#and instead I emailed (and then sat and refreshed and refreshed waiting for a response)

[carriesthewind]

.

[vandme12]

Cereal Cannibal - Misaki x Seung-min Kim G.N Reader

WORDS : 7000

PROMPT : FALLING FOR YOU

CHARACTER USED : Misaki from Killer Chat!

INSPIRATION FROM : Seung-min Kim from My Sweet! Housemate!

SUMMARY : Misaki gets a new house, with a housemate, who's their landlord, who's also a cannibal

Misaki sat on the cold, metal floor of their bunker, staring at the last few bills in their hand. It wasn’t enough. Not even close. The place they had been calling home was no longer an option—issues with the owner, debts piling up, and now, they were being forced out. It sucked. Hard.

They had no choice but to leave.

“You should check out the deep web listings,” Ronin suggested, leaning back against the worn-out couch that Misaki had scavenged months ago.

Angel scoffed. “That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

V, ever the practical one, just shrugged. “It’s not the worst idea. There are some surprisingly legit places there. Just be careful.”

Misaki groaned, running a hand through their short, messy hair. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Their friends didn’t say anything, and the silence was answer enough.

So Misaki did what they had to do. Digging through the deep web, they scrolled past one shady listing after another until they stumbled upon an absurdly cheap offer—1,000 yen rent. The catch? They had to live with their landlord.

“Well,” they muttered to themselves, “I’ve dealt with worse.”

With a deep breath, they sent in their application. It wasn’t long before they got a response—approved.

Misaki sat cross-legged on the cold, metal floor of their bunker, hands clasped together as they muttered an impromptu prayer. “Listen, God, I know I haven’t been the best person—kinda kill people for a living, but, uh, desperate times. If you could just let this rent application go through, I swear I’ll… I don’t know, maybe stop calling Angel cannibal?”

“Liar,” Angel deadpanned

“Okay, okay. I’ll just do less.”

Ronin rolled their eyes. “You’re praying to God for a shady deep web apartment?”

“Hey, I’m broke, desperate, and out of options. Divine intervention is my last hope.”

V, raised a brow. “Or, you know, common sense.”

Before Misaki could snap back with a sarcastic remark, their laptop chimed with a notification. Their heart pounded as they scrambled to check their email. They half-expected a rejection, a scam link, or some weird cryptic message about selling their soul. But instead, there it was:

“Come on, come on,” they muttered under their breath, bouncing their leg impatiently.

Ding!

Their email refreshed, and there it was—a response.

“APPROVED.”

Misaki blinked. That was… fast. Almost too fast. Shouldn’t there have been, like, an entire government-level interrogation? A credit check? A deep dive into their very questionable employment history? Instead, it was just a short email.

They clicked it open, and their eyes skimmed over the entire terms and conditions.

All ten lines.

If you like the house, come to the address and check it out.

I’ll give you a copy of the key.

Consider yourself my roommate/housemate if you stay.

Pay rent on time, or at least try.

Don’t break my stuff.

If you see anything weird, ignore it.

Seriously, don’t ask questions.

The basement is off-limits.

No loud noises after midnight.

Welcome home! 😊

Misaki reread the email three times before looking up at their friends. “This is either the best or the worst decision of my life.”

Ronin “That’s it? I’ve seen more rules on the back of a cereal box.”

Message: Hey, if you like the house, come to the address and check it out. I’ll give you a copy of the key, and boom, you’re my roommate/housemate. See ya soon. – Landlord

“…That’s it?” Misaki blinked.

Angel talked. “Where’s the absurdly long lease agreement? The blood pact? The firstborn child sacrifice clause?”

V looked unimpressed. “I was at least expecting a ‘terms and conditions may apply.’”

Ronin whistled. “Honestly, that’s the most efficient rental process I’ve ever seen.”

Misaki reread the email, waiting for some hidden attachment or fine print, but nope. That was the whole thing. “They didn’t even do a background check.”

Angel smirked. “That’s probably a good thing for you.”

“Fair.”

Misaki took a deep breath, looking at their friends. “Alright, I guess I’m moving in. If I disappear, avenge me.”

“Absolutely not,” V said immediately. “You did this to yourself.”

Ronin told “Just make sure to check the bathroom for hidden cameras before you settle in.”

Angel smirked. “And if your new landlord asks if you’re allergic to anything, lie.”

“Gee, thanks for the support.”

They zipped up their bag, they felt the tiniest bit of apprehension creep in. Something about this felt too easy. Too convenient.

But then again, their life had never been easy or convenient, so maybe they were just due for a win.

Or, you know, an absolute disaster.

Either way, it was too late to back out now.

Misaki just grinned. “You say that like I don’t already regret every decision I’ve ever made.”

Angel smacked the back of their head. “That is NOT how that works.”

“Whatever, I’m taking the deal.” Misaki pumped their fists in the air. “I HAVE A HOME! SUCK IT, CAPITALISM!”

Ronin, Angel, and V just stared at them.

V sighed. “You’re gonna die.”

“Probably,” Misaki admitted. “But at least I’ll die with cheap rent.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Misaki closed their laptop and started packing their things—which wasn’t much. A duffel bag of clothes, some weapons, a few stolen snacks (for the road), and a single, slightly worn-out plushie that they definitely didn’t sleep with every night.

Misaki strutted through the dimly lit streets of Japan like an absolute chad. Sure, the economy was in the gutter, they were drowning in debt, and they were about to move into a suspiciously cheap apartment that might very well be a front for organ trafficking, but hey—positivity!

"It's fine. Everything's fine," they muttered to themselves, adjusting their duffel bag. "You just gotta impress the housemate, win their heart, and boom—temporary stability. Easy."

They clenched their fist in determination. This was just another mission. Instead of taking someone out, they were trying to not get kicked out. Same skill set, really.

After a long walk filled with self-pep talks and avoiding eye contact with salarymen crying into their vending machine coffee, Misaki finally arrived at the address.

The house looked… normal. Suspiciously normal. The kind of normal that felt wrong in their chaotic existence.

Taking a deep breath, Misaki knocked on the door. No answer. They rang the doorbell. Still nothing.

Then they noticed the door was slightly open.

"Oh, yeah, no red flags here at all," they muttered sarcastically before pushing it open.

"Uh, hello?" Misaki called out, stepping inside.

And that’s when they saw you.

Standing there in the dim light, you looked like a husk of a human being. Your overgrown bangs drooped over your face in a messy, unintentional crossover pattern, like they were actively trying to hide the shame of existence. There was a slight, tragic wave to them—like your hair had once had hope but had long since given up.

Your grey-teal, slightly droopy straight eyes had the kind of dark circles that could only be achieved through years of sleep deprivation, existential dread, and an overwhelming hatred for your job. You were in office wear—a dull, slightly wrinkled suit, tie barely hanging on like your will to live.

Misaki immediately clocked you as a salesperson.

And, oh boy, you looked hideous.

Not in a way that was physically repulsive, but in a way that screamed "I have seen things. I have suffered. And I will suffer again tomorrow from 9 to 5."

Your posture was the physical embodiment of why am I here?, and the way your dead-fish eyes met Misaki’s? Pure, undiluted regret.

There was a long, painful silence.

Misaki blinked.

You blinked.

Misaki cleared their throat. "Sooo… you're the landlord?"

You exhaled through your nose. "I wish I wasn’t."

"Uh-huh." Misaki glanced around. "Cool, cool. Great energy in here."

You gestured vaguely behind you. "Rooms that way. Rent’s due whenever. Don’t break anything. Don’t wake me up. If you summon a demon, tell it to kill me first."

Misaki nodded slowly. "...Love the enthusiasm."

Misaki had a problem.

Not just the broke assassin in crippling debt problem. Not just the this house is suspiciously cheap and my landlord looks like a walking depression commercial problem. No.

They had a problem in a new environment problem.

Which meant they were everywhere in the house within the first five minutes.

First, they tried to unpack, but then they got distracted by a weird stain on the wall that looked like blood (was it blood?), then they decided to check the kitchen because snacks, but then they opened a drawer and immediately forgot why they were even there. Then they somehow ended up in the hallway, staring at a random light switch, flicking it on and off just to see what it did.

Then—CRASH.

A shelf. A whole goddamn shelf. How? How?! It wasn’t even their shelf!

They just stood there, frozen, processing the fact that in five minutes, they had somehow committed their first property damage offense in the new house.

That’s when you walked in.

Dead-eyed. Drained. Like a husk of a man who had just worked a 16-hour shift selling printer ink to people who wanted to die just as much as you did. Your tie was loose like you had considered strangling yourself with it earlier but then sighed and went, not today, maybe tomorrow. Your bangs were a mess—probably hadn’t seen scissors in over a year. Your dark circles were so deep they looked like they were sponsored by a horror movie franchise.

You saw the shelf. You saw Misaki. You sighed. Deeply.

Then, in the most exhausted voice known to humankind, you muttered, "It's fine."

Misaki squinted. "…Wait, seriously?"

You blinked slowly, rubbing your eyes as if you had aged 40 years in the past 40 seconds. "Yeah. Whatever. I'll fix it later. It's fine."

That was when Misaki realized something horrifying.

You were so goddamn tired that you had transcended anger. You had seen so much bullshit in your life that a random destroying your furniture on day one didn’t even faze you.

They felt guilty. Misaki never felt guilty. They were a menace by nature. But you… You looked so damn miserable that it physically hurt them.

They tried to lighten the mood. “Uh, sorry about the—uh, shelf thing. But! Hey! At least I didn't burn the house down?”

You stared at them. Just stared.

They shifted awkwardly. “I mean, technically, I could have! That’s improvement, right?”

Silence.

Then you muttered, "Hello, Misaki."

Misaki blinked. “Oh, uh, actually, my name’s not Misaki, it’s—”

They paused, realizing their mistake.

Then, dramatically, throwing their arms out, they corrected themselves.

"MISAKI!"

There was a long pause. You just stared. The kind of stare that screamed ‘I am too tired for this but I will endure.’

Misaki waited for you to react. Maybe a sigh? A head shake? A single sign of life?

But you just closed your eyes for a moment, like you were mentally preparing yourself to deal with them for the foreseeable future.

And when you reopened them, you still looked exhausted. Still looked like you hated your job, your life, everything.

And Misaki—chaotic, impulsive, disaster of a person—felt something they rarely ever felt.

Pity.

You rubbed your temples, trying to fight off the migraine that had been steadily building for the last—what, three years? Maybe longer? Time was a blur when you lived in a constant state of exhaustion.

Misaki had already caused minor property damage. You should care. You should be concerned. But instead, you were just so damn tired.

With a sigh, you trudged over to the small, cluttered table in the living room, grabbed a stack of papers, and slapped them down in front of them. "Contract’s here. If you like the place, sign it. If not, you can leave and go back to… whatever questionable living situation you came from."

Misaki blinked. “That’s it? No interrogation? No ‘I need your government ID’ or ‘sign away your soul’ clause?”

You sighed again. Deeply. “Rent is 1,000 yen. I don’t care when you pay it. Just… get it to me eventually.”

They stared at you. Hard.

You could tell they were waiting for you to drop some sort of catch, some hidden clause that would reveal this was actually a scam or a murder plot. But there was nothing. Just you, standing there in your wrinkled office wear, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else.

They slowly pointed at you. “Why… aren’t you asking any additional details? Like my job? Or my background?”

You shrugged. “I don’t care.”

That seemed to stun them. They just stood there, processing the sheer lack of effort you were putting into this situation.

You checked the time on your watch. Your shift started in ten minutes. You were already late. Your boss was probably foaming at the mouth waiting to scream at you, but honestly? You had stopped caring about that job ages ago.

Still, you needed it to pay for this miserable excuse of an apartment.

You ran a hand down your face and muttered to yourself, "God, I need a new job."

Misaki tilted their head. “You work sales, right?”

You scoffed. Bitterly. “If you can even call it that.”

Your voice turned dull and lifeless as you mocked yourself. “Hello, sir, would you be interested in our limited-time printer ink bundle? No? That’s okay, let me waste five more minutes of your time explaining a warranty that you’ll never use. Oh, you’re walking away? I see. I am but a worm beneath your shoe. I exist to suffer. Thank you for your time.”

Misaki blinked. Twice.

You exhaled sharply and rubbed your eyes. “I swear, if I stay here one more minute, I’m going to get fired.”

They stared at you. Hard.

Then, with zero hesitation, they said, "I wanna stay."

You blinked at them. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“You just got here.”

“Yep.”

“The shelf thing just happened.”

“Uh-huh.”

You exhaled through your nose. “You’re a very eager one, huh?”

Misaki shrugged. “Look, you’re tired, I’m tired, and this place is cheap. Seems like a win for both of us.”

You didn’t argue. You just reached for the contract, flipped it to the signature page, and handed them a pen. “Fine. Sign here.”

Misaki took the pen with an enthusiastic nod and scrawled their name in an exaggerated, dramatic fashion.

MISAKI 🐱

You stared at it.

They smiled.

It was a completely normal, cheerful smile.

Like nothing about this situation was weird.

Like they hadn’t just put a cat emoji in their official contract signature.

You dragged a hand down your face. "Why."

Misaki just grinned wider. "Why not?"

You sighed for what felt like the hundredth time today. “Welcome home, I guess.”

Maybe you’d regret this later.

Maybe you wouldn’t.

Either way, you had exactly five minutes to sprint to work before your boss started sending you death threats via email.

You grabbed your coat, already halfway out the door when you paused and looked back at Misaki. They were busy poking at the contract like it was a rare artifact instead of a legally binding document, probably still amused at the fact that they got away with signing it with a cat emoji.

With a sigh, you muttered, “Don’t open the door for strangers.”

Misaki scoffed. “I’m not a kid.”

You rubbed your temple. “I know. Just… saying. Sorry.”

That should have been the end of it. You should have walked out and gone to work, but something snapped inside you, and suddenly, words just started tumbling out of your exhausted soul like a faucet with a broken handle.

"Look, it's just... I've had the worst week. No, month. Maybe year. My job sucks, my boss looks like a diseased ferret in a cheap suit, I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since 2018, and now I’m standing here in my own apartment, warning a fully grown adult about basic safety like I’m some overworked single parent—"

Misaki blinked. Twice.

"—and I have to leave right now because if I don't show up at work, my paycheck will be so small I’ll have to start stealing sugar packets from cafes just to survive!"

They nodded slowly. “...That’s a lot, dude.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, rubbing your eyes. “Anyway. I was gonna make dinner later. If you want, you can join me. Whatever I cook will probably be mediocre at best, but at least it won’t be cup noodles.”

Misaki’s eyes sparkled. SPARKLED. “I accept.”

"Cool," you mumbled, too drained to process their enthusiasm. You turned and left, already dreading the shift ahead of you.

Meanwhile...

The moment the door shut, Misaki EXPLODED.

"HAHAHAHA! I GOT A HOME!!"

They dramatically threw their arms up and immediately grabbed their PC, clutching it like it was their firstborn child. "YAY!"

Ronin, V, and Angel, who had been waiting for an update, got an earful as Misaki hopped onto a call.

“GUYS! I’M IN!”

Ronin snorted. "Took you long enough. So, what's the place like?"

"Honestly? Pretty normal. But my landlord—"

Angel cut in. "Wait. You met them?"

"Yeah?" Misaki flopped onto their new (and slightly squeaky) bed. "They look like they haven’t slept since the invention of capitalism. Like, imagine a guy who’s been dealing with too much bullshit, and you multiply that by, like, fifty. That’s them."

Ronin cackled. "Sounds like a great roommate dynamic. A sleep-deprived office worker and a contract assassin. Truly the dream team."

Misaki smirked. "I'm pretty sure I could break a plate in front of them and they’d just sigh and accept it as part of their fate."

V, who had been oddly silent until now, finally spoke.

"Misaki."

Misaki blinked. "Huh? What’s up? You almost never call me."

V didn’t respond immediately. There was a slight pause, as if they were carefully choosing their words. Then—

"If that person is dangerous, you can tell me."

Misaki’s teasing expression softened a little. V wasn’t usually the overprotective type, but when they were, it always hit different.

"Awh, V…" Misaki grinned, but this time, it was more genuine. “Don’t worry. If anything sketchy happens, you’ll be the first to know."

"...Good," V muttered

Misaki stared at the screen for a second before chuckling softly to themselves.

Yeah. Things might be weird.

But at least they weren’t alone.

Misaki sprawled across their new bed, lazily twirling a stray lock of hair as they grumbled into the call. “Man, my landlord is so boring.”

Ronin snorted. “Already talking shit? You literally just moved in.”

“No, like, seriously.” Misaki threw their legs up against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “There is nothing about them that makes them even remotely interesting. They’re not cute, not hot, not even a charming idiot. Just a sleep-deprived husk of a person. Like, imagine if a tax return became human.”

Angel wheezed. “Not a tax return.”

Misaki kept going. “Dude looks like they’ve been slowly decaying under fluorescent lighting for the past decade. You ever see someone who just radiates corporate misery? That’s them. Their entire personality is ‘I hate my job, I hate my life, I hate that I’m standing here breathing air right now.’”

V hummed. “...So, what you’re saying is, they’re not your type.”

"EXACTLY." Misaki pointed at their screen like V could actually see them. "I’m telling you, there is a 0% chance of me falling for them. Zero. Absolutely no potential for romance. If my life was a dating sim, this person wouldn't even be a side character. They’d be like... the NPC running a convenience store who has one line of dialogue.”

Ronin was dying. “Bro. You moved in like two hours ago. How are you this sure?”

Misaki scoffed. "Because! No charm. No personality. No tragic backstory with just the right amount of angst to make them attractive. Not even a hint of adorable dumbass energy. My standards are on the floor, and somehow, they still didn’t pass."

Angel whistled. "Damn. So what are they?"

"A blank slate," Misaki declared. "Like, just a person. An overworked, underpaid, ‘I’m too tired to care’ person. They didn’t even care about my background. Just said, 'Sign here' and 'Don't open the door for strangers.' Like, where’s the spice? The mystery? The suspiciously convenient tragic past?”

V sighed. “You’re disappointed your landlord isn’t a walking red flag, aren’t you?”

Misaki gasped. “How dare you.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“I don’t want them to be a red flag!” Misaki flopped onto their stomach. “I just expected something. But no. Just a corporate zombie with an office job and the social energy of a potato.”

Ronin smirked. "Sounds like you feel bad for them."

Misaki scoffed. "I don’t—"

Angel cut in. "Oh, you totally do."

V chuckled. "Misaki’s about to adopt this poor soul."

"I AM NOT—” Misaki groaned, rolling onto their back dramatically. “Okay. Fine. Maybe I feel a little bad. Like. Bro looks so exhausted. Their eyes have dark circles so bad it looks like they’re wearing eyeliner—but not in the hot way. In the ‘I have never known rest’ way.”

Ronin cackled. "So what I’m hearing is, you’re gonna start feeding them proper meals and fixing their life."

Misaki scoffed. "I am not—”

Angel interrupted. "Misaki. You literally just agreed to have dinner with them."

Misaki paused.

"......okay but that's different!"

"Is it?"

"YES. I mean, come on, they look like they live off black coffee and regret. They need help."

V sighed, amused. "So you are gonna try and fix their life."

Misaki grumbled. "Shut up."

Ronin grinned. "You're so falling for them."

"AM NOT."

"You so are."

Misaki groaned loudly, smacking a pillow over their face. "WHYYYY."

Angel laughed. "Face it, dude. You already care."

"I DO NOT—"

"Yes, you do."

"I AM NOT—"

"Yes, you do."

Misaki groaned louder, kicking their legs. "UGHHHHHHHHHH."

V just chuckled. "You can keep lying to yourself. But we’ll be here when you eventually eat your words."

Misaki dramatically pointed at their screen. "MARK MY WORDS. I will not fall for this person."

Ronin smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Sure."

Angel hummed. "We’ll check back in a month."

V sighed. "A week."

Misaki groggily cracked one eye open, blinking at the dim light seeping through their window. Something felt off. Their brain, still half-asleep, took a few seconds to piece it together.

The clock.

They shot up. 9PM.

“OH SHIT.”

They scrambled out of bed, nearly face-planting as they tripped over their own bag. "I SLEPT SO LONG—WHY DID NO ONE WAKE ME UP?!" Their first day here and they already looked like some lazy freeloader. The impressions? SO BAD.

And worse—FREE FOOD.

They were supposed to eat with their landlord. That was the deal. The agreement. And now? They were about to walk in like some sleep-deprived goblin asking for scraps. No, no, no, I need to salvage this—

Still in their slightly rumpled clothes, they rushed out into the hallway—only to pause.

Why was it so dark?

Like, yeah, okay, it was night. But this wasn’t just regular night darkness. This was horror movie darkness. The kind where someone would definitely get jump-scared if this were a film.

"...Maybe they thought I was still sleeping and didn’t want to disturb me?" they mumbled to themselves, rubbing their arms.

Still, that meant their landlord was up. And they were probably in the kitchen.

Misaki crept forward, heart pounding from both oversleep anxiety and the eerie vibe of the house. They reached the kitchen door and, taking a deep breath, swung it open.

And immediately wished they hadn’t.

Because there, standing at the counter, was their landlord.

Covered in blood.

Chopping human hands.

"...What."

The sound of a knife steadily hitting the wooden cutting board was the only thing filling the silence. The metallic scent in the air? That was not normal food.

Misaki, frozen, stared at the scene before them. The dim kitchen light flickered just enough to make it worse. Their landlord, sleeves rolled up, hands stained red, expression completely blank.

Their mouth moved before their brain could stop it.

“...Uh. H-Halloween props?”

Their landlord didn’t even blink. Their voice was dry. Flat. “It’s human meat.”

Misaki gawked. Then screeched, “YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO AGREE WITH ME!”

Their landlord just went back to chopping. “You asked. I answered.”

"LIE TO ME, DAMN IT."

The chopping continued. Misaki, still standing in the doorway like a dumbass, did their best not to freak the hell out.

Okay. Okay. There were two options here.

Run.

Pretend this isn’t happening and get some free food.

...Misaki was so hungry.

But also. THIS WAS REALLY BAD.

They swallowed thickly. "O-Okay. Haha. Funny prank. Y-You got me. W-Wait—wait, actually, this is a prank, right? Like, like, come on. Haha, Misaki’s an idiot, they fell for it, right? Hahahaha—"

Their landlord finally looked up, blinking at them.

"...You missed dinner."

Misaki blinked back. THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER.

They forced a stiff smile. "Haha. Yeah. Super sorry about that. But, uh, back to the insanely concerning thing you’re doing—"

Their landlord sighed, sounding just...so unbelievably tired. "Do you want food or not?"

Misaki’s stomach betrayed them instantly.

A loud, miserable growl echoed through the kitchen.

Silence.

Misaki wanted to die.

Their landlord just went back to chopping. “Sit down.”

Misaki’s legs moved before their survival instincts could stop them. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THEM.

They plopped into a chair at the kitchen table, brain screaming at them the whole time. This is bad, this is bad, this is—

A plate was placed in front of them. A steaming dish of...something.

Misaki stared at it.

Their landlord sat across from them. Staring. Expression unreadable.

Misaki picked up their chopsticks very slowly.

"...So. Haha. Just to clarify. What...exactly...is in this?"

Their landlord took a sip of their tea. "Food."

"...But, like. What food?"

A long pause. Too long.

"...Meat."

"What kind of meat?"

Another pause.

Misaki squinted.

Their landlord sighed. "Not human."

Misaki exhaled so hard they nearly passed out. "THANK YOU." They hesitantly took a bite, still on edge but way too hungry to care anymore.

"...It’s good," they mumbled through their mouthful.

Their landlord shrugged. "I know."

Silence settled between them as they ate.

Eventually, Misaki, unable to let it go, squinted again. "So, like. If I didn’t walk in on you just now, were you gonna tell me about the whole...human hands thing?"

Their landlord sighed like they had the worst headache. "...I was going to clean up before you woke up."

"*Oh, so you had a PLAN.**"

"Yes. Until you ruined it."

"SORRY FOR WAKING UP AND CATCHING YOU WITH BODY PARTS."

"Noted."

You let out a tired sigh, rubbing the back of your neck as you casually wiped the blood off the knife. “It’s nothing. Just some weird-looking shit.”

Your eyebags were doing all the talking for you. They were deep, dark, and probably had their own tragic backstory at this point. Combined with the blank, sleep-deprived expression on your face, you looked exactly like the type of person who’d chase someone down a dark alley with a kitchen knife—except you were too tired to actually run, so you’d probably just slowly walk after them like some unstoppable horror villain.

You smiled.

And not a comforting smile.

A dead inside but definitely hiding something smile.

Misaki, for some reason, just sat there, staring at you like they were contemplating something deep. You waited. And then, out of nowhere—

“…NGL, you do look kinda hot with eyebags.”

You blinked. “What?”

Misaki immediately sat up straight. “NOTHING.”

Your exhausted brain short-circuited for a moment. You knew you looked terrifying. This was not a “hot person” moment. You were literally covered in blood, and they had the audacity to say that?

You squinted at them. “Are you flirting with me while I’m holding a knife?”

Misaki, shoving more food into their mouth to escape the situation, spoke through their chewing. “Hahhaha what nooooo you misheard me anyway sooo you’re a serial killer?”

You sighed, pushing the knife aside. “No.”

“…A cannibal?”

“No.”

“Serial killer?”

“No.”

“Cannibal?”

“No.”

“…Serial killer cannibal?”

You stared at them, absolutely deadpan.

“Cannibal serial?”

The stare continued.

“…Cereal?”

You rested your chin in your hand, blinking at them very slowly, like a tired cat contemplating murder.

“If you’re thinking about calling the police,” you finally said, voice dry and smug, “just know you can’t.”

Misaki raised a brow. “And why is that?”

You gave them a look, gesturing vaguely at their whole situation. “You see, Mx. Misaki—” (you dragged out their name for extra dramatic effect) “—you are completely fine.”

Misaki paused, chopsticks halfway to their mouth. “I feel like I should disagree with that.”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair with the most exhausted but smug expression ever. “No, you won’t. If you were that desperate for a place to stay, why would you start questioning things now?”

Silence.

Misaki hated that you had a point.

You let your head tilt to the side slightly, your tired smile stretching just a bit. Your overgrown bangs crossed over your face, casting shadows over your already dark-circled eyes. You looked crazy. Like, the kind of crazy that wasn’t even trying to be threatening—it was just naturally unsettling.

And yet, somehow, it worked.

Misaki sat there, staring at you like they were trying to process several emotions at once.

They squinted. Then they sighed. “God. Damn it.”

You arched a brow. “Problem?”

Misaki rubbed their temples. “No, it’s fine, I just… really, really hate that you’re kinda right.”

You chuckled, pushing their contract across the table. “Good. Now, are you actually gonna sign, or do I have to sit here and look at you until you cave?”

Misaki snatched the pen. “You’re terrifying.”

“You’re still here.”

“Shut up.”

They quickly scribbled their name on the contract. And, in a moment of true genius, wrote Misaki—except they added a little meow at the end.

You squinted at it.

You stretched your arms over your head, your bones cracking like a horror movie sound effect. “Alright, you can sleep now. Unless…” You tilted your head, that same eerie, exhausted smile tugging at your lips. “You wanna watch me cut?”

Misaki immediately recoiled. “No!? Nah, ewww, bro. The hell!?”

You chuckled, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. “It’s okay. Just know this, Misaki…” You let your smile linger as you picked up the knife again, voice dropping to something too casual for the situation. “…I know where your room is.”

Misaki stared at you. Then, very slowly, nodded. “Yes. Because… we live in the same apartment.”

“Exactly.” You grinned, tapping the blade against the cutting board. “Just making sure you remember.”

There was a pause before Misaki narrowed their eyes. “…Are you actually gonna eat it?”

“Yes.” You said it so matter-of-factly, like it was just a regular grocery store steak.

Misaki gagged. “BRO.”

“Waste of meat otherwise,” you replied, moving the chopped… pieces into a storage container like this was just your regular meal prep. “I’ll store it.”

Misaki looked so deeply disturbed. “You look like a whole-ass horror movie antagonist right now.”

“Yes,” you said, unbothered, still focused on your work. “I am a mess. Last time, the dry cleaners didn’t believe it was just suit paint. Had to be real careful.”

Misaki rubbed their face. “Jesus. The fact that I don’t even know if you’re joking or not is crazy.”

You glanced up from your task, eyes dark and unreadable. “Don’t try anything stupid, Misaki.”

They stiffened slightly. “Uh. Yeah. Of course not.” They pointed a thumb toward the hallway. “I’m just… gonna go this way…”

You gave a slow nod. “And I’m gonna stay here…” You trailed off, staring blankly at the cutting board.

Misaki hesitated. “And… do what you do…”

You smiled again, soft and exhausted. “Good night, Misaki.”

They stood there for another second, just long enough to question every single life choice that led them to this moment. Then, very quickly, they left.

Because if they stayed in that kitchen any longer, they were pretty sure they were going to start questioning their sanity.

Misaki slammed their door shut so hard the walls rattled. They didn’t care. Their heart was pounding in their chest, adrenaline coursing through their veins. They pressed their back against the door, locking it in one swift motion before triple-checking that it was actually locked.

They had just walked in on their new landlord butchering human hands.

HUMAN. HANDS.

They squeezed their eyes shut and took a deep breath.

Okay.

This was fine.

This was so fine that their fingers trembled as they fumbled with their phone, opening the group chat and pressing the call button for the three people they trusted most in this world.

📞 Calling: Ronin, Angel, V.

Each ring made their pulse spike. Misaki was practically vibrating with panic by the time someone finally picked up.

“Who died?” V’s voice came through first—sharp, unimpressed, and already so incredibly done.

“I DID.” Misaki whisper-screamed, throwing themselves onto their bed and clutching the phone like a lifeline. “I JUST FOUND OUT MY LANDLORD IS A SERIAL KILLER—ACTUALLY, NO—A SERIAL CANNIBAL.”

Silence.

It stretched on for a few painful seconds before Ronin, always the worst possible person in situations like these, finally spoke up:

“That’s so f*cking cool.”

“SHUT UP, GOREBIY.” V immediately snapped. “MISAKI, GET OUT. NOW.”

Angel, normally chaotic, actually sounded concerned. “Wait, wait, wait, explain. Are they, like… bad bad? Or just… you know… manageable?”

“OKAY,” Misaki took a deep, shaky breath. “So, I woke up, right? And I go to the kitchen—AND THEY’RE JUST CHOPPING UP HUMAN HANDS.”

Ronin whistled. “Damn. Whole hands? That’s commitment.”

V exhaled sharply, like they were personally suffering. “MISAKI.”

Angel hummed. “…Maybe they just like fresh ingredients.”

Misaki squinted. “Angel.”

Angel cleared their throat. “I—I mean—that’s weird! Super weird! Ha ha! Who would do that?! Not me.”

“You absolutely would, and you’re in denial.” Misaki deadpanned before continuing. “ANYWAY, I was like, ‘bro, is this some kind of Halloween prop or something?’ AND THEY JUST—THEY JUST DRYLY WENT, ‘IT’S HUMAN MEAT.’”

V: “LEAVE. GET OUT. CALL THE COPS.”

Ronin: “WHY WOULD YOU CALL THE COPS? THIS IS FREE CONTENT.”

V: “I SWEAR TO GOD, RONIN.”

Misaki flopped onto their back, exasperated. “NO, Y’ALL, LOOK. They seem chill. I don’t think they’re gonna eat me. I’m just saying—THEY’RE A SERIAL KILLER, LIKE US.”

Silence.

A heavy, judgmental silence.

V: “…That does not make it better.”

Angel: “That kinda makes it better.”

Ronin: “That definitely makes it better.”

V: “I NEED NEW FRIENDS.”

Misaki sat up, grinning. “Look, I swear, I think they’re cool. A little dead inside. A little tired of life. A little unhinged. But, like, in a fun way.”

“…Misaki.” Angel sighed. “Tell me the truth.”

“Yeah?”

Angel sounded incredibly unimpressed. “Did you think they looked hot?”

Silence.

A very dangerous silence.

Then, Ronin burst into laughter.

“OH MY GOD.”

V groaned like they were physically in pain.

Angel sighed, exasperated. “You’re so hopeless.”

“I—” Misaki felt personally attacked. “OKAY, LISTEN, IN MY DEFENSE—THEY HAD A PINK APRON ON.”

V: “WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING!??”

Ronin: “NO, WAIT, I SEE THE VISION.”

Angel: “Honestly, I kinda get it.”

V: “STOP AGREEING WITH THIS.”

Misaki pointed at nothing. “They looked extremely messy and hot. Like, imagine eyebags so bad it looks like they’ve been awake for years. They had the tired, dead-inside psycho look but with, like, a pink ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron.”

“…Oh my God.” V sounded like he were suffering.

Angel sighed. “Fine. I won’t tell you to run. But. If they start getting weird with you—”

“WEIRDER.” V corrected.

“—you call us immediately, alright?”

Misaki saluted. “Aye aye, captain.”

V groaned louder. “I’m going to find you a new place. Don’t die before then.”

“No promises.” Misaki grinned.

And with that, they hung up, absolutely pleased with themselves.

Because, let’s be honest.

This was gonna be fun.

For the first few days, things were… weirdly normal.

Sure, their landlord was a serial killer and a cannibal, but Misaki had seen worse. They were alive, weren’t they? Not chopped up in the fridge? Not marinated in some mystery sauce? That was a win.

Besides, they had their own room, cheap rent, and, most importantly—free shit.

Like, actual free shit.

Their landlord didn’t just let them stay, they gave them access to everything.

Netflix? Free. Wi-Fi? Free. Streaming services? Free. Some random subscription to an online manga site? Also free.

All just handed over.

Misaki had barely even asked. One offhand comment about boredom, and boom.

"Oh. Here. Just use mine."

BRO.

They were living the life.

Their job wasn’t too bad, either. As long as they kept doing their work remotely, no one cared. Meanwhile, their landlord was busy being a corporate slave—dragging themselves to their soul-sucking job every single morning and coming back more and more dead inside.

But hey. That was their problem.

Misaki? Misaki was thriving.

At least… until today.

Misaki woke up to a noise.

It wasn’t an alarming noise, per se, but it was… consistent. A weird, low dragging sound.

Their brain, still foggy with sleep, immediately jumped to the worst conclusion.

Oh no. They’re dragging a corpse again, aren’t they?

Great. Fantastic. How wonderful.

They rolled over, pulling the blanket over their head. Maybe if they ignored it, they could go back to sleep.

...But the sound didn't stop.

If anything, it started sounding worse.

Like something falling.

Something heavy.

That... didn’t sound like a body.

Curious—and slightly concerned—Misaki sighed, pushing themselves up. They dragged their feet as they left their room, rubbing their eyes. The hallway was dark as hell, but they could vaguely make out the shape of their landlord collapsed on the floor.

...What.

What.

Panic immediately shot through their body.

"OH, SHIT."

They rushed forward, kneeling beside them. "HEY, HEY, WAKE UP—WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?"

Their landlord groaned, eyes fluttering open. They looked **even worse than usual—**which was impressive, considering they always looked like they’d been awake for seventy-two hours straight.

Misaki frowned. “Dude, what the hell? You okay?”

Their landlord sighed.

Then, in a deep, tired, deadpan voice, they muttered:

"I hate my job."

…

Misaki blinked.

"Bro, you just fainted. Are you dying?"

"No. I just hate my job."

"Okay, but like. Why."

Their landlord slowly sat up, rubbing their face. "Because it's hell."

"That’s not a reason."

They groaned, dragging a hand down their face. "I deal with the dumbest people imaginable. Every day. Just absolute idiots. My boss is a parasite. My coworkers are stupid. And my clients? Even worse."

Misaki hummed. “Sounds like hell, alright.”

Their landlord exhaled sharply. “I swear, I would rather be—” They suddenly froze, seeming to remember who they were talking to.

A fellow criminal.

A fellow killer.

Someone who would absolutely call them out.

They cleared their throat. “Uh. Metaphorically.”

Misaki snorted. “Sure, sure. Totally not suspicious.”

Their landlord just groaned.

They looked so done with life. So exhausted. So miserable.

And—ugh. Misaki was starting to feel bad.

Like, yeah, their landlord was a murderous cannibal, but they are nice!

Misaki sighed as they trudged toward the kitchen, rubbing their face. The day had already been too much, and now they had to figure out what to cook for you, of all people.

You, the psychotic, dead-eyed, possibly-a-murderer-but-still-weirdly-chill roommate.

Still, they did feel kinda bad for you. Not bad enough to ignore the human meat in the fridge, but bad enough to cook something edible.

They pushed the kitchen door open—

Only to suddenly get shoved against the table.

Their back hit the surface with a dull thud, and before they could even process what happened, there you were.

Standing over them.

Looking at them.

STUDYING them.

Like a damn predator.

Misaki’s heart jumped. Their entire body locked up, every survival instinct they had screaming at them to run.

And then—

Then, their eyes drifted down.

And they saw the shirt you were wearing.

They blinked.

Once.

Twice.

HUMAN BY CHANCE, ALPHA BY CHOICE.

They just stared.

Dead.

Silent.

As if their soul had physically left their body.

Three full seconds passed before they finally spoke.

“…You cannot be serious.”

You tilted your head. “What?”

Misaki slowly lifted a hand and pointed. “THAT. WHAT YOU’RE WEARING.”

You glanced down at the godforsaken t-shirt, completely unbothered. “Oh. It was on sale.”

“OF COURSE IT WAS.”

“I think it’s funny.”

“IT’S NOT.”

You ignored their entire reaction. Instead, you just stared at them again.

And then you spoke.

“You look really delicious right now.”

Misaki blinked.

They froze.

Their brain completely short-circuited.

“…Th-thanks? I try?” They ran a hand through their hair, suddenly hyper-aware of their own appearance. “I mean, I thought I was average-looking, but—”

Wait.

WAIT.

HOLD ON.

Their brain finally caught up with the situation.

Misaki jerked back in horror.

“BRO. I’M NOT FOOD. GET THE HELL OUT.”

You snorted. “Relax. I promised I wouldn’t eat you.”

Misaki squinted. “That doesn’t make this less creepy.”

“I just wanted to take a look at you.”

“FOR WHAT?!”

You shrugged. Your eyes scanned them, like you were inspecting something. Calculating.

Then, suddenly—

“What’s with the gun?”

Misaki stiffened.

They immediately reached for their holster, confirming their weapon was still there. “...What?”

“You’re armed,” you said simply. “Why?”

Misaki scowled. “Uh, duh, I’m not stupid? I just moved in with a cannibal. You think I wouldn’t bring a gun?”

You blinked. Then, without hesitation—

“What kind of a killer are you?”

“EXCUSE ME?”

You gestured vaguely. “You’re clearly trained. What’s your thing?”

Misaki’s eye twitched.

“…I’m an assassin.”

You stared.

“…Oh.”

Silence.

More silence.

Then—

“So you’re bad too.”

Misaki threw their hands up. “OH, AND YOU’RE SO SAINTLY?”

“No, I’m just saying. You kill people too.”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN WE’RE THE SAME.”

You tilted your head, watching them. “Why do you do it?”

Misaki exhaled sharply. “Because I’m broke.”

“...That’s it?”

“I have debts.” They crossed their arms. “Paying for my parents.”

You froze.

The air shifted.

For the first time, you didn’t have anything to say.

Misaki narrowed their eyes. “What? Surprised?”

“…No.” Your voice was quieter now.

Misaki was still standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, replaying the last five minutes of their life in their head like a buffering video.

What the hell just happened?

They had been ready to make you food because, surprise surprise, even unhinged serial killer cannibals needed to eat actual meals sometimes. Then, suddenly, BAM. They got slammed against the table, stared at like a premium cut of wagyu steak, and then hit with the existential crisis of realizing their creepy, horrifying, serial-killer housemate might not be as emotionless and dead inside as they originally thought.

And now? Now, they were standing there, hands in their pockets, watching as you wandered back into the kitchen like nothing happened.

Like you hadn’t just acted like some kind of deranged, sleep-deprived maniac in a cursed T-shirt.

You looked at them, tilting your head slightly, before rubbing the back of your neck.

“...Maybe I’ve fallen for you.”

Misaki choked on their own spit.

“I’M SORRY, WHAT—”

You sighed like this was some grand, tragic confession instead of the most batshit insane thing you could possibly say at this moment.

“I usually eat my housemates,” you said casually.

“EXCUSE ME?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Two so far. Both gone in a day.”

Misaki took a full step back. “What the actual—”

“But you feel different,” you continued, like you hadn’t just admitted to literal cannibalistic homicide. “I don’t want to eat you.”

“Oh, WHAT A RELIEF.”

“You make me feel… energized.” You stared at them, brows furrowed slightly, like you were still trying to figure it out yourself.

Misaki swallowed, every muscle in their body tense. Should they be running? Because they should probably be running.

And then—

“So, do you want to eat together?”

Misaki blinked.

“Do I want to—HELL NO.”

You shrugged, completely unfazed. “Okay.”

Silence.

Then you tilted your head, as if a new idea suddenly popped into your deranged little mind.

“Do you want to be lovers?”

Misaki’s brain blue-screened.

“WHAT.”

You nodded, still way too casual about this whole thing. “Lovers. Dating. Romance. That stuff.”

Misaki stared at you.

Long.

Hard.

As if staring at you long enough would force you to make sense.

It did not.

“What the actual hell are you talking about.”

“I’m saying we should date,” you said, blinking at them like they were the weird one here.

Misaki took another step back. “WE HAVEN’T EVEN BONDED.”

“Okay,” you said with a slow nod, like you were completely open to negotiation.

“Okay?”

“Do you want to marry me instead?”

“WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. HELL.”

You just blinked at them again, waiting for a response like this was some totally normal topic of conversation.

Misaki dragged a hand down their face. “Dude. We haven’t even—WHY is that the next logical step?!”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But I am falling for you.”

“OH MY GOD.”

Silence.

More silence.

And then, as if suddenly struck with divine inspiration, Misaki sighed deeply and crossed their arms. “Fine.”

You tilted your head.

Misaki smirked. “I’ll give you a challenge.”

You raised a brow. “A challenge?”

“Yeah,” they said, grinning. “February. It’s the month of love, right?”

You just nodded.

Misaki leaned in, poking your forehead lightly. “You wanna win my heart? You got one month to make me like you back.”

You stared at them, processing.

Misaki’s smirk grew. “And if I do like you by the end of February, then maaaybe we’ll talk about this ‘lovers’ thing.”

You were quiet for a long moment.

Then, with that same exhausted, dead-eyed expression, you nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You nodded again. “Yeah. Also, you don’t have to pay rent for February.”

Misaki paused.

“...Wait. Hold up. What?”

“No rent,” you repeated. “February’s free.”

Their eyes narrowed. “Are you… bribing me?”

“Yes.”

Misaki grinned. 'Okay!'

IT'S NOT OKAY

Misaki collapsed onto their bed like a ragdoll, face buried in their pillow as their entire soul reeled from the conversation they just had.

What the hell was happening.

They had moved in less than a week ago. Found out their landlord was a literal serial killer/cannibal. Somehow weren’t dead yet. And now?? Now their psychotic, sleep-deprived, blood-covered housemate was falling for them??

What kind of romantic horror-comedy bullshit was this??

And worse, WHY was the rent-free month kinda tempting?!

Misaki groaned into their pillow before rolling over and grabbing their phone. They needed backup. NOW.

They dialed The Chaos Hotline.

Aka: Angel, Ronin, and V.

Within seconds, V picked up.

“Misaki,” V said immediately, tone suspicious. “You never call. What happened.”

Ronin’s voice piped in from the background. “Oh, oh, is this about the cannibal landlord? Are they hot?”

Misaki sat up. “WHY is that your first question?!”

“Because it’s important.”

Angel sighed. “Misaki, please tell me you didn’t get into a hostage situation again.”

“No! I mean—maybe?! I don’t know!” Misaki ran a hand through their hair. “Okay, LISTEN. They—they confessed to me.”

Silence.

Then—

“What?” V sounded like Misaki just committed a war crime.

“LMAO” – Ronin.

“Holy shit.” – Angel.

Misaki flopped back on the bed. “I don’t know how it happened!! One second they were staring at me like a five-star wagyu steak, and the next they were like, ‘I think I’m falling for you.’”

Angel gasped. “You made the serial killer catch feelings?”

Ronin wheezed. “BASED.”

V was not having it. “Misaki. Get. Out.”

“Dude, they said I don’t have to pay rent for February.”

“STAY.” – Ronin.

“OH MY GOD.” – V.

Angel hummed. “So… ”

Misaki clenched their fists. “STOP ASKING THAT.”

“Which means yes,” Angel said smugly.

“I—LOOK. I MAY HAVE SLIPPED AND CALLED THEM HOT, OKAY?!”

More silence.

Then:

Ronin. Wheezing. “You—YOU LIKE THEM TOO, DON’T YOU?!”

Misaki exploded. “I DO NOT LIKE THEM BACK. I JUST THINK THEY LOOK KINDA HOT COVERED IN BLOOD. IT’S AESTHETICALLY PLEASING, OKAY?!”

V. Exasperated. “MISAKI.”

“I’M NOT.”

“You’re literally getting romanced by a serial killer, and you’re already calling them hot when they’re covered in human remains.”

Misaki groaned. “This is not happening. This is a stress response.”

Ronin snorted. “Sure, buddy. Keep telling yourself that.”

V sounded done. “Okay, so what’s your plan? Because if they’re a serial killer, you probably shouldn’t lead them on.”

Misaki hesitated.

“…I may or may not have made a deal.”

Angel perked up. “Oh?”

Misaki winced. “I told them… that if they can make me fall for them by the end of February, then maybe we can talk about the ‘lovers’ thing.”

Silence.

Then:

Ronin. Losing their absolute shit. “MISAKI, WHAT THE HELL?!”

Angel cackling. “THIS IS A ROM-COM.”

V. “MISAKI, THAT’S NOT HOW YOU HANDLE A CANNIBAL KILLER.”

“I PANICKED, OKAY?!?!”

Ronin was dying. “You gave a cannibal a dating challenge?!”

“Yes??”

“Bro.”

Misaki groaned, covering their face. What the hell was their life.

Angel giggled. “So what’s their next move, you think? Romantic dinner date? Valentine’s Day surprise? Ooo, what if they give you a human heart in a box?!”

Misaki shuddered. “PLEASE don’t manifest that into the universe.”

V sighed. “You need to be careful, Misaki. If they actually get attached, that’s dangerous.”

Misaki huffed. “Relax. I got this. I’ll make sure they fall out of love before the month ends.”

Ronin snorted. “Or you’ll fall for them first.”

Misaki scowled. “No chance in hell.”

Angel smirked. “We’ll see.”

[tom-holland-parker]

I Wanna Wear Your Tie

Request: Can you please do a professor tom x student reader, she’s of age of course, and he takes a liking to her for being so smart and he can barely contain himself with every outfit she wears. And one day after class he asks her to hang back and things get very SMUTTY?

Warning: 18 + SMUT (oral, choking, vaginal sex), student/teacher relationship, cursing, age gap (legal)

Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader

Word count: 4081

Masterlist

Tom knew from the first time you walked into class he was going to have a hard time. Not because you were a trouble maker, he heard from your other professors that you were an extremely bright and well rounded student, but because you liked to wear the shortest sundresses he’d ever seen. Tom knew he fucked up by developing a crush on his student. It was immoral and he could lose the job he worked so hard to get. 

Tom had been staring at the email all weekend, debating all his choices. He knew the right thing to do was to report it and let the school handle everything, but a big part of him told himself to do otherwise.

Dear Professor Holland,

I want to wear your tie while you fuck me

Love Y/N

Tom let out a deep breath as he rubbed his eyes, refreshing his inbox once more in hopes you had sent another email, an explanation or maybe even an apology, anything that would avoid him having to send the response that he had drafted Friday night after he received your message. Of course as the hours passed he knew that hoping was pointless, Tom sighed looking over his drafted email for what seemed like the 100th time before hitting send. 

Ms. Y/L/N

In regards to your last email I have no choice but to report it to the school. I do, however, acknowledge that you are one of my highest scoring students so it is only fair that I give you a chance to explain yourself. Please meet me in my office Monday after class

Professor Holland

Little did Tom know you were freaking out, spending Saturday nursing your hangover from partying Friday night. It was a drunken mistake, you would’ve never sent the email had you been sober but leave it to the vodka to let you do something stupid.

You had one day to come up with some apology and still couldn’t find the right words. Countless drafts saved in your notes app, but none good enough to express the regret you felt by sending that email. Of course time wasn’t on your side and the hours moved faster than usual. Finally it was Monday afternoon and you sat in your door waiting for your final class of the day, his class

“Maybe if you just tell him it was a mistake he’ll understand” Your roommate Kendra laughed as she looked at your computer, you’d been rereading the email for hours, hoping it would go away. Glancing at the clock you sighed, “I have his class in an hour, how am I going to face him”

“You could skip”

“I’m already in enough trouble as it is I can’t skip class” You sighed, closing the laptop as you moved to put on your shoes, “I’ll just give the best apology he’s ever heard of and hopefully it’ll all work out”

Kendra chuckled, “who knows maybe you’ll get exactly what you wanted”. You rolled your eyes, “I’ll text you after class”

///

Tom watched as you entered class, his eyes trailing over your outfit, you were wearing his favorite dress, white with blue flowers. He chuckled at your innocent appearance but frowned when he noticed you taking a seat in the back instead of your usual seat in the front.

You showed up to class right on time, looking at your feet to avoid any eye contact with Tom. It was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was that stupid email. It didn’t help that he was wearing a tie today, the same tie you’d imagine him gagging you with on most nights. You shook your head trying to focus on forming an apology that wasn’t absolutely pathetic

“Alright class is over, If you have any questions about the assignment you can” his gaze shifted towards you, “email me”

Your eyes widened as you distracted yourself by putting your things in your bag. As if the universe wanted to see you completely embarrass yourself in front of the teacher you’d been crushing on all semester, you piled out the class with the rest of the students, trudging down the hallway towards his office. You stood outside the door for a few minutes, pacing back and forth as you tried to compose yourself. You took a deep breath, gathering all your courage as you knocked on the door 

“Come in” You heard his muffled voice from behind the door. You took a deep breath as you twisted the door knob walking into the well lit office. 

“Hi Professor, you said you needed to see me” You say trying to seem innocent. He cleared his throat pointing to the leather seat in front of his desk, “Please have a seat” 

Slowly you make your way to the seat, placing your bag on the floor as you stare at him. Tom took a deep breath, opening the email as he passed you his laptop, “When I get an email from my brightest student I expected a question about her latest essay not this”

Your face heated in embarrassment as you handed him the laptop, “Professor I’m so sorry I was very drunk Friday night and I know that isn’t an excuse but I didn’t mean to send that. If I could take it back I would just please don’t report this”

Tom watched as tears slowly began to trail down your face, “y/n I’m not going to report you”. 

You looked at him in disbelief, “Seriously”

“but you’re not getting off that easily” He closed his laptop, “You’ll be spending the week and your weekend helping me grade papers”

You let out a sigh of relief, “thank you professor I’m really sorry it ever happened”

Tom chuckled, “You’re one of the smartest girls in my class. I would hate to see you get in trouble because of one drunk mistake” You wiped your tears away, feeling yourself relax now that you knew you weren’t going to be in too much trouble. “After all you’re only young once, just try to keep your thoughts in a diary and not your emails”

You chuckled, picking up your bag as you got up to leave, “will do professor”

///

Tom instantly regretted his decision. Don’t get him wrong, having the extra help was amazing but it was hard to concentrate when all you wore were short dresses. He spent all week sitting at his desk, too afraid to get up for fear that his body would betray him and you see the hard on he was trying desperately to get rid of. Seeing you in class was hard enough but when he watched you in what seemed like your natural element it changed something in him.

He watched as you sat on the couch in his office, your hair tied back and your glasses slowly sliding down your face, every once in a while you had to push them back in place. Tom couldn’t help but smile at the faces you made while reading the essays, a look of annoyance when you read over an obvious mistake or the way your eyebrows furrowed when you wrote the feedback. He tried his hardest to keep his laughter inside whenever you got distracted and drew little faces in the margins. He hated to admit it, it made him feel terrible, but he was a professor falling for his student

“Professor I’m not sure about this” You said getting up from the couch as you walked towards his desk. Your voice knocked him out of his trance as he watched you hand the paper to him, “See the evidence goes along with the topic sentence but the explanation is still choppy” 

You watched as Tom took the paper from you, your breathing hitching when his hands grazed over yours. You shook your head reminding yourself that you were already here because your stupid feelings and if you kept letting yourself indulge in what was supposed to be your punishment you were going to end up in the deans office.

“I see what you mean,” Tom said looking over the paper, “just circle the paragraph and place it in the pile and I’ll look over it later.” He looked up, surprised to see how close you were to him, your chest inches away from his face. It was just his luck that you decided to wear a low cut dress today.

“Okay” You replied, taking the paper from him as you slowly moved back to the couch. Tom glanced at the clock noticing how late it was getting, “Well it’s getting late and you probably want to spend the you weekend somewhere way entertaining than here so you can leave, punishment over”

“Are you sure? I still owe you two more days and it doesn’t feel fair to end my punishment early” You said, grabbing another paper. You weren’t sure if you wanted to stay because it actually felt unfair or if you really just wanted an excuse to keep spending time with him. 

“Well if you insist, '' he chuckled, a part of him happy that you weren’t eager to leave, “But we can finish this tomorrow afternoon, I’ll walk you out”

You gathered your things, meeting Tom at the door where he waited for you, his hand resting on your back as he guided you out the room, locking the door behind him. “It’s dark, I’ll walk you to your car, Where are you parked?” Tom said looking at the parked cars on the street

“I don’t drive” You said awkwardly, “But my dorm is only a few blocks away from here I don’t mind walking”

Tom shook his head, “No way I’m letting you walk, it's too dangerous, I’ll drive you.” You watched as he took his keys out his pocket unlocking the black BMW parked across the street.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way” you looked down on your feet, here you were again too flustered to even look at him. Tom chuckled at your nervousness, “Don’t worry about it. I insist on it.” Your breath hitched as he placed his hand on your back again, guiding you towards the car.

It only took a few minutes for him to get to your dorm building, “well here we are” He said, parking his car before looking at you. You glanced at him nervously, “Thanks Professor”

“Call me Tom” he chuckled, “But only when were alone”

You wanted to punch yourself for feeling butterflies but you couldn’t help it. “Well Tom” You laughed, calling him by his name felt weird, “thank you”

He watched as you moved to grab the door handle but froze, “Oh I forgot to ask you about your assignment”

“What’s up?” he shrugged. “Well I know you wanted us to write about how the author uses the women in his novel to display power but I can’t write about that. The author clearly doesn’t see the woman as symbols of power he sees them as sex objects, which is shown multiple times throughout the text so I can’t write about something that isn’t true”

“So you don’t believe sex is a form of power?” Tom questioned trying not to smile at the way your brows furrowed in concentration

“Of course I believe sex is a form of power but for the author to display women having sex as a symbol for powerful femininity the woman would have to own their sexual desires and wants”

Tom chuckled, “If you really feel so strongly about that then write about it, I’d love to hear more about what you have to say about owning your sexual desires. Seems to me you know a lot about that” 

“Oh my god” You hide your face in your hands, “I didn’t even realize-”

“Don’t be embarrassed, if you can’t joke about it then you’ll let it eat you alive” Tom chuckled

“Well” you smiled, “I should probably get to writing”

“Yeah you should”

You both didn’t even noticed the way you both began to slowly lean into each other, the tension in the car growing thick

“Goodnight professor”

“It’s Tom” He said with a smile

You scrunch your nose, “Goodnight Tom”

Your faces were inches away from each other. He couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at your lips before looking back at your eyes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t do the same, “Goodnight y/n”

You both stayed silent, letting the tension take over. Your lips grazing over each other. The kiss was slow at first but it soon progressed into passionate open mouth kisses, both of you giving into your desires.

Your hands reached to grab his face, shocked at how soft his cheeks felt. “Wait wait wait” Tom said, pulling away slowly. 

You caught your breath, wiping your lips as you moved back into your seat, “I should probably go”

Before Tom could say a word you were out the car rushing towards the dorm building. “Fuck” he said to himself as he leaned back into his seat. He knew he’d fucked up, but he couldn’t help the way he felt when he kissed you.

///

When you knocked on Tom’s office door the next day you were even more nervous than you were Monday. You were too embarrassed and instead of facing the problem head on you did what you did best, ignored it. 

You spent the afternoon on the couch, headphones on as an excuse to block out Tom. If you had a question you didn’t ask it and when you had a comment you didn’t say it. It was pure torture for you and Tom, yet you both chose to ignore the elephant in the room.

As the hours passed and the sun began to set Tom’s patience was growing thin. He couldn’t pretend like the kiss never happened, and if he was being honest with himself he wanted more.

You sighed in frustration, as hard as you tried to concentrate on the papers in front of you, you just couldn’t. Thoughts about last night flooded your brain making it hard to concentrate on even the simplest sentences. You threw the paper on the couch, ripping your headphones off, “I’m sorry but this silence is killing me, can we just get this awkward conversation over with”

“Alright well” Tom stared at you, unsure what to say. Yes he felt wrong but he also didn’t care. He got a taste of you and now he wanted more, “I apologize for what happened, it was completely unprofessional on my part”

You cleared your throat trying to find the right response, “yeah, well, I'm sorry too, we were both in the wrong and it shouldn’t have happened and I’m really hoping we can just move past this” 

“Yes I agree” Tom nodded his head, “So how are those papers coming along?”

You shrugged, sitting down in the exact leather chair you’d sat in on Monday, “There needs to be a study group or something, I mean if this is the writing skills of our future world leaders I’m honestly a little concerned”

Tom chuckled, his hands instinctively reaching for his tie, something you noticed he did subconsciously. Your heart skipped a beat as your stomach fluttered, “god get a grip girl” You thought as you blinked your lust filled thought away.

Tom smirked, noticing your reaction to the way you reacted to him, “Yes well not everyone has an easy time with writing as you do”. He touched his tie again, this time tugging on the knot a little.

Your breath hitched as your brain went foggy. A low chuckle leaving his mouth as you shook your head, “Well I’m not that great of a writer, I mean I have countless drafts that no one sees”

“Really?” Tom played with his tie, loving how much the simple habit affected you, “How many drafts did you make before you sent that email?”

Your eyes widening in surprise, “no drafts. Drunk me is the best writer”

Tom smiled, getting up from his seat as he moved to stand in front of you. You watched as he leaned against his desk. You bit your lip as you leaned back into the chair, enjoying the way that Tom seemed so much taller than you.

“You know you probably shouldn’t say that to your professor”

You smirked, “There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t say to my professor” You were playing with fire but the heat felt too good, it made you want to know what the burn felt like. “Fuck it, what’ve you got to lose” You thought to yourself as you smiled.

“Oh yeah?” Tom’s eyebrow raised in question as he leaned down towards you, his face only inches from you, “things like what?”

You smiled bringing your lips close to his ear, “Like how much I want you to fuck me”

The groan that left Tom had your thighs clenching together, “Yeah you definitely shouldn’t tell me that.” You chuckled as you leaned back in the seat, Tom’s eyes moved over your body like you were a work of art, “but then again as a teacher I probably shouldn’t want to fuck my student so badly”

Your lips parted in surprise as Tom smirked, his fingers gently trailing up your thigh. Your breath hitched in anticipation but a disappointed sigh left your mouth when his hand didn’t move past the hem of your short dress. “If this happens no one can know”

You nodded your head as his hand grabbed your chin, keeping your head in place and forcing you to look into his eyes, “Words darling”

“No one finds out” You gulped, your body frozen. You could feel yourself getting wet from the power he held over you. The feeling of his having control over you was intoxicating

“And you understand that I will never use this against you? You can leave right now and I will forget this ever happened and we can go right back to our normal professional student-teacher relationship”

“I understand professor” You nodded, wanting nothing more than for his hands to be all over you. 

“Good girl” He smiled, placing a quick kiss on your forehead, “Now go sit on my desk and spread those legs”

You smiled, quickly doing as you were told. Tom chuckled, amused by your excitement. You watched as he got on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he places kisses up your thighs, occasionally leaving a mark that would stay for days to come. “You’re so wet, all this over a couple of kisses?” He teased

Before you could answer Tom moved your underwear aside, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. You moaned, your hand instinctively reaching for his hair. “I knew you would taste good,” He said, licking his lips. He ate you like you were his last meal, licking and slurping you like a starving man. 

You’d never been more thankful that the school was empty on Saturdays, no one around to hear the moans that Tom was coaxing out of you. “Oh god” Your hips shamelessly bucking against his face as he pulled your legs onto his shoulder.

“Tom please” You whimpered as his tongue slowed down to a teasing pace. He groaned, his large hand slapping your thigh, “It’s professor.” His voice was demanding and powerful. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers stretched you, toes curling as he effortlessly found your g-spot. “Professor please I’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me baby” He moaned, “I want your cum all over my face”

His fingers moved faster as you reached your breaking point, loud moans leaving your mouth as your back arched. You could feel Tom smirking against your clit as your legs began to slightly shake. 

“You sound so pretty when you cum” Tom said as he stood up, your cum making his face glisten in the last bits of light that came from the windows of the office. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer as you licked your cum off his face. 

“Someone’s eager” He joked as you kissed down his neck. “Hmm I can’t help it, you just look so sexy with my cum on your face. Plus I’ve been wanting this all semester so are you gonna give me what I want or am I gonna have to get it from someone else”

Tom’s jaw tightened as he grabbed your wrist, “Don’t be a brat or I’ll edge you all night and leave you with nothing”

You whimpered as Tom pulled you off the desk, “Now if I remember correctly,” you watched as he loosened his tie, “You wanted to wear this.” You nodded your head, watching as he took off the blue and white tie, taking a deep breath as he placed it around your neck. 

“And as much as I love you in this dress, I think I’d prefer for you to be out of it” He smirked. You chuckled, turning around so he could unzip the dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. Tom’s arms snaked around your body he pulled your back into his. His fingers playing with your nipples, squeezing and pulling the sensitive area. You bit your lip, rubbing your ass against his hard on, your pussy desperate for more attention.

“Professor” You wined, “I want you”

“So needy baby” He chuckled against your skin as he kissed up your shoulder and neck, “Don’t worry, you’ve been a good girl I won’t tease you too much”

Your head rested against his shoulder as his hand twisted the tie, making it tighter around your throat, “Is this okay?” You nodded, wincing when his hand roughly slapped your ass, “Come on sweetheart you're smart enough to know that when I ask a question I expect an answer. Now use your words”

“Yes Professor” You said moaning as his hand gently rubbed the area he’d just hit. Tom quickly unbuckled his pants, pushing them down as he aligned himself with you. He teasingly rubbed the head of his cock on your clit, loving the low whimpers that escaped your mouth as your hips jolted up. 

Tom’s grip on your hips tightened, pushing you down into the desk as he bottomed you out. You moaned loudly as he began to thrust into you, “This is what you wanted right? Your professor fucking you like a slut”

You gripped the desk, trying your best to keep your balance. Tom gripped the tie again, the fabric pulling your head back. “Faster please Professor” You begged as you moved your hips. 

His hips sped up as his hand moved in front of you tracing figure eights on your clit. You became light headed from how tight the tie was but you couldn’t care less it all felt too good. “Sir Please It’s too much I’m gonna cum”

“Go on baby cum on my cock, give it to me” Tom sped up, becoming needier as he came closer to cumming. He pulled your body into his, fucking up into you as he kissed the harsh line where the tie met your skin. The sensation was too much for you as you came, your walls squeezing Tom, milking his cock of all his cum as he came shortly after you.

Your body went limp, leaning against the desk so you didn’t fall to the floor. Tom sighed, pulling out of you, groaning when he saw his cum leaking out your abused hole. “You did so good” Tom whispered as he kissed up your spine, “Such a good girl for me”

You slowly got up, turning around to face him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Tom smiled, picking you up and moving you to the couch, where you sat cuddled in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked, still placing kisses all over your body

“I’m cold” You said, your head resting against his shoulder. He chuckled, quickly grabbing his jacket from his chair before returning to your tired body. You laid in his lap with his jacket wrapped around you, Tom’s hand running up and down your spine as he kissed your forehead.

You glanced at the clock, “it’s getting late”

Tom sighed, “let’s just stay like this for a little while, then we’ll get you dressed and I’ll drive you to your dorm”

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (16)

Notes: minimal editing you know. also, did you guys think they were going to have a good date?! 

all parts

-

What could go wrong?

It was an excellent question with an even better answer:

Everything. Everything could go wrong and it absolutely fucking did. 

You had been sitting, in a dress a little too tight and high as the sky heels that were insanely uncomfortable, for about twenty minutes when Matthew rolled into the restaurant. He was dressed in a tee shirt and joggers, clothing entirely too casual for the venue, and you could tell he’d been drinking.

“Sorry I’m late, had some stuff to do.”

You ignored the slight slur in his voice as you tried your best to smile at him, “you’re here now,” it was clipped but he didn’t notice.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” he pulled his chair out and plopped into it, completely ignoring you as he dove into the bread sitting in the middle of the table. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Matthew.”

He had downed two pieces of bread by the time you spoke up and after you did, his eyes stayed on the food in his hands. 

“You ask me out on a date, show up drunk and underdressed, and pay more attention to the appetizer than to me, this is such fucking bullshit.”

You were seeing red, and it wasn’t just the color of the carpet beneath your heels. He laughed to himself and continued to smash on the bread as you fished your phone out of your purse and ordered an Uber. 

This was a mistake and you should have known better. 

You were pretty sure Matthew didn’t even realize you excused yourself from the table and left the restaurant but you made sure to stop your server on the way out and order three bottles of the most expensive wine in house before you left, ensuring he was left with an extravagant bill. It was petty, but you couldn’t care less. 

++

The cookies and the nighttime city views were nice but they were just another one of those fleeting moments where Matthew acted like a human with real emotions. Showing up for the date drunk and dressed in casual clothes had you seething and you spent the entirety of your ride back to your apartment with you fists clenched so tight your fingernails left little crescent shaped indents in your palms. 

“He’s a fucking asshole, Onyx, he’s such a fucking asshole and that was his last chance. It’s like, he’ll do one nice thing only to follow it up with something so shitty it’s like he didn’t even do the nice thing in the first place.”

Unamused, Onyx continued to lick his paws and ignore your rant. You huffed at this, “You’re a shit listener, bud.” 

Your cat might have been a shit listener but you knew someone that wasn’t.

I know it’s late, you started a message to Brady, but your brother is such a fucking dick and I had to remind you of it.

Your phone was ringing less than five minutes later.

“I know you had a date tonight, what the fuck happened?” 

“Hello to you too, Brady.”

“Hi. What happened?” 

As you recounted the evening’s events to the younger Tkachuk brother, the irritation you felt earlier in the night began to make its way back into your head and based on Brady’s responses, you weren’t the only one in a bad mood because of the way things went down.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me? He’s really self-sabotaging the fuck out of this and I almost want you to tell him to kick fucking rocks permanently.”

“I’m ready to do that, honestly. It was so fucking embarrassing. The wait staff were all giving me those sympathetic looks and whispering to each other while I sat at a table by my fucking self until he got there and made me look even more stupid. I got dressed up, I made a fucking effort and he made a mockery of the entire ‘date.’”

“I know, I don’t blame you for being pissed. He’s not usually this bad at dealing with women, he doesn’t have a shit ton of game but he’s handled this whole situation with you absolutely fucking wrong.”

The two of you talked for a little longer before saying your goodbyes and ending the call. You weren’t sure what was going on between yourself and Matthew anymore but it was obvious that it wasn’t working out and after tonight, you were tired of it. 

It was time to put whatever this was to bed for good. 

Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you leaned back against the couch and sent Matthew a text message: Hey Matthew, so tonight didn’t go as planned and it’s fine. I think it’s best for us to just have a professional relationship anyway. If you need to contact me, you can email me whenever. See you at work.

It wasn’t the most eloquent message you’d ever typed but hopefully it would get the point across. You read it one final time before pressing send, and as soon as ‘delivered’ appeared under the bubble, you blocked his number.

*

He woke up to the sound of a blaring alarm and a splitting headache. He also realized, after a few moments of finding his bearings, he wasn’t in his own bed. 

“Good morning, sunshine.” 

It wasn’t a voice he wanted to hear, “morning Eden.”

“I’m curious, Matty,” she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “why were you at a such fancy place in such shitty clothes?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“When you called me, you were at that fancy French place downtown by yourself. When I got there, you were deep into a bottle of expensive wine at a table that was clearly set for two. What’s going on?” 

Her voice was sickly sweet but despite his pounding headache, Matthew knew there was something accusatory hidden behind it. 

“I was celebrating.” 

“Celebrating what?” 

She was digging a bit too deep for someone that was just a casual hookup and it was starting to piss him off.

“The end of our arrangement.” 

He ignored the pain in his temples and pulled himself out of bed, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. Making his way through her apartment to put on his shoes and get the fuck out of there, he ignored her whining behind him. 

“Bye Eden,” he said before slamming the door on her and heading out into the cold Calgary air. 

It wasn’t until he went to order an Uber that he realized he had a bunch of unread text messages, most of them from Brady, but only one from her. 

Opening the text from her first, his heart sank when he read it. What the fuck had he done? 

As his Uber headed toward his apartment, Matthew read over the texts from Brady and, thought he couldn’t really remember the night before, it was pretty fucking obvious that he had ruined everything.

He had ruined everything and there wasn’t really even anything to ruin yet. 

Matthew took the elevator to her floor and slowly made his way down the hall toward her door, they were off today, she was most likely home. He stopped in front of her door but he couldn’t bring himself to knock. 

He was the one that left her sitting alone in a restaurant looking like a million fucking dollars while he showed up late, drunk and underdressed. Peanut butter cookies and his best version of puppy eyes weren’t going to fix this. She wanted a strictly professional relationship and Matthew had to respect that, especially after all the shit he’d put her through. 

The sound of the elevator hitting his floor pulled him out of his thoughts and he noticed a bag sitting in front of his door. As he approached, Matthew noticed the logo on the bag and a piece of paper taped to it. 

“You left without these, figured you’d want them because you paid. Got your address from the reservation application. I hope you can figure things out, that girl you were supposed to meet was an absolute catch. Dave, wait staff.” 

As if he needed reminding. Two bottles of the expensive wine she had spite ordered sat in the bag. Matthew unlocked his apartment and took them inside, pulling them out of the bag and throwing the note away, only to tape a new one on one of the bottles. 

*

You hadn’t planned to check your email at all but work was work and you loved your job. It was the usual shit and you promised yourself this was the last time you would refresh until you closed your laptop. 

A message from Matthew Tkachuk popped up, sent seven minutes ago. No message content but the subject read: I’m sorry, check your door.

You were off your couch faster than you cared to admit. 

“What the fuck,” you said to yourself, grabbing the bottles of wine and bringing them inside. 

They were easily recognizable. It was the wine you ordered on your date with Matthew and you were shocked to see them sitting outside your door. What was most surprising though, was the note attached to one of the bottles. 

‘Please take these as a gift, from a Flames player, to a very appreciated, supported and loved Flames staffer.’

*

If all she wanted was a professional relationship, Matthew would be the best damn coworker she’d ever had.

He placed the bottles gently on the floor and decided against knocking, choosing instead to go back up to his place and send her a ‘professional' email.

[httpjeon]

MINE FOR TODAY — KSJ (M.)

synopsis. as part of a special valentines day sale, you make a bid in hopes to get a special discounted date with one of the dreamy bachelors of club ardor. you decide to choose The Romantic. 

pairing. seokjin/reader genre. angst, fluff, smut au. fake dating!au, date-for-hire!au wordcount. 6,171 contents. sad!seokjin, lonely!seokjin, light pining, teasing, protected sex, breast play, fingering, size kink (?), scratching, overstimulation, doggy style, pet names, light aftercare note. seokjins was by far the hardest to write. i have such a difficult time writing him ): i apologize, i did my best for him!

— club ardor masterlist.

© httpjeon 2020. do not repost, modify, or translate.

Your phone let out a startling ding, making you jump as you hadn't realized you'd forgotten to silence it. Taking a look around your cubicle, you made sure no one had noticed before you pulled it out and went to put in do not disturb mode. Before you did, however, the preview notification caught your attention.

"CLUB ARDOR VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL: See Inside for Details."

As you were about to unlock your phone to take a look, you heard the light clicks of your boss's heels coming towards you. You quickly slid your phone back into your drawer and turned your attention to your screen, feigning reading something.

Her footsteps paused outside of your cubicle before she called your name. You spun around in your chair to meet her gaze curiously.

"I really need those expense reports within the next hour, can you do that?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," you nodded, turning around once again to face your desk, "I'm actually almost done, I can probably have them on your desk in 30 minutes."

"That's perfect," she smiled, "Thank you."

You returned her smile and let out a sigh once you heard her footsteps disappear. Shaking your head, you let yourself become absorbed in your work once again -- forgetting about that email you'd received.

You caught a taxi to head home, not feeling like walking even though your apartment was only 5 minutes away. Your feet were aching and you just desperately wanted to take a shower and eat dinner as you'd accidentally missed your lunch break by working through it.

It wasn't the first time you'd considered yourself a bit too much of a workaholic.

It was nearing 11PM by the time you finally were able to settle down on the couch. Your hair was freshly washed and you were wrapped in a soft bathrobe with a nice face mask.

Reclining as the TV played in the background, you unlocked your phone to check after spending most of the day without. You responded to texts and checked your social media before suddenly remembered the email you had received earlier.

"CLUB ARDOR VALENTINES DAY SPECIAL: See Inside for Details."

It sat at the top of your emails and when you opened it, you were greeted with an image similar to a party invite. In pretty, cursive font it was written; "Once in a lifetime chance to meet the man of your dreams!"

There was a link beneath it that you clicked, causing it to open a new Safari page. The search bar indicated it had taken you to clubardor.com. It wasn't the first time you'd been on the website.

You heard of it's grand opening half a year ago and went to check it out. Unfortunately, you discovered that even the most basic package was 2 grand for 12 hours. The deluxe had a price that nearly sent you into cardiac arrest.

In the end, you just signed up for newsletters and things to be sent by email.

It seemed it paid off, as you found yourself on a page detailing a Valentine's special.

For the entire month of February, they were hosting a giveaway. According to each Date's schedule, a lucky woman would be chosen from a lottery to get a date with them for just $500 instead of $2,000. The insane discount had your jaw dropping.

You weren't embarrassed to admit that you were curious about the date-for-hire service. Biting your lip, you decided to throw your hat into the ring and place a bid on the special.

"Full money-back guarantee if you're not chosen!" was written in bold letters above the credit card input.

You had no worry about being scammed, Club Ardor had risen to the top in terms of dating services in the country -- after just 6 months of activity and just 7 bachelors available. They had an excellent reputation and were known for having an extremely high-class clientele.

With your lip caught between your teeth, an excited smile on your face, you put your payment information in and hit 'Enter'.

"Thank you for your bid! Please keep an eye on your email within the next week to determine if you've been chosen! Your lottery number is 1-241-994."

You opened up your note app and typed down the number on a blank note for safe keeping.

Returning to the website, you began to do some digging into each of the men available to hire. While their pictures weren't viewable -- for safety reasons, you supposed, there was plenty of information about them.

"Each Date has full control over creating his own scene. Location, dynamic, and length of time will vary. Please speak to your Date for more information on his plans to be sure you have allotted the correct time-frame. Abide by rules and limits he sets."

You flicked through the profiles of each man, eying their listed physical and emotional qualities.

That night, you went to sleep with excitement stirring in your heart.

Somehow, you managed to work through a couple days and ended up forgetting about even signing up for it. You were working so hard to get a promotion so you could escape the shitty cubicle that somehow spending $500 completely slipped your mind.

At least, that was until you were eating a bowl of cereal at nearly 3 in the morning on a Friday night -- 6 days after you had signed up, and your phone pinged with the alert of an email. Holding the spoon in your mouth, you picked up the device and unlocked it without even looking at the notification.

You went to your email and paused when you saw the email was from Club Ardor.

With shaking fingers, you opened it.

"Below are the applicants who filed for the lottery that won. If you do not see your number, expect a monetary refund within the next 24 hours."

You clicked out and went to your note app to check the number you had gotten. Refreshing your memory, you returned to the email and scanned down the list. There were a lot of numbers listed, you quickly realized. But by some miracle, you spotted your own number listed there in the middle.

"If your number is listed, please check your email for further instructions."

You backed out of the email and refreshed, sitting up straight when you realized you had a new one from Club Ardor.

"Congratulations on winning a special night, please follow this link to register for a date with the man of your choice!"

Clicking the bright red hyperlink, you watched the screen load for several seconds and go from white to black.

You flicked through all seven of the men passing the boyfriend, the romantic, the quiet one, the playboy, the softy, the bad boy, and the alpha male. It was easy to rule out the playboy, bad boy, and alpha male -- deeming them a little too hard of scenes than what you would be able to handle.

After a bit of deliberating, you decided on the romantic. He seemed to be the oldest at 26 years old and from the silhouette of his picture, you could see he had a very nice build with hide shoulders and pretty, thin waist. You assumed he would be closer to your type and you did enjoy romance so with a couple of clicks, you were registered for a date with him.

You were brought to another page which held instructions for downloading an application called Club Ardor along with a code it told you to input.

You did as you were instructed, highly impressed with the company's extensive work on the hiring process. It was very obvious to you that Club Ardor was, in fact, suited for those of high class. The service held an obviously high regard for discretion and safety for both its bachelors and clients.

Once the app was downloaded, you opened it and found a box to enter the code you'd been given.

You were then brought to a page to input information such as your name, age, height, likes, dislikes, and preferences. After entering it all, you were brought to an empty text message thread.

Before you could attempt to look around, your phone let out a jingle and a new text message popped up.

From: Seokjin Hi cutie! Our date is set for tomorrow night. Meet me at the Club Ardor building at 7PM sharp. Wear something nice and pretty, but comfortable. Can't wait to see you!

You read the text several times, surprised by the quick work he made before typing out a response letting him know you understood. The final thing he texted was a an address to the building you would meet him at.

Thankfully, your job has required you to dress nicely for business dinners in the past so you had a decent amount of things to wear. You decided on just a flowing dress that was breathable but complimented your figure. Placing it in the front of your closet for easy access, you went through your nightly routine and got into bed.

You worked through the day, it was a Friday so you compiled the information of the entire week and input it into the data system. It kept you busy and the hours passed by quickly.

You got off at 5, having made sure you finished everything as quickly as possible so you wouldn't have to work over time.

"You're in a rush today, _____," your boss smiled as she met you in the elevator, carrying a couple files.

"I um...I have a date tonight," you confessed sheepishly, face flushing when she gasped.

"Congratulations, I hope you have a wonderful time," she said, patting you on the back, "Stay safe, I'll see you on Monday."

The elevator opened to the 3rd floor and she got off, shooting you a little wave before the doors closed again. You were dropped off at the lobby and you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, bidding a goodbye to the receptionist as you exited your building.

Grabbing a taxi, you made your way home.

As soon as you stepped out of the shower, you heard your phone go off from your bedroom. The notification bell for the Club Ardor app was extremely hard to miss.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you wandered into your bedroom and picked the device up.

From: Seokjin [5:45PM] Super excited, cutie! Can't wait to see you!

You smiled, typing out your response immediately, "Me either! See you soon!".

You were ready earlier than you would have liked. There were still 20 minutes until you could leave and be at Club Ardor on time. You didn't want to be too early or too late.

Timing it just right, you grabbed your purse and slipped your phone into the side pocket before slipping your heels on. The Uber you called pulled up right on time as you exited the lobby of your apartment complex.

Exchanging pleasantries, you crawled into the back seat and let out a nervous breath. Of course it wasn't until you were literally on your way that the nerves would kick in.

Club Ardor came into view at precisely 6:58PM.

The building was a huge high rise building with several floors. Club Ardor was a brightly lit neon sign atop the building. The Uber pulled up to the front curb and you stepped out, checking the time to see it was 6:59PM.

As the Uber sped away, you stepped up to the door, unsure of what to do. Deciding that you should probably let him know you were there, but as you unlocked your phone, the lobby door opened and a man stepped out.

He was dressed in a tux with a bowtie and he looked around for a second before his eyes landed on you.

"_____?" he smiled, walking up to you with his hand out, "It's nice to meet you, I'm Seokjin."

"Hi, Seokjin," you greeted, noting how big his hand was in yours before he pulled away.

"My cars in the garage," he jerked his head in the direction around the building, "Do you want to come or I can pull up."

"I'll...wait here," you said, making him laugh before nodding his head.

"I get it," he waved it off and began to jog around the building.

You could hear the rev of a car engine echo from the garage before a sleek white car came into view. Seokjin got out and jogged around the car to open the door for you.

You thanked him with a soft smile before getting in, pulling the seat belt on as he slammed the door shut.

Once in an enclosed space with him, you were immediately aware of how good he smelled. An almost sweet, fruity perfume wafted off of him and if you looked closely you could see he had a lip tint on.

"So, what's the plan?" you asked, breaking the silence that had settled.

"A romantic date on the water for two," he sighed, almost dreamily.

It couldn't help but laugh, which in turn brought a bright smile onto his face. The atmosphere became increasingly less tense as Seokjin drove to somewhere unknown.

"I'm so hungry," he complained from the driver's seat, making a turn onto a less populated road, "The food is honestly to die for."

"Whoa, what is this place?" you asked, not fully hearing his comment as you watched him pull up at a parking lot near a huge lake.

"This is where our date is, silly!" he grinned, getting out of the car and rounding to open your door for you.

He took your hand, escorting you towards a pier where there was a large boat bobbing with the waters natural movement.

"Hop aboard, lovely," he kept h is hold on your hand as you got onto the boat. He followed you and tugged your hand to get you to follow him.

Your body wavered as the boat suddenly took off but Seokjin was there to steady you with a broad grin.

"Have a seat," he motioned to a small table with two chairs across from one another.

"So," you huffed a laugh as you took a seat, "When you said...dinner on the water."

"I meant it literally," he shrugged, reaching over to click a button and several strings of white fairy lights illuminated everything around you.

"Whoa," you gasped, looking around.

You could see the lights from the buildings on shore and there was a beautiful cast of the moon shining over the water. It was beautiful and as you turned your gaze back to Seokjin, you were surprised to find him leaning his chin on his hand as he watched you.

"Your eyes are sparkling," he said, an almost serene smile on his lips.

In more proper light, you could make out his features more. He had wide shoulders, pretty, plump lips and flawless skin. His eyes were sparkling as well, the dark irises looking like stars were shining within them.

"Would you like to start eating?" he asked, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours. His skin was soft and warm and it made you smile as you nodded.

Dinner was a blur, he had a few dishes available to choose from since he didn't know exactly what you would like. You chose the steak, which seemed to make Seokjin quite happy as he ordered the same thing.

You could see where his romantic title came from as he reached across the table to feed you a couple bites every once in a while. Once the main course was over, the two of you shared a strawberry cheesecake slice after he lit the candle at the end of the table.

You had a good laugh when he failed to light it a few times because the breeze kept blowing it out.

"Now, the next portion of our date I'll admit...it's a little lame," he confessed sheepishly as he walked you back to the car.

"Oh?" you climbed into the seat after he opened the door for you.

"We're going to head back to Club Ardor, drink, and watch movies," he said, turning the key in the ignition.

"It's not lame," you giggled, resting your head back on the seat, "I think it's a great way to unwind."

"I'm glad you feel that way," he said, sounding relieved.

When you finally pulled back up to Club Ardor, Seokjin was blasting music and singing obnoxiously to it. You had your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing too much. Every once in a while, he'd take a look at you and end up laughing midway through his singing.

He pulled into the garage and pulled into a parking spot that had his name on a sign in front of it.

There was a door that he had to scan a card to unlock which led into what appeared to be a lounge room. He didn't waste any time in clicking the button to call the elevator.

Seokjin was comfortable. He had such a calm, relaxing demeanor that it put you at ease.

The two of you sat on the couch and clinked your glasses together before you both downed the shot he had poured. You cringed as it burned going down your throat, leaving a horrible taste in your mouth.

A bit of a lightweight, it didn't take much to get you tipsy and soon you were both losing it over some horrible movie he had accidentally picked.

"I swear it looked good in the previews!" he argued through laughter when you teased him about his choice.

"I'm picking the next one, you've lost movie-picking privileges!" you laughed, stealing the remote from his hands, making him gasp in shock.

He immediately began to try and get it back from you, his body pressed against yours. His perfume once again and it made your eyes flutter.

Pressed against the arm of the couch with Seokjin's body dangerously close to yours, you both paused. He met your eyes, seemingly searching for something in your gaze. As you searched his, you couldn't deny how...sad they looked.

Your breath began to quicken when his face slowly got closer to yours. You could feel his breath against your lips but before they could meet, he was pulling away. He took the remote with him and took his seat beside you once again, leaving you pressing your hand to your chest as your heart raced almost painfully.

There was a terrifyingly loud alarm that rang throughout the room, making you jolt awake.

Looking at the clock, you were disgruntled to see that it was 7 in the morning. Sitting up, you realized you were in bed when you were positive you fell asleep with Seokjin on the couch.

"Hey," he said, making you jump as he suddenly appeared in the doorway, "It's 7am."

"I see that," you mumbled, sliding out of bed, still sleepy.

"Our 12 hours are up."

And just like that it was over.

However, Seokjin didn't leave your mind after that though. Even when you stepped into your apartment, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

Especially how you almost kissed.

You were, of course, aware that Club Ardor dates would occasionally participate in physical intimacy. You hadn't expected it to happen to though. You could still remember the way his scent wafted around you and how close his lips were to yours or that sad look in his eyes.

A week passed by quickly and painlessly. You fell back into a rhythm with work, giving vague replies to your boss when she asked about how it went.

Somehow, Seokjin kept slipping into your mind. You couldn't shake him.

A measly 12 hours with a man you had only just met, and he seemed to have invaded your very subconscious.

That day, after work, you decided to take a detour to a local bar. It wasn't a very big, popular bar but the people in your neighborhood frequented it quite often. The atmosphere was buzzing inside and you made to take a seat at the bar but paused when you spotted a figure you recognized. You blinked several times, making sure you weren't hallucinating him.

"Seokjin?" you asked, making him jump.

His head snapped over to look at you, his eyes wide. He took you in for a second before his face morphed into confusion.

"What're you doing here? How'd you know I was here?" he sounded defensive and it made you frown, shaking your head.

"I live in the apartment complex down the street, I stopped here after work for a nice Friday drink," you motioned to your work attire and he seemed to relax. Part of you was offended that he thought you were some kind of stalker but you supposed in his line of work, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

He was drinking a beer slowly, seemingly lost in his own little world as he turned away from you. You got the hint, and went to walk away from him but you stopped when he called your name.

"Um...why don't you sit with me?" he asked, motioning to the empty stool beside him.

You were relieved he asked you to join him because that's all you wanted. You took the seat and he ordered you a drink, for which you thanked him. Being in his presence again felt nice and you already began to relax.

It seemed Seokjin had been drinking there for a while. His face was a little red and he was openly giggly and friendly -- a complete difference than what he was when you first sat him sitting there.

Time flew by with him but eventually you realized it had gotten dark outside and you'd stayed far longer than you had intended.

"I really need to be going," you sighed, the words painful as they slipped out of your mouth. You didn't want to leave him, you'd thought about him so long.

"Wait!" he cried, grabbing a hold of your blouse sleeve, effectively halting you.

"What is it?" you asked, alarmed by the saddened look on his face.

"I...Can't you stay?" he asked, voice soft.

"I...I really need to get home...I've got some reports to go over for work..." you explained, wincing when you watched him visibly deflate, "You...you can come over, if you want?"

"Really?" he looked hopeful again as he hopped off the stool.

He wobbled a bit and you laughed, reaching out to steady him even though you were a little tipsy yourself.

The two of you walked outside, the cool night air hitting your heated skin and making you shiver.

"I really...I'm not supposed to go home with clients..." he mumbled, as if talking to himself, "But I guess you're not technically a client anymore, right?"

You chuckled, cheeks burning when he pulled you close against him, "I guess I'm not."

"Yeah, so it's fine!" he chuckled.

Once the two of you stepped into your apartment, things seemed to shift. He took a seat on the couch and relaxed.

It gave you a moment to take him in; he wore jeans and a t-shirt, looking even better in casual clothes than he did in formal wear.

"Do you want some hot chocolate?" you asked suddenly, unable to hold back your smile when he visibly perked up, "I'll make you some."

You disappeared into the kitchen, letting out a deep breath as you realized your heart was racing. Seokjin seemed to have the effect. He didn't even do anything and he had you flustered.

You heated up some milk in the microwave, not wanting to bother with stove top. Pouring the powder into the cup you stood and waited for the milk to be done.

Before it could finish, you felt a presence behind you that had you jumping out of your skin. Turning around, you were face to face with Seokjin's incredible visage. His brown eyes were wide, almost curious and a smile lingered on his pretty lips.

You subconsciously licked your own lips and you swear your saw his own eyes drop to your lips. The energy was tense between the two of you and his perfume was permeating off of him once again. Seokjin opened his mouth to say something but before he could the microwave beeped.

The spell was broken and he backed off, wandering back into the kitchen as you began to mix the powder and milk in the cup.

You took a seat beside him, handing him the cup before turning the TV on. The two of you relaxed, you pulled your throw blanket over you shoulders as Seokjin sipped on his hot chocolate.

As you watched him, you couldn't help but find him cute.

"Hey Seokjin?" you asked, earning a hum from him, "How come you work at Club Ardor?"

"Why do you ask that?" he questioned, frowning as he sat up straighter.

You followed suit, shrugging your shoulders, "I mean surely being a date-for-hire wasn't the job you dreamed of," your words brought a smile to his face and he let out a soft chuckle, "Plus, you're crazy good looking, funny, and charming...I'd expect someone like you to be a model or something."

"Well...thanks..." he smiled, cheeks a little red, "To tell you the truth...I've dated quite a bit but..." he seemed to deflate as he spoke, "It never worked out, they all just wanted me for my money and looks."

"How shallow..." you sighed, shaking your head in dismay.

"Eventually, I just decided to stop trying but...if I'm honest I get so lonely," his confession made you frown, "But I just...don't want to be open to anyone so...this job makes me feel loved, even if it's fake."

"You won't even try to find a girlfriend again or something?" you asked, pained at the idea of him just giving up.

He shook his head, "No one ever wants me for me. Do you think I haven't tried my hardest? It never works, I'm sick of feeling left like I'm worth less than I am."

"Seokjin..." you muttered, reaching over to place your hand over his that was curled up in a fist on his knee, "You...deserve to have someone genuinely love you. It seems impossible but...it can't be like this forever. Someone will come along that will see you for you but you can't just...shut down. You should keep trying," you squeezed his hand, feeling it relax from the fist, "Maybe you've been dating the wrong women!"

"You're right," he mumbled, surprising you, "I think someone more like you is my type."

It took a second for those words to sink in,"Wha--" you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh, "Don't tease me like that!"

"No, I really mean it, _____," he whispered, meeting your gaze. It held such conviction and sincerity that you felt your heart speed up, "I think you're beautiful and you're so sincere. When we had our date," he paused after saying the word before sighing, "I had never wanted to kiss or touch someone more than I wanted to with you. You are absolutely captivating and you don't even know it."

He shifted on the couch, turning to face his body towards you. Your proximity was closer than you expected once he faced you, if you leaned in just a bit more your noses would touch.

The tension between you rose, something hot building that neither of you could deny.

Then, his lips were on yours -- soft and warm with the taste of hot chocolate lingering on them. It wasn't even a thought to hesitate, you were immediately returning the kiss.

It became more heated as the seconds ticked by. You found yourself pinned to the couch with him above you, never breaking the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. Whimpering, you felt a shiver go down your spine when he softly nipped at your bottom lip.

When you pulled away, there was a minuscule thread of saliva connecting your lips. Once you met his heated gaze, you both knew what the other wanted.

The walk to the bedroom was a blur of shared kisses and wandering hands pushing clothes off. By the time you were pinned to the bed, you were both naked. 

Seokjin's pretty, plump lips found purchase on your neck, making you shiver as his breath fanned over the sensitive skin. Kisses trailed down to your chest, over your collarbones and sternum before reaching the gentle swell of your breasts. 

Your chest rose as you inhaled sharply at the feeling of his warm lips enveloping a perked nipple. His fingers caressed your skin so delicately you could almost miss it completely  

His digits dipped between your thighs to find your folds already wet. He groaned, lightly grazing his teeth against your nipple before looking up at you through his lashes.

“All this because of some kissing?” he teased, making your cheeks burn.

He huffed a laugh and moved to take your other nipple into his mouth. At that same moment, his fingers parted your folds and found your clit. You gasped, spreading your legs further for his access. 

His digits were skilled and graceful, circling your clit to make you whimper before dipping into your entrance. His fingers were long and found your sweet spot quickly, chuckling when your hips twitched upwards at the stimulation. 

He sat up, pulling away from you as he sat back on his heels. His fingers were still inside you and he eagerly watched the way your entrance stretched to accommodate his two — three fingers. 

Your eyes fluttered, rolling back in your head as he fucked you with his fingers. As a result, you missed him wrapping his left hand around his own cock, biting his lip as he finally got the stimulant he needed. 

Precum dripped down his shaft and he eagerly used it to lubricate his movements. He scissored his fingers inside you, making sure you were stretched enough to take him. 

When he pulled out, you whined at how empty you felt. 

“Have you got a condom?” he breathed, tightening his fist around his cock when you reached into your bedside drawer and pulled one out. 

You settled back, spreading your legs once again. He groaned, shuffling forward to cover your body with his. Your eyes met as the tip of this cock kissed your entrance. 

Both your mouths fell open as he sunk into you. Your tight walls squeezed him so wonderfully that he groaned. He stretched you open even more than his fingers had, giving you that wonderful burn you needed. 

He met your lips in a sweet kiss as he angled his hips toward your sweet spot. You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to ground you as the pleasure ran rampant. He hissed, cock twitching at the sting of your nails on his back. 

His pelvic bone ground against your clit every time he sunk in, edging you closer and closer to release. Seokjin could feel the way you fluttered around him and he groaned.

Sliding a hand between your bodies, he circled the bud until you arched with a cry of pleasure. 

He eased you through the high, grinning when you trembled through the overstimulation. Finally, he slowed to a stop and pulled out. You whimpered, feeling your hole clench around nothing. 

“Roll over,” he breathed, cupping your hip to urge you onto your front.

With your face buried in the pillow and your ass in the air, you looked like a delectable treat for him. Standing on his knees, he sunk his cock back into your cunt. 

You both groaned. The angle had him hitting your spot with painful accuracy. You cried out, muffled in the fabric of the pillow, as he fucked you into even more overstimulation. Your recent orgasm had you much more sensitive and this position allowed him to abuse that. 

An almost sadistic grin crossed over his face as he enjoyed the little cries and whimpers you released the harder he fucked his cock into you. 

Reaching down, he tangled his hand in your hair. You gasped as he tugged until you were up on your knees as well. Your back was against his chest and you could feel him panting against your neck.

His lips found the junction of your neck and shoulder, nipping at the skin there. Your walls fluttered around him and he released your hair to reach around and cup your breast. 

“Fuck,” you gasped as he pinched your nipple, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“What is it, baby?” he groaned, the pet name making you flutter around him again. 

“M-Make me cum, please,” you begging, making him groan once more.

He didn't say anything further, simply slid his hand down your body until he found your swollen clit. The second his fingers touched the bud, you clenched tight around him in sensitivity. 

He circled the bud until you were trembling and gushing around him. You cried out his name as pleasure coursed through your body from your high. Seokjin didn't stop circling your clit and fucking his cock into your spasming walls until you were near tears.

He finally let you fall back down to the bed and began to chase his own high. He spread your ass cheeks apart, getting a good view of the way your cunt tried to suck him back in on every out stroke. The sight made him groan. 

It took you deliberately squeezing tightly around him tightly for him to cum. It was sudden and knocked the air out of him. He gripped your hips tightly as he spilled into the condom, his cock twitching the entire time.

Everything was still for several seconds before he pulled out. 

You rolled over to lay on your side as Seokjin got up and went into the bathroom. He came out a moment later with a wet cloth that he used to clean your thighs and folds with, laughing when you playfully smacked his shoulder from the oversensitivity. 

He finally crawled into the bed, the two of you wiggling until you were comfortable. 

You laid with Seokjin's chest beneath your head, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat the only thing you heard. His hand softly combed through your hair and you smiled.

"This...This is what I've been needing for so long," he whispered, "No one trying to get something out of being with me. Just a sincere...caring touch."

"This is what you deserve, Seokjin," you sitting up to look at him. His hair was messed up in an adorable way that made you smile, "You can have so much more if you just...open yourself to it again."

Seokjin's gaze turns glassy as he opened his mouth to speak, "I'm just...scared."

Your heart ached when you saw a tear trickle from his eye. Reaching up, you swiped it away, "I know but...you deserve to be loved, Seokjin."

He didn't reply, simply reaching up to pull you back down into his arms. You held him in return, running your fingertips over his skin until you felt him relax as sleep finally overcame him. Adjusting yourself more comfortably, you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

You opened your eyes to the morning sun shining into your bedroom. You licked your lips as your mouth felt dry and moved to sit up. As you did, you remembered what happened last night.

Looking beside you, you realized he wasn't in bed and the sheets were cold. Standing up, you wrapped your fuzzy robe around you and crept out of the bedroom.

"Seokjin?" you called, frowning when you received no reply.

Your heart was pounding as you made a round around the apartment to see if he left a note of anything. When you couldn't find anything, you returned to your bedroom to pick up your phone.

You froze, realizing you never actually got his phone number. You'd only communicated through the Club Ardor app.

Clicking on the icon, you waited for it to load.

Instead of being brought to your profile, you reached a page with a simple notice on it.

"Your date has filed a report, you are now blocked from using the Club Ardor service. If further contact is attempted, Club Ardor will be forced to take legal matters."

You stared at your phone for several seconds.

Everything that happened flashed through your mind -- the way he kissed you and confessed his feelings of loneliness and hurt to you. You wondered if any of it was true. Were you a game to him?

Your view of the notice on your screen became blurry as you realized you would never know.

[13-reasons-ideas]

Can’t Go Back Part 17

A/N: This chapter is pretty fluffy. We get a glimpse at how they are moving forward in their relationship since their fight. I’m planning on uploading a part from Monty’s perspective about what he’s doing Friday after school tomorrow or sometime this weekend. I hope you enjoy. Feedback is appreciated as always and much love. -Em 

I spent the next week actively not checking my emails. I was too afraid to even consider if I would get emails about schools yet.  It had only been a week. But you never know. In an attempt to keep my mind off of the fact that my entire future was now completely and totally out of my control, I tried to fill my time with normalcy. Things I normally did. Things that Monty and I normally did. That normalcy now included carving out an hour and a half for Monty’s physio three days a week, but we made it work.

I tried to get back into my routine. For the most part, I went to bed at the same time every night. Some days Monty went with me, other days he stayed up and did stuff for a while. But he came to bed every night. I went to the game Friday night. Scott and Charlie came over for brunch on Saturday. Justin came over to see his new best friend, I mean me, on Sunday because he picked up a shift Saturday morning. Monty and I did our own things together in the evenings during the week. I pretended to read while he played video games one night. Secretly, I was just watching him. For some reason watching people play video games was highly entertaining. We just did normal things.

We also went grocery shopping Saturday. “Are you sure you want to come with me?” I asked again.

“Yes, I’m sure Addison. Besides, we are over halfway to the store. It’s a little late to change my mind now.”

“Okay. Remember the list please.”

“I know. There’s a list and we get what’s on the list.”

“Exactly.”

At the store, I grabbed a cart and dug through my purse for the list and my pen. Monty took the cart from me without asking. I feigned an affronted look. He smirked back. Cocky bastard. I can already tell this is going to be so fun. I opened my mouth to speak when we got inside. “List, I know. And yes. I remember you’re going to make us get vegetables.”

“And you have to get at least one that you like.” He pouted. “You like carrots.” I offered.

“Fine.” He muttered. We are in a dramatic mood today. It was so peaceful when I went by myself. But I missed this. Monty went and put exactly five bulk carrots in a bag. Not wanting to fight him on carrots, I didn’t say anything. As usual, I was in charge of the rest of our vegetables.

The aisles were an easier task. There were no evil scary vegetable that I would have to force him to eat. I quickly scanned down the list as we entered each aisle. Carefully, everything was placed in the cart just so. “We need this.” Monty said, grabbing a box of cheese its.

“Is it on the list?” In response, he plucked the list and pen from my hand, and scribbled it on.

“It is now.” I rolled my eyes and grinned as he handed it back to me. His cheeky grin made me blush. I turned my back and pretended to look at something when we got to the fruit snack aisle and ignored the telltale thud of a box, make that two boxes, of fruit snacks being chucked in the cart. He didn’t write them on the list.

We both cringed at the price of meat, as usual. But we needed it so there wasn’t a whole lot we could do. I crossed things off that had been missed as we were filling the cart. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like the store was out of anything. “Oh, we need butter.” I muttered.

“Is it on the list?” Monty smirked. Like he had done earlier with the crackers, I quickly wrote it down.

“Yes.” I grinned. He grinned and stopped to kiss me on the cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Now let’s get this done so we can go home and do nothing.”

“Your wish is my command.” There was even a dramatic wave of his arm to accompany his attempt to woo.

“You are so fucking cheesy. I’m telling the guys about that one.”

“Ah, come on Addison. You love it.”

I went to grab a couple of pounds of butter and decided I could trust my adult husband to get some bread and jam on his own. When I found him in the bakery with our cart, I remembered that I married an overgrown child. There was bread. And there was jam. And also, cookies. Four different kinds of cookies. And a thing of strudel. Which, to be honest, I wasn’t that upset about because it’s like the best pastry. But the point is that it was there.

“I asked you to get bread and jam. Not half of the baked goods in the store.”

“But cookies are delicious Addison. And you like their chocolate chip cookies. And for some reason I still don’t understand, plain oatmeal cookies. Don’t even lie and say the strudel was a bad idea.”

“So, the sugar cookies and M&M ones are just to look pretty on the counter?”

“No. Those ones are for me.”

“I married a fuckin’ child.” I muttered softly. We turned when we heard a quiet chuckle behind us. A cute little old couple was watching our interaction with giant smiles.

“Mine still does the same thing dearie.” The woman said to me.

“Remember, we don’t grow up. We just get bigger.” The man smiled.

“I’m beginning to realize.” I laughed.

“See. I told you.” Monty smirked. As if to prove the point they were making, we watched as the man grabbed a container of lemon rolls and placed them in his cart. The woman gave him an exaggerated, exasperated look.

“Wait, how long have the two of you been married?” I asked when they passed us.

“Sixty-five years.” They said together, smiling fondly at each other. Wow. That’s amazing. I was still smiling when we got to the till and checked out.

Our normal routines continued for the rest of the week. School, physio, make dinner, sports, spend time together. The normalcy of it was refreshing.

“You’re scratching.” Monty said offhandedly, without looking up from his notes.

“Am not.”

“You stopped typing five minutes ago Addison.”

“I’m thinking.”

“And scratching.” I rolled my eyes and didn’t respond. I started typing aggressively loud to try and get a rise out of him instead. He didn’t respond at all. Not even an annoyed muscle twitch. We aren’t there yet. Okay. Monty’s phone buzzed on the coffee table beside me. I ignored it. It buzzed again. And then again. Before I could reach for it, he had hobble run over and snatched it out of my reach. I looked at him quizzically. He was trying to think of a reason to be hiding his phone from me. What is going on?

“It’s guy stuff. Jamie is having… girl troubles.”

“Girl troubles.”

“Yeah. His girlfriend but not girlfriend or something is doing stuff.”

“Something and stuff.”

“Yes. So, uh. I’ll be over… over there.” He motioned back to the kitchen table. “You know, dealing with girl troubles.”

“Right.” That was weird. Also, he’s going to pay for the movement in the morning. I went back to my writing and not scratching quietly. Occasionally I would look up over my laptop at Monty. He seemed to be very engrossed in his notes.

“Hey Addison?”

“Hmm?”

“Since the game got cancelled some of us are going over to Jamie’s place tomorrow after school.”

“’Kay.”

“Because girl troubles.”

“Yeah.”

“And stop scratching. You’ll only make the rash worse.”

The next morning, I skipped a shower. Cuddles were too enticing. It was a Friday so I didn’t feel like I had to look all cute. While Monty made himself a smoothie, I grabbed one of his shirts to wear because it was loose enough that it wouldn’t irritate the rash. It finally started to clear up. But now it itches. As though he could hear my thoughts, he called from the kitchen, “stop scratching.”

“Bite me.” I called back.

“If you don’t stop scratching, I will.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He looked up when he heard me come in the room.

“I was going to wear that today.”

“You have like… fifty more in your half of the closet.”

“I know mum is a history professor, but dad is a businessman. I know he taught you fractions. What I have is not half of the closet.” I merely shrugged. He waved towards the bowl beside the blender. “Chunky monkey with smooth peanut butter.” I sat and took a bite.

“Yum. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Don’t worry about washing the blender. I’ll do it after school.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

School was pretty boring. It was the middle of November, so we were in the awkward not quite midterms but not quite ready for a new unit time. I met Monty at my locker after the last bell. He was waiting for me with Justin and Jamie. “Hey baby.”

“Hey babe. You guys have fun tonight, okay?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Jamie saluted. I shuddered. Monty tried to stifle a laugh.

“Jamie. Do me a favour and never do that again.” I placed a couple of textbooks in my locker. “I’ll see you at home. Can you stop and grab baking powder on your way home tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Why can’t you stop? You’re going straight there.” Justin asked.

“I have a date with a bubble bath.”

“Ooh la la.” Jamie laughed.

“I guess. Didn’t shower this morning and a bath is better for my itching.”

“Oh?” Justin asked.

“I’ll explain later.” I muttered. He furrowed his brow and looked at Monty. I kissed Monty goodbye.

At home, I went to wash my face so I could do the expensive face mask I had been saving for a night alone. I did an exfoliating treatment first and ran my bath. A few scented candles were set on our master bathroom counter and I poured myself a glass of raspberry juice. The book I had been meaning to get around to reading was sitting on the toilet for easy access. Okay fine. One of the books I had been meaning to read. It was very relaxing. I had to dig in the cabinet for my body scrub but found it behind a backup pack of deodorant from Costco. Luckily, the bubble bath was also right there. I poured some in to give it time to foam.

With my face mask done and washed off, I undressed and settled in the tub. The water was boiling hot, just the way I liked it. I sighed and sipped my juice, enjoying a night alone. When the husband is away, wife will pamper. The hot water helped to calm my itching skin. The scrub made my legs nice and smooth before I shaved them and exfoliated a second time. Once the necessaries were taken care of, I could start to relax. Picking up my book, I settled in for the foreseeable future. My book was so interesting and immersive, I completely lost track of time. I was still in the tub when Monty got home. “Addison?” He called when he didn’t find me in the kitchen.

“I’m in the bath.” I called back.

“Okay.” He was opening and closing drawers in our room. He poked his head in the bathroom. “Do you want a glass of water or anything? How long have you been in there?” I paused for a moment to consider. How long had it been?

“What time is it?”

“Almost seven.” My eyes widened.

“Really? Then yeah, I’ll take a glass of water. I’m going to get out right away.” He shut the door behind him and I threw my book across to the door so it didn’t get wet when I got out of the tub.

Once dry and moisturized, I left the bathroom in search of my husband. I found him on the couch scrolling aimlessly through his phone. “I missed you.” I bent behind the back of the couch to kiss his cheek.

“I missed you too. You look very cozy in your fuzzy pyjamas.”

“Why thank you.” I curtsied. He laughed happily. Settling next to him, I laid my head in his lap.

“How was your bath?”

“Amazing. Very relaxing. Oh! And I exfoliated and shaved my legs.” I grinned and lifted my pants leg. “Feel!”

Again, Monty laughed and shook his head. He still reached out and rubbed my leg though. “Very soft and smooth.”

“How was girl problems?”

“I think they’re resolved. It wasn’t as major or as difficult as we thought.”

“That’s good.” I peeked at his phone. He was watching football injury videos. Oh Sweetie. “Hey, how’s your knee?”

“It’s okay. Physio has been helping.”

“I’m glad.” He seemed to realize then that I wasn’t just asking for an update on his progress.

“Oh. I’m just watching this because some of them are funny.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah.” He restarted the video and adjusted his position so I could see too. He was right. Some of them were pretty funny.

It was family brunch Saturday the next day. Scott, Charlie, and Justin all came over. As usual, the four young men were more than happy to eat relatively work free. Monty did have to help me reach a few things and our guests helped set the table. But for the most part, I did the work. It was relaxing for me. Monty still felt a little uncomfortable having me do most of the work in the kitchen, but I didn’t mind. It was my choice to do it. I enjoyed it. And it made things much smoother when I was working solo.

Since it was just a casual pancake breakfast this week and just the five of us, I didn’t really feel a need to shower before they came over.  As such, I was still in my pyjamas most of the morning. They didn’t mind. We hung out for a while after brunch together. By the time everyone was getting ready to leave around two, I decided it was time to shower and make myself feel like a human again. “I’m running Scott’s place for a bit. We have a couple of things to go over with Charlie for next week’s game.” Monty explained when I was going to shower.

“No problem. I’ll just be here writing or reading or something.” From the bathroom I could hear him putzing around our room. I didn’t think too much of it. He was probably looking for a playbook or something.

After my shower, I wrapped my towels around me, fully prepared to throw on a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater for the rest of the day. Instead, I was puzzled to find a large white box in the centre of the bed. There was a bow and a single pink Post it note stuck to the lid. It simply said wear me on it in blue ink. I frowned in confusion but opened it anyway. Nestled inside was a classic, Hepburn-esque little black dress. I gasped and covered my mouth in shock. Gently lifting the dress out of the box I held it out at arm’s length to examine it. It was beautiful. This man is full of surprises. Not wanting to wrinkle the dress, I carefully set it on the bed while I grabbed a hanger.

Once it was hung up, I put on a pair of sweats and an old pyjama shirt. In the kitchen, I found another note next to the coffee machine. This one was on a yellow Post it, also in blue ink. No coffee. Look up. I frowned again. Why no coffee? Looking up on the underside of the cabinet, I found another yellow Post it. This one had an arrow pointing towards the living room. There, yet another Post it. This one was blue. There was another arrow pointing at the coat closet. A green Post it was stuck to the closet door. Be ready at 5:00. Wear your matching black pointy shoes. Now I was even more confused. Well, it says be ready. I shrugged and checked my watch. It was just past two. I rolled my eyes at the coffee note and made myself a cup anyway. I wouldn’t need to be up all night, but note be damned. I wanted coffee. I savoured it while I let my thoughts run wild of what could be in store for my night. At home fancy dress dinner? Going out for dinner? A walk in the financial district in the city? Hmmm. By two forty-five, I had finished my coffee and started getting ready.

I carefully put on the dress after I had washed my face again. I decided to curl my hair in tight ringlets so that when I brushed them out, they wouldn’t fall flat immediately. I let them set while I did my makeup. So, I didn’t get makeup all over my dress, I draped a towel around my neck to cover it. The simple black cat eye and blue red lipstick paired wonderfully with the classic, timeless style of the dress. A neutral blush and light bronzer added colour and balance to complete the look. I carefully brushed out the curls into nice waves framing my face. Using a decorative bobby pin, I pulled my bangs away from my face. Exiting our room after putting on my tennis bracelet-a birthday gift from my Gran a couple of years ago- I looked at the clock on the stove. It was four fifty. I had ten minutes to spare. Slipping on my heels, I went through my wallet and took out my ID and credit card. I had assumed that we would be going out and Monty usually kept my cards in his wallet.

The sound of a car pulling into our driveway pulled me from my thoughts. I opened the door when the car door shut. Monty was walking up to the house in a very familiar white dress shirt and black slacks. Damn, he cleans up good. I thought it every time he dressed up, no matter how often I saw it. His eyes widened slightly, and he stopped to take in my look. I stopped him in his tracks. I blushed and did a little twirl. He whistled through his teeth. “You look. Absolutely amazing.”

“You look incredible. Have I ever told you, you clean up really well?”

“Once or twice.” He shrugged. I smiled widely. He finished his walk up to the house and took my hands in his, really taking the time to take me in. “You really do look beautiful Addison.”

“Thank you.” I blushed again. My engagement ring sparkled in the setting sun. Monty’s black tungsten ring felt cool in my hand. Together, we walked to the car. We took my car, but I let him drive. It’s our insurance. “Are you going to tell me where we are going?”

“Nope.” He said as he pulled out of the driveway.

“Okay.” We chatted quietly on the way to our mystery location. Given the time, I assumed we were going to a restaurant. When we got closer to the county limits, I realized we were going into the city for dinner. I watched the cars speeding past us on the highway in the other direction. People were eager to be getting home from spending their days shopping or running errands.

I tried to figure out where we were going once we got to the city based on the turns Monty made. I was familiar with most of the downtown and financial districts due to visiting my dad at work when I was younger. I was a little surprised when he pulled in the parking lot for the new Italian place that opened last month. I wasn’t surprised because I was concerned about cost or anything like that. We just weren’t really fancy restaurant people very often. It was a pleasant surprise.

When he parked, we walked hand in hand to the door. He was a perfect gentleman and held the door not only for me but for the couple behind us. I smiled at him while we waited to be seated. He squeezed my hand. We were seated at a more secluded table, closer to the back of the restaurant. The table was lit by candlelight and dim recessed lighting in the aisle. It’s beautiful. Our waiter came by and introduced himself as Anthony. I ordered a cranberry juice with ice and Monty got a Coke. Anthony gave us a few minutes with the menus. As soon as I saw traditional carbonara on the menu, I had made a firm decision. Monty and I sat in comfortable silence while we perused the menu. Even though I knew what I wanted, it never hurt to look at the other options.

After we ordered-carbonara for me and lobster ravioli for Monty-Anthony left us to our evening. “This is really nice.” I said, after a sip of my juice.

“I figured we deserved nice. Or rather, you deserved nice. After everything… and I know you’ve been stressed about school. So, I figured you could use a night off.” He left the obvious tension between us and the cause for it unsaid. We both knew the reason.

“It’s still nice. And we do deserve it. This dress is beautiful by the way.”

“I thought you would like it.”

“When exactly did you acquire it?” I asked, with a sly raise of my brow.

“About yesterday…” Montgomery began, “Jamie wasn’t having girl troubles.”

“I kind of figured. Have they even decided if they have anything to have troubles over?”

“No. They’re still not together. But they go places together and buy each other things. And have sex. Apparently, there is a lot of sex.”

“But they aren’t dating.”

“No.”

“Maybe he is having girl troubles.”

“Maybe.” He chuckled. Anthony came by with our orders. Unsurprisingly, the food was delicious. Mouth wateringly delicious. My eyes widened in ecstasy. So did Monty’s after he took a bite of his own food. We each shared a bite with each other and smiled. So good. So so good.

We spent the rest of our evening talking and enjoying being with each other. It was very nice. We hadn’t gotten to do the whole going out and just being together thing in a while. I pushed the last of my carbonara around on my plate. I wasn’t bored exactly. I was having a wonderful time. “Hey. Where’d you go?” Monty reached across the table to take my hand.

“Oh. Nowhere. I was just thinking.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“This is really nice.” I paused.

“But…?”

“I would honestly much rather be at home in sweatpants watching the new episodes of Law & Order from the other night.”

“Me too.” He giggled. I couldn’t help but giggle along with him. He motioned to our waiter for the bill. The black holder was placed in between us. Monty placed some cash inside and set it down without so much as a glance at me. He helped me with my coat and took my hand after he put on his own. As soon as we got out of the restaurant, I stopped and turned to him.

“Race you to the car.” I grinned before taking off like a bat out of hell. I heard him bark out a laugh behind me. I didn’t look back. Nor did I turn when I heard his footsteps. He wasn’t running because of his knee. They were getting closer though. Even without running, he was able to gain on me because of his gait.  Running in heels was not the easiest thing in the world but I managed to beat him to the car. When he arrived with the keys, I was grinning at him, triumphantly from the passenger’s side. “I won.”

“Yes you did.” He was grinning back at me.

When we got home, the two of us changed into our comfiest sweatpants and t-shirts. I threw on my old Tigers hoodie and popped a bag of popcorn in the microwave after taking off my makeup. Monty pulled up the recorded episodes. I couldn’t tell if he wore his grey sweats on purpose or not. We got comfortable on the couch and hit play. From the get-go this episode of SVU had both of us on the edge of our seats. The popcorn was mostly untouched. I teared up multiple times. When it was over, I ripped the remote from the coffee table and scrolled up to the new episode of Organized Crime. I couldn’t stand to wait any longer than strictly necessary. Our eyes were glued to the screen for the whole hour, minus the fast forwarding through commercials. By the end, we turned to each other in shock. “Wow.” Was all I could say about it.

“The new theme song is pretty great.”

“Yes. I don’t know how to process any other thoughts about it though.”

“Me either.”

“Very worth the wait.” Monty only nodded in response. I yawned and stretched. It was getting pretty late. The afternoon coffee I had wore off a while ago.

“Tired Bookworm?” I yawned again and nodded. Monty carried me to bed and tucked me in. I cuddled up beside him.

Before falling asleep I mumbled, “thank you for tonight. Was really nice. Ni’ night.”

[lancermylove]

Sleep? What’s That? (HC)

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: Victor x Reader, Gavin x Reader, Kiro x Reader, Lucien x Reader,

Warning: Gavin’s hc gets a little suggestive. 

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Hello!! Can I request an MLQC headcannon with an MC whose like “haha, sleep? Never heard of it” because she’s working at the company, and helping out other people? Maybe fluff? Haha- I think it’s quite fitting because of your name- be as creative as you like and alter whatever you need to do! Thanks in advance ✨

A/N: Hi! I wasn’t sure which guys you wanted, so I picked the main 4. Haha, I just went with my blog’s name for this hc’s title. I got a bit carried away with Victor’s hc...is my bias-y showing? XD

——————————————— 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You thought someone was trying to break down your apartment door.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Picking up your pace, you flung open the door, ready to give the visitor a piece of your mind.

"Ms. Chips! Are you okay?"

You were shocked to see Kiro standing at your doorstep. He was out of breath, and small beads of sweat covered his face.

"Kiro? What are you doing here?" You stepped aside to let him into your home.

"Savin told me that he saw Willow's post about you not sleeping enough! I rushed here as soon as I could."

You watched your boyfriend place a few bags on your coffee table before plopping onto the sofa.

"Kiro, what's all this?" You couldn't help but wonder why he was carrying so many bags.

"Well, I thought you could use a little help," he started taking the items out of the bag and placed them on the table, "so, I got some chamomile tea, melatonin gummies, a few fruits with magnesium, lavender oil, passionflower tea, a few vegetables that have glycine, and over-the-counter sleeping pills."

"Kiro, did you buy the entire grocery store?"

"Sorry, Ms.Chips, I wasn't sure which item would help you, so I just got everything." He flashed a toothy grin, causing you to laugh.

You couldn't help but hug your sweet boyfriend. "Sorry for worrying you, Kiro. I have been extremely busy with the company and helping people around town."

"Princess, you need to sleep!" Kiro placed his hand on his chin, "You know what? I have an idea."

He pulled out his cellphone and dialed Savin. "Hey~! I am going to take the rest of the day off, take care of everything, okay? Thanks!"

Just as Kiro was about to hang up, you heard Savin screaming from the other side, "KIRO! YOU HAVE A LOT OF COMMITMENTS TODAY!"

"Kiro, are you sure that was a good idea? Wait, why do you want to take the day off?"

"Savin will handle everything. Ms. Chips, let's go to bed and not wake up until tomorrow. Actually, I don't want to hear anything...we are sleeping for the rest of the day, and that's final."  

Kiro left you no choice as he threw you over his shoulder and carried you off to bed.

No getting sleep was nothing new to Victor. After all, he was the CEO of a very well known company, and on top of that, he had a reputation to maintain. 

When Victor learned that you were not getting proper sleep, he wasn't surprised. Whenever you emailed your reports, Victor made a mental note of the time. 

The first few times, Victor didn't think much when he saw 1 am, 3 am, 4:30 am. He assumed you were procrastinating, but when this became a frequent occasion, he began to worry.  

One day, you received a text from Victor asking you to come to his office asap. No excuses. 

You immediately thought that Victor was going to reprimand you for not sending in a proper report, but when you walked into his office, he seemed more worried than upset. 

"Victor, is something the matter?" 

"Yes. From now on, I want you to send in your report before 10 pm."  

You expected Victor to give you a reason, but instead, he remained silent, awaiting your reply. 

"T-That will be difficult to do." You bit down on your bottom lip, knowing well that your response was not going to go down well with your boyfriend.

"Why is that?" His face remained expressionless.

"Well, you see..." you started but decided to stop. 

"Why are you always tired?" He asked and examined your face, "Your dark circles have gotten worse, and it seems as though you've lost weight."

Victor opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a stack of paper. He looked straight into your eyes before placing it in front of you. 

"V-Victor, I..."

"You were in the hospital last week. Did you truly believe that you could hide this from me?" 

"I am s-sorry. I knew you were busy and didn't want you to worry." 

"Why are you not getting enough sleep?" 

Taking in a deep breath, you told Victor the truth, "I have been volunteering, and there is a lot to do around the company. Anna has been sick, and Minor has to take care of a sick family member, so I have to do their work as well."

Victor sighed, "Did you think that I would get angry at you if you told me the truth? Your well being is more important to me than anything." 

"Victor..."

After making a few calls, Victor turned his attention to you, "For the time being, you will solely focus on your company. I have asked Goldman to send a few employees of LFG to your company. As for volunteering, you will take a break from that."

"But-" Before you could make any excuses, Victor interrupted you. 

"There are others in the city that can volunteer in your place. Also, you are still responsible for sending your reports in on time."

You were waiting for him to say this, but what Victor said next caught you completely off guard.

"Send your report to Goldman in bullet point form, and he will convert that into a formal report." 

"What?" You gawked at Victor, thinking that you may have misheard his words. 

Victor chuckled, "Dummy." 

He rose to his feet and made his way to your chair. Victor picked you up and walked to the sofa in his office. 

"Now, I want you to rest." He gently lowered you onto the black and white sofa before taking off his suit jacket. 

Victor covered you with his blazer and took off your heels. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. 

After a few minutes, Victor turned his attention from his laptop to you only to find you sleeping peacefully. A rare smile appeared on his lips, "Sleep well, my beloved dummy." 

After what felt like an eternity, you finished your volunteer work. Anna had warned you to think carefully before working on a show that required you to volunteer. You couldn't help but think that you should have listened to her. 

The clock read 1:10 am, and your report was far from being finished. You were almost tempted to call your employees and ask for their help, but you decided against it. After all, the company was your responsibility. 

You decided to take a break and walked over to your open window. 

"Having trouble sleeping?" 

You nearly lost your balance, but Gavin caught you. 

Even though this was usually Gavin's way of visiting you, for some reason, you could never get used to it. 

"Gavin? What are you doing here?" You regained your balance and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"You have not been sleeping for the past few days." 

"Huh? How do you know that?" 

"I come to check on your every night." He gave a smile. 

"You do? Are you that worried about you?" You pecked his lips. 

Your action caused Gavin's cheeks to turn red. He averted his eyes and cleared his throat before speaking, "I always worry about you. Would you like to come out with me?" 

"Well, I have a report due, but..." 

Gavin smiled and lifted you out of the window. "It won't take long." 

The night air was crisp and refreshing. The moon's brightness made the ocean shimmer. The cool air brushed your cheeks, causing you to wrap your arms tighter around Gavin's neck. 

"Cold?" He asked with a hint of concern in his voice. 

"No, the air feels good." 

By the time you got back, you felt so calm that you were able to finish your report in no time. 

All the while, Gavin sat on the sofa and watched you with a smile.

After you finished, you took a shower and changed into your nightclothes.  When you walked out, Gavin couldn't help but stare at you with wide eyes. 

You had completely forgotten that Gavin was still there and had accidentally worn your revealing nightwear.

Your boyfriend rose to his feet and slowly walked towards you, taking in the beautiful sight in front of him. 

"Gavin, will you be staying? It's pretty late." 

You failed to notice the mesmerized look on Gavin's face. He wordlessly lifted you and carried you to bed. 

After placing you on your bed, Gavin brought his lips closer to your ear and whispered, "You look beautiful. Don't let any other man see you like this." 

After saying those words, Gavin quickly walked into your bathroom. 

In your tired state, you had failed to notice a tent in Gavin's pants. 

The next morning, when you saw yourself in the mirror, you realized what Gavin meant. Luckily for you, your dear boyfriend wasn't there to see you turning a hundred shades of red. 

It was 3:45 am, and you were typing away on your laptop. Your mind was too preoccupied to hear a knock on your apartment door. 

The sound of your text notification nearly made you jump from your seat.

My dear kitten, I know you're awake. I can see the light under your door.

You were confused for a second, but it suddenly hit you that the only way Lucien can see the light under your door is-

Rushing to the front door, you opened it to find your beloved boyfriend, smiling. 

"I have been knocking for a while. You had me worried."

You let Lucien into your apartment while explained that you were too focused on your report.

"Dear kitten, sleep is an important commodity. Do you wish to impair your brain functions?" 

"Of course not, but Lucien-"

"Have you forgotten that I am a neuroscientist? Sleep deprivation will negatively impact your body." 

"But Lucien, your awake as well, and you don't sleep enough." 

Your straightforward response startled your boyfriend. "I realize that, but my dear kitten, I do sleep. It does not seem as though you have slept recently." 

"I have just been so busy, and I need to get the report in before morning!" You sighed and rested your head on Lucien's shoulder. 

"Then shall we get your report finished?" 

Though Lucien was a firm believer of "one has to do their own work", his concern for your health forced him to make an exception. 

With the help of your genius boyfriend, you managed to get the report finished in half an hour. As soon as you submitted your report, Lucien carried you to your bedroom and placed you on your bed. 

"Do excuse me for a second." He made his way to the bathroom, and after a few minutes, he returned. 

"Lucien, are you staying here?" 

"But of course. How else will I be sure that you receive adequate rest?" With those words, he got into your bed before pulling you close to him. 

Your comfortable bed, Lucien's warmth, and his comforting scent were enough to help you relax. Soon, sleep began to consume you.

Lucien gently ran his fingers through your hair as he studied your sleeping face. "My love, do take care of yourself. You worry me more than you realize."   

———————————————

➣ MLQC Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

[fallenfurther]

Babysitting - Part 5

The final chapter of what started off as a single scene and became longer with each chapter. @selene-tempest was just having too much fun with her nephew (though I can't blame her, he's adorable). Part 1 , 2, 3 and 4. Enjoy!

*******

Selene had gotten a few emails sorted, some items ordered and a cup of Virgil’s good coffee inside herself. She’d spoken to each of the boys on the rescue, encouraging them as the exhaustion started to creep in. Even Scott had managed to call during a brief recess in the meeting, asking after his son. A sad smile crossed his face when he realised the child was asleep. Over Scott’s shoulder, Jeff nodded with a knowing smile, having stood in the same shoes years ago. Refreshed and relaxed, Selene wasn’t surprised when her pendant buzzed gently, letting her know that her nephew was awake. After dumping her cup in the kitchen sink, she headed up the stairs towards the bedroom only to find a small face peering through the stair gate.

“Selene!”

“Hello sweetie.”

She knelt as she opened the gate, accepting the child into a big hug. His messy hair brushed against her cheek as she picked him up and carried him down the stairs. With him already wriggling in her arms, Selene let him loose the moment she had reached the bottom. He was off like a flash in the direction of Sally.

“Grammie!”

The woman’s face lit up, her eyes leaving the screens before her so she could pick him up. The rescue was at the stage where her input was less frequent, but also when her grandchildren would start to ignore their bodies' complaints. She had already reminded Alan to drink something and point Gordon in the direction of fresh celery crunch bars. Selene sauntered over and lent against the table, knowing too well that the cuddles wouldn’t last long. The child was a fresh bundle of energy and was never going to sit still for long. True to form, her nephew was bouncing on Sally’s lap, leaning forward in an attempt to poke the screens. Rolling the chair back, Sally grasped her great-grandson under the arms, pecked his cheek and plonked him on the floor to her right.

“I’m not a climbing frame, young man.” Sally grumbled, rubbing the rib that had been kicked moments before. “Be a dear, Selene, and take him elsewhere.”

Selene nodded, holding out her hand to her nephew, who bounded over and grabbed it enthusiastically. It wasn’t hard to start guiding him towards the elevator.

“How about we go see what’s hidden in Kayo’s studio?”

“Kayo!”

The boy’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he peered up at her. Selene wanted to take back what she had said, knowing the disappointment ahead. Kayo was not going to be in her studio. Her nephew scurried off when the elevator doors opened, seeming to know exactly where he was going. How many times had this kid been to the studio for him to remember the way? What was in there that Scott had kept secret? Opening the door for them both, they stepped into the Kayo’s workout space which appeared as it normally did. The mirrored wall reflected the empty room complete with a wall of cupboards, in which Kayo’s equipment was stored. There was a curious look on the boy’s face as he glanced around, probably due to the lack of a second aunt, but he wasn’t as upset as she expected. Instead he ran towards cupboard four before turning to her expectantly. Okay, he’d done this before. With her curiosity well and truly piqued, Selene strode over to the door. Placing her thumb placed on the pad, which flashed green, unlocked the cupboard and allowed her to twist the handle.

Selene blinked, totally surprised by what she was seeing. In place of any fitness equipment was a stash of indoor toys. A small slide, a bag of foam cubes with faces, a balance bike, a tricycle, brightly coloured foam mats and a sack of plastic balls were just the first things her eyes registered. It was a child’s treasure trove. No wonder her nephew had been so eager to come down here. Why had John kept this from her? Kayo and Scott were a sneaky pair. Her nephew wasted no time and grabbed the balance bike and dragged it out. Moments later he was racing around the room giggling away. After watching the toddler for a minute, Selene turned back to the cupboard and grabbed the coloured mats. There was no way her nephew would be occupied all afternoon by the bike. She slotted the giant jigsaw pieces together to create a soft play space in the middle of the studio. Pausing to let her nephew pass by, she headed back and dragged out the slide, which came with a rocking horse caught beneath it. Selene ignored the bag of plastic balls, not wanting to deal with picking them up, in favour of the more sedate box of bean bags and cones. She shut the cupboard and let herself fall back onto the mats. A bang at her feet was followed by a small body flopping down onto her stomach. Selene gasped as she pulled the child higher and into a hug. She received a squeeze back before he rolled himself off. Selene expected him to run off again, however instead he crawled up so his face was directly above hers. Those sweet blue eyes gazing directly into her own.

“Thank you Selene.”

Then he was gone with a patter of feet. To her left the rocking horse was mounted and an imaginary race started. Selene pushed herself up and sat cross legged. Scott had mentioned moments like that. Moments his son did something sweet, totally out the blue and unprovoked that filled his heart with joy. It certain did warm the heart. With her nephew happily burning his energy safely beside her, Selene closed her eyes and allowed her body to relax. Taking deep breaths in time with the rhythmic rocking of the horse, she continued to listen to her nephew’s mutterings until they stopped. The soft sound of his feet against foam crept closer, along with the new, yet familiar sound of beads rubbing together. Before Selene could open her eyes something was dropped into her lap. She knew instantly from the weight and texture that it was one of the beanbags. Deliberately keeping her eyes shut and her face straight, she wondered what he would do next. A beanbag was placed on her shoulder, followed by a few chuckles. Fighting not to smile, Selene allowed one eye to open and watched the child place a beanbag on her other shoulder. His cheeky grin matched the mischief that radiated from him. Holding back, Selene allowed another three beanbags to be placed on her body. As he went to put a seventh on her head she grabbed him. He fell into her lap and they laughed together as the bean bags fell around them.

“My turn,” Selene stated, “lie on the mat and we can see how many I can balance on you.”

Her nephew followed her orders, though his small body was shaking with anticipation. Collecting up the seven bean bags that had been placed on her, Selene started to lay them across her nephew’s tummy. His giggles started to rock the pile vigorously after the fifth bean bag was placed upon him. Selene managed to get another two on before it was too much for the toddler and they came tumbling down. He swept the rest off before grabbing one and throwing it at her.

“Catch!”

Selene ducked. The bean bag only just made it over her head.

“Catch, Selene.”

Her nephew already had another bag in hand. Seconds later it was flying towards her. Selene stayed down, but this time it hit her head. The child giggled as the green bag flopped to the ground, but Selene was less than impressed.

“I don’t want to play catch, but we can play a throwing game.”

Eyes widened as curiosity filled the child’s face. All Tracy’s were competitive and loved a competition; her nephew was no different. Selene grabbed some cones from the box as well as a few more bags. She placed the cones upside-down in a triangle, just like pins in a bowling alley, before placing the last one the right way up, a few paces away from the triangle. Her nephew watched eagerly, a yellow bean bag gripped in his fingers.

“Bean bag bowling,” she announced. “We each have ten bean bags and we have to throw them so they land in the cones. The person with the most bags in cones at the end wins. You have to stand by this blue cone to throw them.”

An enthusiastic nod was the child's response.

“I’ll go first to show you.”

Collecting up ten bean bags, Selene stood by the blue cone and lobbed the bags at the target. Six of the bags missed, falling between the upturned cones.

“I got four. Your turn.”

A squeal of glee came from the boy as he jumped up to the cone. Selene quickly collected up her bean bags, discreetly discarding one to the side, before dropping them by the blue cone. Her nephew’s fingers kept scrunching up the yellow bag and he waited for her signal.

“Ready?” Selene cheered, “Go!”

The toddler snorted and bounced before raising the bean bag and throwing it at the cones. It only just missed, rocking a red cone as it fell. He quickly got through the pile at his feet and managed to get five to land in the cones. Selene received a smile as the child clapped his hands.

“I win.”

“You won this time.”

“Again.”

The rematch went to Selene and before she knew it she was in a bean bag battle with the toddler. It was a close competition, but he won after eventually tiring of the game, though long after Selene had become tired of being beaten. He left her side and ran to the slide, quickly scaling the ladder. He stood proudly at the top and Selene suddenly worried about the height of it and how unstable it appeared, thanks to it being on the foam mats. Her nephew was completely oblivious to any danger.

“Selene watch me!”

Selene’s eyes never left him as wiggled to a sitting position and pushed himself down the slide. The frame wobbled but it appeared steady enough. Her nephew stood heroically at the bottom and gave her a smile. She clapped and grinned, giving him the attention he craved. This was the start of Selene spending the afternoon chasing after the child, sloping from toy to toy as he slowly burnt through seemingly endless energy reserves. Selene was thankful when the little boy plodded over while rubbing his eye and plonked himself in her lap. His weight forced her legs into the foam as she wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin against his head. Even in its wild state, his hair was soft against her skin. The small body relaxed into hers.

“Shall we head upstairs for some dinner?”

His hair tickled her chin as he nodded, too tired for words. Selene stayed as she was, enjoying the moment of closeness. When her legs started to complain and threatened to go numb, she carefully lifted her nephew from her lap. She managed to stand before he tried to hug her, but she had to carefully unwrap him from her legs so she could take his hand and lead him out the studio. His footsteps were slow and he gazed up with tired pleading eyes. That look may work on his father, but there was no way she was going to carry the child all the way to the kitchen.

When they finally arrived at the kitchen, Selene opened the fridge and surveyed the meagre pickings. There wasn’t much choice as tomorrow was the scheduled visit to the supermarket, rescue permitting. There was a clunk at her feet and a bottom slid down her leg and onto her foot. She rolled her eyes at the sight of her nephew unsuccessfully trying to unscrew the cap off the milk bottle. He complained when she took it from him, following the carton and allowing her to close the fridge behind them. Selene poured him a cup and handed it to him. He plopped himself down in the middle of the kitchen and happily slurped his drink. Checking the freezer, Selene grabbed a bag of chicken dinosaurs, smiley faces and mixed vegetables for the perfect easy dinner. Tipping the shapes onto a tray, she whacked them into the automated kitchen module and set it going. An empty cup was waved from the floor, which she swilled out and filled with water. She got a frown at the exchange. After popping the frozen vegetables in the microwave, she grabbed two plates and served up their dinner. The pair sat side by side at the table, an occasional roar coming from her nephew as he played with his food. After clearing her plate, Selene headed into the kitchen and sliced an apple for the child, and swapped his empty own plate for the fruit. There was no hesitation, and the apple quickly went the same way as the dinosaurs. She gave him some more water as she put all the dishes in the dishwasher, and was grateful he managed not to spill anything as he bounced beside her. It appeared feeding him had recharged his batteries.

“Shall we go see if Grandma wants to play?”

His face lit up and Selene almost had to run to keep up with him. Taking the cup so she could hold his hand, they made it up the stairs safely. Sally had just walked into the living room and the boy was wrapped around her legs a minute later.

“Hello young man. Did you and Selene have fun?”

“Yes!”

Selene joined the pair on the couches, thankful that Sally was able to take over entertaining the child, allowing her to put her legs up. She sighed as the table took the weight off her feet and she sank back into the cushions. The room filled with the sound of clapping as the eldest and youngest Tracy played pattercake. Selene closed her eyes to relax, only to open them when a squeal of delight made her jump.

“Daddy!”

She thought she had seen the child move fast before but this was on another level. Scott was grinning ear to ear, despite the tired air he extruded, as he scooped up his son. He was still in his suit and appeared to have come straight up from the hangar and left Jeff to do all the postflight checks. The hug between the pair was the biggest Selene had seen since Virgil had grabbed Gordon a couple of months ago. A smile crossed her face. She only turned away when someone sat down beside her. The familiar scent had already filled her nose as she snuggled into her husband. He was fresh out the shower, his body still radiating heat and his damp hair had been swept into its usual quiff. Those emerald eyes regarded her with love as he slipped his arm around her. A paper bag was placed into her lap and she peered inside.

“Kayo’s choice.”

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

“You have,” John chuckled, rocking her body as she fished out the Thai green curry. It had obviously been reheated, but it still smelled amazing. She mixed the rice and curry together before scooping up a forkful and shovelling it into her mouth. It tasted better than it smelled.

“How was the rescue?” Scott quizzed, completely unaffected by the fact his son was giggling like a banshee while completely destroying his perfectly styled hair. Selene tried not to choke as Scott’s hair started to poke out at odd angles thanks to all the gel he used.

“Standard search and rescue. Virgil, Gordon and Alan did the bulk of it while Kayo and I rounded up any outliers. Thunderbird One was no longer needed so we left them with Thunderbird Two to finish off.”

“And how was this one while I was gone?”

“As energetic and demanding as ever,” Selene replied after swallowing.

“Thank you, Selene.”

“No problem.”

Selene waved it off as her nephew started poking his father’s dimples.

“Fancy a shower sport?”

“With singway?”

“Yes, you can bring Stingray with you.”

John’s little chuckle rocked Selene again as Scott rolled his eyes. Gordon was intent on making an aquanaut out of the boy. The pair left, allowing Selene to finish her second dinner in peace. Once finished, she slung the bag with the empty carton onto the table before laying her head against John’s shoulder.

“Did you use Kayo’s studio?”

“We did.”

“Did you tidy everything away?”

Selene opened her mouth but those eyes already told her he knew the answer.

“Let’s sort it out before you get too comfortable and Kayo finds the mess.”

Selene groaned as John unwrapped himself, shifting her off him as he stood.

******

John’s muscles ached, the lack of substantial lifting equipment on Thunderbird One meant his body had taken the strain. It had been worth it though. He turned the page of his book as a soft snore came from Selene. Her head was resting in his lap as her body lay across the sofa. The phone she had been reading had fallen to the floor when she had lost her battle with sleep. John just sat, enjoying the peace knowing Thunderbird Two was heading back to destroy it. A glance at his older brother confirmed there was another sleeping occupant in the room. Scott was rubbing the back of the small bundle that was sleeping against his chest. Scott’s eyes met his and despite being dulled by tiredness they were still full of warmth, love and care.

“I don’t know who wore out who,” Scott’s voice was soft as he nodded towards Selene, “but we had better get them to bed before the others get home.”

John nodded in agreement, closing his book and balancing it on the arm of the sofa. He could wake Selene up and force her to walk, but he didn’t fancy dealing with a grumpy witch. Instead, he carefully removed her from his lap and gently placed her head on the cushion, before slipping one arm behind her back and the other under her knees. She shifted in his arms, snuggling closer to him. John placed a kiss on her forehead and watched a small smile spread across her face. He took a moment to admire her before following Scott and his sleeping nephew to the lift.

[whatdyk]

Saviour (Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader) | Modern AU.

Part Three.

Warnings: None that I can think of? 

Word Count: 2.9k.

Chapter Three: 

Deep brown eyes and a strong, rugged voice. Accent thick with a low, serious tone. Brown hair with soft curls; an almost signature frown. The images that lace through your mind keep you accompanied almost every day. Whether you're working, sleeping, or cooking, it doesn't seem to matter. They're always there, curving between your conscious and subconscious mind.

It was even becoming frustrating for you now, how your mind just couldn't seem to escape the thought of Pero. You've even caught yourself wondering whether he feels the same way about you, but you know that that could never be true. Besides, that would be weird, he doesn't even know you.

So instead, you go about your days as if nothing's bothering you. Nothing at all.

With a yawn, you eventually sit up in bed and reach for your phone. It's finally the weekend, and so you decided to indulge yourself in a rare lie-in. Though, to your dismay, your new idea of a relaxing, lazy morning, seems to be waking up at 8 am. You have a few emails and messages from work waiting for you, but thankfully you're able to push them to the back of your mind until Monday. You place your phone back down and slump into the covers, closing your eyes for just five more minutes.

Roughly one hour later, you wake again feeling refreshed and well-rested. And, as soon as you're up and about, the morning before you goes quickly. You're able to eat, shower and dress in just 90 minutes, deciding to wear one of your favorite outfits. Covering yourself in soft knits and an over-sized coat, you're ready to battle against the chill of the oncoming winter. The cuts and scrapes on your face have also fully healed now, leaving you to feel confident in your own reflection once again.

Yesterday, you'd decided that you would go to the park for a walk, ensuring that you're able to make the most of the sunshine and mild weather before the evenings start to get cold and dark. You might even treat yourself to hot drink or a new book, though you'd definitely be sure to stop by the florists. It's a strange feeling to be so excited for such a seemingly mundane day, but you can't help the smile that's beginning to spread across your face.

Grabbing your gloves and bag, you take one final look around your apartment. For the first time in a long time, you're desperate to get out and explore.

Your quick trip had been going well so far, the weather may have been chillier that you had anticipated, but the final rays of the sun shone brightly throughout the city. So far, you'd been able to stop by your local book shop and purchase a few new novels, you'd even spotted a few classics to add to your collection. Luckily, you also know the owner of the store quite well, and she was more than happy to let you peruse the items not yet for sale.

After ringing up your purchases, you only have one more task to complete for the day, flowers. You'd only just thrown out the vase from before, and your apartment was desperate for some colour. You weren't really able to customize the walls of your rented home, so you attempted to brighten up the place in any other way you could imagine.

Deciding to cut across the park, you make your way to your favourite place-

"Oof!" You gasp out as something solid hits your shoulder, knocking you slightly off-balance.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you hadn't even noticed the man making his way towards you until it was too late.

"Shit," You mumble out, reaching down for the bag you'd just dropped, "I'm so sorry"

You hear a muted grumble in response, but it's not until you're stretching back up again that you realize just who you've bumped into. Your heart nearly falls through your stomach as your eyes meet, "...You" you whisper to yourself, meeting the frown that was becoming increasingly familiar.

"You should be more careful" he mutters under his breath, remembering your name and causing your pulse to sky-rocket. You can feel the heat begin to rise in your cheeks as you clear your throat, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. Has he always been this tall?

"I'm really sorry about that," You begin once you realise that you've been staring for way too long, "Honestly, my mind was somewhere else"

To nobodies surprise, the man just grunts in response. Yet, you're pleased to see the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Pero, right?" You question, not wanting to sound too eager as if his name hasn't been on the tip of your tongue since the moment he gave it to you.

"Sí" He responds, "I'm impressed that you remember."

"Of course!" You speak out a little too loud for your liking, "I still owe you for, well...everything" you mumble, moving your eyes to ground beneath you.

It's still a difficult memory for you to relive, but now, and especially in front of him, you can't help but think of when he turned down your first offer of re-paying him. You can feel the tips of your ears begin burn as you recall that moment, the look of pity in his brown eyes as he left you standing in the doorway to your apartment-

"I'm free now?" Pero's gruff voice knocks you out of your thoughts, "If you are too, that is"

Wait, what?

You must have looked up at him with a face of pure confusion as a small smile etches across his features, "If your offer still stands, I'd like to grab some lunch with you" he elaborates.

Your eyes go wide, but you can't help it as a broad smile breaks out, "Of course" you rush out, "I know the perfect place."

Unsurprisingly, the walk between you is quiet. It's not necessarily an uncomfortable silence, but there's certainly an air of tension between the two of you, and you can't seem to put your finger on why. Though thankfully, the place you had in mind isn't too far away.

"It's an Italian, I hope that's alright?" You say, struggling to walk in time with his long strides. He doesn't answer you verbally, but he nods his head as he places his hands into his jacket pockets.

Eventually entering the venue, you're instantly hit with the soothing warmth of the inside. There's a burning fire in the corner that's calling your name, and thankfully, you notice that the place quieter than usual. It may not be the fanciest restaurant in town, but it's rustic features and muted color palate hold a special place in your heart. Plus, their baked gnocchi is to die for.

Making your way to grab a table, you watch as Pero takes off his coat and rests it on the back of his chair. Taking the seat opposite you, he's quick to peruse the menu and you smile to yourself as his eyes widen. He notices that you haven't looked yourself but he chooses not to say anything, instead, allowing you to order and pick out some drinks for the both of them.

"You come here often, then?" He eventually asks, moving to sit back in the padded leather chair.

You smile and nod your head, relieved that you don't have to attempt to break the ice first, "It's my favourite," you explain, "I live nearby and it's the first place I came to when I moved, I'm a sucker for good pasta and wine"

He exhaled through his nose at that, and you guess that that's his version of a laugh. You can't help but smile, once again admiring his dark features.

"So, Pero" you start, "what is it that you do?"

At this question, you can see clearly as he begins to inch out of his shell. He gestures with his hands as he tells you about his role, that he's a security guard as the Museum of Natural History and is currently saving up money to start his own company. His expression seems to always be guarded, but you're careful to notice as snippets of excitement or happiness slip through his facade. You like it when he smiles you decide, watching the usual lines between his furrowed brows dissipate.  

"I've got to ask though," you begin as he takes a bite of his food, "what type of security guard carries a card?"

You think back to the intricate card he gave to you when you first met, his name and number spelled out in delicate printed writing. A stark contrast to the man who's sat in front of you now.

"I'm...well, I'm trying to get my name out there" he answers, "though, I don't usually give them to strangers, I'm hoping to start building my own clientele"

"I'll be sure to hang on to it then" you smile, "I seem to be getting myself into an awful lot of trouble recently." Your laugh is dry, but thankfully the raised eye-brow he offers you in response is enough to make you smile again.

As the afternoon wears on, you probe him with more questions and it appears that he's happy to answer them. From your initial meeting, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows now, it's almost as if you've known eachother for years, or if you're already good friends.

Eventually, the topic of conversation turns to you; you tell him all about your job and life in the city. It isn't a particularly long conversation considering it's just you living here, but you can't help but notice as he hangs on to your each and every word. The look burning behind his chocolate-colored eyes is almost intense as he listens, an emotion flitting behind his pupils that you can't quite decipher.

You take a small pause to sip at your drink as the conversation eventually comes to a lull, and you can't help but gasp when you see how dark it is outside. How long have you been here for?

"I can see why you like it here so much" He eventually says, picking up his own glass and returning your attention to him, "I've...I've had a nice evening."

"I told you, the best pasta in the city." You laugh.

"A very strong argument," he pauses to consider, "but, I can assure I know where you can get the best burger."

"Well then, you may just have to show me some time" you respond without thinking. Though with that, you can feel the tips of your ears begin warm, it's been far too long since you last attempted to flirt.

"I know this may sound a little strange," he says, causing your heart to drop. Not the answer that you were looking for.

"But, I can't help but feel like, I've met you before?" He questions, the hardened lines between his brows coming back. So, not a rejection?

You can't help but look at him as you wonder how to respond, considering his words carefully. But then, you begin to think about how this particular man has been the sole subject of your thoughts recently, the echo of his voice never far from your mind. Does this mean that he has felt the same about you?

"I don't think we've met before," you answer, choosing your words carefully, "but, sometimes...you have felt, familiar?" you finish your sentence with a small laugh, hoping to come off as cute rather than stalker-ish.

He hums in response when you finish, but the intensity in his eyes never leaves as your waiter comes provide the bill and clear the table. As you sit back, you're almost glad for the buffer between you as you take a quick glance at him, his hands forming into fists as he waits.

"Are you alright?" You decide to ask as you grab your bag, pulling out your purse to pay.

After a second, he seems to snap out of his reverie, shaking his head and tapping the pockets of his jeans for his wallet.

"Yes, yes...of course" he mutters out, his usual stoic disposition quickly returning, "please, let me"

You hold your hand out against him, stopping him from reaching for any cash and you place down your own notes, "Like I said, this is a small thank you," you say softly, "I'm just sorry that there isn't more that I can do."

He nods his head and concedes, but he's quick to quell your anxieties, "this is more than enough." a pause, "I never actually expected to see you again"

You hum to yourself this time, "me neither" you respond almost thoughfully, "but, I'm glad that you did."

At your words, you swear that you can see the hint of a blush travelling up his neck. But, he's quick to shake it off, instead offering you just a small smile and a nod as you both begin to stand. Gathering your things and putting your coat on, you take a moment to look outside of the window next to you. It's only early in the evening, but the darkness is fast approaching as you plan out the quickest route home in your head.

"I think I can remember the way back to your apartment" Pero's voice disrupts your spiralling thoughts and you turn to face him, "I'd prefer to walk you home if that's alright."

For once, without any argument you nod your head and begin to make your way to the exit, Pero following behind closely. As you leave, you can't help but wonder whether he saw you looking out of the window, guessing your own anxieties before you even had the chance to express them yourself. But either way, you're grateful to have him so close by.  

Once again, the walk between you is quiet. Yet this time, you notice that the silence is almost comforting as you make your way back home. You're even left surprised when he indulges you, waiting patiently as you buy fresh sunflowers on your way back. Though, you're left almost completely speechless as he takes the bunch from your hands, carrying them for the rest of the way as soon as you hand over the money to the florist.

You can't help the smile spreading across your face as you look at him, surrounded by yellow as you take out your keys to unlock the door to your apartment.

"Thanks for carrying those, by the way" you say, walking in and turning on the light, "you didn't have to"

He nods but follows you in silently, laying the bunch down carefully on the kitchen counter. You watch as he begins to move towards the door again, but you're quick to stop him for just a moment.

"Wait!" You say as you turn towards your bedroom,  "You can finally have your jacket back!"

You root around your room and return to him just moments later, his jacket in your hand whilst he waits in the frame of your door.

"Gracias," he responds quietly, taking the thick material from your hands, "I didn't think I'd ever see this again either."

You let out a small laugh and look up at him, allowing yourself to get lost in his eyes once more, "Thank you for humoring me today, I'm sure you had a different idea of how you wanted to spend your afternoon and evening"

The lines on he forehead shrink as he lets out a lazy smile, "You'd be surprised" he motions with a raised eyebrow, "the food was worth it though"

"I told you" you quickly retort, your own brow raised in retaliation, "and, I would like to taste the best burger in the city too, if you're still up for showing me" You can feel the heat in your cheeks as you speak, but fuck it. Time to shoot your shot.

"I'd like that." He eventually breathes out, taking a step back to exit your home, "You have my number, yes?"

You nod enthusiatically, but you're quick to stop him from moving any further by wrapping your arms around his torso.

"Thank you, again" You mumble out against his chest, your eyes closed as you breathe in his scent.

After a moment, you feel his arms begin to wrap around you too, his chin moving down to rest on your head. Minutes seem to pass as you enjoy the warmth of his embrace. However, you are surprised that he doesn't say anything more as your touch continues to linger. You'd thanked him enough today, you thought to yourself. Perhaps he's just finally tired of hearing it? So, after a few more seconds of selfish self-indulgence, you decide to unwravel yourself from around him before he becomes uncomfortable.

With a large sigh, you release your arms and take a step back. Smiling as you start to look back up to him.

Except, this time when you look up to him...you understand exactly why he hadn't said a word.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Tag List:

@computeringturtle @lackofhonor​

[justjessame]

Avery Emerson Clay: Rats or Vipers...What's REALLY Worse?

Dad, Clay, Jake, and the others came back as I was finishing up on half of my workload. Jake came to find me, and I was just refreshing my inbox as he walked through the doorway. My eyes were locked on the screen and I saw it, what I’d been waiting all fucking day for, Max’s reply to my fucking response to his first email as Jake’s lips brushed my shoulder.

“Hey,” I managed to murmur, my finger hovering over the link, wondering if I should open it with Jake so close or if I should wait. “How was -” I stopped, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Avery?” When I opened my eyes he was kneeling by my chair, looking up at me and I could tell that they had news, but it wasn’t good enough. Not like mine. “What is it?”

“Help me with my laptop?” He nodded, looking curious, but sweet and helpful like Jake always was. “I think we all need to have some share time.”

Jake and I met my Dad and the others in the library - Dad opened his mouth to say something, but whatever expression was on my face stopped him cold. Jake had my laptop closed under his arm and I asked him to set it down on the desk.

“I know that you guys went into GI locked and loaded to find bear, but we should have looked closer to home first,” all eyes were on me and I sighed as I took a seat behind the desk and clicked open my email. “I haven’t opened my work email for days, not since I shared the elevator with Max.” Everyone moved to surround the desk as I spoke. “Mom talked me out of going to the gym when you left earlier, she reminded me that I actually work for a living -” Dad smirked, but I kept going. “He contacted me. On my encrypted work account.”

“How?” Mom again, her eyes searching for Dad’s. “Frank, how is he getting access?” Dad sighed, rubbing his face with his hand, a sure sign he was starting to get frustrated with the situation.

It was Clay, not Dad who piped up with the answer - shitty and subpar though they were. “What we managed to piece together was at least one, maybe more, disgruntled employees -” I didn’t miss his eyes flashing to little old me. “Maybe one who has a more difficult time creating mini mes thanks to -”

“He deserved it,” I muttered, opening up Max’s email and reading it. “He’s toying with me. Baiting me, not mentioning Rose, but he’s trying to stir the pot.”

“What pot?” Clay asked, coming closer and reading over my shoulder like an asshole. Groaning, I could feel the irritation rolling off of him. “Seriously? That’s what he started with?”

“What?” Jake, curiosity would be the death of him, peeked and he sighed. “Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that,” I agreed, but his answer was just as annoying. “You killed Roque?” Everyone went silent. “I mean, Dad said he was a viper, and he’s not here, but I didn’t know he was -”

“He turned, Avery.” Clay’s voice was like gravel and I nodded. “He turned on all of us, and so -”

“Got it,” I looked over Max’s answer. “The question is, how do I answer it?”

Dad stared down at me, studying me in a way I wasn’t sure he ever had before. “What was the first email?” I turned my laptop around to face him and let him read through both Max’s first message, my answer, then his reply. Once he read through and nodded to me, I turned it back to face me. “Well, Avery, I think you’ve managed it pretty well so far, so -” he motioned for me to go ahead.

I bit my lip and read Max’s reply again.

“Miss Clay - When do I get the privilege of addressing you by your first name? After all, a rose by any other name - But I digress.

You’re right to hope that your family stays safe from the collateral damage of Miss al-Fadhil and Clay’s association. They torched a hotel in Bolivia and destroyed a room with gunfire stateside. Your family home is far too lovely to meet such a tragic end, or so I’m told. And your pets, well, it would be a tremendous loss for you to lose so much for so little.

Roque understood that the loss didn’t outweigh the gain, he ended up dead by your brother’s hand. Another tragedy that didn’t have to happen. -Max”

Concentrating while the others whispered to one another wasn’t easy, but Jake moved close and asked if I needed anything and I smiled. “Having you close is nice,” I murmured, so he sat on the desk beside me and I started typing.

“Max - I normally don’t give people who threaten me, my family, my pets, or people I love the privilege to call me by my first name, but what the hell, go for it.

Clearly you’ve managed to find a rat - or as my Daddy likes to call them, a viper - in our nest, maybe more than one, it would explain how you managed to get this email address and how you snagged our Rose with the one wearing a GI uniform. You know that our home is beautiful and that I have “pets”, but do you know that every single living being that enters our gates and takes a place in my life gains the love and loyalty that means I and my family will fight for them?

You think that loss is measured versus what? Monetary measurement? Or some quantitative thing? Loss is when you can’t possibly think of a replacement for what’s gone, when you lose something and think - that’s gone and it can never come back, never will I have that again. That’s true loss.

Roque wasn’t loyal. He wasn’t. If he had been, he would have stuck beside his team, my brother and the others until they were all on the other side of it - of you, Max. Instead, he’s dead.

You said a rose by any other name - You have OUR ROSE, and there is no other name for her. We all know what you look like, and with very little time we’ll know what the rat/vipers look like, and do you honestly think you’ll be safe? That there is a place on this earth that you, your rat-vipers can hide from us? Give us Rose back, beg forgiveness, and perhaps Clay and Dad can be talked into allowing all of you to be turned over to the proper authorities, because if you don’t? If Rose is harmed? If one smidgen of a hair is out of place, or she has one tiny bruise or a scratch on her person? Well, I hope God forgives, because Clays don’t.

-Avery Emerson Clay”

Before I pressed send, before I sent it on it’s digit pathway to Max, I showed it to Dad and Clay. I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t going too far too fast. When both started grinning I knew I hit the right pitch. Max wanted to play, but we weren’t in the mood. Jake told Dad and Clay that while I was sending it, he could do some hacker magic to triangulate the IP address to see if he could find out where it was coming from, possibly reverse Max’s encryption and catch his ass.

Waiting sucked, but now that we were all working together, being bait didn’t suck quite as badly. And as I stared into Jake’s blue eyes, I hit send and I hoped that Max was fuming as he read what I’d written, because I wanted him pissed off. I wanted him to storm the castle, because then I could definitely punch the fuck out of his ass.

[alicepink-me]

The New Guardian

Story Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng is an adult in the real world, guarding the Miracle Box in Master Fu's place. She's in love with Chat Noir, but refuses to tell him her feelings. New holders appear to fight the duo and shake up their lives. Marinette makes a tough decision about her future as Ladybug.

Chapter 16: Three Days

April stared at Marinette's body through the steam that her cup emitted, leaned against her own bed. Marinette's health improved drastically this morning, so there shouldn't be much time left. April sipped her tea and looked to her clock. In fact, based on Marinette's accelerated heart rate and appearance, she'd say there was only a few minutes left for her. April wasn't positive, especially since this is experimental, but she was confident.

Although . . . there was always the possibility that she'd never wake up, stay in an eternal slumber or even die. Anything could happen, but April only wanted positivity, the exact opposite of her normal personality.

April focused on her friend. The color began to return to her body, her lips pinkening. After Chat Noir brought Marinette to their room, April fixed her up. That was of course after her own two days asleep under the spell. Marinette laid in her bed under the sheets with her clothes and hair neatly adjusted. With all the fighting, her clothes were slightly ripped and her hair was a mess, so cleaning her appearance before she woke up was a must. Marinette wore a nice white dress and kept her signature pigtails. April wore a crop top with leggings.

April sipped her tea, hardly blinking. Marinette said one time that her favorite color was pink, so when April got bored, she painted her nails pink. It's not like she had important classes to go to anyway with the entire academy being on a tiny vacation at the moment.

Marinette took a long deep breath. April set her cup down and walked over. She placed the back of her hand against Marinette's forehead as the girl's eyes shot open. Those bluebells rapidly searched the blurred area before stopping at a familiar face.

"April . . . " Marinette took another breath, eyes half lidded. "What's going on?" She adjusted to the lighting.

"You're awake." April smiled, the happiest Marinette's ever seen her look. Marinette tiredly blinked at her. April turned around and grabbed another tea cup and poured some from her teapot. She sighed with joy. "Well a lot is going on right now." She said, setting the pot down. Marinette scooted up, sitting straight. April handed her the cup. "But you need to recover first."

"I need a nap." Marinette rubbed her eyes, taking the cup.

"You just slept for three days." April chuckled.

"Three days?" Marinette choked on hot tea. "What has . . . " She stared off in space for a moment. April looked at her weird. "Nevermind. I . . . remember." She took another sip.

"It's a lot to take in."

"I tried to kill you." Marinette said.

"It happens." April poured more tea.

"But I could've." Marinette shrugged. "I could've been worse than Hawkmoth and murdered people." She looked down, glooming at her reflection in the tea.

"You spend too much time down in the dumps." April rolled her eyes before turning to her bed and hopping up. "I understand you've dealt with a lot but come on . . . there's some good. A cute guy and not just any guy, the one you love, traveled all the way from Paris to Tibet to check up on you. Then he proceeded to plan a way to rescue you from your impending execution, which succeeded. Not the execution, but the plan." April pointed out. "You aren't gonna find that just anywhere. You need to hop on that before you regret it."

"I don't know." Marinette sighed. "It's so much. Who knows what he's feeling let alone what I am?"

"Oh please!" April scoffed. "You two are madly in love and just need to shut up already. So far, talking hasn't been either of your strong suits and it's really getting in the way!"

"So about the temple . . . " Marinette awkwardly sipped some tea, looking away. "What did you do after I blacked out?"

April glared at her clear avoidance. "Well . . . right before Chat Noir and I fixed your miraculous, I was working to erase the entire council's memory."

Marinette focused. "And?"

"I didn't." April grinned.

"What?!" Marinette shrieked. "They'll murder me!"

"Calm down." April rolled her eyes. "I did something better."

Marinette leaned back. "Why does that sentence scare me?"

"You're so dramatic." April said. "But anyway . . . instead of erasing, I changed their memories. So now, the council should love you. You're a hero." She put her hands on her hips smugly. "I'll accept my thank you now, preferably in cash."

"But why am I the hero? What do they think of me?" Marinette questioned.

"Ugh! Can't you just accept the end result?" April was met with an intense stare. "I just fed them exactly what memories you have as Ladybug, but without their biases. Anyone with a brain would be on your side in the matter. I did however add a thought in the back of their minds that your life was their ideas. I didn't create a false memory, but they just have a sort of feeling that they knew everything you were doing as Ladybug and were okay with it. None of them will question it. I promise."

"But what if they do?"

"They won't." April insisted. "I nearly died to create their minds and they won't dare remember. They're basically my children at this point and I'm Frankenstein."

"So am I like their student?" Marinette questioned.

"Kind of. You are a special student of theirs that they don't think too hard about and you can visit this temple at any time you want and stay in here as my roommate. Plus . . . " April added. "I put a suspicion blocker in their heads. If a student brings up you with negative thoughts or information that contradicts my memories, they will simply not hear it. It goes straight through their minds. They may make a positive comment about you in response, but otherwise, they'll ignore it.

"At least I can come back." Marinette smiled. "I don't think I could forget this place or any of the friends I've made." She sipped her tea.

"I don't think we'd be completely offended if you left us and never came back since we're used to that kind of stuff. But considering I just used my life force to save you a few days ago . . . I'd expect at least an email." She smiled.

"Don't worry. As long as Min Jee answers my calls, I should be able to teleport here every now and then." Marinette flipped the covers off and set her cup down on the table. "But I don't have to leave right away either. I can stay and relax for a bit."

April made a face. "I don't think you're gonna be relaxing for awhile." She laughed. "Or maybe you will, but that all depends on how long you put off your problems."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Where's Chat Noir?"

A loud thump was heard at the door along with an ouch. Marinette stared at April as the color drained from her face. "Is that . . . "

"Marinette." He called.

"Chat Noir was here the whole time?" Marinette freaked out, whispering. "He heard everything."

"I don't think you said anything that he hadn't already known." April glared at the door. "And as for why he's here . . . I did kick him out, but he won't leave us alone!"

"Well I'm sorry that I'm concerned for my partner's health." He retorted.

"Oh don't remind me. I only did you a massive favor." April scoffed. "The door in your face should have been a huge clue to move your butt somewhere else."

"I would like to see her." Chat argued.

April rolled her eyes and turned to Marinette. "Feel free to jump in any time. He might be cute, but I don't know how you worked with him." Marinette slowly sank back into her bed, cheeks flaming red. "Oh no. Don't you dare." Marinette remained quiet as she flipped her covers back over. "No! Stop blushing! That's your man! You gotta do something!" April jumped on the bed and shook Marinette. "Stop blushing!"

"I'm sorry, I can't help it!" Marinette covered her cheeks.

"It shouldn't be this awkward." April stated. "He might be irritating, but you obviously love him."

"Don't tell the entire world." Marinette whispered.

"Why?" April furrowed her brows. "Anyone that knows you, can easily see it and anyone who doesn't know you, doesn't care."

"You make it sound easy." Marinette sat up.

"Cause it is. I don't need a man right now, but if I want one, I can get one." She snapped her fingers. "It's that simple." Marinette sighed.

Chat leaned his head against the door. "Marinette, can I please see you?" He pleaded.

April raised her eyebrows and looked at Marinette.

"Ohhhhhh . . . " Marinette groaned, grabbing her cup and aggressively drinking more tea. "My life is over."

"Your life is just starting." April hopped off the bed and grabbed Marinette's arm. "Come on, get up. You need to get out of bed."

"I don't want to." Marinette complained as she slid over the side of her mattress.

"Ugh, when did I become a mother?" April asked herself as she grabbed a pair of sunglasses from her desk. She slipped them through her hair, resting them on the top of her head. "Anyway . . . I'm starving. Forty-eight hours of sleep is really refreshing, but it really took a lot out of me . . . " She stretched, smoothing her hair back. "And I'm about to binge the whole café. I deserve it anyway."

"Did you not eat when you woke up?"

"Of course I did. I wasn't waiting for you." April rolled her eyes. "But I'm hungry again." She flipped her glasses down over her eyes. April moved to the door and flipped the lock, pulling the handle. Adrien came bursting through before falling face first to the floor. April bit her lip. She lowered her glasses to look between the two. "Yeah . . . there's nothing I can do about that now." She flipped the shades back and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Adrien stared up at Marinette from the floor. Neither of them blinked, but Marinette wasn't even breathing. Her grip loosened and the tea cup dropped, shattering against the wood floors. Adrien blinked first before standing, brushing himself off.

"Adrien?" Marinette mumbled.

[loljulie]

title: bet on it 

genre: borderlands 

timothy lawrence x reader 

word count: 2522

 (am i really making timothy lawrence imagines now?? yes, yes i am. just to put this piece of work into a clearer setting: 

Y/N is CEO of hyperion now because she was decently close to jack before he died, and he promised his position to her. she is a much nicer CEO than him, and when she got power she def absolved timothy’s contract but he stayed with her anyway because, cute love or whatever.

timothy is kinda flustered, kinda confident in this because in this AU he’s had a lot of time to explore who he is without jack around

i really have this whole character’s backstory planned out so maybe expect more imagines in the future as i explore their relationship?? also don’t come @ me about the title it’s midnight and i couldn’t be clever, but Y/N and timothy watch a spaceball game and it’s just baseball in space because, once again, i’m not clever) 

Tired fingers stretched across the keyboard, typing up an email you had been pushing off nearly all day. You sighed as you held down the backspace key and deleted the previous minute’s work, not quite liking how your sentence sounded. Being CEO was awesome as hell for the most part, but you as you stared at the blinking cursor, you suddenly loathed the title.

The door to your office opened. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was, as there was only one person who was allowed to walk in unannounced.

“Ah, perfect timing - I needed somebody to blow my brains out so I don’t have to write this damn email,” you muttered as Tim’s footsteps came to a halt in front of your desk.

“It sounds like I should’ve come earlier, then,” he commented, and you finally tore your eyes away from the illuminated screen to look at him. You were slightly surprised to see him in more casual clothes than he normally wore, as he sported a short-sleeved shirt with Hyperion’s logo across it and jeans. It fit him very well, so much so that you got mildly distracted staring at him. “The spaceball game is about to start, so we’d better hurry.”

“The - what?” You asked, your eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar word.

“Spaceball, remember?” He repeated in a more questioning tone. When he saw that you still didn’t understand, he went on. “You signed off on the request for some workers to form their own teams and play against each other at the end of the fiscal quarter - which happens to be today.”

He didn’t need to remind you of that; the email addressed to accounting was still waiting to be written. You let out a large sigh and rubbed your hands over your eyes.

“I totally forgot, babe,” you mumbled between your hands. “I don’t think I can make it, this email-“

“Can be sent tomorrow,” Tim gently goaded as he walked around your desk to get to you. “The workers have been training all quarter long for this and an appearance from their CEO would help their morale for next quarter.”

You didn’t speak, just let out a soft grunt to let him know you heard. He had a point, after all.

“And, from the looks of it, the CEO could use some morale too.” You felt his hands envelope your own as he moved them away from your face. “You’ll work yourself to death one day, you know.”

You looked into his beautiful heterochromatic eyes and attempted one more weak protest.

“I don’t even know what spaceball is - I just signed it so our employee health and wellness budget went somewhere useful.”

Tim wrapped his hands around your wrist and slowly brought you up to your feet. Though you brought up reasons to not go, you and him both knew that you’d ultimately cave in to his demands. He was the only one who could chide you into taking time off for yourself when you forgot to; and without him, you probably would’ve gone delirious.

“I’ll explain it all on the way down, pumpkin,” he assured. You lifted your hands from his grip to grab your coat from the back of your chair.

Your uniform was all designed by your assistant, and you had to admit she did an impeccable job. Despite it being a black long coat, the material was light and breathable; the inside was lining was a smooth, silky yellow, and a golden “H” pin adorned the space above your left breast.

While it had the option to be buttoned, you left it open to reveal your white, collared shirt which tucked perfectly into your high-waisted black pants.

Really, you would’ve prefered your outfit from your prior-Hyperion-CEO days, but Denise insisted that you dress the part for your employees. The heeled boots you wore made you feel badass enough to accept the change to your wardrobe.

You began to walk in pace with Tim, who managed to interlock his left hand with your right one as you made your way to the elevator down the hall from your office.

“So, the batter has to hit the ball and run to first base…”

As the elevator slowly descended the space station, you listened intently to Tim’s description of whatever “spaceball” was. Games and recreation of that sort were never something you enjoyed growing up, which meant almost all aspects of the game were confusing to you.

“Wait, so how many times do the teams switch spots?” You asked after he explained what it took to have the different teams switch sides.

“Well, there’s 9 innings, so -”

“9? Why do they need so many?” You asked, incredulous. “Who came up with that number?”

“I, uh…” Tim trailed off, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I actually don’t know, that’s just the number.”

The elevator doors opened, and the two of you stepped out into an old storage bay that had been transformed into a makeshift stadium of sorts. Tim had mentioned that they only had time and space to build half of a stadium, but its appearance still stunned you nonetheless. You were surprised to see just how many people made up the audience alone; rows and rows of seats piled to the ceiling were filled with employees (and family members, you had to guess, because there was no way Hyperion had that many workers).

Tim gently guided you away from the main ramp that audience members were still funneling into, and up a flight of stairs. After entering the door at the top of the stairs, you were met with a moderately sized room - one big enough for plush seating for two and a table in the back for refreshments. A large window revealed the interior of the stadium below, and you realized that you were placed above home base. In the middle of the ledge was a microphone that, you guessed, was placed there in case you needed to make any announcements.

The opposite side of the stadium, where the wall would have normally been empty and barren, was decorated with a large screen that displayed a countdown. You walked to the front of the window, and gazed out at the people below and around you.

Some employees had been watching the box for your arrival, and though you didn’t recognize most of them, they still seemed to be delighted by your presence. Those who noticed you quickly turned to their seat partners and, soon enough, more pairs of eyes looked your way.

The teams, which were out in the concrete field throwing a couple balls around, noticed your arrival too. The only way to distinguish the two different teams was the fact that half of the men on the field had on a black shirt with yellow trimmings, and the other a yellow shirt with black trimmings.

A member of the black-shirted team caught your gaze and winked at you; had you been your predecessor, that would’ve undoubtedly been the man’s last action.

“So, who’s going against who?” You asked as Tim sidled up next to you at the window.

“Well, instead of having two departments go head to head, I thought it’d better promote interdependent teamwork and have a mixture of employees on each team,” he answered as he rested his forearm against the ledge and leaned his tall body forward.

“Look at you,” you chirped, mimicking his position while you moved close enough to touch shoulders. “Maybe you should be CEO instead.”

“Yeah, no thanks, I’m good,” Tim hastily replied, causing you to chuckle at his obvious disinterest.

Below, an announcer began to tell everyone to take their seats as the players got into their positions. The digital countdown vanished, and instead showed a live feed of some of the players getting ready.

“Who do you think’s going to win?” You asked as you scanned the players below, wondering your own answer to the question.

“Black, definitely. I’ve seen their practices and, based on the numbers, they’ve got this in the bag.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips at his response. Tim, looking suddenly offended by your reaction, bumped into your shoulder. “What?”

“I just can’t believe you’re nerdy enough to calculate that,” you commented, giving him a playful shove back. A smile tugged at Tim’s lips as you let out another laugh.

“Since you’re going black, I’ll root for yellow,” you decided as the first team came to bat. “Gotta go for the underdog.”

“Really? You confident enough to bet on it?” Tim asked, his voice laced with a smugness you rarely heard. It spurred you to challenge him even more.

“Of course I am. What are we betting?”

“A kiss?”

“Too lame,” you dismissed. When you saw his mock look of shock, you continued. “There’s not enough risk involved there. What about winner gets to choose whatever the loser has to wear the next time we’re alone together?”

A red blush crept onto Tim’s cheeks. You felt a smirk appear on your face at his reaction, glad to know you could still make him redden after all this time.

“Deal.” Despite his flushed face, Tim’s voice was steady as he held out his hand for you to shake. You gripped his hand tightly, and met his eyes with a fiery gaze. You couldn’t wait to prove him wrong.

So far, you weren’t doing a good job at that. As the 4th inning came to a close, the black team was ahead by 4 points. Tim, who sat next to you, radiated an aura of smugness you needed to see defeated.

“I told ya, (Y/N), the numbers don’t lie.”

You sat on the edge of the seat, though you had started watching the game in Tim’s embrace. Your jacket had long been discarded on the chair behind you, and your sleeves were rolled up as if watching the game had been some sort of manual labor. The threat of losing a bet to your boyfriend was becoming more and more real, and it was something you couldn’t let happen.

You got up just as the teams began to switch out and a short, loud song played as you made your way to the window. After switching the microphone on, the music subsided, and you began to speak.

“Yellow team, this is your boss speaking.” You felt a thousand pairs of eyes land on you, including the one pair on the back of your head. “I have the utmost faith in you and I believe that  you will win this goddamn game. Make me proud, boys.”

You switched the microphone off as about half of the audience cheered and whooped in agreement. Tim’s eyebrows were raised as you sat back down in your seat, allowing yourself to lean somewhat into his side.

“Worried you might lose the bet?” He asked.

“Why, are you already imagining what you’ll have me wear?” You retorted, knowing full well that your words would cause a blush to rise on his cheeks and effectively knock him down a peg.

You angled your neck up slightly to look at him, which confirmed your prediction. Though the wave of competitiveness was still strong inside you, the opportunity to mess with your boyfriend a little bit more was too strong for you to ignore. You planted a kiss just below his ear, and whispered, “because I’m already doing the same for you.”

When you placed another kiss on his neck, you felt Tim gulp as his arm tensed around you.

Your pep talk clearly had done some good for the yellow team, as their performance drastically improved. Tim expressed his shock to you multiple times as they gained point after point, eventually surpassing the black team’s score. By the end of the 8th inning, you settled comfortably in your seat knowing there was no chance the black team could claim a victory.

As the players switched again to start the 9th inning, the giant screen began to focus on a couple in the crowd. A pink border framed the live feed and text in the bottom corner read “Kiss Cam!” The couple in the video smiled, gave a quick peck, and the camera moved to another couple.

You smiled as you watched the various couples respond differently to being put up on the kiss cam; some were embarrassed and shy, while others embraced the attention and showed off their partners. Every time a couple was featured, the audience would cheer and clap for them. It seemed that, as weird and foreign as this event was to you at first, it really did help build morale.

As you watched the couple on the screen laugh with each other after sharing a modest kiss, the scene changed once more and you realized you were staring at you and Tim, cuddled next to each other. The audience grew louder than you thought possible in their cheers and screams, and you felt your heartbeat quicken as you looked at Tim.

You remembered how, when you first started your relationship with him, everything had to be kept secret in fear of what Jack’s reaction might be; even after it all had passed, and everybody knew who the CEO was dating, you still kept public displays of affection at a minimum.

Yet, with how Tom gazed at you and the cheering of the crowd, you wanted nothing more than to give in to the desire to kiss him. He must have known what was on your mind by the way your face relaxed, because soon Tim’s lips were on yours for the first time that night. His slender fingers curled into your hair as he lightly kept your face against his.

You didn’t think the crowd could have gotten any louder, but the instant your lips touched Tim’s, an unbelievable uproar of claps and whistles ensued. It didn’t make much sense to you why seeing your boss kiss her boyfriend was so exciting, but frankly, their reaction gave you all the more reason to continue.

Eventually, the audience died down, and you pulled away just long enough to see the camera instead focus back on the game itself. You looked back at Tim, who was red in the face and out of breath.

“Should we go back to watching the game?” You asked, though you saw in Tim’s eyes that spaceball was the last thing he wanted to pay attention to, despite how excited he had been about it before.

“Absolutely not.” And, as if to cement his answer, he brought his lips back onto yours and used his free arm to pull you onto his lap.

You didn’t remember anything from the 9th inning other than Tim’s warm lips, tight grip, and soft hair. You were sure people were still occasionally watching the CEO’s box, so you reluctantly made sure the two of you didn’t get too far. You did, however, promise Tim that the two of you would finish what you started later that night.

And, for the record, the yellow team totally won.

[ecfandom]

I don’t have a good name for this headcannon or pairing yet. Maybe you all can come up with something clever...

So it imagine it this way. Lexa is the shiny, new chief operating officer (COO) of the Gustav St. Helen Metropolitan Hospital in New York City, the medical industry’s cutting edge leader in biomechanics. In dire financial straights, the hospital sought out two years prior to find the uniquely talented individual to save their hospital from financial doom. They had the incredible minds and innovation, but the prior C-level executives had managed investor money so poorly, the hospital was in major debt before any of their new pipeline products could make it off the ground. They began their year-long search and landed on biomechanics’ genius, prodigy extraordinaire, Lexa Woods. 

Lexa had grown up inventing almost as early as she learned to walk. She had a brilliant mathematical, engineering mind that was constantly meddlin and tinkering, making new things and improving upon old ones. By high school, after being inspired by a dear family friend, Lexa had been accepted to nearby MIT to supplement her high school engineering curriculum. By 17, she was enrolled at Northwestern Univeristy in their accelerated dual degree program in biomedical engineering and medical school. By 22 she’d graduated with honors and had her own start-up engineering firm fully funded by venture capitalists, and was in her medical internship at one of Chicago’s top hospitals. By 25, after completing her residency in orthopedic surgery, she’d left th surgical world to focus on engineering, and by 27, she had three of the most successful patents for cutting-edge prosthetics, and her electronic wheelchair was being mass-produced in 15 different countries. 

She loved what she did, and she was damn good at it, but by 30, Lexa was ready to get out of the lab and try a new way to help people. She wanted to teach, she wanted to guide and create protocols, to streamline processes and create efficiencies. She wanted to continue to make an impact, but she wanted to slow down. The fast, high-life of her multi-million dollar generating inventions had helped keep her mind focused when all it really wanted to do was lament the loss of her child-hood sweetheart to budding career paths and long distance strain. But by 30, she was ready to face the fact that she would never truly be over the girl next door that’d made her world go round, and no amount of focusing on her inventions would solve that. They texted and emailed on the very rare occasion, to keep each other updated—they were friends after all and had ended amicably...as amicably as one could when losing the love of their life—but it would never be enough. She had to face it, and she had to live her life anyways. Cue, her entry into the world of administration. From 30-35, Lexa kept an associate professorship at NYU while working in and out of various executive administrative positions at labs and hospitals, gaining knowledge and experience in how to run an organization. It wasn’t until Gustav St. Helen Metropolitan Hospital approached her with their COO position though that things really began to click. 

One year into that position, and Lexa had finally found a sense of peace and contentment; the purpose, she had been longing for. Her colleagues were amazing, despite the overly aggressive flirtations of some of the residence and physicians, and the annoyingly obvious gold-digging intentions of others. Though Lexa was not much of a socialite, she enjoyed their company. There was only one thing that could have made it better, and she never could have imagined it would show up in her email 13 months after beginning her new positions at the hospital. 

Clarke Griffin is an incredibly trauma surgeon in need of a new attending position after her hospital in Portland merges with another and her position is claimed by an older man with seniority and a brother on the board. Always keeping an occasional eye on Gustav St. Helen’s open positions, she nearly falls out of her chair the morning she sees the posted opening for a trauma attending. 

She could hardly believe her eyes. There was no way the hospital the love of her life now worked at had the exact position she needed. There was no way. This was it, she had finally gone delirious from sleep deprivation and caffeine poisoning. And yet, when she refreshed the page, there the posting was, just waiting for her resume. 

Rather sheepishly, the first thing she did, was email Lexa. 

Two weeks later, Clarke walks through the doors of the beautiful, state of the art  GSH Metropolitan Hospital for her first round of interviews, so giddy she can hardly contain herself. It’s not the interview that has her trembling with excited nerves, it’s who she hopes to see. The one person that had been on her mind every day for the past 4, 375 days. But who was counting? Certainly not her. And certainly not for the past 12 years. The occasional chats over coffee when their schedules lined up or they landed in the same city for more than a few hours had been nice over the years, but this? The prospect of being in the same city for days, hell months or even years? Clarke could hard keep still as she sat in one of the waiting rooms for someone from HR to collect her. 

When a senior white coat came out to greet her with a warm smile and firm handshake, Clarke knew she was going to like it here. Fingers crossed that she’d make it to the next round of interviewing.

She was was walking down the hall with Taryn, her first meeting host, when her name came echoing down the hallway. She should chide herself for how disgustingly predictable and cheesy her reaction is to turning around to find Lexa jogging down the glass stairs from the atrium walkway, a beaming smile on her face. Clarke can’t help it when her walk turns into a jog and her jog turns into her body slamming into Lexa’s in a desperate hug laced with delighted laughter and a smile so wide it genuinely ached. 

“Hi,” Lexa says to her and it’s so familiar, Clarke wants to cry. But she’s too happy to cry, so instead, she laughs and throws her arms around Lexa’s neck once again until the taller, always quieter, always subtler woman is laughing again and squeezing her tight. 

“I missed you so much,” Clarke sighs into Lexa’s shoulder, smiling again when she feels Lexa’s squeeze in response. 

Clarke can feel Taryn watching them, knows she should hurry back to her and not keep their meeting waiting, but Clarke finds herself glued to the floor when Lexa holds her at arms length, hands resting lazy yet possessive and familiar on her hips for a moment before slipping away to disappear into perfectly tailored business slacks. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Lexa says, a smile on her face to rival Clarke’s. 

“It’s good to see you too.” 

“I don’t want to hold you up. Do you have plans after?” 

Clarke can only shake her head, all her energy directed at attempting to keep her smile from growing any wider. 

“Will you come find me after?” 

“Yes, of course,” Clarke says too quickly to be casual or cool, but she doesn’t care. The greatest love of her life, her soulmate, was standing in front of her again, and it wasn’t a dream this time. She had no idea how Lexa felt about them, if she was with someone—that thought alone was enough to momentarily cause her smile to falter—or if had long since stopped loving her. But for Clarke, the feelings had never gone away, and simply having Lexa back in her life would be enough for now. 

Lexa’s smile is adorable and shy and sexy all at once as she nods at Clarke’s enthusiastic response. “Good. My office is upstairs. Kind of a maze, but just ask someone. They’ll get you there.” 

“I’ll see you then, then,” Clarke says, laughing at herself when she hears how insane she sounds. 

Lexa laughs too and Clarke knows she’s in danger of floating away on cloud nine any minute now. 

“See you then. Break a leg in there, I know they’ll love you,” Lexa days with the calm, understated charm of her voice Clarke had fallen in love with over and over again throughout the years.

“You think so?” 

“I know so.” Lexa gives her a wink and Clarke melts like the 16 year old that had melted the first time Lexa had pressed her up against the rusty door of her ‘67 chevy pick-up and kissed her breathless. “You’re gonna do great. Come find me after.” 

Clarke hugs her again, taking in the first full breath she’d managed in the last 4,375 days. But who was counting? 

Stay tuned for part 2! 

[how-manygalileos]

Yes, Minister - A BoRhap Politics AU

A/N: Hey gang, this is a fun lil project I’ve been working on with the ever wonderful @rachelweiszs-areawoman. It’s been super fun writing with her and this is the first chapter, we have no idea how long this is gonna be but probably pretty long so stay tuned, hope you like!

Word Count: 1908

Chapter 1

Miss Kathleen ‘Kick’ Shawcross, MP for Bethnal Green and Bow walked into the Foreign Office. She’d been appointed a Junior Minister at the Department for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs in the latest Cabinet reshuffle. She was a newly-elected Member of Parliament, and considered herself very lucky to have been appointed a Minister so early in her political career. The Labour party had won in a huge landslide once again in the general election and Kick was one of a new generation of Labour MPs doing their bit to govern the country.

She flashed her security pass and made her way up to her office. As expected, it was the size of a broom cupboard; charming and efficient, but ultimately a very small room. Unexpectedly, it had a connecting door with the Secretary of State’s office.

The Foreign Secretary.

The Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, generally considered one of the most handsome men in Westminster, was to be her boss. Before Kick could muse about him any more, the man in question walked through the door.

“Miss Shawcross, welcome to the Foreign Office.” he said, sticking his hand out for her to shake.

“Thank you Minister, and please call me Kick.” she replied, shaking his hand.

“Kick?” he asked.

“It’s a long story from my days at Bristol University involving the Chief Whip. I'm sure you'll get to hear the tale at some point, Mr Lee.”

“Gwilym, please.”

As if on cue, the Labour Party’s Chief Whip, Ben Hardy, MP for Stretford and Urmston walked into the room.

“I would introduce you but apparently you already know each other,” Gwilym joked as Ben and Kick embraced.

“Ben, why are you here?” Kick asked as her friend shook Gwilym’s hand.

“Had to see you on your first day, didn’t I? I see you’ve met our esteemed Foreign Secretary and Member of Parliament for Holborn and St Pancras, the Right Honourable Gwilym Lee MP.” Ben replied, leaning on the edge of Kick’s desk.

“I have, and I like him more than I like you already.” she said, smirking in Gwilym’s direction. He smirked back as he left her office to continue working. Kick’s eyes stayed on the door for a few seconds after it closed.

“So that’s what your type is then?” Ben joked. Kick just glared at him.

“Ben, don’t you have work to do? Someone to go and threaten the job security of or something?” She asked, logging on to the computer in front of her as some kind of hint.

“That can all wait, I just wanted to come and see an old friend and make sure she's all settled on her first day,” he replied in a somewhat cocky manner. Kick shot him a look, reiterating her earlier hint. Thankfully this time, he took it and left her office with a wave. As the door clicked closed, Kick fell back in her chair. She sighed heavily, before there was yet another knock on the door.

“Come in!” Kick called, and the door opened, revealing a young blonde woman.

“You must be Kick,” She said as she walked over, depositing some files on the desk.

“Kick Shawcross. You are?”

“Lucy Boynton, the Minister’s secretary,” the young woman said, smiling brightly. She went to leave, but turned around as she reached the door.

“Gwilym’s single, just so you know.” she said, closing the door behind her. Kick thought, and decided that she didn’t think Lucy was the type to say something like that maliciously. If Gwilym really was single, well, that could cause all sorts of problems.

----

Kick’s first week as a Foreign Office Minister was exhausting. Meeting after meeting and Parliamentary debates. She managed to spend an afternoon in her constituency, and squeezed in a lunch with Lucy for ‘girly bonding time’ as she put it.

Kick was starting to really like Lucy, she anticipated them becoming close over their time together in the Foreign Office. In a male-dominated environment, they recognized in each other a need for female support and friendship. They’d found space in Kick’s increasingly busy diary for a wine-fuelled movie night one weekend to blow off steam after an especially busy week. For the most part, neither of them were paying attention to the film on Kick's TV. Instead they sat there talking, everything from music to family, Lucy's activism to Kick's hopes for the future… and about a certain Mr. Lee.

Not only had there been a general election and a Cabinet reshuffle, a new American Ambassador was joining the Embassy in London, creating a lot of work for the Foreign Office, and Kick. She sat in her office responding to various emails in relation to the new Ambassador's arrival, there was a somewhat intense conversation happening in the adjoining room, it intrigued her.

Collecting a stack of files as an excuse to walk into Gwil's office, Kick opened the door that connected the two offices.

“She's still bloody out there, chained to the Churchill statue of all places.” Gwilym complained, pacing the room and running a hand through his hair.

“I know that, it's about the fourth time you've said it in the past half hour.” Lucy replied, not looking up from the file she was reading.

“I just don't want her there when he arrives, especially as the refugee crisis seems to be her issue of the moment!” Gwilym sits down at his desk, acknowledging Kick with a polite nod, she places her stack of files on his desk.

“I don't mean to butt in, Gwilym, but who exactly are you two talking about?” Kick asks cautiously. The Foreign Secretary sighed and lent back in his chair slightly

“A certain Miss. Elsbeth Stewart,” Gwil seathed, causing Lucy to look to Kick and roll her eyes slightly, “since the reshuffle, she has very kindly selected me as her new target. Every little thing I do that woman seems to have a problem with”

Gwilym stood up again, taking another lap of the room.

“Why did it have to be today of all fucking days?” Gwil groaned

“She's a smart girl, she knows you have to make a first impression, I'm pretty sure she didn't pick today by accident.” Lucy said back to him,

“Lucy, can't you say something to her? You're friends with her for some insane reason”

“Gwil, if she knows you have that big of a problem with it's going to turn her 24 hour hunger strike into a 48 hour one,” Lucy placed the file she was reading on the desk, “I know Elsie, if she knew it would piss you off, she would starve herself half to death”

“That doesn’t solve the problem of her being here when the Ambassador turns up though.” Kick commented as she swiped the file from in front of Lucy and began reading it herself.

“Yes, thank you Kick, that was very helpful.” Gwilym groaned, resting his head in his hands. Before anybody could say anything remotely useful, a Parliamentary Aid poked his head through the door.

“Minister? The Ambassador is about 5 minutes away,” Gwil sighed and winced slightly.

“Great.” he muttered sarcastically, “Thank you for letting me know, I’ll be just a moment,” he said, nodding to the aid to dismiss him from the room.

“It’ll be fine Gwilym,” Kick said quietly as she walked past his desk on the way back to her office. He grimaced at her and nodded in response.

Gwilym walked down the stairs from his office to the entrance hall of the Foreign Office, and took a deep breath as the new Ambassador walked in.

The new Ambassador, Staff Sergeant Joseph Francis Mazzello III was something of a surprise. A young, womanising, ex-marine billionaire socialite with little prior political experience. The Americans obviously thought he was the right man for the job, so there he was.

“Ambassador.” Gwilym said as he shook the man’s hand.

“Please, call me Joe,”

“Then call me Gwilym,”

“Great to finally meet you, Gwilym.” He was peppy and obviously very green, he had a strange confidence and charm about him which was very refreshing to Gwilym as he had grown used being surrounded by the politicians and and diplomats of generations past. Gwilym thought he could quite easily grow to like the young man in front of him, a refreshing change from the last Ambassador.

They made their way up to Gwilym’s office, eager to discuss trade and relations between their two countries, when they almost collided with Kick.

“Kick, this is the new US Ambassador, Joe Mazzello.” Gwilym said as Kick and Joe shook hands.

“Joe, this is Kathleen Shawcross MP, one of our junior ministers,” He explained, smiling brightly at Kick.

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Shawcross.” he said, shaking her hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Ambassador Mazzello.” she said back

“Please, just Joe. No need for formalities, I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Kick blushed slightly, the American’s charm was lethal. Gwilym raised an eyebrow and frowned slightly over the Ambassador’s mildly flirtatious comment, but quickly pushed those thoughts aside based on the stories of Joe’s womanising nature, they were aside but not gone.

The second they entered Gwilym’s office, Joe made a beeline for the window.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of looking at London,” he mused as he surveyed the scene, attention grabbed by the young woman chained to the Winston Churchill statue in Parliament Square, a poster board with “Lee wants Syrian children to starve to death, I’m starving for a day” propped up next to her and a confident, angry and intriguing air about her.

“Who’s she?” He asked, pointing her out as Gwilym joined him.

“That’s just Miss Stewart, she’s here a lot. Isn’t necessarily my biggest fan as you can probably see.” Gwilym replied, sitting down to get on with the business of the day.

“She really doesn’t like your policies, does she?” Joe commented as he sat down. Lucy sat down at her desk on the other side of the room, and Kick made her way into her office, where she would be listening in.

---- 

A week later, Kick found herself sat in an expensive Westminster restaurant with Gwilym, Ben, and Lucy. Ben had called it ‘team bonding’ but in reality, Kick knew it was just a way for him to get all the gossip from the Foreign Office to pass on to the powers that be. Ben had a remarkable knack for getting anything he wanted out of a Labour MP to pass on to the Prime Minister, Dr Brian May MP.

Ben poured Kick another glass of wine as he leaned in.

“Come on then Kick, pal to pal, what’s the Foreign Secretary actually like?” He whispered as he placed the wine bottle back down. He’d known Kick a long time, and knew she’d have to be spectacularly drunk to tell him anything.

“You’re not getting anything out of me, Benny boy. You’re going to have to work a bit harder than that, mate” Kick replied, trying to listen to whatever terrible joke Lucy was inevitably telling.

“Well, what do you think of him then? Do you fancy him?” Ben asked, still probing his best friend to get something out of her. Kick thought for a few moments, pondering the questions Ben had posed.

“He’s lovely, fantastic at his job. Do I fancy him? Well, there’s still time I suppose”

----

//Chapt 2//Chapt 3

[camillemontespan]

the interview [drake walker x mc]

So I wrote this a while back (actually before I joined Tumblr) and it’s been festering in my document folder.  I thought I would share just because?  It sort of links up with the rest of my fics, except for the mention of the assassination attempt at the palace. It’s a different style of writing than I do usually, I read a lot of Vogue and Red so I hope I’ve managed to show that this is from a journalists POV? It ends abruptly because I gave up on it after a while.  p.s is it tragic that I made a magazine cover to go along with it? 

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @drakesensworld @moonlightgem7 @tacohead13 @sirbeepsalot @katedrakeohd @ifyouseekheart @notoriouscs

NOTE: They say in the interview that they were ‘just friends’ first and they ‘didn’t sneak around’ which the journalist believes as they’re so convincing, but we all know that’s not the case, am I right?!

                               ********************************

‘At the end of the day, we’re just a normal couple thrust into this world together.’

When Trend suggested that I spend a week with the most famous Duchess in the world right now and shadow her, I laughed. I didn’t expect her to agree to it and I certainly didn’t expect to be sat opposite her a few days later for breakfast. But here we are. 

if you have been hibernating under a rock this past year, I will summarise. Camille Montespan, the Duchess of Valtoria, married Drake Walker a year ago. The Duchess - though she tells me to call her Camille- was originally plucked from obscurity when she met the King of Cordonia on his pre-bachelor trip to New York. In a perhaps ridiculous turn of events, she was taken to Cordonia to compete with other noble women for his hand in marriage. Instead, she found herself falling for his best friend, Drake, and turned down the King’s marriage proposal to be with him instead. She and Drake married at the Walker family ranch in Texas  (no media presence was allowed) and the King honoured them with their own duchy. They are now the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria.

Camille bursts out laughing when I relay the timeline to her. ‘Oh my God, it sounds like a cheesy Hallmark movie!’ She apologises for the laughter, wiping at tears that have formed. ‘It’s just… that is exactly how it played out and it sounds ridiculous whenever someone summarises it for me. I lived it but it is still so strange to hear it from another perspective…’

This morning, I am sat opposite Camille to have a relaxed breakfast out on the terrace, which overlooks the mountains of Valtoria. Drake is running late but will be joining us soon. Camille is wearing a cashmere grey sweater, ripped blue jeans and a pair of TOMs plimsolls. Her dark hair has been pulled up into a messy bun.  She looks like one of my friends who I grab brunch with back home, not a Duchess. She had even made sure that it’s just her speaking to me with no PR or assistant hovering around. It is honestly refreshing. Camille pours me a cup of coffee. ‘Do you take sugar or milk? Just sugar? Or just milk? Or even just black?’

I tell her one sugar and a slug of milk, commenting most people I interview tend not to offer. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and blushes. ‘Well, I did used to be a waitress… also, it’s rude not to ask!’

It’s hard to believe that Camille used to be a waitress in New York, working overtime and trying her hardest to earn tips so she could afford to rent her studio apartment. Despite her casual outfit and hairstyle, she exudes an air of elegance. Her posture is straight and she makes eye contact when speaking, her voice clear and confident. Clearly, her time at court when she was vying to win the King’s hand rubbed off on her.  I am about to ask how married life is going when the man in question enters the terrace. I stand up to greet him and he shakes my hand, smiling broadly. He apologises for being late, ‘I was finishing a call with Liam.’ He means the King.  Drake is tall, broad shouldered and rugged. His dark hair is tousled and he is wearing a blue denim shirt which is open over a white vest, jeans and boots. He looks like he should be outdoors chopping wood. Drake throws Camille an apologetic smile and leans down to give her a soft kiss. He settles himself into a chair beside her. ‘Sorry, please carry on,’ he tells me, smiling warmly. I feel positively gooey with his eyes on me.

‘How is married life treating you both?’

The couple look at each other, smiling. ‘I love it,’ Drake says first, surprising me. I have been told he is this brooding and silent type, but so far, he is proving this wrong. ‘It’s crazy to think we’re at this place. We are together, married, united… our own little family.’ He places a hand on Camille’s stomach and the couple beam at me. That is the other reason for my article. Camille and Drake are expecting a baby.

The couple announced the news two weeks ago. The media frenzy was relentless. Everyone wondered how the Duke and Duchess would cope with their own duchy and a new baby all in the space of a year. ‘People tend to think we’re going to fail,’ Camille says quietly. Drake squeezes her hand and I realise what makes them work. For them, it is Drake and Camille vs the world.

Camille apologises for her admission. ‘It’s just that we have had to deal with everyone’s eyes on us.  Many people -mostly nobles- are waiting for us to trip up, to prove that we’re just commoners who don’t deserve our place in Cordonia. That we made a baby quite soon, as if it was a mistake���’ she trails off. Drake sighs. ‘We constantly expect to be met with criticism because that’s how it’s always been,’ he finishes.

He is right. Ever since Camille arrived at court, the media made sure to follow her everywhere, trying to find moments when she was wearing the wrong outfit to a court event or if she addressed a noble incorrectly. She was expected to learn all about Cordonia’s traditions and take part in their national games to prove she was worthy of the crown, with many nobles hoping she would fail. Drake was part of the crowd at court. His father had been part of the Royal Guard, so Drake, despite not being a noble, was a permanent fixture at court and King Liam’s best friend. ‘I never fit in at court. I still don’t,’ he admits. ‘I will never see the point in having all the different types of cutlery at dinner or the tiny finger food they serve at parties. I can’t stand champagne.’ He gives a smirk and looks down. ‘I’m much happier when I’m outside,  hiking, fishing or camping.’

Camille takes his hand and smiles at me, the past awkwardness now gone. ‘We’re trying our best to make our lives as normal as possible.’

Their routine entails waking up early to have breakfast out on their balcony - the terrace we are currently sat in is only for guests. The balcony juts out from their bedroom so it is a private space for them. After breakfast, Drake calls King Liam to discuss matters while Camille sets herself up in her office, answering emails and making appointments to meet with the citizens of Valtoria.  I ask her how she is finding this sudden change in career path. She considers her answer.

‘It’s a monumental shift… I’ve never felt such enormous responsibility before. I often worry that they might realise how bad I am at this and will be sent packing.’ 

Luckily for her, the public adores her. They see her as one of the people because she is. They see a genuine woman who wants to do right by Valtoria and prove that she can help. She tells me that she has five public appointments a day. Those appointments vary from visiting hospitals to cheer up sick children, meeting potential charities to add to her charity list and meeting with the governor of Valtoria to discuss policy. She also hosts an open house every Thursday from 1pm-4pm, whereby the public of Valtoria can visit her actual home and discuss important matters with her. An open house hadn’t been done in 200 years, until Camille asked the King if she could start it up again. ‘I enjoy meeting the public, it’s nice to get to know them and work together to make things better.’

As an added touch, if a commoner visits the open house with their children, Camille makes sure a box of toys is laid out in the Garden Room so that the children can play and not feel bored while their parent talks shop. It is a hint of the kind of mother Camille might become, making sure that even her young public are looked after.  I ask what Drake does while she is doing all of these things. She grins. ‘He goes out and meets with farmers. He wants to keep the natural beauty of Valtoria with its rivers and trees, he hopes to make sure that the land is preserved.’ Drake nods and joins in. ‘I want to make sure the farmers are growing their best produce and that the animals are well fed and keep producing. I’d like to see Valtoria prosper, perhaps make large parts of it into conservation areas.’

I ask Drake how he is finding being a Duke. He winces. ‘I still can’t get my head around it. I’m still that guy who stands in the corner of the room at a ball, not wanting to dance, not wanting to eat any of the fancy food, I just want a drink…’

I have to ask the all important question. Camille was at court to win the King’s hand but she decided to be with Drake instead. How did that even happen?

‘I’ll be honest, I barely saw Liam,’ Camille says. ‘He was always busy with other engagements, he had to meet other noble families and get to know the other ladies. Often, I would be on the sidelines since I didn’t know anybody apart from the Beaumont brothers or Hana Lee [fellow suitor in the competition and her now best friend]. Drake was there because like me, he was always on the sidelines too.’

Drake takes her hand. ‘When I saw Camille trying her best to make it up through the competition, I worried she would lose sight of who she was. I wanted to be there to keep her grounded.’

Camille blushes. ‘It definitely worked.’

I ask if they had a first date while the competition was still going. They both take a moment to think. ‘Well…’ Camille starts.

‘It wasn’t a first date as such. More a visit to the local bar where we could hang out, just us two and get away from the court,’ Drake answers.

‘We played a drinking game!’ Camille whispers, winking at me. Which one?

‘Never Have I Ever,’ Drake groans. ‘Such a terrible game.’

‘Shut up, you so enjoyed it!’ Camille protests, smiling her mega watt smile again. More hang-outs like their drinking game occurred. It becomes clear that the two of them are peas in a pod. Best friends wrapped up in a marriage. Camille is even partial to a glass of whiskey - ‘my kind of woman,’ Drake smiles. Before long, the two of them were sharing private moments but not once ever blew their cover. ‘We weren’t sneaking around!’ Camille says. ‘Just if the two of us were alone and wanted to hang out, we did. There was nothing else to it. He was my friend first.’

‘It’s true,’ Drake says. ‘At first we were distant then became closer as friends. I could open up to her which I’d never been able to do before with anyone. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She just got me. We are both the same.’

I bring up the event that made worldwide headlines. A year ago, the court of Cordonia was hit by an assassination attempt. Camille was in the firing line but Drake took the bullet for her, injuring his shoulder. At that point, Camille had still been in the running to marry the King and when the world read the story, they did wonder why Drake had jumped in front of her.

Drake shrugs. ‘I loved her. I had been pushing away those feelings but when it came down to it, I never wanted to see her hurt or taken away from me. Instinct made me dive in front of her.’

I ask her how it felt when she saw Drake had been shot. ‘It was terrible. Time stood still. I saw the bullet coming towards me and Drake’s body moving to block it. When he was down on the floor, I shielded him with my body-’

‘Did you?!’ Drake asks. Camille nods. Drake stares at her.  ‘I didn’t know that. I barely remember being taken out of the palace. I didn’t know you shielded me after…’ He’s gone very pale. His hand grips hers and Camille strokes his hair. ‘It’s okay. I was fine.’ 

Again, it is Drake and Camille vs the world.

[richiardtozier]

gimme 31 with Reddie!! you know the soft sweet shit makes my heart go WOOSH💘💖💞💙💛💜

this took me one million years, but here it is. this was also requested by @starryhowll​ & @lilgeorgie​ #31 saying  “I love you” in awe, the first time they realize it

this is hella long and probably shitty but what can you do ya know i hope y'all enjoy anyway!!

also if anyone cares this set in the same universe as reminding me (ya know that fic I’m trying to write lmao) so this is my ficverse Richie and eddie in their high school years

The summer break before they went off to college hadn’t started off too great, in Richie’s opinion. As he laid across Eddie’s living room couch, staring out the window, watching the streets continue to flood as they had been all week, he couldn’t help but feel a little glum. This was their last summer before they became college students and he sure as hell didn’t want to spend the whole thing cooped up in a house. He didn’t want to complain too much though. Eddie had invited him over an hour earlier because he knew that the rest of their friends had prior engagements and that Richie grew restless and bored if he was left to his own devices for too long and for that, he was grateful. If he had to spend the first week of summer cooped up in a house, he was glad it was Eddie’s.

“This is the third time this week it’s poured down rain. The bottom has fallen out! It’s raining cats and dogs out there, Eds! A straight gully washer, I tell ya! A downpour! A real drencher! A-”

“Holy shit, Richie! Enough! How many other words for rain could there possibly be?”  Eddie interrupted his yelling with a smile evident in his voice.

“Well, since you asked, there’s-”

“No! No, forget I asked. Please, spare me!” Eddie didn’t try to hold back his laughter at his best friends antics, causing Richie to smile back while ignoring the warm feeling that pooled in his stomach.

“What are you doing over there anyway?” Richie questioned Eddie, who had been sitting at his kitchen table staring at his computer screen for what seemed to be forever.

“How pathetic would I sound if I told you that I’ve been obsessively refreshing my email this whole time?” He gave Richie a sad half smile as he closed the laptop.

“Well, that depends. Are you waiting for the Dominos to send you a coupon or are you waiting on your acceptance letter from NYU?” Richie sat up to make room on the couch and gestured Eddie to come sit by him. Eddie sighed, but travelled into the living room.

“Neither. I’m probably waiting for my rejection letter from NYU.” He stated glumly, ignoring Richie’s joke.

“Aw, come on, Eds! We both know you’re gettin’ in! Why wouldn’t ya? NYU would be nothin’ but lucky to have a cute little straight A baseball star like you in their medical program! Just like they’re incredibly lucky to have me in their music program! You gotta stop thinking about it too much or you’re gonna go insane.”

Unbeknownst to Eddie, Richie had also been driving himself insane thinking about it. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Eddie didn’t get in. All the losers had been talking about all going to NYU since their freshman year. They had all wanted to stay together so that’s where they all applied. It had great programs for all of their interests. Eddie had been the last of them to apply, due to his insane mother using her tears to talk him out of wanting to leave. He finally did it though, one night at Bill’s, with the encouragement of his friends. That had been a month ago and he still hadn’t heard back.

“I shouldn’t have applied so late.”

“Yeah, maybe so, but it’s gonna be fine. There’s literally no reason they wouldn’t let you in.” Richie was talking to himself just as much as he was Eddie. For some reason that he hadn’t figured out yet, the thought of Eddie not being with him next year left a hollow feeling in his chest. He decided it was because Eddie was his best friend. That’s what they were. That’s all they were. ‘Just best friends’ is a thought he had to keep repeating to himself. Everytime Eddie would lay his head on Richie’s shoulder: ‘Just best friends just best friends just best friends’. Everytime Eddie would laugh his adorable laugh at one of Richie’s jokes: ‘Just best friends just best friends just best friends’. Everytime Eddie would get drunk and flirt with Richie and only Richie: ‘Just best friends just best friends just best friends’. Everytime Eddie looked up at Richie and bit his lip: ‘Just best friends just best friends just best friends’ .

“I hope so. Anyway, I need to stop thinking about it. You’re right.”

“As always. Now back to the problem at hand. This rain. I have never been more bored in my entire life. But I have just the thing. We’re watching that new scary movie. They just put it on netflix!” Richie was already getting up to adjust the tv before his last sentence.

“It didn’t even look scary! It’s probably gonna suck.” Eddie complained, but settled back against the couch, putting his feet underneath him, grateful for the distraction and for the man that offered it. Richie started the movie and headed back towards the couch. Eddie looked up at him and gave him a soft smile, sending butterflies through Richie’s stomach. ‘Just best friends just best friends just best friends’.

Half an hour later they were sat huddled together, eyes wide and nerves on edge.

“Richie.” Eddie whispered.

“I know. You were wrong. This shit is scary.” Eddie only nodded in response because it had reached the point in the movie where it was obvious a big jumpscare was coming. Each time the spooky music would get louder they would inch closer to each other.

“This is the longest build up to a jumpscare ever!”

“Shhh, Richie!” The movie went silent and they waited to be terrified, when a loud ‘bing’ noise came from the kitchen, which still terrified them both.

“Fucking shit!” Richie screamed as he all but fell off of the couch.

“It’s okay. It’s fine. It was just my computer.” Eddie laughed a little at the sight of the boy next him half hanging off the side of the couch, but quickly sobered up.

“What is it?”

“It was my computer. My email. Richie, it was my email!” Eddie looked at him with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, Eds! NYU! Go check it! Hurry up! Get up! What are you still doing sitting here?” He began shoving Eddie off the couch, but Eddie made no move to actually get up.

“What’s the problem?”

“Rich… what if I didn’t get in? What will I do? I can’t stay here. I can’t stay here with my mom. I can’t be here while you guys are there. That would kill me, Rich. I can’t be without you.” Richie noticed there were tears gathering in Eddie’s eyes and his heart lurched in his chest.

“Hey, come on. We’ll open it together, okay?” Richie had put his hand in Eddie’s and Eddie had squeezed it appreciatively. He then sniffed as he rose from the couch and made his way to his computer, still holding Richie’s hand. ‘Just best friends just best friends just best friends.’

Eddie opened up his laptop and sucked in a breath.

“It’s from admissions. This is it.” Eddie went to click open the email when he stopped.

“Wait.. just go over there. I wanna do this by myself.” Eddie felt childish having Richie hold his hand for support. They both tried to act like they didn’t miss the contact when Richie released his grip and made his way over to other end of the table.

“Okay. Here I go.” Eddie held his breath as he opened the email. Richie watched with anticipation as Eddie’s eyes moved over the screen. He then saw Eddie’s eyes fill with more tears and his lower lip begin to quiver and Richie’s stomach dropped to the floor.

“Oh, Eddie. I’m so sorry. Hey, who gives a shit about NYU? Fuck them! I don’t even wanna go there that bad anyway. If they don’t want you, they don’t want me!”

“Rich-”

“Me and you could go to a shitty community college, who the fuck cares? School is school.”

“Richie, I -”

“Hell, we don’t even have to go to college just yet. People take years off all the time. And we could get our own apartment. NYU or no NYU I’m getting you out of this hellhole, I promise you that!”

“Richie Tozier!” Eddie said with a laugh and tears in his eyes.

“Oh. Sorry, what?”

“I got in.”

“Wait… what?”

“Richie, I got in. I’m going to NYU. With you. Well, with everyone. We’re all going. I got in! Holy shit, Richie, I got in!” Eddie began to yell with excitement.

“Oh! Holy fuck! Eds!” Richie began to yell back and then they were both running into each other. Eddie felt himself being lifted off the ground and then he was going in circles. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist and giddy giggles bubbled out of him. When Richie stopped spinning, Eddie pulled his head out of Richie’s neck to look at him. Richie thought he was going to die. Eddie still had tears on his cheeks, but he had the biggest smile on his face. His blonde, wavy hair had gotten slightly messed up when he had buried his head into Richie’s neck and Richie thinks it’s the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. That thought was quickly replaced with ‘Just best friends just best friends just best friends’.

“Richie.” Eddie whispered.

“Yeah, Eds?” He whispered back. Richie was expecting Eddie to tell him to put him down or that the staring had reached the point where it was weird. Instead, he felt Eddie’s lips collide with his own. He sucked in a breath of surprise, causing Eddie to lean further into the kiss. Richie let his eyes flutter shut as his mouth caught up to his thoughts. He walked them both backwards until his back hit the wall. Eddie’s hands made their way into Richie’s curls and Richie used his to hold Eddie flush against his chest. Richie would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined this moment before. He always laughed it off because ‘Just best friends’ would never kiss each other, but in this moment, with Eddie’s tongue making its way into Richie’s mouth and the knowledge that they would be spending another four or so years together after this kiss was over, made Richie think that they had never been ‘Just best friends’ at all. In fact, he thinks he may have known that the whole time. With that thought, he laughed softly into the kiss, causing Eddie to pull away and laugh back at him.

“What is it?” His words came out breathlessly, which made Richie want to put their lips right back together, but he had to take care of something first.

“Eddie… Eds… I love you.” Eddie’s smile didn’t falter at Richie’s words. If anything, his smile grew.

“I know. I love you too.”

“No. No, Eddie. I mean I love you. I love love you.” Richie thought Eddie didn’t understand. They both said ‘I love you’ all of the time, but Richie seemed to just now get that he may have meant it a lot more than he thought he did. Eddie, however, has known since the age of sixteen that Richie Tozier was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He had a feeling Richie shared that sentiment and had been waiting 3 years for him to catch up.

“I know, you idiot, I love love you too. I have for a long time now. I was wondering how long it would take you to get with the program.” He said with a giggle.

“Fuck. I’m such a dumbass! Better late than never though right?” Eddie stared down at Richie in a way that Richie knew he’d seen before, but now knew that the expression was one of love.

“Yeah. We sure do have a lot of time to make up for, though.” Richie let out a loud laugh at Eddie’s words and Eddie laughed right back.

“I guess it’s a good thing we have 4 more years to look forward to then, huh?”

“I guess so. I can’t wait.” Then their mouths were pressed together again and Richie’s mind kept repeating the same thought.

‘More than best friends’