

“Call Rand,” you reply, and his head tips back in a laugh.

He nods toward the door and the pair of you slip out discreetly, you first to check the coast is clear, and Joel right behind. You walk along the hallway, heels clicking, like you’ve just come across each other right outside the restrooms.

“Hey, Joel,” a voice says from behind you both as you wander past the bar.

“Drew,” Joel replies, and shakes the hand of a tall blonde guy in all black. His t-shirt’s so tight you can make out his pecs underneath it.

“How’s it goin’? You been in long?”

“Just waitin’ for our food,” Joel says, “it’s probably out by now.” He glances over at you and your legs clench subconsciously. He introduces you then, says, “My assistant. Best assistant I could ask for,” and your lungs close up.

Drew shakes your hand and then turns back to Joel. “Don’t go without catchin’ me, ain’t lettin’ you pay a thing. How’s business?”

Joel nods. “Good, good. We’re, uh, we’re heading out to Europe next week, so.”

“Jean-Marc?”

“Yep.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah. Place is lookin’ good, same as always.” Joel glances around, pointing randomly to the light fixture above your heads.

Drew does that thing men do when trapped in a dry conversation: folds his arms, looks to the floor, and nods some more. Waiting for Joel to say —

“Alright, well. Great seein’ you again. Thanks for lunch.”

He puts an arm around your back and guides you off back to the table.

“Nice meetin’ you.” You smile at Drew as you pass and he returns it, turning back to the bar.

Once you’re out of earshot, you look over to Joel.

“Something going on there?”

“Huh?”

You scoff. “You two couldn’t wait to be away from each other. Why’d you always come here if it’s so awkward?”

“Well, if I see ‘im, I get free food.”

You slap his arm as he pulls your chair back out for you.

“Feelin’ better?” Deb asks, pushing French fries around her plate.

You nod, pulling your seat in beside Joel, who’s still laughing at himself. As you settle, you feel the warmth he left behind spill out of you a little, pooling in your underwear. And Joel seems to notice, whether from some sexual sixth sense he has when it comes to you, or just the way you awkwardly shift in your seat. He hands you a smug smirk, nudging you with his elbow.

You narrow your eyes at him and turn back to Martha.

“So, you were saying you fixed the flights for Paris?”

----------

taglist: @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi (lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #softdom!joel miller #softdom!joel

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danieyells · 6 months ago

Note

Can I see Romeo's voicelines please? He's such a failguy, I need to knowwww

How dare you call him a failguy!

he is THE failguy. don't make him sound offbrand.

i love Romeo he is honestly so ridiculous like. . .you meet Romeo in the first chapter and you do NOT realize he's going to be like. . .that. . .in the Sinostra chapter. . . .

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Hey! I'm talking to you, BB! If you've got time to wander around, you've got time to wipe the tables!"

i thoguht the pc was supposed to be doing uh background work for you at the casino. why is she cleaning tables!? go ask her to run drugs for you or something.

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Excuse me? What sane person lets their messages pile up like this!? Deal with them or I'll deal with you!"

'clean up your inbox or they will have to clean you and put you in a box'

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"Fuji... Come out, come out, wherever you are... Tch, where did he go? Why is running away the only thing he's good at!?"

"Listen up—call me Fico. That's the only name I'll respond to, understand!?"

disregard the 'Lulu' from Taiga, 'Romi-sama'/'Ro-Ro' from Leo, 'RomiRomi' from Rui. . .'Fico' is for underlings, and you are an underling!

"Come to my private office later—I've got a little proposal I think you'll want to hear. But make sure you come alone."

"Just go! I cannot deal with this WTWUT! Wall-To-Wall Useless Trash, obviously!"

that was a long acronym!

"Time to count this month's protection fees... Not bad. I'll up this group by 2% next month. This one could go a little higher too..."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Why does that DOF want to meet so early in the morning? If I get bags under my eyes because of this, I'm going to slit his throat."

we never learned what "DOF" stood for did we. we do know it's Hyde now, though!

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hello? Yes, I was just eating lunch. Again? ...Fine. Tonight? All right. Bye now."

booty call from hyde? in the middle of the day? shameless

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Have you seen Shinjo anywhere? I just asked him to organize some documents and he ran off to make copies!"

Ritsu has a line referencing this one!

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Mickey's bar? Yes, I am going again tonight, but it's only because there's nowhere else to go for a drink."

isn't there a bar in the casino. . .i guess he doesn't wanna spend time on the casino floor. also "Mickey" is Rui Mizuki, if you weren't able to figure that out haha

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"This is when the regulars usually come, so I have to sweeten the pot. I saw that HNTW out there earlier too."

i hate you and your acronyms LMAOOOO I THINK THIS IS REFERRING TO KAITO??? MAYBE??? he's the only character besides Taiga who frequents the casino that we're aware of!

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"How dare those Frostheim slugs start whispering the moment they see my face... One day they'll be groveling at my feet..."

oof. . .the frostheimers are gossiping about the collapse of his family. . .yeah i'd be mad too there bud. i'd like to think he wanted to transfer to Frostheim once he became a second year and he ended up not doing it because Frostheim was just so toxic.

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"...Looks like I'm due for a tune up soon. Keeping my posture beautiful isn't easy, no matter how much I train my core."

i assume he sees like a chiropractor or a physical therapist or something. gets his atlas adjusted. maybe don't lean over your EITS laptops lol

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"You're smelling the bedtime fragrance I bought from Kurossa earlier. He has a good eye, so I often ask him to pick things out for me."

'Kurossa' is Leo Kurosagi and his lines also reference this! I'm glad they get along so well haha I think they mesh pretty great. also the fact that Romeo gives little nicknames to people is cute. . . .

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"You want to see my Insta? I suppose that's fine, but do you even know anything about brands?"

brand ambassador romeo. . .god he probably does all sorts of dumb beauty shit on his instagram. do you think he participates in those health pyramid schemes? probably not, right, he's fairly legitimate in his business practices. . .sort of, sometimes, kind of, as long as you don't owe him money. . . .

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Fuji's pendant? Of course I haven't given up on it. He has no idea of the value of what's hanging around his neck."

neither do we! please inform us!! but on the upside that means that Romeo knows what it is, to some degree. I assume it's some rare, powerful artifact. Kaito at least knows it's important.

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"I have to drink a cup of room-temperature water, do an electric facial and a mask, apply body cream, do my neck routine... I have no free time in the morning."

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey! There's a hair on the ground over here! And there's dust over here! Can't you even clean something properly without me holding your hand!?"

this is directed at his underlings, not the pc(or not the pc by themself.) I also appreciate that the Japanese specifies this is one single hair he's pointing out. Somebody get this man a roomba.

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I maintain my bullets myself. You really think I'd let another man handle my crown jewels?"

handle your WHAT-- i mean anyone could've guessed you and taiga don't have a very active sex life

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"What is going on with your skin!? Do you even have a proper routine in place? Unacceptable. Your overnight skin cell turnover is suboptimal and it shows."

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"That BTH...! I was almost impressed to see him out so early until I realized he's been playing all night!!"

taiga pulling an all-nighter at his own goddamn casino lmao. . . .

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"What do you mean you don't need any more noni juice? I went out of my way to prepare it for you. Come on now, drink it."

he personally made it for you! now drink the bitter nasty health juice. don't make him feed it to you. (The fact that he made you a health dink--went out of his way to make it for you--shows that he's really starting to like you and now he's treating you like a pet.)

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Finally, some goods worth talking about. I have to ring that DOF and arrange the next event..."

so Hyde is an active participant in these auctions huh. . .are the secret missions he gives Romeo based on selling and distributing artifacts and anomalies in secret. . .?

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Money, hard work, and patience... That's the cost of true beauty. Don't think it's something you can easily imitate."

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"How about a smoke before bed? I'm joking. If I wasn't selling it, I wouldn't be touching this unhealthy garbage."

quick someone shoop the "quieres" meme with romeo HE DOESN'T ACTUALLY TELL YOU WHAT HE'S HANDLING. . .considering his line of work it could be anything but regular cigarettes or cigars. Is it weed? is it crack?? is it meth???? i find that romeo is essentially the campus dealer hilarious.

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"What? I'm on my way to the gym for a workout. ...You can join me if you're interested."

you know damn well he probably hates getting sweaty. but he's gotta keep up with his health and all so a little workout's not off the table. also you know he's wearing some fuckin. gucci leggings or some shit.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Why are you carrying that!? What if you drop it and it breaks? I'll get one of our young guys to do it, so put it down already!"

aw he's worried about--oh no he's just worrying about you dropping his stuff.

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I won't let anyone destroy what I've built— not even my OAOF."

GOD I HOPE THEY EXPLAIN THESE ACRONYMS SOMEWHERE ALONG THE LINE. I assume the first word is "Own". . .the last word could be "Family" or "Followers"/"Faction" or "Feelings". . . .

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Most of humanity's problems can be solved with money. If you put that another way, without money, you don't stand a chance. That's the way the world works."

again, Taiga compared Ritsu's family to Romeo's before The Incident. Romeo lost everything he had at one point. He's afraid of ending up with nothing again. That's all. Even with the Casino, he doesn't want to lose it because it'd be losing everything he has again. Having no money means going back to 0.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Coming here alone this time of night, haven't you made progress? Come over here, I'll evaluate your efforts."

pc's getting brave enough to go to Sinostra in the middle of the night! probably did some shady job for him too. Also the face he makes while praising you for coming to Sinostra alone late at night is a little. . . .

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"What could you possibly be afraid of? You're one of my people! Walk with your head held high or I'll step on it!"

BBY YOU CAN STEP ON HER HEAD ANYWAY. PLEASE DO IT. 👀 also you have been opted out of being one of Taiga's people I guess. You have chosen your faction. /joke

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"This year's AW collection is out... Tch. Not even a hint of taste in any of it. They'll bear this mark of shame for years."

I KNOW THIS ACRONYM! He's complaining about Autumn-Winter fashion!!! lbr romeo men's fashion is kinda boring anyway. I wonder if his family owned a fashion brand. . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I don't mind the springtime in Japan. The mild weather is a bonus, but it's the transient beauty of the cherry blossoms I truly appreciate."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The new prototype is a tear bomb? A lot of anomalies don't even have eyes, is this really going to be useful?"

i mean it might be useful for the ones that have eyes. . .or for hunting down Kaito.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Shut up! It's nearly time to settle the books so I'm completely run off my feet! I don't have time to deal with you, understand!?"

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Summer is all about aquamarine... If you believe that, you're a follower. A trendsetter would know to go against the grain with a heavier jade piece."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Excuse me!? You really think I would stoop to petty theft!? This scarf and hat are UV protection!"

LMAO HE LOOKED SO SHADY THE PC GOT WORRIED

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"This? It's an original hot water blend with salt and lemon I came up with. You shouldn't be cooling your insides just because it's hot outside!"

i mean. i guess it'll technically help you sweat and cool down faster????

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The heat's finally starting to ease off. I want to take a shower, but it's nearly our peak hour..."

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"They gave us nothing but useless bottom feeders this year... I'd like to see who raised this bunch of idiots. They don't even have a grasp of basic etiquette."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm going to the training grounds to demonstrate sharpshooting for the first- years. It's a waste of my time, but I'm the most skilled at it."

he just wants everyone to see how good he is lolol

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The SS collections are out. What? Are you telling me you don't pay attention to Paris Fashion Week?"

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The boss won't stop whining about being hungry. Obviously I'm not going to cook. What are you all standing around for, you damn TGAs!?"

lol Romeo has his underlings feed Taiga as much as Taiga demands food of his own underlings. "please feed your father the boss before he eats one of the chancellor's cats again."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"You look like a fat slug in those clothes. Keeping warm is important, but couldn't you at least tough it out when you're meeting me!?"

HARSH. how about you get her outfits then!!! lolol he's looking at you all bundled up and doesn't even wanna be seen with you

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Everywhere is so dry, it's unbearable. I want to go back to my room and moisturize..."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I get aches when it's cold... I'm taking off early tonight to go drink, then I'll warm up with a low bath."

'i'm gonna put alcohol in me which will make me feel warm but actually make me colder, then get in the bath for a while' lol

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Tch... This is the most profitable time of year for us, where the hell is that BTH!?

well you see Taiga hates the cold too so he's probably in a blanket burrito. . . .

His birthday: (November 14th)

"Today is Fico's birthday, so you're dining in style. I'm not going to eat any though, so you can finish it off."

'it's my birthday, so i'm going to treat you! what? me? eat?? no, i'm on a diet!!' i am once again asking the ghouls to EAT PROPER MEALS PLEASE IT IS YOUR BIRTHDAY ROMEO HAVE ONE CHEAT DAY. DOESN'T EVEN HAVE TO BE CAKE.

Your birthday:

"It's your birthday? I suppose I can celebrate it for you, but you'd better be aware of how much of my precious time you're using."

he treats you better on his birthday than yours. . . .

New Years: (January 1st)

"Felice anno nuovo! This will be the year I claim Fuji's debt and his pendant!"

oh my god he does speak italian. you hear more tidbits of italian fromTaiga than him. also Kaito's pendant must be super important if that's his new years resolution. this is gonna matter in the long run isn't it.

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Hmph. I'm not familiar with this packaging. If you're giving me chocolate, you better have selected it with the utmost care!"

'this is not brand name. how dare you.'

White Day: (March 14th)

"Here. They're mimosa cookies, a special order from an upmarket confectionary in Ginza. I can't say whether your peasant tastebuds can appreciate them though."

peasant? who are you, jin? fun fact, Taiga's White Day line references this one!

"What's that expectant look on your face? Lulu was harping on about mimosas or something before. That what you want?"

so Romeo gets the cookies whether or not he plans to give you some i guess lol

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Just you try and fool me—I'll tear those rags off you and throw you in a cage. So? What do you want?"

converting your friends into human trafficking victims is the latest new prank sweeping the internet!

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Do you have face paint in your pores!? Go wash it off before you end up with hyperpigmentation!!"

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Buon Natale! Go get ready—that reindeer's around again. This year I'm going to catch it for sure!!"

he's going to auction off one of santa's reindeer. . . .

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Tch... If you don't have any business for me, I'm leaving! You're wasting my precious time!"

(13 affinity and above)

"My drink is empty. Hey! I'm talking to you! Go bring me a refill!"

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Well, look what the cat dragged in. Do I have to teach you how to maintain an adult relationship? This is your last chance, got it!?"

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG THE ADHD KICKED IN AND I GOT SUPER DISTRACTED i love Romeo so much he's so. . .silly lmao. he's a very fun character. even though i hate his acronyms. But he's also so worried about his image and his money. . .and as much as he complains I think he worries about Taiga too. And as he comes to like you more he worries about you too. It's just that strictness and maintaining control is how he feels most comfortable and how he expresses his attachments. He trusts you. So he wants you to be able to hold you to a high standard.

#romeo lucci #romeo scorpius lucci #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker spoilers #datamining cw #danie yells at tokyo debunker #next is TOWA MY BELOVED.

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mariasont · 8 months ago

Text

Our Minds Entwined------------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3

Aaron Hotchner x Original Character x Spencer Reid

in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest youngest member

Chapter Two:

Evelyn glided into the BAU office like the first breath of spring, her heels tapping a confident rhythm against the gleaming floor--a drummer setting the beat for a new day. The sun peaked shyly above the horizon, casting a soft glow that seemed to dance with the spark in her eyes. With a tray of meticulously chosen coffee cups cradled in her hands, she was the portrait of preparedness, memorizing everyone's order--or so she thought.

Her arrival was like a ripple in a still pond, drawing the gaze of every agent in the room. They couldn't help but be captivated by the way her hair cascaded in perfect waves, each strand catching the light as if spun from chestnut threads. Her nails, painted a shade of pink, spoke of a meticulous nature, each tip polished to a flawless finish. The air shifted around her, sweetened by the subtle hint of vanilla that trailed in her wake. She moved with a grace that belied the steel in her spine.

"Good morning, everyone!" Evelyn chirps, her voice a cheerful melody that fills the BAU conference room. She flutters to the table, her movements light. "Your caffeine fix, courtesy of the new girl," she announced with a wink, her words wrapped in warmth.

Each cup finds its way into the hands of colleagues, a personal touch from the newest member. Hotchner's eyebrow arches in silent question as he brings the cup to his lips, the familiar comfort of his morning ritual poised at the edge of disruption.

The first sip is a surprise, a cascade of caramel where stark bitterness usually resides. "This is... different," he remarks, the dryness of his tone belting out a hint of amusement that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Yet, in the curve of his mouth, there's a shadow of a smile, a rare crack in the facade of the ever-serious unit chief.

Reid's curiosity piqued as he approached his coffee with caution. The liquid was dark and unadulterated, a stark contrast to the usual sugary coffee. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, a silent nod to Evelyn's thoughtful gesture. "Actually, this is exactly how I like it," he said, the lie as transparent as glass, accompanied by an awkward sweep of his hand through his hair. "Thank you, Evelyn."

The room fills with soft laughter. It was a rare sound, one that seemed to wrap around the room like a comforting blanket. Rossi, who had just walked in, couldn't but chuckle as he reached for his expresso, served just the way he liked it.

"You'll fit right in, kid," Rossi said, his voice rich with approval as he gave Evelyn a gentle pat on the shoulder.

Evelyn's cheeks flushed with a cocktail of embarrassment and delight, a rosy hue that matched the sunrise peeking through the blinds. "I'll get it right next time, promise," she chirped, her voice a tender mix of hope and humility.

As the room settled into the rhythm of the morning briefing, Evelyn found herself perched next to Reid, her pulse dancing to a nervous beat. "So, I heard you're going to be my mentor," she blurted out, her words tumbling faster than her mind could keep up. "I'm really looking forward to learning from you, Dr. Reid. I mean, your analysis on the last case was just--wow!"

Reid's gaze lingered on her, a silent enigma before his lips curled into a smile that could put the stars to shame. "I'm looking forward to working with you too, Evelyn. And please, call me Spencer."

The name rolled off her tongue, a sweet note in her mouth. "Spencer," she echoed, savoring the familiarity it promised. A shadow of a memory flickered--the bar incident--and her smile wavered, a ripple of uncertainty. Had he heard what she said that night? She prayed not.

The conference room, usually a crucible of tension and intellect, shifted into a training exercise as Hotchner laid out the case before Evelyn. "Evelyn, we have a mock case for you," he declared, his voice a beacon of authority. "We need a profile for a suspect based on the evidence provided. Let's see what you've got."

Evelyn stood, her notes clutched in her hands like a shield, her smile a bright flag of enthusiasm. "Thank you, sir," she said, her voice ringing with the clear tones of determination. "Okay, based on the behavioral patterns and crime scene photos, I'd say our suspect is a male in his late thirties, likely works in a managerial position--someone who's used to being in control."

From the sidelines, Reid observed, his mentor's eyes sharp yet encouraging. As Evelyn unfolded her thoughts, he found himself quietly impressed by the clarity of her intuition and solidity of her logic. She was a natural, her talent shining through like a lighthouse in the fog.

"Also," Evelyn pressed on, her confidence swelling, "he's meticulous, organized. The way the scene is arranged, it's almost ritualistic. This isn't his first rodeo."

Hotchner absorbed her words, his face a mask of neutrality. When she concluded, he gave a slow nod. "Impressive, Evelyn. Very thorough analysis."

Reid leaned in, his gaze locking with Evelyn's. "You're right about the control aspect," he offered softly, his voice a harmonious contrast to Hotchner's commanding tone. "But consider this--the suspect might also crave recognition. The 'ritualistic' aspect could be a signature, a way to stand out."

Evelyn's eyes stayed on Reid; her respect evident. "That's a really good point, thank you, Dr. Reid--Spencer," she corrected, a blush coloring her cheeks.

A hush fell over the room, all eyes drawn to the pair. Then, like a burst of sunlight through clouds, Garcia tumbled into the room, her arms laden with case files and her attire a splash of color. "Sorry, I'm late, traffic was a nightmare!" she announced, but her tone softened as she caught sight of Evelyn. "Oh, you're doing the mock case today! You go, girl!"

Evelyn's smile returned, buoyed by Garcia's infectious cheer. The room came alive with a fresh vigor, the team converging to weave their insights on Evelyn's building profile.

As the discussion continues, Spencer leaned in, his voice a low murmur meant only for Evelyn. "You have a good instinct for this," he murmured, his eyes twinkling with pride.

The moment shattered as JJ burst through the door, her breaths quick and sharp, cutting through the quiet. "Sorry to interrupt," she gasped, "But we've got a situation. The 'Charleston Choker'--he's active again."

A heavy silence fell, the team's focus coalescing into a sharp point. Hotchner's nod was silent, a nonverbal command that set the wheels in motion. "Go ahead, JJ."

With a sense of solemnity, JJ unfurled the folder, her fingers tracing the outline of a lily in a crime scene photo. "Two hours ago, a jogger found a body in the woods outside of Charleston. Strangulation, posed, and..." Her voice faltered, the weight of the words heavy on her tongue, "...a lily placed in the victim's hands."

Reid's mind was a whirl with patterns and profiles, his thoughts racing ahead. "That's the third this month. The escalation is consistent with his pattern."

Evelyn's response with a bright flame of determination, tinged with a concern of the uninitiated. "What's our timeline looking like? How fast is he moving now?"

"Faster," JJ returned, her gaze locking with Evelyn's, a silent exchange of resolve. "Days instead of weeks."

Garcia chimed in from her nest of monitors, "And I just cross-referenced florists in the area. There's a purchase that stands out--cash, large quantities. It could be our guy."

Evelyn's eyes shone, the thrill of her first case igniting a spark within. "That's something! Can we get a location?"

Reid's smile was tinged with pride and a hint of concern. "We can, and we will. But we need to be careful. This unsub is cautious; he's been evading us for a reason."

Hotchner rose, his very stance a commandment. "Wheels up in 30. JJ, brief us on the way. Garcia, send everything you have to the tablets."

The team began to mobilize, the urgency palpable. As they walked out, Evelyn turned to Reid, her voice a mix of excitement and naivety. "This is it, huh? The real deal?"

Reid nodded, the protective edge in his voice unmistakable. "It is. And remember, it's not about just catching him--it's about saving the next potential victim."

Evelyn's first step onto the BAU jet was like stepping into another world--one where the grim realities of their job were momentarily eclipsed by the sheer luxury of federal funding. The plush leather seats, the soft hum of the engines, it was all so... cinematic.

As she settled into the seat beside Hotchner, the reality of her situation began to sink in. She was here, really here, on the jet she'd seen countless times from her father, now filled with the tangible presence of her new colleagues--legends in their own right. And then there was Hotchner, the epitome of stoic leadership, his profile as he reviewed case files was a study in concentration. Evelyn couldn't help but steal glances, each one leaving her more awestruck than the last.

Hothcner's brow raised as his focus stayed on the case file. "Something on your mind, Evelyn?" he inquired, his voice steady.

Evelyn's cheeks were a canvas of emotion, painted with the embarrassment of being caught ogling as she averted her eyes. "Just... taking it all in. It's a lot to process," she said, her voice a whisper of excitement against the backdrop of her new reality.

A smile, rare and fleeting, graced Hotchner's lips. "It can be overwhelming at first," he acknowledged, his words a gentle nudge of encouragement.

The jet engines roared to life, and as they ascended, Evelyn felt the weight of her new reality. She was flying high, both literally and metaphorically on the wings of her dreams and the gravity of their mission. The juxtaposition was dizzying.

JJ commanded the room from the head of the plane, her laser pointer a wand of urgency as she traced the geography of the investigation. "This is where the last body was found," she intoned, each word heavy with the gravity of their task. "And here, and here. All within a ten-mile radius."

Morgan's posture was that of a statue, contemplative and still. "He's got a comfort zone. He's not taking any chances, staying close to what he knows," he mused, his thoughts a fortress around the profile they were building.

"Which means he's likely a local. Someone who blends in, who wouldn't raise suspicion," Reid contributes, his voice a sound of reason.

Evelyn observed with the intensity of a hawk. Her notes were a flurry of ink and paper, a physical manifestation of her fervor to contribute.

"So, we're looking for a needle in a haystack, but at least we know which haystack," she offered, her optimism a beacon in the fog of uncertainty.

Garcia's voice, a familiar melody, filled the space from the screen. "And I'm sifting through it as we speak, my doves. I'll find that needle," she promised, her determination a tangible force even through the digital divide.

Hotchner's nod was a silent decree, a sign of approval and command. "Good. Keep us updated, Garcia," he directed.

The team continues to brainstorm, throwing out theories and ideas. Evelyn sat amidst the seasoned agents; her eyes wide with a childlike wonder. Her enthusiasm was infectious, a palpable energy that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of her heartbeat--fast, eager, alive. Hotchner watched her, his gaze the steady flame in her excitement.

There was a softness there, a rare glimpse of approval that softened the hard lines of his face. He saw in her the spark that had once driven him, the unquenchable thirst for justice that was the lifeblood of their work.

Evelyn's idea cut through the hum of the plane's descent. "What if we set up a roadblock? Check vehicles coming in and out of the area?" Her voice a symphony of eagerness.

Rossi smirks at her words. "Not a bad idea for a rookie," he mused, his words a gentle tease wrapped in the velvet of experience.

As the plane continues to descend, the team starts to pack up their gear. Hotchner remained seated, his gaze anchoring Evelyn in place.

"Listen, Evelyn," he said, his tone even, "I know this is exciting for you, your first real case. But remember, this job... it can take a lot out of you. It can change you."

Evelyn nodded, her shine not dimming. "I know. But I'm ready."

Hotchner's expression softened just a touch. "Just don't lose that optimism. It's rare in this line of work, and it's... refreshing."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotchner #reid #dr. reid #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x original character #spencer reid x original character #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader x aaron hotchner #Spotify

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littlestuffstohide · 7 months ago

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AA Fic Rec

I've sunk on AA so bad. I have such a long list. Almost 100 on my bookmarks. Here is my attempt to organize my bookmark list. I know I created a list before But this is better. I'll start of with my general AA WrightWorth List fic recommendation I've bookmarked since I sunk into this rabbit hole. Buckle your seats because this post is going to be reaaaally loooong. I tried to clean it as much as possible. So if you guys are looking for some AA WrightWorth treasure trove, this is it. I'm sure there are some I've read and missed. I will update my list as much as possible. My summary is literally bare to none and just my spoilers and hints what I love about it so mmmuuuch!

all there is - by sunsmasher. Narumitsu oneshot - A mix of bad Krisnix and goodness Narumitsu.

Summary: Phoenix and Kristoph during the seven year gap, Phoenix and Miles after it.

love most definitely requited - by The_Eclectic_Bookworm

Summary: cute hananaki au that of course involves confession in an unexpected way.

Pressure - by ApprenticeofDoyle

Summary: A different view/ canondivergent AA with the Feys. My ALL-time favorite AA fic of all times. AA with dash fam on Feys/Wright. It also has some great wrightworth pinning. And you will love the flow of wrightworth. There are still a lot of feels on this. It would be a crime not to read this. There is, like 4 parts on this. This one is complete. Read it! Here's the link for Pressurverse series.

if i woke up (next to you) - by ApprenticeofDoyle

Summary: Post Engarde Trial based on Pressureverse post Engarde Trial if that make sense. An canon divergent on pressure fic.

miles edgeworth's terrible, no-good, very bad week - by ApprenticeofDoyle

Summary: AAI but with Phoenix. Everything with Phoenix on AAI. Like I love it for many reasons. The WrightWorth is there but this is juuuuust so good. I'm low-key hoping for part 2 to have Phoenix altho that's least likely to happen. I juuuuust want Phoenix interacting with uncle Ray yknow!

a lie like a litany, cold and reformed - by fictitiousregrets

Summary: Where Miles bluffs about being engaged, gets engaged, gets married, and realizes they're in love and married. One of my favorite rom coms of all times. Really Wrightworth insanity.

Happier Than I Deserve - by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)

Summary: Pride and Prejudice representing Miles and Phoenix. Need I say more? This is going to be one marathon of wrightworth. Binge yourself on this monster fic. And really worth it to read.

where the heart is - by chameleonwrites

Summary: How Phoenix's home charmed Miles? Spanning from childhood until they move together, Real cute. I love for any Miles POV.

Trust Issues - by chameleonwrites

Summary: Phoenix sees plane tickets. Cue the angst. Wrightworth trying to make you cry.

The Catch-up Game - by theacegrace

Summary: Post AA6 Phoenix character study. Real good fic that's utterly sweet. It had lovely moments to angst moments, great confession to some wright family antics. A sin not to read. Never fails to tear me from the confessions?

Childswap - by theacegrace

Summary: WrightWorth switching children for a day. Real cutiiie fic! This never fails to put smiles on my face.

reading between the lines - by The_Eclectic_Bookworm

Summary: Another tearjerker. It starts tearing you to pieces then sweetening you with the fluff. And the last chapter is worth all the angst! A roller coaster fic. Basically Miles spanning from the horror of Manfred to Phoenix to great Franzy and Miles sibling love and back to Phoenix! Spanning the first 3 games.

Legal Partners - by Miggy

Summary: Oh boy. Another monster fic that's just so worth it. Fluffy and ansty and fluffy. A betting game between Klavier and Miles on who can show their? defense attorney how much they appreciate them as a legal partner. Quoting Phoenix in this fic a pissing contest between the two of them. Has some Kpollo but really more of Wrightworth goodiness. Anyone who hasn't t read this is a crime.

It Would Feel So Good To Make You Mine - by hi_its_ellis and lowbatteryhealth

Summary: Love is War but WrightWorth style. Literally flirting contest, knowing all the rules without talking and just driving the entire LA crazy while they both wait for the other to confess. My all time favorite WrightWorth rom com insanity. I don't feel bad at all. It will make you laugh so much.

A Fool for You - by bluemoodblue

Summary: Engaged but at the same time did we get married 4 months before the wedding? And it's not Vegas! This is just so romcom and just so good and sweet. I won't say anymore!

The PlayWright - by WingSongHalo

Summary: Miles visits a local theater where he meets a very intriguing actor who seems so much like someone. Really, really good. This is just one of my favorite WrightWorth fics.

Project: Matchmakers - by WingSongHalo

Summary: Literally everyone shipping Wrightworth and a club shipping WrightWorth and trying to get them together. Really adorable. Many cute parts. It has 3 parts found here. You will love the proposal on part 2 and part 3 is cute and lovely due to many reasons.

time goes by so slowly (and time can do so much) - by ohallows

Summary: AU AA magical universe Miles being a caseworker featuring Phoenix! Phoenix director of orphanage of magical pips. Really good!

Out of Order - by canolacrush

Summary: Falling in love backwards Phoenix style. Phoenix is sooo seduced that he runs from his husband who suddenly looks 100x hotter.

Chicago Noël by canolacrush

Summary: Mafia Miles and Baker Phoenix. This is also ooone monster fic. It's adorable and lovely in so Many levels. You will love the switch in roles for Miles and Phoenix. One of my fave fics! Forgot to tag this. I'm sorrry!

Earning it - by thebigeish

Summary: WrightWorth except Miles is his sugardaddy. It just hits me in a cute way.

all the ways to love - by hi_its_ellis

Summary: where Phoenix has his gay awakening and he figured it out late? Some internal homophobia. Really close to my heart.

Written - by Limey

Summary: Where Phoenix finds Edgeworth's fanfic.

The Opposing Counsel's Proposal - by the acegrace

Summary: Where WrightWorth tries to propose to each other with mix results. Really funny and you will love every second of foolishness of these two competitive dorks.

The Defense’s Proposal, Post Facto - by Kantayra

Summary: Where WrightWorth decided to get married during lunch because the paperwork drove them nuts. They pretend to try to be convinced but we all know how eager they both are.

The Perenial Pursuits - byDeiRyuu

Summary: Larry misunderstanding that whenever anything Phoenix related happens, Miles is the speed dial.

justice vs state - by sinkburrito

Summary: Apollo running errands for Phoenix and Miles over an envelope. Apollo at the same time being oblivious. Poor Pollo. Basically WrightWorth involving Apollo for their feud.

Sick of Leaving - by Jodalyn

Summary: WrightWorth sickfic. Miles POV. You would want to read this. It's adorable! Just wants to make you hug their sweetness.

they'll never love you like I can - by Jodalyn

Summary: Chief!Miles College Phoenix. Time Shenanigans. Miles meeting Phoenix. I'm so weark to Chief Miles meeting Baby College Feenie.

despite everything, it's still you - by orphan_account

Summary: AA novelization with analysis on how Phoenix and Miles view each other. There are a few aspects in this fic I could never forget which is just my favorite thing. Read it. You will love it. Spanning from childhood through Post AA6 I think.

Myths We Don’t Believe In - by hi_its_ellis

Summary: Cue Chief Prosecutor invites current BF and his not really exBF in the same room, in the morgue. Miles did this to himself. Sorry for langworth Miles. And Miles lost any braincells he had. Cue Jealous Miles.

Anytime, Anywhere, Again - by hi_its_ellis

Summary: Part two of Mythes We Don't Believe In. This is literally Phoenix roasting Miles on his decision. I love this one.

(confetti) (smile) (heart) - by lvl99arsene

Summary: Just Phoenix FINALLY upgrading his phone. This was just so cute and Phoenix being a menace! Feat Sugar Daddy Miles.

Change in Perspective - by chameleonwrites

Summary: Maya and Franziska having a betting contest on which brother is pinning for the other. Feat. Miles being the biggest victim of this spectacle. All betting fics are sooo fun. This is also one you shouldn't miss. Just feel sorry of Miles as the victim.

Phoenix von Karma - by Otoshigo

Summary: Canon Divergent AU where Phoenix had been declared all dead until He comes back with no memories and as a Prosecutor. One of my all time fave. If you want a german speaking Phoenix, read this! I love this for many reasons. Sadly, expect no Apollo or Trucy on this.

i can bring you to bathe in the river - by oredatte

Summary: on of my fave AUs. My fave trope for WrightWorth. To adopt Trucy, our lovable pair gets (platonically) legally married, moving in together, co-adopting an eight-year-old, and keeping it all a secret.

Of Haircuts, Pocketwatch Chains, Other Uninteresting and Undesireable Things, and Generic Wholecloth Christmas Magic - by ribbontype

Summary: Back to romcom WrightWorth gift-giving competition. One of my favorite fics due to how said men drive each other nuts.

Fixer Upper - by poodlepunk

Summary: Miles getting Phoenix's help to renovate his house. Renovating houses is just my guilty pleasure in fics. Domestic WrightWorth.

Tomorrow - by marttyyriroskis

Summary: From 7 Year gap through Spirit of Justice. There is so much angst here. Also cue the fluff and drama on AA4. You will love the way the writer handled the mess capcom made. I just love this fic due to some special moments. You will not regret reading this monster fic. Prepare all the tissues!

where are you going? (i've been looking everywhere for you) - by whackamacka

Summary: Kimi no Na Wa except WrightWorth style? This is it! Setting is between 3-1 to 3-4. feat BratFeen.

abracadabra! - by ohallows

Summary: Kay and Trucy shenanigans making WrightWorth dads panic. ahahah.

now i don't hate california after all - by ohallows

Summary: Kay and Trucy gossiping and plotting. Kay and Trucy are literally born to be sisters.

parallelogram - by zombiekittiez

Summary: A cute but nicer BratFeen Fic. Canon divergent au featuring Defense Attorney Miles and theater major Phoenix. It's Miles who Dahlia meets instead.

ticking time bomb in their chests - by harmony

Summary: Timetravel fic just so Phoenix finally gets the realization he needs. We all love time travel fics!

The lies we tell ourselves - by Danypooh80

Summary: A retelling of AA except of a surprise OC in this fic. I melt for this fic for all the time. You will love every second of this!

Everything Changes - by Danypooh80

Summary: More of a Edgeworth-Wright family fic? Direct sequel of The lies we tell ourselves. A must read for part 1. Just expounding on the first fic with so much fluff you will melt with the fluff!

Turnabout Ideals - by felicia_angel

Summary: AA but a magical AU? It's full of feels. Way too many Phoenix angst. This is part 1 of 6 Currently. Part 5 is my fave! Read all to understand the universe. Nulls and Voids series - series link!

Set Sail and Cannonballed - by Almod

Summary: WrightWorth navigating the beginnings of their relationship in their very busy life. Something about this fic hits me with how much I love it!

The "B" in Butz stands for "Bondage" - by JajaLala

Summary: Larry wants to learn bondage. Miles runs away, Phoenix appreciates the art. I love this for hilarious reasons.

bear trap - by ghostcatamount

Summary: feat Omega Phoenix. Were it not Phoenix, this would just be creepy about his pre-heat. SInce this is our fave Phoenix, he is just not so subtle and Miles being the oblivious Alpha is such a treat!

by the book - by zombiekittiez

Summary: Drunk Miles barging in at book clubs to confess. Miles being drunk is always a treat.

Rise from the Ashes, again and again - by theinkhiddenwithin

Summary: Romantic fairy tale featuring fated paired Miles and Phoenix. This is it!

Happy Accident - by Jodalyn

Summary: Phoenix had a rough day except Miles bought the wrong paint but Phoenix turns it around by changing his canvas.

we sleep and set fires - by fictitiousregrets

Summary: Dreamsharing WrightWorth. This is one beautiful incption like fic.

a crow's trial - by Charrelous

Summary: role reversal au featuring defense attorney Miles and Prosecutor Phoenix. one of my fave aus. Also my guilty pleasure tropes.

Through Time and Space - by Northernflicker

Summary: time traveler Phoenix and immortal Miles? You will love this, spanning through different eras of history.

Should be Pretty Mundane - by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)

Summary: Phoenix makes a discovery about himself that he is so embarrassed about. And Miles, of course, figures it out.

One step at a time - by OuterWilde (foreveraugust)

Summary: Post AAJ. Phoenix plans to reinstate himself as a lawyer and confess to Miles. Real cute lovely fic! Phoenix also being oblivious about how good he is as a lawyer.

take it like a man - by tudoo

Summary: Literally Phoenix is dramatic about suit shopping. Spanning 2 decade events. I love how dramatic Phoenix is and how endearing Mia and Miles are here.

co-signed - by tudoo

Summary: WrightWorth goes house hunting until angst ensues. Reaaaally adorable with a splash of angst.

Shear Luck - by TopazEstrella

Summary: Legit Pianist Phoenix and Barber Miles. The post-apocalyptic barbershop AU that no one asked for but we all secretly needed.

it's only love - by Jodalyn

Summary: Miles and Phoenix marriage through the eyes of Gregory Edgeworth. Makes you tear up!

Phoenix is Out of the Loop - by Living_Death

Summary: Miles decides to take up knitting until it drove Phoenix nuts! It's sooo adorable. There's literally a knitting club plus Apollo and Miles.

Change of Heart - by actual_goblin

Summary: Miles had an operation and Franziska and Maya happened.

Eavesdropping - by SapphireWine

Summary: Miles asleep and eavesdropping on Maya and Phoenix post Engarde trial. Quick and short but we just love how comfy Miles is in using Phoenix as a pillow.

Maybe In Time (you'll want to be mine) - by YourAverageBystander

Summary: Time loop shenanigans. aka: Phoenix's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, 2,400 hour day. What something Phoenix picked up on is my fave part of this!

where there is a flame (someone's bound to get burned) - by Samioli

Summary: Love lessons by Phoenix. It's good but these two constipated lawyers are pinning while having these sessions. Cue the angst.

An Anniversary Like Any Other - by Kantayra

Summary: Married WrightWorth just banter through anniversaries til they reach their old age.

Drunk on Kisses - by Zhuletta

Summary: Miles 5 + 1 drunk on kisses and he admits it on the last one. Real cute and adorable!

Turnabout Dishwasher - by zuzsenpai

Summary: Trucy asking Miles to keep an eye on her dad while on a trip around the world. Very dialogue AA style. You will love it! literally 3 fics in 1 fic if that makes sense. Turnabout Exchange Chapters are other pairings basically. There are a lot of pairings in this fic!

Texts & Turnabouts - by YanagiKana

Summary: explored AA love. really lovely shots. While WrightWorth here being my favorite, there are other tons to love here.

the bookstore at the corner of 14th and fen - by kbots

Summary: feat bookstore owner Miles and Single dad Phoenix. Reaaaallly fluffy and adorable on so many levels. Artist Phoenix creeps up. Extra Cute Trucy is here!

New to the Neighborhood - by paxton1976

Summary: Literally Phoenix and Miles being neighbors except the noise drove Miles nuts. Composer/Pianist Phoenix. AA but without the crazy drama? Very domestic life!

Seeing Is Believing - by paxton1976

Summary: Miles gets new glasses and he finds Phoenix 100x beautiful. Miles realizing how he also loves Phoenix and also somewhat obsesses on Phoenix too.

The Wooing of Phoenix Wright - by crayoncompanion

Summary: We've seen lots of fics Phoenix chasing after Miles. This is where the opposite happens. It's literally the title. Expect some angst tho. And some tear jerker moments but worth every tissue. You will love it!

The Art of Seduction: Is for People Less Attractive than Miles Edgeworth - by crayoncompanion

Summary: feat Sexy/hot Miles dropping all the hints for Phoenix to make a move but he sort of waves it off and acts ignorant about it? This is sooo funny on so many levels. It never failed to crack me up.

Love, Lust, and Libraries - by crayoncompanion

Summary: library au. It's soo good feat Miles and Phoenix clashing so muuuuch before they get each other. How can library AUs not be fun?

Angel of the Screens, Demon of the Courtroom - by JustNerdyThings

Summary: AA1 but Phoenix as a famous actor who became a lawyer. All good stuff. Where there is smol range of death for AA1. Pure gold comedy. Famous celebrity Phoenix is a riot having that Feenieness to him with money to spare to drive the world mad. Mia and Miles are the best worsties at law.

Guilty As Charged - by JustNerdyThings

Summary: Our wrightworth is mooning, everyone is trying to matchmake but it's not really needed? Another gold comedy wrightworth fic. Or Just torture Apollo with matchmake shenanigans that's really not needed.

Of Unravelled Knots - by Ekat

Summary - Very wholesome? Some really angsty in some parts only at the start majority. This fic is stuck to me because Miles narrative is hilarious to me and everyone literally roasting his house and I love how much of a BI Phoenix is on him and the times he decides to be petty.

Miles Bunworth Petitioned Bunshot Extravaganza - Ophelia_Writes

Summary - Everyone petitioning Miles in a bunnysuit. A part of A Brief Rest for the Defense fic. Loosely. Only need to know Miles messed up and Maya and Franziska happened. Somewhat post AA3.

#my aa list #aa fic rec #fic rec #aa #ace attorney #wrightworth #narumitsu #treasuretrove #littlefluff aa bookmarks #I can't believe I cleaned my monstrous list #love for all the wrightworth writers out there #and for all the aa writers #i want to also update my not narumitsu list #if my links direct you to my comment i am sorrry #will now hide into a corner #I also have a list that I call cry a river aa because anytime i read those #im missing some of my list

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orange-cheetah · 5 months ago

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Makochi Town Famous Shops Guide!!

Approved by Nii Satoru-sensei!

Saboten (Bakery)　さぼてん

Popular items BEST3

1st Anpan

2nd Curry bread

3rd Yakisoba-pan

Regulars

Sakura - What he buys often: The curry bread is a recent favourite of his　He was surprised when he ate one fresh out of the oven, and was hooked ever since.

Umemiya - What he buys often: Anpan　It's been his favourite ever since he came to this town.

Tsukushi Butcher's Shop　つくし精肉店

Popular items BEST3

1st Korokke

2nd Menchi-katsu [minced meat cutlet]

3rd Ebi-katsu [shrimp cutlet]

Regulars

Hiragi, Kaji - What he buys often: Korokke　Because Hiragi-san treats me often (Kaji).

Kikuchi-ya (Japanese sweets shop)　菊地屋

Popular items BEST3

1st Dorayaki

2nd Mitarashi dango [see above picture]

3rd Warabimochi [1]

Regulars

Yanagida - What he buys often: Dorayaki　He often goes to buy dorayaki to serve with tea at his parents' house.

Sakaki brothers - What they buy often: Warabimochi　Warabimochi is just the best, right (Seiryu). I often go to accompany [2] Seiryu (Uryu).

1　Warabimochi (蕨餅) is a wagashi (Japanese confection) made from warabiko (bracken starch) and covered or dipped in kinako (sweet toasted soybean flour). Kuromitsu syrup is sometimes poured on top before serving as an added sweetener

2　「晴竜の付き添いでよく行くから」 - 付き添い can mean to accompany, attend, serve, wait on, attend to, assist

Café Pothos　喫茶店ポトス

Popular items BEST3

1st Omurice

2nd Handmade pudding

3rd Fully-packed egg sandwich

Regulars

Students of Furin - What they often order: Omurice　The taste is excellent, and there's a discount for Furin students.

Muscle Power (Okonomiyaki [3] place)　まっするぱわー

Popular items BEST3

1st Okonomiyaki that doesn't use flour

2nd Customized protein (banana & milk)

3rd Banana pound cake

Regulars

Tsugeura - What he often orders: Okonomiyaki that doesn't use flour　It's nourishment for the muscles!

3　Okonomiyaki (お好み焼き) is a Japanese teppanyaki, savory pancake dish consisting of wheat flour batter and other ingredients (mixed, or as toppings) cooked on a teppan (flat griddle). Common additions include cabbage, meat, and seafood, and toppings include okonomiyaki sauce (made with Worcestershire sauce), aonori (dried seaweed flakes), katsuobushi (bonito flakes), Japanese mayonnaise, and pickled ginger.

[For the menu see the bonus at the end of chapter 32!]

Penpengusa (Monjayaki [4] place)　ぺんぺん草

Popular items BEST3

1st Mentaiko mochi cheese monja

2nd Corn monja

3rd Seafood monja

Regulars

Anzai, Kurita, Kakiuchi, Takanashi - What they often order: Mentaiko mochi cheese monja　It's delicious, and the restaurant is the perfect place for everyone to hang out! (Anzai)

[photos of before and after cooking for reference, not the ones mentioned in the rankings]

4　Monjayaki (もんじゃ焼き, often called simply "monja") is a type of Japanese pan-fried batter, popular in the Kantō region, similar to okonomiyaki, but using different liquid ingredients.

The ingredients in monjayaki are finely chopped and mixed into the batter before frying. Monjayaki batter has ingredients similar to okonomiyaki. However, additional dashi or water is added to the monjayaki batter mixture, making it runnier than okonomiyaki. The consistency of cooked monjayaki is comparable to melted cheese.

[BONUS TRIVIA]

Saboten - Cactus

Tsukushi - Horsetail

[Tsukushi (つくし) redirects to 杉菜 (スギナ sugina) on Wikipedia. Known as the field horsetail or common horsetail in English. The buds are eaten as a vegetable in Japan and Korea in spring.]

Kiku - Chrysanthemum

Pothos - ...Pothos

Penpengusa - Shepherd's purse

[Penpengusa (ぺんぺん草), or 薺 (なずな nazuna). Known as shepherd's purse in English. It is one of the ingredients of the symbolic dish consumed in the Japanese spring-time festival, Nanakusa-no-sekku.

The Festival of Seven Herbs or Nanakusa no sekku (Japanese: 七草の節句) is the long-standing Japanese custom of eating seven-herb rice porridge (七草粥, nanakusa-gayu, lit. "7 Herbs Rice-Congee") on January 7 (Jinjitsu); one of the Gosekku.]

[all extra information and photos from wikipedia]

[masterlist]

#wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker character book #sakura haruka #umemiya hajime #hiragi toma #kaji ren #yanagida jien #sakaki twins #tachibana kotoha #tsugeura taiga #anzai masaki #wei translates #from the alleywei #i Must link a dozen wikipedia articles #fun section for writers/artists this time!#this took several hours (again)#thats bofurin done #shishitoren next! rest for one day (chp147 drops tomorrow!!)

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hannahbarberra162 · 2 months ago

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The Crocodile's Gambit, Part 2

I can't seem to write short fics :/ Crocodile's never been rejected, and he's not starting now.

on Ao3

Chapter one

~~~

“No.”

Crocodile was stunned by your swift rejection. You didn’t even think twice about his offer or consider the pros and cons. It was in stark contrast to the way he knew your mind worked, weighing the odds of different outcomes, like you did in chess.

“What do you mean no?” he gritted out.

“Oh, right. No, thank you,” you replied, inclining your head. That was not what he had meant. Crocodile had been trying to teach you some social etiquette, including saying please and thank you. Now was not the time.

“Fine, name your price,” Crocodile said dismissively, crossing one leg over the other. Maybe you needed something else to sweeten the deal other than joining a better crew. If you wanted to negotiate, well, this was Crocodile’s expertise. Confusion registered on your face.

“Price for what?” you asked.

“Price to leave the Clown and join me,” Crocodile said, as if it was obvious. Crocodile had money and power, he was sure he could acquire whatever it was you asked for. You knew him well, you knew you had him over a barrel. Now you wanted to milk him dry, and he wasn’t even upset about it. It was shrewd business practices.

“No, thank you,” you declined again, starting to rise from your chair once more.

“What do you mean, ‘no?” Crocodile wasn’t used to being told no, and certainly not multiple times in a row. He wasn’t planning on starting now.

“You already said that. And I already said no, twice. There’s nothing that will get me to leave Captain Buggy. It won’t happen,” you shrugged. This was an unexpected wrinkle in Crocodile’s plans, especially now that the negotiations for an alliance were over. There was potential for an alliance with just Mihawk, but their time with the Clown had come to an end. Unfortunately for the Clown, this would be one of his last days before he went to the Grand Line in the sky.

“I see,” Crocodile said, steepling his fingers. He allowed you to stand up and start cleaning up the board and pieces. Crocodile was stewing, sand was piling up, and the air in the room was tense. You didn’t seem to care, continuing to clean. He needed to gather more information from the Clown. He needed his little maid, and he would have her.

He found the Clown in his quarters reading over the most recent newspaper. Crocodile slammed the door open, causing the Clown to look up uneasily. The Clown didn’t say anything, which was better than when he was animated or angry. Crocodile stalked over to the Clown and slammed his hook into the Clown’s desk, skewering the newspaper the Clown was reading in the process.

“Why won’t the maid leave you?” Crocodile demanded. The Clown cocked an eyebrow but didn’t immediately cower.

“Which one? There are a few housekeepers -” the Clown began. Crocodile was in no mood for games. The Clown knew who he was talking about, Crocodile had spoken to the Clown about relieving you from some of your evening duties already. He pulled his hook out of the table and put the ever-so-sharp tip under the chin of the Clown.

“You know which one. Why?” For whatever reason, the Clown knew his crew very well. Crocodile had seen him addressing each and every one of them by name, and seemed to know a lot of personal details about them all as well. He was also oddly protective over them, Crocodile noticed. Many of his more reasonable stipulations for the alliance centered around the benefits due to his crew or their living conditions. It wasn’t Crocodile’s style, but the Clown was good at rallying people about him. He made them feel like they belonged , which was laughable, but they enjoyed such feelings. Crocodile didn't value loyalty, unless someone was loyal to him.

Intimidating the Clown usually worked well and quite easily. Of course now the Clown found his courage, when it was most inconvenient. The Clown shrugged, the hook digging further into the soft skin of his jaw. A drop of blood dripped down the hook, Crocodile would have to polish that off later. Another irritant.

“Ask her yourself, not my place to say.” One small movement from Crocodile and all his problems with the Clown would be over. But then you’d probably be upset with him, and maybe refuse to play chess against him. Crocodile seethed, blew smoke from his cigar into the Clown’s face, and left. The Clown didn’t know how lucky he was that you were on his crew. He’d have to figure out his next move.

The next night, Crocodile waited for you as usual. The day had passed so slowly, he thought time was at a halt. Finally, it was time for your nightly chess games. Crocodile was seated in his comfortable armchair, leg crossed at the knee. He was already smoking, and his hook gleamed in the evening light. You showed up on time, seemingly in a good mood. Maybe your rejection didn’t mean much to you, but it had an affect on Crocodile. True to form, you ignored Crocodile’s snippy mood and set the board as the former Warlord stewed. After turning white to Crocodile, you waited. You sat back, patiently waiting for Crocodile to make the first move.

“Why won’t you leave?” Crocodile asked, his voice low and dangerous. You didn’t flinch.

“I don’t want to talk about this. If you’re going to be moody, we can play another time,” you said acerbically and stood up to leave.

“You’ll leave when I tell you to leave,” Crocodile said, sand starting to swirl again. He’d tried to contain his emotions, upset that he was getting angry already. You hadn’t apologized or even reconsidered, like he hoped you would. Crocodile had never handled rejection well and now was no exception.

“I want you to join my crew willingly, but I’m open to other avenues as well,” Crocodile said, accentuating each word. The threat was clear. You cackled. Crocodile was a hardened man but your eerie laugh gave him pause.

“Do you think that’s enough for me to leave Captain Buggy?” you asked, almost mocking him. Crocodile immediately knew physical threats wouldn’t work on you, not for this. He'd intimidated many people over the years, and some people's characters made them immune to a physical suggestion. You untied the knot of your scarf at the back of your neck, letting it flutter to the floor. “Maybe you can finish the job, eh?” Crocodile looked at your now bare neck as you stretched your head upwards. There was a huge, painful looking scar crossing your entire neck. It had obviously been slashed at some point in the past, you were lucky you survived. The scar tissue was thick and puckered, like whoever had sewn you back together was lacking in experience or time. It mirrored his own smaller scar across his face.

“What does the Clown have that is so important to you?” Crocodile couldn’t understand what the Clown could offer to anyone, much less someone like yourself.

“It isn’t what he has, it’s what he’s given me,” you spat out, your lip curling in disgust. “Someone like you couldn’t understand.” Crocodile didn’t move his hook, he didn’t want you to leave before the conversation concluded in his favor. You looked up at Crocodile with your large eyes, anger simmering in your vision. “Do you know why Captain Buggy’s crew is so loyal? Do you know where he finds us?”

“Enlighten me,” Crocodile drawled. He was actually curious about this facet of the Clown so allow you to talk down to him - once.

“Captain Buggy goes to slave auctions,” you began. Crocodile frowned, he had absolutely no tolerance for the slave trade. The Clown wouldn’t live to see the end of the day if what you said was true.

“He buys slaves who are left over at the end of the auction at a deep discount. Do you know the first thing he does with us after he buys us?” Crocodile could only imagine what Buggy did - branding, torture, brainwashing…all were common techniques for new slaves. You stared deep into Crocodiles eyes.

“He frees us.” Crocodile moved his hook away from you and sat back down in his chair, crossing his legs once more. “He frees us and invites us to join his crew. We aren’t compelled, we all make the choice to join him. Those who don’t join begin their new lives as free people. Captain Buggy has actually helps people . That’s why everyone is so happy to see his Jolly Roger and his ship. They’re cheering for their hero.”

“He gives us freedom and hope when the best we could hope for was a swift death, rather than being tortured or beaten to death, if not worse.” You were getting heated defending your Captain, raising your voice and almost yelling. “So no, I won’t leave Captain Buggy. I can’t be bought - not anymore. He has something no one else has ever had - my loyalty.” You finished, panting for breath. You belatedly realized you had yelled at Crocodile, but you didn’t seem to care. You picked your scarf off the floor and stomped out of the room. Crocodile ran his hand through his hair.

After the disastrous event the previous night, you declined all of Crocodile’s invitations to play chess for the following three days. Crocodile understood why, but that didn’t mean he was pleased about it. He tried talking to you, but you were avoiding him, not even coming to clean his office. He sent you gifts, flowers and jewels, even a fine silk scarf. You declined them all, returning them to him unopened. Crocodile was at a loss as to what to do - he couldn’t buy you and he couldn’t threaten you. If you were anyone else, he would simply force you to join him, or blackmail you via your Captain. But it wouldn’t be the same, and he thought you would play poorly under such circumstances. No, he had to do something drastic.

~~~

“And so, we are forming the Cross Guild!” Captain Buggy said with flourish to the cheers of his crew, gathered before him on the deck of the ship. Crocodile had reignited negotiations between himself and the Clown, and had corralled Mihawk as well. Crocodile had actually gained some modicum of respect for the Clown when you’d enlightened him to the Clown’s recruiting habits. The three of them would soon control the seas as Emperors, with Buggy as the figurehead. Now you’d all be in one large crew, with you reporting to Crocodile and Buggy equally. You couldn’t avoid him any longer, and you didn’t have to break your loyalty to the Clown. He’d solved the problem, outmaneuvering you for once.

Once the speech was over, Crocodile looked over to you in the crowd of idiots. He’d spotted you immediately, of course, and watched over you during the speech. You were frowning, the only one out of the whole crowd. You narrowed your eyes and found Crocodile’s own. Of course, the smartest member of the crew had figured it out, Crocodile thought. You clapped for your Captain but as the crew gave way to celebrations, you slipped away among the revelry of the crew.

You would sail together with Crocodile on a new ship created for the Guild. He could always change his mind at a later time, kill the Clown and take you with him. For now, the Clown would live to see more days at sea, thanks to you. Crocodile wasn’t going to lose the best chess opponent he’d ever had over a mere business venture. Money could come from many different sources, but interesting chess matches only came from you. He followed you as inconspicuously as he could, going beneath the deck as the idiots started drinking. Mihawk followed Crocodile’s movements with his yellow eyes, an unspoken question in the air. Crocodile ignored the Swordsman, it wasn’t his business.

Crocodile caught up to you quickly, you were on the way to the crew quarters. Stopping in front of you, Crocodile blocked your way through the hallway. You glared at him, but didn’t try to go around. The two of you were taking up the majority of the small, dark hallway.

“Seems that I’m your Captain now,” Crocodile drawled. He didn’t want to gloat, you were always gracious when you won and he wanted to extend the same to you as well. You grunted a reply, but didn’t say anything. “Would you like to meet at our regular time?”

“For what?” you asked, still angry and pretending to be obtuse.

“Our chess matches, of course.” You scoffed, crossing your arms. He knew you couldn’t refuse now that he was your superior.

“Price has gone up,” you said flatly, crossing your arms over your chest. Crocodile smiled. For all of your bluster, maybe you could be bought. He didn’t care that he’d entwined his name and reputation with the Clown’s - he would finally have what he wanted.

“And?”

“You have to call him Captain Buggy,” you stated.

“Absolutely not,” Crocodile balked. “The Clown doesn’t deserve it.”

You frowned. Crocodile wasn’t budging and neither were you. Neither of you spoke, waiting for the other to break the tension.

“Call him Buggy then, if you three are equally the Captains. And Captain Buggy in front of the crew,” you bartered. Crocodile bit into his cigar.

“Three matches a night, I’ll call the Clo- him Buggy in front of the crew,” Crocodile countered.

“Three matches, time variable, call him Captain,” you retorted.

“Three matches a night, I’ll call him Buggy.” Crocodile felt the vein in his forehead about to explode. He couldn’t imagine having to show the Clown any consistent respect. But you had something he wanted and he wasn’t going to lose it over some stupid title for the stupid Clown.

You gave a small satisfied smile, grabbing his hook with your sweaty hand. Crocodile almost stabbed you reflexively, but held back at the last moment. You moved his hook up and down. “It’s a deal. See you tonight.” You sidestepped Crocodile easily and moved along to your quarters. Even though he’d gotten what he set out for, he somehow felt you still had him in checkmate.

The next few months were busy but unexpectedly pleasant for Crocodile. He spent his time working, cementing the hold the Cross Guild had over their territory, and running all the finances of the organization. Of course, he still took time to intimidate, maim and kill those who needed it, he had a reputation to maintain after all. But his real joy was coming from playing chess day after day against you. Crocodile had gotten better, even winning against you a few times. Your genuine praise when he did so made Crocodile feel like he’d won the title of King of the Pirates, not just won a chess game against a housekeeper. Crocodile counted down the hours until evening, when you would come and join him in his study. He continued to give you books to read and lessons in how to express yourself, trying to make you into the best version of yourself. After all, you were now a crew member for the Cross Guild, not just the Clo- Buggy.

One balmy night as the ship sailed through the waters of the Grand Line, Crocodile was on his way to his office a few minutes later than usual. He had thought of some new gambits he wanted to try, not that he thought they would work. But he came up short outside the door to his office, hearing talking from within. One was yours, he didn’t hear another voice but knew there were two people inside. Instead of breaking down the door with the sand that was already appearing like he wanted to, Crocodile decided to listen in.

“Check,” you said in a bored tone. Crocodile could almost picture your body language, chin resting on your palm as you lounged in the cushy chair Crocodile had bought for you. Crocodile heard the sounds of pieces being moved.

“Check,” you said again. More pieces were moved.

“Checkmate. Are we done here?” Crocodile wondered how quickly you’d defeated your opponent. He hoped you’d done it embarrassingly fast. Crocodile opened the door to see Mihawk examining the board curiously while you were curled up in your chair like a little cat, chin indeed resting on your palm. Crocodile didn’t like seeing Mihawk near you, especially while the two of you were alone.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Mihawk?” Crocodile asked, voice low. He had taken out a handkerchief and was polishing his hook.

“I wanted to meet the chess master who captured your attention,” Mihawk answered dryly. For all his detached attitude, Crocodile knew Mihawk liked to stir up trouble occasionally. You glanced between the two men, but didn’t seem to care about the strained conversation. “She defeated me in under three minutes, quite impressive.” Crocodile drew sharply on his cigar. He wanted Mihawk gone, but he didn’t want to draw even more attention to you. He walked to stand behind your chair, leaning heavily on the back. You looked up at him, unamused.

“She will be leaving now. Let me know whenever all of this,” you gestured between Crocodile and Mihawk, “is done.” You uncurled your legs and stood up. Crocodile put his hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. You rolled your eyes but didn’t try to leave again. Crocodile’s hand on your shoulder gripped you lightly as Mihawk stood up.

“No need, I am on my way. Enjoy your evening,” Mihawk said easily, leaving the two of you alone. Crocodile regretted his course of action. He’d shown Mihawk exactly what he’d been looking for - played into the Swordsman’s hand with ease. Maybe Mihawk was a better chess player than Crocodile gave him credit for.

“What was that all about? And stop getting sand everywhere, it’s such a bitch to clean up,” you told Crocodile, ire seemingly gone. That was a facet of your personality that Crocodile appreciated, that your anger came and went easily. His did not.

“You tell me,” Crocodile replied, releasing your shoulder. It had felt so small and delicate in his hand, like he could crush it without a second thought.

You shrugged. “Mihawk was here when I came in. He asked to play a round of chess. I said no, that I don’t play for free -”

“Good girl,” Crocodile interrupted. You rolled your eyes again.

“So he offered me a lesson in swordsmanship if I won. Which I did, of course.” Crocodile narrowed his eyes. He didn’t want you spending any more time with Mihawk, lessons or not.

“I didn’t know you had an interest in learning to wield a sword," Crocodile said, trying not to gnash his teeth.

“He offered money first, but I have enough of yours for now," you said, a smug look on your face. "Seemed like a good idea now that we’re an Emperor’s crew. I’m not a great fighter, that’s never been my strongest skill,” you explained, resetting the chess board.

“You could have asked me if you wanted to learn,” Crocodile suggested tersely, trying to hide his anger. You looked up in mild surprise.

“You’re jealous? Over that?” you asked incredulously. How could you read him so well?

“I am not jealous. I am just saying that it would be more appropriate for me to teach you as we already spend time together daily.” Crocodile was feeling jealous, the unfamiliar sensation burning a hole in his gut. You hummed, turning the board to Crocodile. He opened with a pawn.

“Does the Emperor regularly teach low ranking crew members to fight?” you asked, moving your knight.

“Only ones who are worth the effort,” Crocodile said, moving his queen forward.

#The Crocodile's Gambit #croc x reader #crocodile x reader #op x y/n #crocodile one piece #crocodile x you #sand is so annoying to clean #and this bitch gets it everywhere #all the time #ugh can you imagine his bed #so sandy

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schemmentigfs · 17 days ago

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Sweetening The Deal. (part 3.)

Summary: Melissa reflects about the possible changes between the two of you that the sugar mommy deal bought. After spending the night at her penthouse, you have a weird dream about the redhead....

tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @greencurlyhair @dopenightmaretyphoon @schmentisgf @pitstopsapphic

Next Chapter.

Part 1. Part 2.

Melissa groaned as the early morning sunlight pierced through the slits in the blinds. She rolled over, already dreading the reality of waking up. The events of the previous night—everything about it, from the dinner to the lingering almost kiss—played through her mind again, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between her and you. It was too soon to tell if it was a shift for the better, but it was certainly a shift all the same.

The redhead’s muscles protested as she pushed herself up, running a hand through her messy hair. It wasn’t like her to be so off-balance, but there was something about you that rattled her in a way she hadn’t expected. You were bratty. Unpredictable. A puzzle she was both annoyed and intrigued by. And despite herself, she found herself almost caring about the small details—like how you’d looked at her last night or how your voice had softened when you spoke to her.

She carefully slid out of bed, wincing at the stiffness in her back from the night’s sleep. She glanced over at the guest bedroom door, half-wondering if she’d wake you up with her movements. She didn’t want to disturb you, not just yet. You had seemed so vulnerable when you’d finally fallen asleep last night, and the thought of you waking up in a strange place made her feel protective—though she hated admitting it.

Slowly, the older woman padded to your room, peeking through the crack in the door. There you were, lying on your back, arm thrown over the edge of the bed, eyes shut in deep slumber. You looked so innocent, nothing like the woman who’d made her life so much more complicated in such a short time.

Melissa leaned down slightly, brushing a hand across your arm, feeling the warmth of your skin under her touch. She didn’t let herself linger long, though, pulling away almost immediately. She was a little surprised at how soft your skin felt. The woman she’d been dealing with for the past few days, who had given her nothing but trouble and attitude, was here now, looking almost angelic in sleep. She huffed quietly, stepping back toward the door.

“You’re so fucking bratty,” she muttered under her breath, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “And you’re making me care. I don’t like this.”

Before the redhead could react, you kicked the blanket and that’s when she caught a glimpse of your underwear—dark lace peeking out from under the hem of your oversized shirt. Green eyes widened briefly, her heart pounding before she immediately closed them, unwilling to let herself get lost in the distraction. Focus, Schemmenti. Focus. You can’t look at this little stinker like it is a meal. You are not a damn wild animal.

Opening her eyes and cleaning her thoart, she pulled the door closed gently behind her and tiptoed downstairs, hoping the solitude of the kitchen would give her a moment to clear her head. But she wasn’t alone.

Suddenly, the faint sound of clattering pots echoed from the giant kitchen again and again. Melissa let out a low groan, recognizing the noise immediately.

“Shit,” the woman sighed softly, already feeling the headache return. “Cavolo, stai scherzando.”

Descending the stairs, she heard Pearl, her elderly housekeeper and longtime friend, bustling around as if she were still on the clock. Despite being retired for almost a decade, she had made a habit of showing up unannounced, whether it was to check on Melissa, water her plants, or, as she put it, “make sure you’re not making a mess of yourself, piccola.”

The only problem about the sixty nine year old woman was that she was always early. The retired housekeeper-turned-mentor had an uncanny ability to show up before anyone was awake. She had taken care of the redhead for years, practically raising her as a daughter of her own, and now, even in her retirement, the older woman found ways to make herself useful—perhaps a bit too useful for Melissa Schemmenti’s liking.

The redhead tried not to wince as she descended the last step, her joints protesting as the smell of scrambled eggs and freshly brewed coffee wafted through the kitchen. Pearl was already busy at the stove, flipping pancakes with her practiced ease, the lines of her face softened with a contented smile as she worked. Melissa’s heart softened, despite her earlier irritation at being woken up this early. She couldn’t help but feel a warmth for this woman who’d cared for her all these years.

“Morning, Missy,” Pearl greeted, barely turning from her task. Using the childhood nickname that the heiress of the Schemmentis hated. “You look like you had a rough night.”

“Didn’t think anyone else would be awake yet,” the green eyed woman muttered, crossing to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would help shake off the lingering fog. “Especially you, coming so soon.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” the housekeeper replied with her usual warmth, her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. “Got up to make sure you had a proper breakfast. Since I know you aren’t eating properly due to menopause. And your night escapes to some bars.”

“You don’t need to act like my ma.” Melissa scoffs, rolling her eyes annoyed. Before she could answer again, she groaned feeling hot.

Pearl’s sharp caramel eyes glanced her over knowingly. “Forgot your medication, didn’t you?” she asked, her tone a gentle scold. “And don’t tell me you didn’t, Melissa Ann. I know that look.”

Melissa grimaced, rubbing her forehead. “I was just going to take it now,” she said, her voice defensive. She rummaged in the cabinet above the sink, pulling down a small pill bottle labeled with her name. The eldest raised a skeptical eyebrow as she uncapped it and dry-swallowed one of the pills.

Pearl set down her spatula and crossed her arms, her gaze softening. “Are you taking care of yourself, Mel? I know menopause isn’t easy, especially for someone like you who tries to carry the world on her shoulders.” Her voice held a rare gentleness, a tone reserved for the few times she’d allowed herself to acknowledge Melissa’s various struggles over the years. Some of those being her depression episodes, marriage trauma and family problems since her Nonna’s passing.

The forty-five year old’s shoulders slumped a bit. “It’s… it’s fine. Really. Just some hot flashes here and there. Dryness. And headaches. And—” She cut herself off, sighing as she realized she was about to list off all the symptoms she’d been dealing with lately.

“Mm-hmm,” Pearl replied, clearly unconvinced. She took out her own bottle of medication from her purse on the counter and handed it to Melissa, who dutifully placed it in a nearby drawer with Pearl’s name on it. “Now, what about you?” she pressed, her tone half-teasing but her eyes serious. “I didn’t expect to find a guest here this morning.”

She let out a sharp sign, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not like that. She’s… young, yeah, but it’s different this time.”

“Oh, a young woman now,” Pearl noted, raising her eyebrows in amusement. “Not like that young man last time—what was his name? The one who didn’t know what he was doing in bed if it saved his life.”

At this, Melissa’s cold face twisted in a grimace, the unfortunate horrified memory flashing in her mind. “Don’t remind me,” she whispered, almost shuddering. She remembered that boy fumbling, more nervous than he had any right to be, and how disappointed she’d felt through sex. “This one’s different, though. It’s… a sort of arrangement. You could call it a sugar mommy and sugar baby thing, I guess.”

The brown haired gave her a look, equal parts surprise and amusement. “A sugar mommy thing? With all due respect, Melissa, you don’t have enough patience for that sort of thing.”

She crossed her arms. “She’s bratty, I’ll admit that. But she’s… I don’t know, she’s different. I’m trying not to think too hard about it.”

Pearl shook her head, her mouth set in a knowing line. “You know your family won’t like this,” she said quietly. “You know how they can be about anything that doesn’t fit the mold.”

“They already don’t like half of what I do. What’s one more thing?”

Before the housekeeper could respond, a soft whimper floated down from upstairs. Melissa hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the stairs. She’d heard you tossing and turning all night, the sounds muffled but constant, each soft shift catching her attention as she lay in bed. She’d even considered coming to check on you during the whole night, maybe sleeping on a armchair next to the closet but something held her back. Now, hearing your faint whimper, she couldn’t ignore the stir of worry creeping up.

“Poor thing was restless all night,” she muttered to herself, sighing as she forced herself to stay seated. “Couldn’t keep still for a second, that little troublemaker.” The nickname slipped out, soft but affectionate, as if the word had formed on her tongue before she realized it.

Pearl looked at her with a knowing smile. “Ah, so you were listening,” she teased, folding her arms as she watched Melissa try to feign indifference.

The Italian scoffed, shrugging in a dismissive gesture. “Yeah, well… couldn’t exactly ignore it. She was moving so much, I half expected her to fall out of bed.”

Meanwhile, you tossed and turned, trapped in a fevered dream that felt all too real. The sheets tangled around your silhouette, your breathing shallow as you tried to escape the sensations pulling at your mind. In the dream, Melissa was there, her figure pressed tightly against yours, the heat between you building as her green eyes locked onto yours with that hungry, predatory glint that always sent a shiver down your spine. Her auburn hair was falling messily around her shoulders as she leaned over you.

The redhead was grunting softly, her breath warm against your neck as she ground her plump hips against yours, pressing her chest closer until the friction between your clits was almost overwhelming.

“Mm, c’mon… just like that,” she whimpered, each word dripping with raw desire. “Feel that, huh? God, you’re a mess for me, aren’t you?”

You moaned, feeling the pressure grow, her words sinking into you, making every nerve in your body come alive. Her manicured hands gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as she rocked faster against you, setting a slow, torturous rhythm that had you panting while the bed cracked softly. “You like that? Can't even keep quiet, can you?”

“Please..”

“God, you’re so needy,” she mocked, her tone laced with a dark promise that sent shivers down your spine. Her lips brushed against your ear, her hot breath making your entire body tingle. “When I’m done with you here. I’m gonna eat that pretty cunt of yours until you’re begging me to stop.”

She rasped, pressing harder.

Your hands clawed at her back, every inch of your body aching for her as she took control, her voice a seductive murmur that drove you wild. “You’ll be so wrecked, you won’t be able to think about anything else. Just Mommy.”

“Gonna make you cum, sweetheart?” She grabbed your neck, grinding faster and faster. The friction was driving you to the edge, and you could feel yourself trembling, every nerve on fire. You were so close, the sensation building until you thought you might break.

“Mommy— shit. I… I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, voice barely more than a whimper as your body arched beneath her, completely lost in the moment. Her strong hand tightened, grounding you as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, shuddering with pleasure—

Then, abruptly, you jolted awake, your breath catching as the remnants of the dream slipped away. Disoriented, you blinked at the ceiling, your heart pounding as the heat of embarrassment flooded your face. Shifting slightly, you felt the unmistakable dampness beneath you and glanced down, realizing with horror that you’d left a very obvious wet spot on the bed.

“Shit,” you whispered, mortified, scrambling to sit up, only for the sheets to tangle around your legs. You stumbled in your hurry, slipping off the edge of the bed and landing on the floor with a loud thud. “Oh, God—shit, shit!”

The noise must have been louder than you thought, because within seconds, you heard the footsteps rushing up the stairs. Before you could even process what to do, the door burst open, and there stood Melissa, eyes wide with alarm, closely followed by someone that you didn’t knew.

“What happened?” The older woman demanded, her gaze darting over you as you sat on the floor, cheeks flaming, trying to gather yourself.

Looking up, you gulped. Fascinated by the one and only Melissa Schemmenti in front of you. She’s wearing a bright, colorful outfit that combines a green and yellow floral-patterned cardigan over a teal top. Her pants are pink with a large floral design, adding to the bold color palette.

“Y/N?” she asked again, frowning. “What is wrong?”

You fumbled, not sure how to even begin explaining, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tried to act casual—despite the very obvious wet patch visible on the sheets. “I—I, um, I was… I mean, I just—uh, bad dream! Yeah. Bad dream,” you stammered, trying to brush it off, but the redness on your face betrayed you.

The shorter woman arched a brow, her expression both amused and skeptical. “Bad dream, huh?” she quips, crossing her arms as she gave you a once-over.

You bit your lip, scrambling for any excuse that didn’t sound utterly mortifying. “Uh! Like… uh… giant spiders? Huge ones. They were all over the room,” you said, clearly flustered, and added, “Super terrifying. And I guess I, um, kicked myself out of bed.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching like she was trying not to laugh. “Uh-huh. Spiders,” she repeated, clearly unconvinced.

You could feel yourself turning bright red under her gaze, every attempt to come up with a coherent explanation slipping away as you grew more embarrassed. “It’s… um… it’s complicated. You know, just… spiders everywhere,” you continued, waving your hand in a vague, desperate attempt to salvage your dignity.

The housekeeper shook her head, chuckling softly. “Looks like someone’s still half-asleep. Well, dear,” she said, turning to the redhead with a smirk, “seems your little friend had quite the night.”

Melissa coughed, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “Maybe you oughta get a handle on those… nightmares?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, utterly mortified.

Noticing your discomfort, your sugar mommy huffed, pushing Pearl away. She turned to her old friend, fixing her with a pointed look. “You’ve done enough meddling for one morning, Pearly. Go get yourself a coffee or something—and don’t eavesdrop, alright? Come on, get out. I’m sure you’ve got something else to do—like… I don’t know, gardening or making some pasta?”

Pearl held up her hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to it,” she spoke, casting a knowing glance before heading out, muttering something about the “privileges of the rich.” As she disappeared down the hallway, Melissa rolled her olive eyes and turned back to you with a reassuring smile.

“Pearl’s been around forever,” she explained. “She was practically my second mom growing up. A little nosy, but she means well.” With a shrug, she softened, her tone growing gentle. “But enough about her. I figured now’s as good a time as any to talk about you settling into your new place. I know moving’s a process, but we’re close. By the end of next week, everything should be ready for you to be officially out of that fucking apartment.”

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders easing as you let the idea sink in. You’d been living in a cramped, rundown place for far too long, and the thought of moving somewhere safer, somewhere luxurious, almost didn’t feel real. “I… I appreciate it, Melissa. Really.”

Melissa waved a hand, brushing off the thanks as if it were nothing. “It’s the least I can do. But I thought we’d get a head start on things today, get you acquainted with my place since you are going to stay here until the moving process is over. C’mon, let me give you the grand tour to your temporary home.”

She motioned for you to follow, leading you through the spacious, elegant penthouse. Every corner of the place felt like it was straight out of a magazine—the polished marble floors, the sweeping floor-to-ceiling windows with a stunning city view, and the sleek, modern furniture that seemed like it was made to perfection. She pointed out the essentials as you moved from room to room, each space more luxurious than the last.

“This here’s the kitchen,” she said, stopping by a gorgeous open space outfitted with the latest stainless steel appliances and a massive marble island. “Anything you need in here, just ask. I’ve got a personal chef who stops by now and then, so if cooking’s not your thing, don’t worry.”

You followed along in awe, nodding as she led you past the living room, that you saw yesterday which was filled with plush furniture and enough space to entertain a whole party. After covering every corner of the penthouse—from the extravagant master bathroom, equipped with a jacuzzi tub, to the private gym—Melissa finally turned to you with a satisfied smile.

“Alright, now that you’ve seen the whole place,” the redhead starts, resting a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder, “it’s time we get you properly settled. How about a little shopping trip to pick out whatever you need?”

You felt your cheeks warm as her hand lingered, the sensation grounding and reassuring. “Yeah, I could use some essentials… maybe a few things to make it feel like home. And I could use some new clothes..”

“Good. Then let’s get going. We’ve got a lot to cover, and I don’t want any more interruptions.” With a final pat on your shoulder, she led the way to the door, her presence steady and confident by your side.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x y/n #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfiction

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aoioozora · 8 months ago

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Simon.

Part 8

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: I still can't believe that I've written 8 whole chapters for a oneshot that I never planned on making into a series! But I'm glad it's coming along well and that you're enjoying it :) I hope you enjoy this chapter too.

Tags: @cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @iimichie

@mxtokko

“Morning, Simon!”

____ and Lindsey arrived at Simon's door at seven in the morning as planned. His crush was the one who excitedly greeted him, while her friend looked disgruntled and ticked at having to be up so early.

“Morning,” he greeted them civilly as his hand instinctively ran through his hair, trying not to appear even the slightest disheveled or flustered at the sight of ____’s smiles, and moved away from the door to let the two in.

“Have a seat. I'll bring you some tea,” he said, promptly moving towards the kitchen.

The ladies, particularly the author, took in the surroundings of his little flat as they entered and sat down. The entire place as a whole was simple. The walls of the living room were empty and unpainted except for a singular, ancient grandfather clock that hung alone near his curtained balcony, filling the quiet room with its rhythmic ticking. She saw that he was concerned more with pragmatics than aesthetics; if it didn't serve a purpose, then it wasn't needed.

She saw that he favored dark colors of blue and black, and neutrals, but found that bright colors were speckled throughout the room in his red floor lamp, the gold painted knobs of his brown television stand, and the red and white chevron patterned cushions on his grey couch. The simple state of his room made her wonder if his bedroom was more personalised.

A hint of green caught her attention and she turned to the balcony. A few potted plants of mint, tomatoes, and coriander, all of which were healthy and green, swayed gently in the morning breeze. She smiled at this. “He’s a gardener,” she thought to herself, not quite expecting it.

The smell of lemon and mint wafted through the air, bringing her thoughts back. Simon brought out a tray of three mismatched teacups and a glass teapot filled with what smelled and looked like lemon tea.

“Have some tea,” he set down the tray on the coffee table and poured out the tea for them.

She, wanting to use Simon as a model for her character, Frederick, watched keenly as he poured with a thoughtful, concentrated look on his face. She wondered why he used a glass teapot over porcelain or any other material, but that was probably not important. However, she was not going to let even the smallest things about him and his choices escape her scrutiny.

“When will Johnny come?” asked Lindsey as soon as she had her sip of tea.

Simon glanced at the grandfather clock. “At six forty-five, he said he'd be here in ten minutes. He's picking up our other friend, Kyle too. Maybe there's some hold-up,” he answered. He felt a little strange; it was his first time properly speaking to Lindsey, and she seemed to look judgingly at him, as if to find a fault.

____ was silent, as she was more concentrated on the taste and temperature of her tea. It was lightly sweetened and refreshing thanks to the lemon and mint. A mental note was already taken that Frederick too would be good at brewing tea.

Simon's ringtone tore the silence and he immediately slid the phone out of his jeans. Thinking it was Johnny, he looked expectantly, but it was his mum. Looking back at the ladies, he excused himself and went out to the balcony to talk.

“What do you think of him?” ____ asked Lindsey, who took slow sips of her tea as the two watched the man pace around the balcony through the partially drawn translucent curtains.

“He makes good tea,” she answered, “I think I'll approve of him a bit.” To Lindsey, a man who could brew a good tea was worth marrying, because, according to her, it meant that he cared about the little things, like making tea taste good. As ____ smiled, she paused for a moment before quipping, “He seems nice so far, but I don't trust him just yet.”

____ shook her head, chuckling. Lindsey was always so skeptical of everyone and everything, both a vice and a virtue.

Simon soon emerged from the balcony into the living room, brows furrowed with concern. He looked straight at ____ and said, “I need to have a word with you, darling,” and then promptly stepped into the kitchen without waiting for an answer, expecting her to follow.

She instantly set down her teacup and followed Simon into the kitchen. “What's the matter?” she asked as soon as she entered, finding him leaning his back on the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

He turned to her, almost opening his mouth to speak but cautiously glanced at the open door; he looked back at her, beckoning her to come closer. When she did, he said, “I don't know how you'll react to this but I need you to hear me out, alright, darling?”

Her curiosity heightened and she nodded.

“Y'see, my mum just called and they're going to have a family reunion soon since my old man's come back home for a holiday from his military service,” he paused, sucking in a sharp breath, unsure about how she would take his next words, but continued anyway, “And my mum asked me if I found a girlfriend yet because she's worried I'm going to die single…” he paused again, “and I may have accidentally told her that you're my girlfriend.”

“You what?” she stared incredulously at Simon, although she wasn't quite opposed to what he did.

“Yeah,” he sighed, shaking his head, embarrassed with himself, “I'm really sorry.”

“Wait, does your mum know about me?”

“Yeah, I told her a few weeks ago that I recently made friends with this lass,” he paused to sigh again, “And when she asked if I finally found a girlfriend, I accidentally said yes, and when she asked if it was you…” he paused again and shrugged.

The lady paused. Now that he said it, it couldn't be helped and she had to play along. Not that it bothered her. She chuckled. “Well, it's alright. You take the trouble of pretending to be my boyfriend, so I guess it wouldn't hurt to pretend to be your girlfriend for a bit.”

Simon looked back at her, visibly relieved.

“Now, what do you need me to do?” she asked.

“That's the hard part. We'll have to make up a story of how we met and how we hit it off. And I'll have to bring you home and introduce you to my family. And not just that, you know who else will be there.” He pursed his lips tight.

She immediately knew. She wiped her clammy hands on her jeans and nodded. “Right, yes.”

He could see the apprehension on her face and in her body as she crossed her arms. Feeling terrible that he dragged her into this, he said, “Darling, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. If going there and meeting him again will make you uncomfortable, then I'm not forcing you to come with me.”

She drew in a shaky breath and pondered for a moment. Simon watched her, gulping harshly.

“No,” she finally said, resolute, “I shouldn't be so scared all the time. If I'm going to be there as your girlfriend, I shouldn't be afraid of some ex of mine.”

Simon blinked in surprise at this response. He appreciated her bravery, and felt his admiration for her increase. However, he didn't show it, and kept his facial expressions neutral with a little smile. “I guess, yeah,” he nodded. He paused for a moment, wanting to say something else, but she beat him to it.

“If anything happens, you’ll stick up for me, won’t you?” she asked smilingly, “Since you’re my “boyfriend”.”

He felt his heart leap. That was the exact thing he wanted to assure her of, and it flattered him greatly to know that they had been thinking of the same thing. Even though he knew this was going to be a pretense, it rubbed his male instincts and ego right to be depended on for protection.

He answered with a wide smile, “Of course, my love.”

“Why d’ye drive a manual?” asked Johnny as soon as he took the shotgun seat, watching ____ take her place in the driver's seat.

“Tut tut,” she shook her head, bringing out a mini sombrero from her pocket which she placed on the gear stick, “It's Emmanuel.”

The three passengers in the back, from left to right– Simon, Lindsey, and Gaz, watched as Johnny burst out laughing, also making ____ laugh as she got the car started.

“Ghosty, she's a woman of culture!” Johnny exclaimed, looking back at his best friend.

Simon made no answer as he was upset that he couldn't sit next to ____. Lindsey felt similarly, but for Johnny. Regardless of that, the drive began with gusto, with Johnny and Gaz filling the time with their singing and jokes, while the other three listened.

____ drove for the first hour, and Johnny took over for the second and the two switched seats, exchanging jokes and quips with ease, making both Simon and Lindsey at the back miserable and jealous. Simon drove for fifteen minutes in the third hour until he nearly hit a tree, but swerved back to the road right on time to avoid damaging both the car and his crush's esteem. Gaz took over for the remaining forty-five minutes, and Simon was banished to the back seat.

Thankfully for him, ____ sat next to him to console him, “Don't worry. After all, you did say that if you tried really hard, you wouldn't hit a tree. You did great for fifteen minutes at least!”

Simon chuckled out of embarrassment. It didn't make him feel any better, but he appreciated her effort.

The camping spot was soon in sight. It was around ten in the morning when Gaz parked the car in the shed of a little cabin. The ladies learnt that the spot belonged to one of Gaz's relatives, who was happy to lend it out to anyone who needed it. And from how the three men scampered around the place relaxedly, it was evident that they were regular visitors.

The fenced piece of land was right next to a little lake which afforded a view of the distant green hills speckled with heathers and daisies. A lonely little dock hung over the surface of the water, which, as Simon informed the ladies, “made a nice fishing spot”.

The group first decided to begin their hike as planned before unloading the car. England's weather was notorious for being fickle and since the skies were currently clear of all rain clouds, the hike was chosen as the first activity.

The trail was an easy one, chosen for the benefit of the ladies who were partially accustomed to walking on rocky, uneven terrain. The end of it promised a little waterfall, which Johnny was excited about showing them, as was evident in his constant singing of sea shanties while they hiked. Gaz happily joined him, while the ladies and Simon chose to be their audience like earlier.

“Johnny sure loves to sing,” observed ____, who trudged between Lindsey and Simon.

“He's a born singer,” replied Simon with a sigh, sounding both proud of and annoyed with his friend, “And he was a theater kid too. Acted in tons of musicals and plays, mostly musicals. Put him together with Gaz and they'll be singing and dancing all day.”

She chuckled. “How long have you guys known each other?”

“Johnny's my childhood friend. We've known each other since we were ten years old. As for Gaz, both of us met him in university and we quickly became friends,” he explained, kicking a rock out of the way.

The two ladies looked at each other. “That's a long time,” remarked Lindsey, “You all must be really close then.”

“Too close,” Simon said dryly, but there was a hint of affection in his voice. He then turned to the ladies to ask, “And what about you two? How long have you been friends?”

“Since high school,” ____ answered, smilingly linking her arm with Lindsey's, “She's basically my sister now.”

Simon smiled. He could tell, for the moment he saw them together, they stuck to each other like glue and didn't leave each other's side for more than a few moments.

Johnny looked back at the calm trio behind him and Gaz. “Jolene!” He called Lindsey by her nickname. When he had her attention, he beckoned her to join him in singing.

“I don't know any of the songs you're singing!” she protested.

“Dinnae ye worry, wee lassie!” he retraced his steps, put an arm around her shoulders, and dragged her ahead with him, making her squeal and stumble. “Gaz and I will teach you!” he promised, and kept his arm around her as they hiked up the hillock.

While the two men busied themselves in teaching Lindsey to sing ‘Bully in the Alley’, ____ and Simon were left to themselves. The lady smiled at Lindsey's attempts to sing, though she was no singer.

“Lindsey hates singing,” she whispered to Simon, “It's crazy how she's doing it for Johnny.” A girlish giggle escaped her lips at the thought of a romance blooming between the two. Her authorly brain couldn't help but conjecture all the sweet moments they would have, worthy of a novel of its own.

“And I'll tell you what, Johnny's never been this fixated on one woman for this long either. He's normally a huge flirt, a ladies’ man, if you will. I'm just as surprised as you are,” answered Simon.

The mention of Johnny being a flirt worried her. She knew Lindsey to almost easily give her affections to anyone who would look her way, starved for love as she was. But she decided to stay out of the way and watch the two for now. If Johnny ever did anything that would hurt Lindsey, she would not hesitate to confront him.

The hike was now proving to get a little tiring, and ____ let out a sigh as she paused to catch her breath and drink some water. Simon stopped too, looking down at her from the slightly steep ascent.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

“A little, yeah.”

He bent his knee and lowered himself slightly, holding out his hand. “Come on,” he encouraged, “Just a little more and we'll be at the waterfall.”

She took his outstretched hand, and no sooner they made contact, a jolt of electricity ran down both their spines. Simon gulped harshly at this reaction, and she felt an additional tingle in her stomach. His larger, more rugged hand held her softer and smaller hand in his, and he pulled her up the ascent with ease. She thanked him as soon as they were next to each other, Simon, eager to be of further assistance, held out his arm to her.

“You can hold my arm if you want to,” he offered, trying to sound as casual as he could, though his thoughts begged her to give him the honour of accepting him.

Her hand practically flew to his arm in an instant, wrapping just below his bicep. Simon never felt more depended upon than now as the two began walking together. And she was completely flattered by his kind offer, trying to suppress her smiles and blushes. The two were, without doubt, over the moon.

The lady was sure to make mental notes about everything Simon did. Frederick would be tall and brooding, but a kind-hearted and observant gentleman with a soft spot for Adelheid.

“This reminds me of the Jane Austen novels where the men would offer their arms to the ladies when they got tired as they walked,” she commented with a bright smile and a certain twinkle in her eye as she moved closer to him, allowing her hand to curl tighter against his arm.

He noted the expression on her face and the movement and instinctively flexed his bicep so that she could feel it. He smiled in response to her comment and said with a chuckle, his cheeks overspread with a light pink, “So it was a custom back then? Interesting.” He hadn't read a lot of Regency era novels to know of past English social customs, but he seemed intrigued by this one aspect that she mentioned. Wanting to know if she really approved of it, asked, “Do you like it?”

She loved it, but for the sake of being mild, said, “I think it's nice, especially now when I don't see men doing this sort of thing.”

“So you like gentlemen then?”

She giggled. “A lot.”

Simon took note of this immediately. If she liked a gentleman, a gentleman he would be. If men of his day didn't do the things he did, like offering their arm, or pulling out the chair for her at a table, he most certainly would do it, for he didn't want to be like other men. He wanted to be special and singled out by her.

They began descending down a slightly slippery, gravelly path that led to the waterfall, and Simon took hold of her upper arm this time as he led her down so that she wouldn’t fall in case she slipped over the loose gravel. He was reminded yet again of how much smaller she was compared to him, and it only heightened his desire to keep her safe.

The gurgle and rush of water from the distant waterfall was soon heard, and a few meters of walking on level ground finally brought them to the waterbody familiar to the men. Johnny cheered like he never saw a waterfall before, loud enough for his voice to echo in the wilderness, and for Lindsey to cover her ears and curse under her breath.

“We're here!”

End of Part 8.

Part 9

Like always, leave a comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

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joannasteez · 6 months ago

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just a dream

pairing: roman reigns x reader warning: its angst if you tilt your head and squint. smut. so minors dni pls! authors note: i'd been in a bit of a rut but just banged out a part of chapter 5 of TOB and then this was residuals of still being in a writing mood. this is for the month of may 200 word challenge! its a little over 200 but whatever. who cares. tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @kill-the-artiste @thesamoanqueen @empressdede @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @theninthwonder @2-muchsauce

and what becomes of him? becomes of the man amidst a dream. knowing the failures of such a fantasy, the waywardness that threatens to befall him, and drifting anyways. lost in the soft pillowy press of your kiss and that slight of tongue that curls to sweeten his blood. tongue and breath laying over words sounding not so dissimilar to confessions of a seamless adoration. a forever feeling, palms pressing over his hard body. gentle and resolute. a moan in his ear, slipping over warm and delicate like silk. his fingers kneading desperate. ungracious. at every inch and fold and bend. through the wet drip over of arousal and against that sloping plain of skin that holds your pulse. searching for evidence of life that he can just barely find. his belly tight. restless. ready for release. hips deft and skilled. aching. he breathes into your neck. over warm, tender skin. "this is a dream", aware. frightful of the end. your lips over his. throat singing wispy. charming. the moan of an angel. "then it is a good dream", you whisper. withering above him hard. the heat of you tight and unrelenting. wet and working him possessively to finish.

roman jerks hard amidst such refined pleasure. comes to himself in the darkness of a hotel room. breaths undone and his body damp with sweat. a clinging ache in his chest. the failure and consequence of living in such a fantasy.

the gentle touch of your body not real at all. your face nameless, and your voice slipping dutifully from his memory.

just a dream.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns smut #200 word challenge #joannasteez #if someone somehow gets where the dialogue is from i will love u forever

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jegonriver · 1 year ago

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Part 2 of my Raphael notes and observations from combing over the House of Hope, be warned these may be spoiler-ish:

There's a copy of the DnD-verse K*ma S*tra in his boudoir, I cant remember what its called tho its like quarta serto or something.

There is an eternal debtor that worships Raphael's used chamberpot. There's an action to 'use' it but tbh I was not interested in trying it out.

There is a voyeur eternal debtor that Raphael instructed to always stand outside the boudoir and watch what goes on inside but never to join. She seems pretty into it.

Most of the plaques, scrolls, books etc suggest he has a strong sense of justice and a love of rules and laws which makes sense.

As a child, Gortash was sold by his parents to Raphael to pay a debt and he was kept in the prison and regularly beaten until he escaped.

Signs letters and instructions with 'R'

Has a 100 chapter book he's written of what is essentially fanfiction-esque imaginings he has of different in which he is coronated Archdevil Supreme, one of which is of course the scenario in which you give him the crown. The book describes some different chapters as being written as though they are historical fact, others as imagined futures.

One book describes how he himself created the Orphic Hammer to be able to break any infernally created chains.

Korilla has transcribed two scrolls of conversations Raphael has had with Hope. The first of which he askes Hope to sing him a nursery rhyme. The example he gives her when Hope is confused is a suggestive rhyme.

"Little Miss Teffle, sat on her kettle, steam blowing between her lips. Along came her oven, in need of some loving, and soon she had scalded hips."

Hope sings for him a nursery rhyme from her childhood and when the song ends Raphael sighs contentedly. He's so pleased he offers her the opportunity to be master of her own fate as a reward. She calls him "Sweet Raphael" and then tells him to eat shit. He responds with what sounds like genuine shock/disappointment "But..." and Korilla describes him as looking at Hope with immense "longing and hate", then implies she'll be punished.

In the 2nd transcription Raphael torments Hope with a jar filled with nightmares. Before doing so he says "Serve me then! Damn your pride and serve me with your whole heart!" She still says no, and he is disappointed and calls her naughty.

Oh also, he calls Hope by the pet name Sweetling, describes her as "my tenacious petal clinging to the flower despite winter, nature, and all common sense", and he also calls her 'dear one'

If you talk to Korilla she says Hope is Raphael's 'favourite toy', Raphael offered Hope "the world, but she didnt want it. He sweetened the deal; she said no. No matter how many times he upped the ante, she just laughed in his face. He didn't like that."

Korilla goes on to say "Eventually, he took her by force. Trapped her and swore he wouldn't let her go 'til she gave him what he wanted."

#bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #bg3 raphael #bg3 hope #bg3 Korilla #house of hope #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 raphael #bg3

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suigetsusunny · 29 days ago

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Temporary Whispers Of The Heart ⊹₊⟡⋆ | Sosuke Aizen X Reader

Chapter 2 | No Scrubs

˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The saccharine taste of jasmine tainted your tongue as you brought the porcelain cup up to your lips. A sugary scent filled your nostrils, and you hummed, satisfied that your tea was sweetened to your taste. You gazed out of the shoji doors of the Captain's quarters, enjoying the alluring scenery of the dusk sun tinting the sky a gentle amber as it submerged into the horizon.

“You may as well eat a jar of fresh honey, rather than wasting my precious jasmine tea for your… sugar overload.”

Aizen quipped, scoffing as he sipped his own cup of jasmine tea, deficit of sugar before placing it back down on the small coffee table you two were chatting at.

“And you expect me to say that wouldn’t be delectable?”

He rolled his eyes at your declaration, causing you to chuckle into your cup as you tossed aside the courtesy of speaking to an actual Captain through your teasing.

“I’m making jasmine tea to suit your tastes, I would prefer to hear some words of thanks. I’m sure you’re well aware of my actual affinity for hibiscus tea…” Sosuke murmured, kindly sliding a plate of red bean mochi towards your cup until it clinked from collision. You hummed eagerly in approval, greedily stuffing it into your mouth, savouring the gentle sweetness that bursted into your tastebuds. You shifted from your position on the floor being a polite kneel to sitting on your behind, knees held up to your chest. You tilted your head, gazing back at him whilst your tongue trailed the leftover powder on your lips.

“I’ll keep it in mind, Mr. Aizen.”

˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

A soft reflection shone your features onto it as you stared into the porcelain cup, admiring the intricate golden design adorning the rims of the cup.

Attempting to train Sosuke Aizen had somehow been more arduous than trying to find a needle in a haystack. The enigma had somehow always been dissatisfied or had something to say about the Soul Society, his never ending criticisms serving as some deeper form of torture. The dense silence accompanying the office only grew thicker, occasionally broken by the pitter-patter of the rain outside.

It was devastatingly just you and the man in the office, as you two were considered executive soul reaper officers, your timetables did not give way to many holidays unlike the other reapers… Death stops for no one, as that cunning man Shunsui once stated.

A knock on your door, once again. You groused, reluctantly arising from your comfortable chair to swing the door open. “The computer has ceased functioning again.”

You raised an eyebrow at Aizen's statement, discerning his arms confidently crossed and a complacent look on his face. At least nobody else was in the office to watch the humiliation you had to endure trying to have a mutually intelligible conversation with him.

“Did I not just train you how to use it? How did you mess it up already…”

“You are aware I haven’t been in the human world nearly as long as you have recently to adapt to this technology, right.” He grumbled, his tone asserting his authority and irritatingly pronouncing you underneath him.

You simply rolled your eyes at his sassiness. “You cannot learn yourself instead of clinging to me like a newborn? I’m sure The Sosuke Aizen is capable of figuring it out himself.” You snapped, muttering curses under your breath that you had to interact with him. It felt like ants crawled under your skin every time your ears were forced to hear his belligerent yet smooth voice.

“Do you think I’m willingly asking you for assistance?” He calmly fired back, following his statement with a mocking huff.

“You’d think a man who’s attained the status of a God could work a simple computer.” You scoffed as you trailed behind him, halting at his desk within his office to investigate the buffered screen.

You stared intently at the display, leaning down to hold the mouse in your grip, clicking it incessantly to somehow get the screen to work. You weren’t too familiar with human world objects either despite your heritage, yet still you refused to look weak in front of that man. You slid a hand behind the thick, cream coloured monitor and slammed your palm against it roughly. Aizen gave you a slightly startled and humoured look as you tried to get it to work by… hitting it.

“Resorting to physical violence is not a trait I thought you had in you.” He jested, a slight curl tugging at his lips.

You adamantly avoided his comment, focusing predominantly on the task at hand. After shutting the computer off and giving it a bit of a ‘massage’, the rusty tech seemed to crackle and switch on again.

“Just press this power button to shut it off and on if it acts up again and slightly give it a push.” You muttered, exhaling in relief that at least something was complying with you today. You swung around to leave, facing your office through the gap in the doorway, about to exit the scene. Before you did so, you slightly turned your head to the right, ensuring your side eye pierced deeply into his hazel irises.

“You may have known who I was before but you don’t know who I am now, Mr. Aizen. ”

You let the sour statement roll off your tongue harshly before swiftly strutting back to your office. You rubbed your temple with your palm, your head starting to ache at the sheer amount of frustration you felt around him.

Ordering more modern soul pagers, sending Zanpakuto requests, organising Kido training timetables and areas… As of recent, working for the soul society had become… oddly mundane. You hadn’t gotten a request to deal with a threat in a while now, the competence of newer Soul Reapers proving to be more than sufficient.

You pushed in specific buttons on the telephone nearby, leaning back on your inky leather office chair as you rang Urahara’s store about the new transfer of employees to the Karakura district building. As you played with the cord and dwelled on your past, the line abruptly picked up.

,,Hello? Oh, Shunsui-chan? Is this your new company phone number? Fancy fancy I see~’’

You fumbled in your seat, the legs you had kicked up onto your desk immediately slamming back down on the floor as you sat up, not expecting the man himself to pick up instead of Ururu. Speaking with Urahara was still largely a foreign concept to you. After all, he was the partner of the sister you weren’t in contact with anymore… You let out a deep breath, settling your racing heart as you spoke once again.

“Hello, Mr. Urahara. This is Y/N. I am calling to check in the new April intake of employees that you had organised. Could you please forward me their contact information ASAP?”

The line went oddly silent, sounds of shuffling and stumbling reflecting on the feedback that blared throughout your ears.

,,Hey..! Y/N! So nice to hear from you again, how have you been? I heard you were working in the human world now... isn't that great? How have you been finding it-’’

“It’s good. Could you please just send me the files.” You attempted to retain a collegiate demeanour, fiddling with your pens and clicking them incessantly. God, I’m acting like a child.

,,...Of course. I’ll send them through now.’’

You hummed in approval as you perceived the email notification pop up on your screen.

“Thank you. Goodbye.”

,,Bye! Oh and, also-’’

Shit…

You had slammed the phone down onto its dock reflexively as he bid farewell, accidentally cutting off his sentence. You contemplated calling back, yet you were still unsure as talking to him felt like a thousand needles piercing into your back-

Ring!

You picked up the phone once more, Urahara’s hoarse yet jovial voice booming through the device.

,,Sorry to bother you once more! But, are you attending that higher-ups dinner thing in a few days? It’s being organised by the new Gotei 13.”

You tilted your head to the side, puzzled. A dinner..?

“Oh, I haven’t heard of that. I’ll check the mailbox now.” You stated to the cheerful voice that blasted through your eardrums.

You contemplated your answer to the blonde, aware that you would have to probably see your sister again.

“I’ll go.”

A boisterous gasp and a slight giggle followed your statement.

,,I’ll be looking forward to it~! Bye now!”

-beep.

What have I gotten myself into…

You slid back the sleeve of your blazer to discern the time on your analog watch. Sure enough, it was already 5pm, as you could tell from the shuffling outside your room indicating Aizen’s unfortunate existence. You tucked your belongings meticulously into your beige messenger bag, slinging it around your shoulder as you left your office.

A familiar gait ensued further behind the clacks of your heels, causing you hasten faster to press the elevator button before the steps caught up to you. After what seemed like a millenia, the lift arrived and the doors finally decided to part, causing you to rush inside and slam the button to shut them before Aizen caught up to you.

Unfortunately, a familiar vanilla scent rose throughout your nostrils as you reluctantly looked up to see the man standing in front of you, staring passionately into your eyes with his deep, brooding, sepia ones.

Aizen gazed at you profoundly as he took a step forward towards you, causing you to take one backwards. You backed further into the corner as he continued to step forward and close the gap between you two, until you could feel his warm breath erecting goosebumps on your cheeks. The brunette raised his arm to the side of you, his pointer finger gravitating far closer to your face than you would have liked.

Your heart raced, heat flushing across your entire body as your eyes continued to lock longingly with his, roaming to gaze at the lone sepia lock drizzled onto his face from the rest of his neatly tucked hair.

“What… What do you want…?” You finally mustered out, your heart uncontrollably beating at his increased proximity. He’s still so…

“The elevator floor button...

You’re blocking it.”

Oh.

Eyes widened larger than saucers, you hurriedly moved aside, muttering a rash apology under your breath. I am the epitome of idiocracy. Aizen proceeded to push the ground floor button, setting himself farther away yet adjacent to you in the lift as it proceeded with its descent. Embarrassed was probably the most softest way to describe what emotion ran through your entire body right now. How did I get so foolishly excited over that… Imprudent, half witted… absurd excuse of a Shinigami. The only thing you could even compare your flippant behaviour today would be a child…

As the elevator completed its descent, the doors parted once more to allow the both of you to spill out and seperate out of the building. You glanced at Aizen momentarily on your path to the car park, pausing your flustered thoughts to ponder where he was supposed to even stay in the human world. You then discerned a stern Hisagi emerge from a sleek black Mercedes, the reaper slapping on another pair of handcuffs onto Aizen and sealing his hands behind his back securely before nudging him to step into the car from the door left ajar. You give a gentle grin and a wave to the familiar face as his head still bobbed above the car door, his eyes seemingly noticing your figure in the distance of the car park as he suddenly ceased his movement. Shuuhei removed his sunglasses after seeing you, giving a wide grin as he waved merrily to you before another driver in the car seemed to nudge him to return inside so they could leave. The two of you hesitantly bid a silent goodbye before he stepped back into the car, driving off.

You recalled the invites sent for the gathering Urahara spoke to you about, causing you to make a U-turn to visit the office mailboxes. You scanned through them as you entered the building again, searching for the one designated to your floor. You slide out what seemed like four invites and held them against your chest before slipping them into your bag. You left once more, wincing at the gush of wind that decided to dishevel your hair as you walked outside.

A sudden call incessantly buzzed in your pocket, causing you to hurriedly fish around for your cell phone and find out who the perpetrator to the call was. You flip open your phone, letting out a sigh of relief after discerning the caller id. You picked up the phone, lifting it to your ear as you greeted your friend amicably.

,,Y/N! Look to your left!’’

You whipped around to see your closest companion Rangiku, leaning on a hot pink mazda as she clicked her tongue at you. You chuckled under your breath as you snapped the phone shut, sliding it back into your pocket.

“Look at this baby! Isn’t she beautiful? God, I really love human world tech!” Matsumoto chortled, admiring the way in which her fuchsia vehicle sparkled in the dusk sun.

“Gosh, it’s even prettier in person, Ran…” You mumbled as you stared in awe at the gorgeous car, taking in all its stunning features. Rangiku signals for you to come in as she unlocks the car, a minuscule yet cute beep following her pressing the button on her sparkly magenta keys. You gazed around the vehicle after taking a seat and meticulously shutting the door, knowing how hard the poor girl worked to purchase something like this - and the curses to your entire bloodline that would follow had you done something to it - you tried your best not to damage it. Before you could shower it in more compliments, the strawberry blonde turned to face you suddenly with a sincere look in her eyes.

“Do my eyes deceive me or did I see you walk out with… Sosuke Aizen?” She inquired firmly, a tinge of worry in her tone.

You groan, finally in an environment comfortable enough that you could slam your palms to your face and loudly grouse into them.

“Don’t remind me. I have to work with the degenerate now because of Shunsui.” You slowly slid them off your face, turning to see Matsumoto’s reaction. She winced, eyebrows furrowed with worry and fury.

“That’s so scary?! How could he just do that?! Put you with someone like that… That must be torture, I’m sorry Y/N.” She pouted, and you pinched her cheek gently between your fingers as you felt guilty seeing her solemn expression.

“I’ll be fine. It’s my duty.” You give a sincere grin back, reassuring her by patting her shoulder. She didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, yet she let it go for your sake. “There you go again, rambling on about your duty… You really haven’t changed.” Rangiku scoffs before setting the car into drive, shoving her foot onto the pedal to accelerate. Before you could respond, you were thrown back into the seat from the reckless way in which Rangiku sped off. You could hardly have a comprehensible conversation with her from the consistent near-death experiences greeting you almost every 2 minutes.

“Ran!? Oh my god be careful- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You yelled thunderously, flinching backwards as you braced yourself for impact.

The blonde slammed the brake pedal before she was about to get T-boned by crossing a red light. “Sorry… still getting used to all these rules..!” Matsumoto giggled as she poked her tongue out childishly, causing you to mentally facepalm at her stupidity. “I doubt this car’s lasting more than a day…”

Before long and after a lot of gossip from her Kido training, you two had arrived at your apartment. Miniscule yet cozy, though nothing compared to your Captain quarters when you used to live in the Soul Society. Rangiku remained in the human world often to do Kido training with the novice soul reapers in Karakura as per her orders, so being the close companions you were, you both mainly took care of each other. It felt good to have a good friend whilst you navigated this place pretty much alone.

˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Rangiku burst out in laughter, the pungent smell of saké wafting towards you and seizing your nostrils.

“No… No fucking way… Oh, goodness Y/N, I’m actually going to pee myself.” She chortled, causing your humiliation to spike by tenfold.

“How was I supposed to know!?” You berated, irritated at her never ending cackling. After you had told her about your encounter with the enigma, she was only able to respond with cacophonies of laughter and many failed attempts to not topple over from amusement and the sheer amount of alcohol in her system.

“I deplore that piece of shit but holy hell, that’s so funny… I want to hear more! I’m so excited to hear more!~” Rangiku's chortles boisterously reverberated throughout the compact apartment, causing you to hush her before you received any more complaints.

“I can’t do it! I can't hear this asshole spit any more nonsensical shit at me Ran. For the Soul Kings sake, save me. I can’t.” You rested your head onto your arms, leaning down on the table cluttered with several bottles of saké. A drunk Matsumoto snickered at your oddball of a metaphor, a stupid grin lying on her face.

“Wait… Y/N…”

Rangiku’s attitude abruptly changed to a sincere one, her cerulean eyes piercing through you.

“Don’t tell me… You still-”

You cut her off before she could finish the brainfart of a statement you knew would follow.

“Over my dead. Deceased. Rotted. Mouldy. Fossilised body. God, no.”

A playful smirk tugged at her lips as her grin stretched wider than a cheshire cat. You scowled at her, avoiding eye contact as she cheekily tried to fluster you with her teasing looks. As you turned away, you discerned the time, noticing the clock strike midnight. Her gaze followed yours and both of your moods immediately dissipated from the observation, causing you to sit in a solemn silence.

“Should we talk tomorrow, Ran?” You queried in a soft voice as you stared at her sorrowful expression.

“Can I stay over tonight?” She sighed, twiddling with her fingers. You nodded keenly, shifting across the floor to sit beside her. You discern the gentle tears that fell from her reverent sky-blue irises, travelling gradually down her porcelain features.

“Gosh, I know it’s pathetic… It’s been so long.” She mumbled, bringing a hand up to brush the tears away with the back of her hand. Your own eyes began to water as you tucked both your arms around her, letting her lean into you and sob into your chest. Gentle tears slid down your own cheeks, your sorrow exacerbating as her sobs grew rougher and more painful.

“You’re not pathetic, don’t say that.”

After a while of comfortable silence, Rangiku shot up abruptly, shuffling around to grab her bag and search through it. Finally, she found her desired item… A large bottle of alcohol. She slammed the azure bottle onto the low coffee table you two were sitting on the floor at, unscrewing the cap and pouring herself a shot.

“I brought it this time.”

You sighed before rotating the bottle towards you, staring intently at the label before you poured yourself a shot alongside her.

Pure Gin.

Today was the anniversary of Ichimaru Gin’s death.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

happy reading ! and as always, comments and thoughts are always appreciated :-)

sumi <3

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