#Car Hire with Child Seat

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 1

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Summary: You're hired to babysit little Megumi for the summer, but you end up taking care of his father, Toji, as well.

Author’s Notes: This is repost from my old blog! I initially got this as a request and it became my first Toji fic ever, and certainly not my last lol. I'm posting this again because I actually wrote a Part 2, check it out! Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 

[jgracie]

SAID HE LIKES CRAZY GIRLS! — PERCY + DAUGHTER OF ERIS

masterlist | rules

❝ Could you write headcanons for Percy Jackson x Daughter of Eris reader? ❞ — anon

in which percy dates a daughter of eris

pairing percy jackson x eris!reader

warnings percy gets hurt + in the infirmary for a bit

on the radio . . . crazy girls (toopoor)

an i can't remember if the stolls getting supplies thing is canon or something i read in a fanfic once and made canon in my head but if its the latter and ur the one who came up with it lmk so i can credit you!

Honestly, Percy was scared of you at first. He couldn’t help it, considering his first meeting with your mom was when she was competing with her siblings for darkest child. That did not leave a very good first impression

The rumours didn’t help either. All the other campers avoided you like the plague, not wanting to be anywhere near the child of discord out of fear

All except two: Connor and Travis Stoll, sons of Hermes. Your mom worked for their dad’s company, the Hermes Express, and while others cowered in fear at the chaos surrounding you, they admired it

After you helped them with their prank on the Aphrodite cabin, inspired by your mother’s golden apple, they decided to take you under their wing and hire you

You see, Connor and Travis were in charge of buying supplies from the outside world and bringing them into camp, since they’re two of the few demigods in camp who could drive. As the number of demigods increased, they realised they needed a third person to help them out, and who better than Eris’ daughter? 

Usually, you’d go in pairs for safety reasons. However, both Connor and Travis had gotten sick one day, leaving you alone

“What’re you guys doing? I’ve been waiting for you at Thalia’s tree for ages,” you said, huffing as you sat on the edge of one of the beds in the Hermes cabin, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you looked around the cabin you called home for years until they built one for your mother.

Travis coughed, and that’s when you really took a good look at them. Both their noses were bright red and their eyes were watery, “sorry Y/N, we can’t go with you today,” he said before blowing his nose.

“Oh, okay, we can go some other day then, when you two are feeling better,” you smiled. As you were about to walk out, you heard Connor mumble a faint, “nooo,” stopping you in your tracks.

Turning around, you watched as he laboriously got out of bed and took slow strides towards you. Putting your hands in his, he said, “you have to go. You have to continue our legacy. Besides, Will says the medicine we need ran out. You need to save us before it's too late!”

You blinked, unsure if he was joking or not. To you, he just seemed to have the common cold, “you’re not dying, Connor,” you began, “but really, I can’t go alone, I’ve never done this on my own before!”

Suddenly, you heard the door of the cabin open, and in walked Percy Jackson. He was good friends with the Stolls, having spent a couple nights in the Hermes cabin himself, and wanted to check on them after hearing they were sick

“Perfect! Percy can go with you!” Connor said, and that was that.

The car ride was awkward, to say the least. There you were, daughter of strife herself, driving to a nearby general store with the great Percy Jackson in the passenger seat

You were already a pretty reckless driver to begin with, always going as fast as the speed limit would allow, but with him at your side, you were worse. The more nervous you got, the more rash you became. 

You couldn’t help it though, having always thought Percy was a little cute, keeping your distance simply because you knew you’d never get a chance with him. Unlike all the other people part of the Percy fanclub, you were realistic. Why would he go for you when he could easily have some charming daughter of Aphrodite?

Eventually, you got to the store, and the two of you got out of the car (much to Percy’s delight, he was fighting the urge to vomit but didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of a pretty girl)

As soon as you entered, you felt a feeling of dread wash over you. Percy turned to look at you, and you immediately knew it wasn’t just you. He was feeling it too

You pointed to the right, silently telling him that’s where you were going to patrol, and he headed for the left. The place was eerily empty and quiet, but everything seemed fine on your end. You were about to yell out Percy’s name, when you heard him scream in pain

You ran to where he was, ripping your bracelet off and preparing for combat. The bracelet, a gift from your mother, turned into a beautiful stygian iron spear

In front of you was a Chimera. As soon as it laid its eyes on you, it forgot all about Percy, deciding you were much worthier prey. That’s what you wanted

Although the Chimera’s poison was infecting Percy’s body, he couldn’t help but admire the way you effortlessly moved with your spear, giving the Chimera a run for its money. As the battle got more heated, you seemed to get stronger, the chaos of it all fueling you.

Swiftly, you killed the Chimera, not bothering to watch it disintegrate as you were too worried about Percy

The materials you went out to get were long forgotten and you drove as quickly as you possibly could, desperate to get back to camp before it was too late for him. You’d given Percy some of the ambrosia you kept in the car for emergencies, but he needed proper treatment

You burst into the infirmary and watched as everyone stopped what they were doing. Setting Percy down on a nearby cot, you quickly explained the situation to Will and left, not wanting to be around anymore

It didn’t take much for you to go back though, all you could think about was Percy. You had to check on him. Every day, when campers called it a night and headed for their cabins, you hid yourself in the shadows and made your way to the infirmary

This happened for three nights until Percy woke up on the fourth

“Hey,” you heard a faint voice say. Immediately, you yanked your hand away from Percy’s, your face heating up. He smiled at you, his sea-green eyes twinkling in the dark

“Thanks for saving me back there, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” he continued, “you looked really cool with that spear. I could never use Riptide like that,"

Much to your own surprise, you replied, “I could help you, if you want. Swords and spears aren’t too different.” 

Once Percy was deemed healthy, you began your training. At first, you’d just spar, the only words spoken between you being tips you’d give him, but soon enough, you started talking about other things

Percy realised people were wrong about you. Sure, your mother really scared him, but you weren’t her. You didn’t like chaos that caused others pain, you just liked to have a little fun from time-to-time, playing pranks and teasing others

He also realised he liked you. Really liked you. In the past, he would’ve taken his time with asking you out, replaying all the possible scenarios that could happen in his head, but after literally going through Tartarus and back, Percy couldn’t leave things unsaid anymore. So, he asked you out immediately

And that’s the story of how you two began dating

Percy is your #1 defender. He dismantles all the stereotypes people have spread about you and is willing to fight anyone who speaks a single word against you

He introduces you to his friends, and although they’re hesitant at first, they begin warming up to you and soon enough they become your friends too. Next thing you know, the rest of camp becomes accustomed to you as well

Percy couldn’t be happier! You’re the apple of his eye and he loved seeing you light up as you helped around the infirmary (Will had asked you to after realising as daughter of chaos, you could take it away, giving campers some peace of mind as they were being healed)

You two are SUCH a fun couple. You remind Percy of how much fun he used to have as a troublemaker before war stripped him of all enjoyment, so he starts helping you with the pranks you pull on people

He also continues to get supplies with you. The Stolls barely leave camp anymore because as soon as one of them offers to go with you, he’s silenced by the sound of Percy revving up the car

You also make out a lot and everywhere. Being Eris’ daughter, you can’t help but love the thrill of potentially getting caught, and Percy doesn’t mind because he gets to kiss you so it's a win-win situation

Being your boyfriend didn't exclude Percy from your tricks. You would play pranks on him too, though to a lesser degree than what you’d do to others

Your favourites are the subtle ones. Stuff like replacing his camp t-shirt with one a size too small and waiting for him to notice 

“Babe,” Percy said, entering your cabin. Putting your bookmark - a polaroid picture of you and him - in your book, you set it aside and couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Percy.

His hair, once black with a grey streak, was now bright blue. The streak stayed, but you didn’t mind, your job was done. “Do you like it?” You asked, grinning

Percy crossed his arms, holding back a chuckle as he stared at your smiling face. Walking over to your dresser, you opened a drawer and pulled out a small bottle which you threw at him

“This should get rid of it,” you told him. You’d never pull something like that without being sure it was reversible, you knew how it could affect a person’s self-esteem. Percy smiled at your thoughtfulness. He couldn’t believe you were his.

[hoe4sports]

Pretty girl

Leah Williamson x reader

A note from the author: Tihi, just a short lil cutie fic from my cuties. Not too happy with this one :/ Intuition p2 and How this ends p2 will be out this weekend; planning to finish them on the plane.

Warnings: None.

Summary: Reader is pregnant and has her hands full, before a mysterious girl offers to carry her stuff to her car.

—

You found yourself in the middle of an isle in the cutest little baby boutique you had ever laid your hands on. The boutique was rather high end, but you didn't mind. All of the clothes were adorable and it felt like for each item you looked at; it was getting even cuter. Music was beaming in your ears and the cooling sensation from the air condition felt good on your body. It was fairly hot in England, and you were just wearing your bright pink summer dress. Your hands roamed through the materials on the shelf. The need to nest had crept up on you a few weeks ago which led you to hire people to do the nursery.

Life had been picture perfect; a good paying job, a blooming career, a hot fiance, a newly purchased dream house, the kindest golden retriever and your new Lexus made life seem like it was a bliss. You thought that life couldn't get any better until you one morning watched two little lines appear on a pregnancy test. From this moment, life was perfect. It was even more perfect when you got told that you were carrying a little baby girl around with you. But that was when your world came crashing down. Your fiancé had decided that he wasn't ready for a child, funny enough just when you were told that it was a girl. Perhaps it was the fear of being a girl dad that scared him, and you honestly didn’t blame him. It was scary to have a child, but you would rather have a child alone than a child that wasn’t gonna feel love from both parents. The instant he left, you decided that you were still going to make the best out of it. You made a promise to love your little girl enough for the both of you.

Your hand reached for a pink little onesie with pink lacing around the neck. It was an adorable and you immediately decided that you needed the piece of clothing. The next thing you grabbed was a little pink skirt before adding another onesie with some flowers on it. The basket quickly filled up before you got an employee to help you with deciding on a crib. You ended up with a white crib with soft paintings of roses next to it. It fit the aesthetic of the room perfectly. You were a girly girl through and through. Then you headed towards the register, paying for all the clothes and the crib before you got the girl to bring out your pre ordered car seat. It was a cybex car seat with a 360 turn and a stroller attachment. It felt good to know that you had everything taken care of. You wanted everything to be perfect for her. Anything for your little girl.

«Alright Miss, that comes up to 478.90 p, cash or card?» the cashier says as she smiles towards you. She looked young, not older than 20, but she was for sure good at her job.” Card, please» you confirmed as you pulled out your Amex.

Once you had paid, the girl had bagged everything up for you. You placed the rather large bag in the baby seat and carried the box with your other hand. It was a struggle and you mentally cursed yourself for not bringing help.

«Please, let me help you with that! »

A girl’s voice calls from behind you. You turn around still holding on to both the box with the crib, the car seat and the paper bags of clothes for your baby. Your gaze meets the girl’s worried gaze. You smile gratefully at her while handing over the bag. Unexpectedly, she grabs everything from your hands. It makes you blush slightly, and you tuck your hair behind your ear.

“You didn’t have to, thank you so much! I should probably have parked closer to the store” you say with a little giggle at the end of the sentence. The girl smiles in return, and you catch a glimpse of her defined arms while she walks infront of you to the car. The sight makes you feel warm thought your body. Wow, you think to yourself. People are still good.

You pressed your key making the car beep and the lights blink. The girl immediately goes towards the correct car and gives you a nod of approval. «Rad looking car, i love a good blackout window» she compliments which causes you to instantly smile. You both stop behind the car before you press the booth waiting for the electric door to open.

When you stand there, you see the girls sunglasses slipping off and you instinctively push them carefully back up. The girl gives you a charming smile before placing your boxes inside the car. She presses the button on the trunk which makes it shut itself close, and you place your handbag in the passenger seat.

“Thank you so much, uhm, what was your name again?”

“I didn’t say my name”

“What is your name?”

“It’s a secret”

“Hm, keep being stubborn, you look like a Anya. So Anya it is!” You tease while crossing your arms before an unexpected silence wraps around your conversation. Anya, as you have decided to call her, smiles at you while shaking her head lightly. She doesn’t say anything which makes you feel uncomfortable. You love to talk, and your parents always said that your talent was that you could find something to talk about in any situation. But this situation was different, you felt at loss for words. You decided to go the safe route and be polite again.

“Again thank you so much, Anya! Could I offer you anything? A coffee and a pastry, maybe?” you suggest, mostly out of courtesy not really think much of it ready to hop into your car.

“Actually, I would love that” she smiles back. You look gobsmacked for a second making her face frown a little. “Oh,Sorry, I just assumed you didn’t want to, but let’s go. I know the perfect place!” you cheer trying to stop the situation from escalating making your face light up. She smiles from your enthusiasm.

“Alright, Mrs. Whe-“

You interrupt her while pointing demonstrably to your finger without a ring, but a clear tan line from where your engagement ring once sat. “It’s Miss”

She smiles cheekily before nodding in approval.

“Miss, where do you wanna go?”

“I know the perfect place. It’s just around the corner, walk with me.” You say as you grab your purse and close the door of your car. The stroll to the cafe isn’t too long, just a good 7 minute walk. You don’t really say much on your way there, because you don’t know what to say. It’s uncomfortable for you, because you always know what to talk about. You stop at the cafe and enter it while the smell of cinnamon rolls is welcoming you.

“Cute place, didn’t know this place even existed” Anya says as she scans the room looking over her sunglasses.

“It’s my indefinite favourite, I used to come here all the time. They have the best service and the best coffee, I promise” you say as the barista comes to the register.

“Y/N! Hiya! My favourite customer. The usual for you today?” She says as she smiles. It’s the owner of the cafe, Tiana, she was the first person you got to know once you moved to the city. “You know it Ti” you say as you smile before you look over at the blonde you brought with you.

“What about you Miss, what can I offer you today?” Tiana asked as she looked over at the blonde. She scans the menu quickly, and looks at you. “Make that a double.” She says making you blush. You look down at your shoes confused. Oh, how you loved a pretty face and Anya was a sight for sore eyes.

“Alright, that gets you to 5.99, cash or card?” Tiana asked looking at you. “Card” you repeate while roaming through you bag to find your card. Once you find it, you look over at the blonde who has her card over the terminal just as the terminal beeps before confirming that the payment went through. You look at her as you cross your arms. “I was supposed to get that!” You complain as you frown.

“I always pay on the first date” she says. The statement makes your mind go crazy. You felt like a thousand butterflies were rushing through your belly and you instinctively rest a hand on your bump. Did she really say that? you think. You settle on the assumption that she probably said something else, but you just misheard what she said.

You head over to a table with a view of the nearby park, perfect for people watching. Your iced mocha with a pump of vanilla and cinnamon rolls comes to your table. Tiana smiles at you before placing it down. “Enjoy your little…” she says before leaning in. “Date” she whispers which causes you to blush instantly. The blonde just looks at you while smiling before she sips the drink.

“Tell me what you think! Isn’t it just glorious?" you ask before taking a sip of your own.

"It sure is good, you really were right about that one" she says before placing it down and picking up her cinnamon roll.

"So, Y/N, tell me more about yourself" she suggest before digging into her roll.

You clear your throat as you try to think of what to say.

"Well, im 25 and i work as a lawyer for this international company which is also why i moved to this city. I am currently pregnant, which you probably figured anyway. My ex fiance left me a few months ago, and since then; it has only been me, little girly inside here and our-, my golden retriever, Tucker" you realise you are rambling, making you feel slighly embarassed over your excitement. You pop a piece of the cinnamon roll in your mouth to make you shut up.

“Interesting, sounds like he was an ass. Sorry about him” she says as she straightens up her posture.

“Oh, don’t be! I’d rather have him out now than when she gets here. Wouldn’t want to get too used to having a pair of extra hands when it was just gonna be me. Besides, my sisters are more than happy to help so I will be lucky if I can have my hands on her”

You joke, feeling embarrassed again.

“Sorry, sorry, I tend to ramble. Please feel free to tell me to shut up” you mumble as your cheeks blush.

“I don’t mind at all. Strong and independent” She smiles before taking another sip of her coffee. Her eyes meets yours and you finally notice how blue her eyes are. Crystal clear blue.

“Tell me more about you, please?” You ask before shoving another piece of pastry down your throat. The comfort from her made you feel better about yourself. It was rare that people understood your rambling, but she really didn’t seem to mind.

“Well, my name is Leah, I am 27 and I work in sports. I don’t have a dog or a cat, which I probably should, seems like it is good company, yeah?” she says while smiling at you.

“Definitely! I love tucker, he has been such a good help when it comes to getting past my ex and everything. It made it feel much smoother and I was forced to get fresh air when I was at my lowest, he really is the bestest boy.” You exclaim while pulling up your phone to flash Leah your screen, a picture of Tucker with a scrunchie holding his ears on the top of his head while he has an attitude on his face. Leah giggles when she sees the picture which makes you feel good. “Wow, he really looks like an absolute sweetheart.” She says before the conversation flows through topics like food, goals, hobbies and motivation.

And before m you know it, she is finishing her drink up. She places the cup firmly on the table making it cling. “I need to get going to work, walk with me?” She askes before pushing her chair out. “Of course, it would be an honour” you state before mentally facepalming yourself to the moon. But Leah dosent seem to care, she seems to finds it sweet.

-

When you eventually get back to the parking lot, she follows you back to your car before opening the door for you. You giggle at her before jumping in. She leans towards the roof of your car while shading her face from the sun by putting her hand up, once again showing off her toned arms.

“Thank you again, Leah. For carrying my stuff and the coffee. I wish you would’ve let me paid. Can I transfer you?” You suggest pulling up your phone expecting her banking details.

She shooks her head before smirking.

“I know what you can do to show your appreciation”

“What? I’d do anything”

“You are single, right?”

“Uh, I..”

“Oh, man, I’m sorry fo-“

“No, no! I’m single, just caught off guard. Is there a blind date you want to set me up with? Like with your brother?”

“God, no. How about a date with me? You put on a nice dress and i’ll make a reservation for us for Saturday?”

You become too stunned to speak. Not finding your words. Your thoughts are going at 100 miles per hour and you couldn’t separate your head from your ass if you tried.

“You realise that I’m pregnant, right? Like, about to have a baby in some months?” You ask slightly embarrassed, but not wanting to trap her or lure her into something when you are pregnant. It is a lot to deal with when it comes to dating someone pregnant.

“Yes?” She bluntly asked with a confused look on her face while she ruffles her hair back.

“Oh, are you sure? You can always change your mind, I wouldn’t blame you at all. Taking someone on a date is tough, but a pregnant woman? Gosh, that is probably terrifying.” You ramble on feeling slightly anxious. It isn’t that you don’t want to date her, but you are scared that she is getting herself into something that she will struggle getting out off.

“I honestly don’t mind, you have a good heart and a pretty face. You are an exceptional talker, and you are intelligent. Being pregnant is a situation in your life, it’s not your personality. I don’t mind that, or kids, or fur kids at all. So, what do you say?”

You sit there, absolutely gobsmacked for the third time within the hours.

“Okay, okay if you really want to. Then yes, I’ll go on a date with you, but remember that you can always say no”

“Alright pretty girl, pop your number into my phone and I’ll text you the details, yeah?”

You nod while grabbing her phone putting your number in under your name before handing it back over.

“I guess I’ll see you soon?”

“I promise that you will, now take care of both you, little miss inside of you and Tucker!” She says before winking as she closes your door carefully and turns to walk to her car. You sit in the car speechless. You don’t even understand what just happened. What just spun out over the last hour. You have so many feelings at once that you feel a tear drop to your lap. Damn you hormones, you say before drying your eyes making you giggle over your own silliness. She was just such a good woman.

You pull out of the parking lot listening to Taylor Swift bopping along to the music. The beaming streets passing as your car you drive. When you eventually pull up to your home, you look at your phone. To your surprise, you see a text from a new number.

“Pretty girl, be ready on Saturday at 19. I’ll pick you up. Leah xx”

[isaidlandowecanbeworldchampion]

Red Lights

Ex!Lando Norris x Reader, Oscar Piastri x reader

Part 1

“You’re not exhausting.” He couldn’t stop himself. “You’re like a sip of cold water on a hot day. You’re the feeling I get sitting on the grid, waiting for those red lights. You’re exciting and terrifying and I’m sorry I waited so long to say it but…” 

A/n: Hiiii guess who's back pookies, I totally not have an anatomy paper to write and procrastinated by writing this

“Being in a relationship while being in F1 is exhausting.. That could just be me though. “

Lando  said the words so offhandedly that you’d almost missed them, but the meaning couldn't be interpreted any differently. You were exhausting. You could see his PR person gently hit his arm at the statement and he quickly changed the subject. 

The silence in your shared hotel room wrapped around you and before you knew it you had begun to pack your suitcase. Lando wouldn’t be due back for a few hours at least and that was enough time to pack up and get to the airport. 

Your phone buzzed as you were wheeling your suitcase to sit next to the door of the room. 

OP81:  I know you saw the interview. Are you ok? 

Y/n : No.

Y/n: Did you know that he felt that way? That I’m exhausting and he’s not in love? 

OP81: I was as blindsided as you. I thought you guys were great. He always talked about how he couldn't imagine life without you. 

OP81: Have you spoken to Lando? 

Y/n: No and I'm not planning to, I’m about to head to the airport. 

OP81: Need a ride? 

25 minutes later you are sitting in the passenger seat of Oscar’s hire car on your way to the airport. He hadn’t said anything the whole ride, just peeked at you periodically as you stared at the passing cars on the highway. 

“If you’re planning on jumping out, just know I already put the child lock on… and besides a guy who thinks you’re exhausting isn't worth jumping onto the highway” He says, glancing over again. 

“Duly noted.” you say, not even glancing towards him. 

“What are you going to do when you get back to Monaco? It’ll only be two days and Lando will be back, do you have somewhere to stay?” There’s a hint of worry in his voice. You realise that you didn’t know he cared that much. 

“I’ll figure something out. I’m sure I can stay in a hotel for a few days.” 

“You can stay at my place, if you want?’ Oscar suggests, “I’ve got more rooms than I know what to do with” 

You nod slightly, “That would actually be really good, I don’t think I can face being in our flat right now.” 

Oscar smoothly pulls up at the departure gate. He pulls the suitcase from the back for you. He looks at you, his expression blank but his eyes showing a hint of concern. Oscar pulls a set of keys from his pocket. 

“Here, I’ll text you the address.” He presses the keys into your hand. “Just…”  His hand comes up to wipe across his face, “Take care, y/n” 

You nod and pull Oscar into a hug. “Thank you,osc”,  you begin to tear up, “for everything. I know he’s your friend.” 

“He may be my friend but you’re my friend too,” He says into your shoulder, “ You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Oscar leaves a gentle kiss on your cheek, and heads towards the car. You give him a tight smile and wave after him as he drives off. 

–

It was thankfully early when you arrived at Oscar’s Monaco flat. You really didn’t need any more attention on your relationship than you’d had in the past 4 hours. 

After the flood of twitter and instagram notifications regarding the comments Lando had made, it had been easier to deactivate your social media than have to look at the messages from Lando’s fans. Some were nice, sure, but the majority, or what felt like the majority, were people saying that they knew you were never good enough for him. That you’d been using him for attention or money. 

There were two messages from Lando. 

Lan: Oscar said he took you to the airport

Lan: Don’t you think you might be overreacting? 

Oscar’s flat was quiet, aside from the humm of Monaco nightlife. You never understood why New York was “the city that never sleeps” when Monaco was constantly alive from early morning cafes to midnight casino’s to the drunken groups stumbling back to hotels at 4am. 

You hadn’t left the flat for two days by the time Oscar got back on Monday morning. Curled up in bed, sporadically getting up for cups of tea before stumbling back to bed to continue the routine of crying and staring at the ceiling of the spare room. 

He knocked gently on the doorframe, leaning against it with an unreadable expression. 

“I won,” He stated. 

Your head snapped towards him at the sound of his voice, “Osc” You rasped,voice hoarse after days of crying. “What?”

“I won,” He repeated, “for you.” He cleared his throat, as if he hadn’t intended to say the second part. 

“For me?” You questioned. 

“You’re not exhausting.” He couldn’t stop himself. “You’re like a sip of cold water on a hot day. You’re the feeling I get sitting on the grid, waiting for those red lights. You’re exciting and terrifying and I’m sorry I waited so long to say it but…” 

He trailed off. “I’m sorry. I know this isn't the right time.” He turned and retreated into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

You stared at the ceiling of the room. How could you have not noticed? Every interaction with Oscar flashed in your mind. First meeting him while out clubbing with Lando after hearing so much about Lando’s new teammate; To late night runs to get ice cream cause Lando didn’t want to ruin his diet, that became habit on a Thursday night as Oscar needed his ‘secret weapon for the weekend; to the words Oscar had just breathed into your room.

You’re exciting and terrifying and I’m sorry I waited so long to say it but…

But what?

[daisynik7]

so first off all i wanted to say that i LOVE your writing.

but, if you don’t mind, could you make an NSFW fic about a dilf! toji with his babysitter. but like cheating.

so basically toji has a wife but he’s cheating on her with the babysitter(whose like 10 years younger than him).

i’d really love if you could do it

thanks bookie🫶🏽

Pairing: dilf!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Author’s Notes: Thank you for your kind words, you are too sweet! This is my very first Toji fic EVER, so I was very excited (and nervous!) to write it. I hope I did it justice, this is such a delicious idea for him. Also, I have never read the manga, so if the characterization is off, I’m so sorry! I really, really hope you like this one! Divider created by @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 

[flowerandblood]

The Knight & The Judge

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination and humiliation kink, description of physical and mental disabilities, prejudices against disabled people, aggressive behavior, violence, swearing, trauma, mention of an accident with fatalities ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

On that day it seemed to him that the whole world had turned against him. His coffee machine had broken down, there was more traffic than usual on the roads, he was sure he would be late for work, and his brother had woken up in a mood worse than always and cried all the way to the centre.

"I don't want to go there. I-I'm scared of some of those kids." He muttered under his breath, swallowing loudly, whooping with tears. He looked at him in the mirror, feeling a squeeze in his throat every morning when he left him there, but saw no other alternative.

He still hadn't recovered mentally after what had happened five years ago and, according to his psychiatrist, he wasn't ready to attend a normal school until he gained more confidence.

He did not want to force him to listen to unpleasant comments, however, he felt uncomfortable himself.

The centre was huge, classes were taught in different groups of matched children, however, there were times when Daeron encountered kids with a spectrum of disabilities other than physical and was simply afraid of them.

He tried to explain it to him, but how was a child supposed to understand these complicated, sometimes even uncontrollable behaviours and screams?

He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, turning on the right indicator with his hand, driving into the car park of the building where he would leave him for the time he spent at work, during which he studied and had various extra classes with children with problems similar to his.

However, was he to surround himself all his life only with children who had mobility problems, who had no arms or legs, who suffered from paresis or lack of feeling in their limbs?

Every time he thought about it he wanted to cry.

He turned off the engine, staring dully ahead, hearing his mother's screams again in the background of his mind as his father fainted behind the wheel and drove off the road into the other lane – he felt once again that hard crash with the big truck coming from the opposite direction that crushed them.

They were only alive because they were in the back seats at the time, Daeron, however, was not as lucky as he was.

Compared to what happened to his younger brother, the glass that smashed into the left side of his face was nothing.

"Mrs Thomson said you can't spend all day at home doing one-to-one tuition. You have to see other children." He calmly repeated the formula he said whenever such a situation arose, opening his door, heading for the boot of his big black SUV – the car dealership had told him it was the safest and biggest model they had.

He took out the small wheelchair that had been put together and unfolded it, driving it closer, to the back seat where his brother sat, opening it – he looked away, unable to watch his brother's weeping face.

"I'm already late for work. Please. I promise we'll play FIFA' 23 together when we get back. Hm?" He muttered, and Daeron nodded, pale, breathing loudly, using his hands to move slowly towards the wheelchair onto which he shifted the weight of his body, hissing loudly as he lifted his legs onto the special supports.

The bones of his little legs had been simply crushed then – he continued to grow, the rehabilitation was hard and caused him great pain.

He would have preferred it to be him who suffered like this and not an innocent child, but God, who he wasn't sure he still believed in despite the deep faith his mother had always instilled in him, decided otherwise.

He closed the car and moved with him to the main entrance, pushing his wheelchair forward. When they got inside they were greeted by a lady they knew very well, several of his friends waved to Daeron, one of them was paralysed from the waist down, the other was missing one arm.

He swallowed loudly, thinking that his brother had to watch someone else's misfortune every day, himself for sure feeling like a cripple, like someone defective, someone who was a burden, even though he loved him the most in the world.

The cruelty of the situation left him with a clenched throat, so he would usually only throw him a few words to say goodbye, stroke his head and leave, only by the car tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, his healthy eye burning from the moisture that gathered under his eyelids.

As he always did in moments of breakdown, he started the engine, selected the number of his sister phone on the display under his dashboard and, turning on loudspeaker mode, started backing his car as he tried to drive out of the car park and drove ahead towards the national prosecutor's office.

"Hello? Aemond, did something happen?"

He heard Helaena's soft, sleepy voice. He knew she was still doing overtime as a doctor, overworking herself as much as he was and thought that he had woken her up after the night shift.

He felt remorse for not being able to handle it himself, although she always reassured him that she would always help him as best she could.

She got Daeron the best possible physiotherapist so that he was even able to take a few steps in the last month while holding on to his supports, however it still caused him great pain, the doctors said his bones would continue to hurt as long as he grew.

Perpetual undeserved suffering.

"I don't know what to do anymore. He says he is afraid of some of the children, those with intellectual disabilities. I know it's cruel, but fuck, I'd be scared of some of them too. Do they have to see each other in the same building, pass each other in the corridor? Shouldn't they be separated somehow?"

"God, Aemond, they're not animals. After all, they're children too." She said with sadness and resentment – he clenched his eye, sighing impatiently, trying to focus on the road again, tense.

"I know. I know. I really feel for them, but it's bad for his psyche. He recently asked me if he was normal, if he too would start shouting and babbling like them. That sometimes they are aggressive and the carers have to drag them away from him and his friends."

"It's horrible. Maybe he really should go there less often?" She asked sighing quietly, he heard her rise up on the bed with a quiet creak of the mattress.

"And what, he's going to sit at home with some boring old teacher? How will I know that no harm comes to him in my absence?" He asked resignedly, hearing silence on the other side for some time.

"Maybe find someone who won't be very distant in age. Someone who won't just teach him, but play with him and spend time with him. Someone old enough to be responsible for him and at the same time young enough not to feel so distant. Someone joyful." She replied, and he rolled his eyes as he drove into the underground car park of his office building.

"Joyful? I am supposed to pay someone to be joyful?" He sneered, shaking his head, his sister sighed again.

"He needs it, Aemond. We're all tired, and he's a child."

He hung up after a few minutes of further discussion, telling her he had to go, grabbed the case folders he'd just brought in and headed for the underground lift. He pressed the button showing the floor he wanted to move to when a woman's hand stopped the sliding doors, which opened a moment later.

Alys smiled broadly at him as she stepped inside with a confident stride – her high black heels emphasised how slender and long her legs were, her fitted, waist high pencil trousers and black blazer with a beautiful white shirt underneath highlighted both her confidence and her attractiveness.

He remembered the last few times the thrusts of his hips had pushed her into her desk, bent over and helpless, with firm, wide buttocks on which he tightened his fingers as he panted heavily, watching what he was doing to her, rooting into her again and again, thinking with mockery and amusement how easy it was to make a mere whore out of such a proud woman.

"Good morning, Mr Prosecutor." She said softly, contentment and calmness on her face, several of their intense close-ups had clearly left an intense mark in her, not just physical.

She liked the violent and determined ones, he knew that – she hid her age well and apparently decided that this was the last moment in her life when she could reach for what she wanted.

"Good morning, Miss Rivers." He replied calmly, uninterested in her ambiguous look, apparently suggesting that she wouldn't mind if what happened between them was repeated a few more times.

He was all about the sex. He was frustrated in this aspect – his artificial eye, although perfectly colour-matched to the other and the still clearly visible scar from where the glass pierced in, were a source of his complexes and shame.

He knew that no matter how perfect a professional he was, it was his appearance that made the first impression.

In the courtroom he still struggled to be taken seriously so much so that his cold, calculating, ruthless nature began to frighten some – his judgement and questioning was harsh and lacking in compassion.

He knew exactly what he wanted and strove to get it.

He preferred them to fear him rather than pity him.

His superiors quickly appreciated how skilful a lawyer he was and his ability to bring cases to an end and push whoever he needed to, hence he quickly moved to the National Prosecutor's Office, where more responsibilities and more money awaited him, which he could spend on Daeron's rehabilitation.

As he sat over the files he thought hard about what his sister had told him and decided that he would install CCTV in the house and then hire someone on a trial basis to see if it made sense.

He put up an anonymous job ad not wanting anyone to recognise him, described briefly his broad expectations and his rate per hour.

It turned out that dozens of people responded to his ad, just as he suspected attracted by the sum he had quoted, but he didn't know how he was supposed to sort them to choose the ones that seemed best to him. He began to read their answers, figuring that already from them he could deduce what types of personalities they were.

I am interested. My phone number is below.

Reject, he thought, clicking the red button informing the message sender that his offer was not accepted, and began to scroll further.

I am a carer with 10 years of experience. I have already cared for 14-year-old Mike with cerebral palsy, Adam with….

Reject, he clicked again.

He had no intention of making his home a second centre for the disabled.

He felt frustration and rage when he found that most of the messages were similar and just as empty in their tone, nothing convinced him about these people.

He knew Daeron wouldn't want to stay with them, and neither would he.

He stopped at one of the messages that looked completely different and blinked.

Good morning! I saw your ad and thought I would speak up. I'm a student, I'm studying costume design at the Faculty of Fine Arts. I'm looking for a casual job and I really enjoy working with children, I teach dressmaking as part of the teaching section of my university classes. I think that helping your brother with his studies at primary school level would be no problem for me at all, and I would also be happy to come up with different extra-curricular activities with him. Even if you decide not to hire me, I would like to sew your brother a costume of his favourite super hero, without any payment of course. You would just have to give me his measurements. I don't think anything makes kids his age happier!!! My warmest regards and I am sending my email below.

He looked at her message not too sure how he felt, at the same time being impressed, on the other hand feeling the seed of uncertainty and extreme caution characteristic of him when it came to his approach to newly met people.

What if this was a psychological tactic to make him believe her to be innocent and unselfish? To make him subconsciously choose her because she was the only one offering him something for free? If it was just her free promotion?

He chose two people reluctantly, but kept coming back to her message, trying to imagine her, seeing some crazy painting student looking like a hippie.

Maybe this was just what he needed? He thought with regret and sighed heavily, opening a new window in his inbox, writing her a short, brief email to appear at their house in a few days' time.

He was going to interrogate her.

The young man before her immediately made him uneasy – he had the impression that he smelled weed from him even though he had taken a shower, so he must have been smoking like crazy, and he had no intention of letting anyone who might encourage him to use any stimulants look after his brother.

The other girl was very frightened – his questions clearly startled her and made her uncomfortable, it frustrated him that she was barely able to make a sound. He thought she had something to hide, that people who have a clear conscience don't behave this way.

He thought with resignation that all he had left was a mad artist.

He sighed heavily as he heard the bell ring suggesting that someone was standing outside the gate. He walked over to the intercom and opened it, seeing in the small monitor a petite girl with dark, slightly wavy hair tied up in a ponytail.

He thought in disbelief that she was dressed for a job interview in a white turtleneck, dungarees and trainers, a fabric floral back on her back.

What the fuck, he thought, opening her door with a cold, indifferent expression on his face.

"Good afternoon." She said softly, a wide smile on her face. Before she walked in she wiped her shoes on the doormat, which pleased him. When she came inside she wanted to take off her trainers – he looked at her surprised, thinking she must be crazy.

"No, you don't have to. You can stay in your shoes." He said lowly, pointing towards the armchair, indicating to her with his hand the seat on the couch next to him.

She sat down in the seat he showed her, looking boldly straight into his eyes, her cheeks rosy with emotion.

She was clearly a tad nervous after all, he thought, musing for a moment that she had incredibly long, dark eyelashes.

"Do you have experience in working with children?" He asked immediately; she blinked and corrected herself in her seat, as if prepared for the question.

"Only in terms of working with them in sewing workshops." She answered simply, without any further explanation, which pleased him.

She was letting him draw his own conclusions, rather than imposing them on him so as to present herself in the most favourable light.

"My brother has mobility problems. How do you imagine helping him, for example, if he needs to go to the bathroom?"

"I think he's old enough that he can tell me himself what he'll need help with and what he won't, and what he'll feel comfortable for me to help him with and when he'll want me to leave." She said without thinking, shrugging her shoulders as if it was obvious. He squinted, intrigued that she was allowing herself to say unthoughtful things in front of him, as if she wasn't afraid of the consequences they might bring.

"And your studies? How will you have so much time to come here?"

"From what I understand, I would be expected to turn up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from eight in the morning until sixteen. I have practice classes then, the costumes I'm sewing I can bring with me and finish them while he's eating or watching something, maybe he'll even like it and want to practice with me?"

"What will you do if I don't hire you?" He asked dryly and she looked at him surprised, a light smile on her face indicating that his words didn't worry her.

"Then I will continue to work in the café. But my words about the superhero costume stand. Even if I can't work for you, sir, I would like to meet him and give him something. Children can be so brave." She said softly with sincere, bright joy and some kind of pride, as if Daeron was her brother and not his, something in her innocence, something in her attitude endeared him.

He could smell a lie a mile away, she wouldn't be able to pretend so well even if she were an actress.

These reactions were natural, she was saying exactly what she was thinking about.

"I will contact you once I have made my decision." He said indifferently, getting up from his seat and pointing with his hand towards the exit, suggesting that their conversation was over.

She stood up and smiled, undaunted by his behaviour or the length of their conversation. Both of them flinched when Daeron appeared in the living room, pushing the wheels of his wheelchair with a light flick of his hand.

"Good afternoon. Who is this lady?" His younger brother asked him, obvious curiosity on his face. He swallowed loudly and glanced at her – she answered nothing but waved at him vigorously, Daeron smiled shyly and waved her back, embarrassed.

"No one. I needed to talk to her." He replied, opening the door for her. She said a polite goodbye to him and his brother, waving at him once more, Daeron waved her back again, looking at him with questioning eyes as he closed it.

"I like her. She seems fun."

With no other choice, he decided he would give her a chance.

The first day she was to be left alone with Daeron he was all nerves despite the fact that his little brother hadn't seemed this excited to him in many years. He told him about his toys and the cartoons he was going to show her.

"First the lessons. Then two hours to play and free time." He replied dryly, tense, glancing at his watch, thinking with rage that she only had fifteen minutes left, that she was sure to be late or not come and leave him in the lurch when he had already cancelled his presence at the centre's classes.

They both flinched when they heard the bell ring; Daeron said, moving briskly forward in his wheelchair that he wanted to open for her and indeed, after a moment the girl he had hired appeared on the doorstep of their house, smiling and content – her cheeks flushed again, her dark hair loose, pleasantly framing her bright face, on her body only a black top and tracksuit shorts as it was a sunny, warm spring morning.

"Good morning, Daeron, nice to meet you!" She said with fondness and satisfaction in her voice, extending her hand in front of her, which his brother shook confidently. Daeron moved ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Come, I'll show you my room. I'll explain everything to you." He said, rolling his wheelchair up to the door, which was located on the ground floor of their house so that he could move around easily. The girl nodded, pulling her trainers off her feet, saying that she will come to him in a minute.

He took the opportunity to walk up to her, towering over her, and she threw him a quick surprised look.

He thought her eyes seemed even bigger than before, he wasn't sure if they were blue or green, both colours blending into one.

"You are to take care of him. I want you to go through all the material that was prepared for today. Only two hours of free time, no more. Behave responsibly and only call if it's really urgent or if something happens to him." He said matter-of-factly, and she swallowed quietly, nodding quickly, clearly horrified by how close he stood and how cold his voice was.

Good, he thought.

He wanted her to be afraid of the consequences of her actions.

He sat in the office all day terrified, stressed and unsure, trying to focus on the file in front of him, while involuntarily still glancing at his phone, checking to see if she might have called him.

Was everything okay? What if something had happened but she was afraid to call him? Maybe he should go home and test her, see what was going on?

He thought he would go mad if he didn't, so he left work an hour early – Alys threw something at him as he walked past her, probably something about a meeting or an evening out together, but he didn't answer her, heading for the stairs and the underground car park.

He drove forward, trying to calm himself down, thinking about how oversensitive he was, that surely everything was fine.

He pulled up in front of their house hearing music in the distance, wondering if any of the neighbours were having a party outside at this hour.

However, as he pressed the key to the gate and it slowly swung open he saw in disbelief the girl he had hired riding with lightness and grace on roller skates in his driveway to the tune of the Scissor Sisters song Don't Feel Like Dancin. Daeron laughed out loud, spinning beside her in his wheelchair, both of them wearing elbow and knee pads, in addition to his little brother wearing a bike helmet on his head.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He got out of the car, furiously slamming the door, his brother wheeled up to him briskly, his companion spinning slowly around them on roller skates – she raised her eyebrows with a smile, seeing the look on his face and waved at him.

"Look how well I dance, brother!" Exclaimed Daeron, spinning the wheels of his wheelchair around his own axis again.

He, however, instead of looking at him grabbed aggressively the arm of his carer who was doing another spin – she nearly fell over because of his tug and caught him abruptly by his jacket in an attempt to catch her balance.

"Ah!"

"What the fuck are you doing? Is this what I pay you for?" He growled and shook her hard. She stared at him with wide-open eyes, her lips slightly parted in accelerated breathing from fear, her face red from exertion, strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks.

"Let me go, sir. I will not speak to you like this." She said warningly, her brow furrowed. He pressed his lips together noticing that something had changed in her gaze, suddenly confident and angry, ready to fight if necessary.

He felt that look in his trousers, he'd never had the urge to slap a woman's ass as hard as hers before.

He glanced at his brother, who was looking at him in horror, only realising after a moment that the song had long since ended and there was a tense, awkward silence around them.

He let go of her arm, seeing with satisfaction that he had left a bruise on her skin in the shape of his fingers – she massaged at the spot, furrowing her brow.

"You're fired. You're irresponsible. Good thing I came back earlier." He said with mockery and fury, walking over to his brother, unbuckling the helmet he wore on his head. Daeron burst into a loud, uncontrollable sob.

"I don't want to. I don't want to, I don't want to go back there, I want to stay with her. It's my fault, I told her I wanted to dance, please, please, please, I want her to stay, I don't want to go back there." He babbled, running his hands over his shoulders in some helpless, childish pleading gesture from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her gaze fixed on his little brother, sad and resigned – she was leaning over, untying the laces of the roller skates that had once belonged to his sister.

"Something could have happened to you. You could have fallen over and hit your head on the ground." He replied coldly, kneeling in front of him, unbuckling his knee pads.

"But I had a helmet on my head. After all, normal boys fall off bikes and stairs and they're fine! Nothing would have happened if I'd bruised myself a bit, I'm not made of glass!" He burst out suddenly with a fury he had never seen in him before, burying his little face in his hands, all red from tears and despair.

"I won't go back there, I won't go there tomorrow, if she doesn't stay, never, never again, I'd rather kill myself!" He whined out loud, falling into another attack of hysteria in recent months – he had trouble catching his breath, his lungs were wheezing all over. He took his face in his hands, but he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at him.

God, why?

"Remember what I told you?" She asked walking up to his brother in just her socks, kneeling beside him, grasping his hand. Daeron immediately fell silent, looking at her with wide eyes.

"That boy who calls you Quasimodo is just mean. You are my Phoebus, you have his beautiful hair, humour and valour. I'll sew us costumes and we'll go to the carnival ball together. His jaw will drop when he sees that you came with your Esmeralda. What do you say?" She asked softly, and he looked at her in disbelief, wondering if that was the reason his little brother didn't want to go there.

That boy who calls you Quasimodo.

He felt a twitch in his throat and swallowed loudly, his brother nodding quickly, drawing in air loudly, his eyes full of hope.

"Promise?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she smiled broadly, sincerely, squeezing his small hand.

"Promise."

They entered their house as his brother calmed down; he told Daeron to go to his room and leave them alone, which his brother eventually did with great reluctance, crying for a while longer, not wanting to say goodbye to her.

As soon as he heard the door close behind him at the end of the corridor he slipped his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers, took out a few banknotes and threw them on the table in front of her in a careless gesture.

"Get the fuck out of my house." He said coldly, looking her straight in the eye. He saw her lower lip twitch, the pain of humiliation in her gaze, her eyebrows arched in disbelief that such words had left his mouth.

He wasn't paying her to make a circus of herself dancing like some fucking Esmeralda, exposing his brother to danger and injury.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and trembled with rage as she took the money and tossed it in his direction, the banknotes flying scattered around his feet.

"You could dress up as Frollo for the carnival ball, sir. It would suit you." She said drily, turning away tensely – he moved behind her, feeling anger buzzing strongly in his veins at her words.

He grabbed her by the neck with an aggressive flick of his hand and slammed her back against the wall, her voice stuck in her throat in horror, her big, bright eyes open wide in disbelief.

He took a step closer to her, feeling her warm body quiver all over in his grasp, digging his fingertips deeper into her skin, finding with delight that she was obscenely soft.

"Do you have anything else to say?" He asked in a low whisper filled with threat – she shook her head quickly clearly feeling the situation was out of her control, obviously fearing if he was really going to do something to her.

"No, are you sure? I'm listening to you. Tell me something else interesting about me." He said softly, encouragingly, moving even closer to her, the tips of their noses almost touching.

He could finally get a good look at her and he found curiously that he still couldn't tell what colour her eyes were, now slightly reddened from tears of fear.

She shook her head quickly, not making a sound; all he could hear was their quickened, raspy breaths, her hand touched his wrist as if she wanted to make sure he didn't strangle her.

He was somehow delighted by how delicate, long and slender her fingers were, feeling a pleasant pulsing in his trousers at the thought.

"Look at you. So silly. Because you're a silly little girl, aren't you? You would benefit from someone teaching you a lesson. No? Then apologise and I'll let you go and pretend I never met you." He said calmly, her whole body quivering with terror.

"Never." She said quietly, and he felt involuntarily that his lips curved in a dangerous, satisfied grin, his fingers clenching tighter around her neck.

"You're asking for trouble, Esmeralda." He muttered lowly, her nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.

"I will report what you are doing to the police." She said dryly and he smiled even wider, feeling her tremble all over as he leaned over her ear, his nose sinking into her soft, flower-scented hair – he closed his eyes and savoured the experience for a moment before whispering something she froze from.

"I am a prosecutor −"

Her hand clenched tighter on his wrist, a moan of despair escaping her lips, as if what he had said had really shocked her, as if she was only now realising what she had gotten herself into.

"− and I've never lost a case yet." He whispered in her ear, sliding his face lower, to her jaw and then to her neck, pressing his full lips to her skin, leaving wet, hot marks on it. He heard her draw in a loud breath.

"− w-what are you doing, sir? − no −" She whimpered, he felt her lift her arms up in a defensive gesture, trying to pull away from him, but he pressed her against the wall with his body, letting go of her neck, his erection throbbing hard in his trousers, pressing again and again against her stomach.

She felt it, a terrified cry escaped her lips as his lips pressed tightly against her neck – he began to suck painfully hard on her skin, wanting to leave her a crimson reminder of himself.

"− how did you put it? − who do I remind you of? −" He asked tauntingly, running his rough tongue over her red skin, feeling the veins pulsing rapidly under her soft, warm skin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry − please, please let me go −" She mumbled out in despair on the verge of crying, her voice trembling all over in terror, her breathing raspy and uneven, her small hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck that he wore under his jacket.

He gasped at her words, sliding his mouth lower, repeating the same process, rubbing against her with his hips – his cock was all swollen and hard, pulsing with pleasure, his hands roaming down her back, sliding at last to her buttocks where they clenched.

"− look at you − so you can be polite after all, hm? −" He asked softly, lowering the material of her tracksuit shorts a little, his large hand grasping her plump, firm buttocks and slapping it hard – she clamped her lips together, trying to hold back the whimper that squeezed its way down her throat.

"− that's what I thought − turn around and let's get this over with −" He murmured, soothingly massaging the place that was now pulsing from his slap, grinning as she did so wordlessly, tears of helplessness and fear on her cheeks.

"− please −" She muttered and he sighed softly, sliding the material of her shorts and underwear down, revealing what was underneath – she shuddered and wept quietly as the tips of his fingers ran over her swollen folds, focusing their pressure on her sweet spot hidden between them, digging into her fleshy skin in circular, calm motions.

"− shhh − this way it will be easier for both of us −" He explained in a soft tone of voice, as if he was telling her something obvious, as if it would benefit her in the future and teach her something.

He heard her shy moan full of fear, then another, a tad louder as his fingers sank more firmly into her skin. He licked his lips at the sight of the wetness that began to leak slowly from inside her and slapped his hand with a short, rough movement into the space between her thighs.

"− quiet −" He ordered, and she pressed her lips together, stifling whatever wanted to come out of them. Daeron was far away, locked in his room, but he still preferred him not to hear anything, and he didn't have the time or desire to take her upstairs to his bedroom.

This situation, her bent figure and her lovely buttocks pushed up towards him, suited him completely.

"− good girl − see? − it's not that hard −" He murmured pleased with how obedient she was despite the fear and terror from which her whole body was twitching. The confident movements of his fingers were accompanied by the louder and louder click of her moisture, her cheek pressed against the cold wall where her hands were helplessly trying to find support in this position, her eyes closed as if she just wanted to wait it out.

She opened them when she heard the sound of his zipper being opened – her lips pressed together with difficulty as he guided the fat, swollen head of his throbbing cock against her opening, leaning with his free hand against the wall just above her head, trying to force it between her tight folds with the motion of his hips.

"− wider − that's it, there you go −" He exhaled as she opened her thighs a little more and he spread her wide on his cock, feeling her muscles gave him a wonderful squeeze – he sighed loudly, surprised at how pleasurable the sensation was.

"− fuck −" He hissed out, clamping his hands on her buttocks, spreading them like a ripe fruit; she squirmed in discomfort as he forced her to take him deeper inside her, filling her so much that he felt like he was going to rip her skin apart.

"− barely fits −" He scoffed, moving his hips back and forth with a splat of her moisture dripping down her thighs – he heard her begin to pant along with him as he deliberately rubbed against her lower wall just above her very entrance, teasing the spot inside her from which her whole body was quivering.

"− here? − do you want me to fuck you here, little one? −" He gasped as he stretched her skin enough to fit all of him inside her, rooting into her again and again with increasingly brutal thrusts of his hips, digging his fingertips into her buttocks, looking at the spot where their bodies joined, at her muscles clenching against him greedily in panic, sucking him inside.

"− please −" She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, her lips parted in disbelief at how pleasurable and terrifying the experience was. He sank his hand into her soft, dark hair and tilted her head back, burying his nose in the hot skin of her cheek, speeding up, stretching her weeping folds with a loud, lewd slaps of his thighs against her buttocks.

"− use full sentences −" He commanded, his other hand from her hip slid down between her thighs – she squirmed helplessly as his fingers sank again into her fleshy skin, sticky from her moisture, teasing her clit with circular, slow motions.

"− here − fuck me here, sir −" She mumbled with difficulty in a voice trembling with exertion, her cheeks all red, the beautiful curls of her dark hair clinging to her sweaty face – he felt with satisfaction that her hips began to respond to his eager thrusts.

"− good girl − that's my good girl −" He breathed out with a quiet groan of pleasure, seeing and feeling her walls squeeze his fat cock at his praise – he licked his lips thinking that Alys had never responded to him the way she did, so frightened and aroused at the same time, relying only on his mercy, his goodwill.

"− you understand that this is necessary, don't you? − that you need to be taught a lesson −" He muttered, feeling that he was losing his temper, thrusting into her so fast that he was barely slipping out of her, slamming into her again and again, his cock throbbing with desire, signalling to him that his peak was coming, her wonderful scent filling his lungs.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm sorry −" She mumbled out –he wasn't sure if she was saying what he wanted to hear or if she really believed it herself for a second, but she clamped her eyelids shut and spread her mouth wide, helpless, girlish, sweet moan of relief burst from her throat as she came, sucking and squeezing his cock, soaking it in her moisture. He sighed in relief when, after a few desperate, deep slaps he spilled inside her, feeling the wave of hot pleasure shake his body.

"− fuck − oh, God, little one −" He muttered, their bodies involuntarily moving for a moment longer, wanting to prolong this surprisingly shocking experience, both of them panting embarrassingly loudly, her body trembling all over – if his arm hadn't been holding her around the waist she would have fallen for sure, her legs completely numb.

He looked down at their joined bodies, his half-hard, throbbing manhood sinking into her again and again, all sticky from his semen and her wetness.

He swallowed loudly, sliding out of her slowly, realising now what he had actually done to her – he heard her quiet hiss of discomfort and sigh of relief, her face flushed from exertion and tears.

"− are you all right? −" He asked in a trembling voice, quickly zipping up his trousers, her shaking hands slipping her underwear and shorts back onto her buttocks.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled in embarrassment, horror and disbelief, not looking at him, in some automatic gesture reaching for her trainers, putting them quickly on her feet.

"Come back on Thursday as we agreed before." He muttered, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart and the panic rising inside him, a complete void in his mind.

What had he done?

"I can assure you that you will never see me again." She whispered in a trembling, broken voice, quickly put her backpack on her back and walked out, slamming the door, leaving him with complete silence, remorse and horror.

He pressed his forehead against the wall, hiding his face in his hands, and burst into tears like a small child.

How could he treat a strange, innocent girl like this?

What if she didn't take her pills, what if she got pregnant?

How could he have been so irresponsible?

What if she really does report it to the police?

I'll destroy her, he thought with a bitter certainty that, after a moment, turned again into terror, regret and shame.

He grabbed his phone quickly and dialled her number, wanting to beg her forgiveness, but she didn't answer. He sat down on the couch and drew in the air loudly, devastated, not recognising himself, realising what kind of man he was.

He laughed desperately, shaking his head, thinking with painful amusement how well she had judged him.

He didn't even have to pretend.

He was like Frollo.

_____

Author's note: Many of you may believe that Quasimodo is the best and most worthy of imitation character, not Phoebus, and this is true when it comes to the book, but I assume that if anything, Daeron at this age has only seen a Disney fairy tale, in which Phoebus is a handsome man with a noble heart. The whole idea of this scene, in which the heroine says that he will be her Phoebus and she will be his Esmeralda, is that Daeron wants to see himself not only as a person with a disability, but as someone handsome, a warrior that a woman could love one day. It's easy to understand how children's minds work and why his works this way, and his "Esmeralda" only wants to help him become the person he wants to be and encourages him not to give up on these dreams and this self-image.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96

[helen-with-an-a]

it’s my birthday!! Could we get some amor and alexia hcs?? No worries if not

Happy birthday sweet anon - wishing u all the best. So I have a specific birthday hc coming out for my birthday in November but here’s a mix of ideas

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Beautiful Girl Masterlist

They play footsie under the table whenever they can

Ingrid is Amor’s best friend - they played together at Wolfsburg before they came to Barça

Amor doesn’t tan like ever - she tries really hard but either just stays her normal skin shade or burns

Alexia finds it hilarious that Amor can’t tan

They read a book together before bed - Amor reads out loud with Alexia on her chest, playing with her hair and legs tangled together

Alexia once gave Amor a black eye from rolling over in the night and whacking her in the face - Ale was inconsolable when she woke up in the morning and saw what she did

Insta photo dumps are a must - Amor does them monthly (excluding the game day ones and promos etc) and the caption is just the month and year; Ale does them less often (usually ever 3 ish months or if they’ve been on holiday etc) and her caption is a either blank or a load of emojis

Birthday photo dumps every year - Amor’s photos for Ale are usually candid ones Amor has taken, a few photos of the Polaroids from their dates and then a few selfies of her and Ale, the caption is usually something she finds really funny like “everyone say thank you to Eli” or “she’s officially old” ; for Ale’s photos for Amor’s birthdays it’s pretty much the same vibe (maybe a few slightly more unflattering ones) but the captions are always mushy (e.g., so grateful to spend my life with you, mi amor. I love you to the moon and back. Wishing you the happiest of birthdays) - it’s the one time fans see how sappy Ale truly is (it’s nothing compared to the speech she gave Amor about just how much she loves her)

When they eventually do have kids, they break the internet again by just posting a black and white picture of Alexia carrying a baby car seat out of the hospital and a the caption, Baby Putellas (date of birth) [they actually post the photo about 6 months after the baby’s been born] and never mentions it again - they are never spotted with kids or anything at games and everyone is so confused how they are hiding a whole ass child

Amor and Ale go on to have 3 kids - a boy first, a good 6 year age gap then twin girls (no one besides friends and family know their names or genders or anything actually - each birth announcement was 6 months after they were born and was just a black and white photo of Alexia carrying car seats and the date and they never addressed it) - they have never been spotted at games or anything like that (they hire 3 very trusted baby sitters and use them on rotation and make them essentially just random kids in the crowd and they only ever go to important matches in person and there’s no interaction until Eli and/or Alba collect them from the hotel/their house)

Ale just has to be touching Amor in some way if they’re in the same room - either legs touching if they sit next to each other, or they hold hands, if it’s in private (but not alone) it’s either Amor in Ale’s lap or Ale’s arm around Amor’s shoulder and Amor holding that hand, in private (completely alone) Ale is holding Amor (either she’s got her head on Amor’s chest) or her arms are around Amor’s waist if they’re standing up

[oval3000]

Chapter 9

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse Reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

-------------------------------------------------------

König went crazy with the news. He would come home with baby stuff, onsies, burp cloths, books on parenting, baby bottles, diapers, crib, stroller, baby car seat.

He would assemble the crib and make a nursery in the next room. The only thing you did is to make sure your healthy and worry about the baby growing inside of you.

When you told König about the news, he showed how happy he was by giving you a night of love and intimacy. Not in the animal way he was giving you. It was more softer and gentle that you fell head over heels for him. Him being soft to you and the baby gave you a new perspective of him. You were not scared of him.

He wasn't lashing out on you as before. You have been scared to ask him if it was okay for you to step outside for the first time since you've been here. Everything has been going so good, you didn't want to ruin it.

König has hired a private medic that specializes in peds to help you with the pregnancy and to be there for when you give birth.

As months pass by, you grew and the more you grew the more König crave you. He would have sex with you, gentle so he won't harm the baby. When it was time for your due date, you were quite nervous about giving birth.

You used your knowledge and check yourself everyday to prepare for when you would go into labor.

Eventually, that day came by. König was outside, doing whatever he does. You were in the kitchen, preparing yourself a little snack when you felt pain. That pain was followed by a feel of gush going down your legs. You saw the puddle on the floor and went into a bit of panic.

You took a few deep breaths and hoped that König would enter the house soon. But he didn't. It left you with no choice, but to run to König outside. You opened the front door. You hoped that König wouldn't yell at you.

König rolled out from under his truck and saw you there. He got up and ran towards you. "König! The baby is coming."

His eyes widen as he quickly dialed the medic, who came in quick.

You were laying on your back with your legs spread open. König was sitting next to you, holding your hand. When the medic told you to push with everything you got, you did.

It felt like hell. The pain so too much, but you heard the baby cry, it all went away. They weren't kidding when they say the pain will go away as soon as you held your baby. The medic placed your newborn baby on your chest and you saw all the little features.

"Congratulations, a beautiful baby boy." The medic said.

He had your hair and skin color and when he opened his eyes, you saw the pure, clear, blue eyes. He has König's eyes.

König will hold him. Your baby is so tiny when he's being held by König's arms that it makes it more adorable.

He would wake up in the middle of the night and feed him. He would change his diaper when you would take your day naps. He would rock him to sleep, so you can take a moment for a shower.

As for you, he would help you whenever when it comes to your needs. He would help you wash your hair when your arms are too tired from holding the baby. He would give you feet massages when your carrying the baby all day.

When you feel your breast filled up and sore, he would suck them dry for you.

He was honestly living the best life and he would not let anybody get in between them.

So when he saw Horangi carrying your baby as you plead for him to give him back. He felt anger.

"Horangi! What are you doing!?" He screamed at him, pulling you back to behind him.

"What, König? You think it's fair for you to live this life. You fucking put us here!" He said, pointing his bowie knife at you and him.

"And what? Killing MY child is going to solve this!?" He took a step closer to him.

"Oh. I'm not going to kill him. I think that maybe I should live this life too. You're just going to be in the way König." He swayed his knife back and forth with a smile on his face.

König laughed, "you're going to kill me? Is that your plan."

"Mm. No." The three of you heard police sirens coming in close, "you see, I served my time in that fucking hospital. You escaped. I did nothing wrong here, you did."

Königs fist clenched so hard, you could see all of his veins and muscles on his wrist. "du verdammter Verräter! (You fucking traitor!)"

"Now, König. You don't want to kill me while I'm holding your son.." he tilted his head, "sorry, my son. He'll need a father growing up wouldn't he."

"You? A father? The only thing you're gonna do is pass down your gambling addiction." König felt your hand on his arm, he looked back at you over his shoulder.

"Please don't make this worse König." König felt everything crumbling down.

The moment he saw you at that hospital. The moment he saw how you defended him. He never felt so weak and hatred as he does now.

He heard bannging on the door. He opened as saw many police officers. He put his hands on the air as they cuffed him and placed him on the back of the police car.

König went through trial for escaping and murdering the people at the hospital.

Now, instead of the Psychiatric hospital, he's behind bars. People have heard rumors. How he killed all the workers and left one alive. How he tortured that victim to death.

He would receive letters from Horangi. Letters of him being taunted on how he's taking care of you. Of his son.

He would even visit König and tell him how good you are to him. König doesn't need to know the full truth either way.

He even gave him the news that you are expecting another child. His child.

Horangi's child.

König counted the days. He didn't lash out. He didn't do anything bad. He was too clouded with anger that he didn't do anything behind bars.

Which led to, "good news, König. You'll be out sooner than we thought. That good behavior is doing you good."

He was counting the days. The day where he will be excorted out from prison. The day where he will see the gate open. The day where he will see the sky again.

The day where he will stop at nothing to find you.

[raainberry]

compliments to the chef

Momo x gn!reader

synopsis - momo falls for her new chef’s flavor🤭 (she’s the sole heiress of the Hirai culinary empire and hiring you spices things up a lot more than she intended.)

wordcount - 14K (please don’t say damn when you see the price)

T/W - kinda chaebol!momo - chef!reader - mentions of food, knifes etc… - nothing violent tho - slowburn? but make it angsty? - light cussing - you lowkey hate each other but not really - enemies to lovers? - guest starring bc that’s fun - that’s all i can think of, tell me if i missed anything

Momo sent a polite smile to the man sitting across from her. The fourteenth in the past half hour.

She’s been keeping count, along with the minutes, the grains of rice left on her plate, and the amount of times he’s mentioned one of his accomplishments.

Thirty-three, seventy-eight, and six; in that order. Only two questions about her so far, one if you remove the one about her name.

She almost left right then and there, but the respect she had for her mother weighed her down on that chair. If she wasn’t going to take over the family empire, the least she could do was find a worthy successor.

A soft sigh escaped her as she pushed her food around. Being an only child was way more fun when all it meant was that she didn’t have to share it with anyone. Or get it stolen, according to the venting of her friends when younger.

She finished the few bites left, trying to drown out the sound of his voice by focusing on the flavours. She closes her eyes, appreciating their delicate yet bold dancing on the tip of her tongue.

Maybe it was the boredom clinging onto whatever could keep her mind entertained, but the taste reminded her of herself. A small smile spread across her lips, the first real one of the day.

The next one came when the man asked for the bill. Her lungs could finally grasp the air around her, her nose picking up on the different notes and aromas of the dishes around her.

She sent her compliments to the chef, adding to them a generous tip she had no idea who’s pockets it’d really land in. It’s the thought that counts.

Her senses were in heaven walking out, engraving her mind with a memory that will stick longer than the guy who’d just made her split the bill, unevenly that is.

“Let me take you home.” He said once out front. His hand held the door open to the leather seats of a luxurious car she was too familiar with.

“Oh, no it’s fine thank you.” She declined quickly. “I actually have a meeting scheduled right after this.”

“I can drop you off.”

Momo almost laughed. She found his use of the personal pronoun very funny. She almost forgot he would just be sitting near her some more while the chauffeur did the sexiest part. If the latter were to her taste, she’d have driven off with her.

“I’d rather not.” She declined. “Business confidentiality and whatnot.”

The lie was forced through an awkward smile that he found endearing enough not to question. Relief washed over her when he finally let go of her, climbing into the car, but not without asking her to keep in touch.

Another sigh, a heavy one, loaded with all those she’d held back until now as she watched the car drive away. The pressure was off, but only for a second as her thoughts soon spiraled.

No way she had to do this again… She reached in her purse, looking for the one thing that could get her out of here.

All this junk, where is it—

“You’re awful at lying.”

Her phone almost dropped to its death from the startle you gave her.

Momo had a few questions at the sight of you. Your presence and your eavesdropping were the first, but the white apron half folded around your waist and the cigarette in your hand answered most of them.

“What,” was all she managed to say though, and a smile pulled on your lips.

“I mean, I’m not fond of lies, but when you’re famous for turning your back on business, you should probably come up with a better excuse.”

“Who even are you?”

“Right, I guess that’s fair. I’m Y/n. You’re Momo, right? Hirai?”

“Y-Yeah.” Her eyes squinted, desperately trying to see what you were leading to.

Your name sounded as unfamiliar as you looked, but you seemed well informed. She didn’t like that.

“Nice to meet you,” You greeted simply, eyeing the contrast between her features and the neat clothes on her back, “So how bad was it? You look… Worn out.”

Her chuckle was distasteful, and she tried to suppress its bitterness at the reminder of her lost time. “Awful. The food caught my eye more than he could ever hope.”

You smiled, “He wasn’t bad looking.”

“But he was a bore.” She argued. “Borderline narcissistic too.”

“Deal breaker then?” You guessed, turning her laughter a little sweeter.

“Pretty much.” Her gaze found the ground in a nod before focusing back on you. “I do like it better when it’s a two way conversation.”

“Does that make me cute?”

She scoffed at the brazen question. “You wish.”

“I don’t.” You dropped your cigarette on the ground, stepping on it in a way she found more hot than revolting to her surprise. That cheeky smile of yours was most likely to blame. “Thank you for the compliments by the way. I’m glad you liked it.”

Your bow was quick, desultory out of rehearsed respectfulness. As much as you appreciated her compliments, you had better things to do in the kitchen that could get you some more.

You caught a glimpse of her jaw dropping on your way back in, and it was enough of a sight to revel in for a few days.

—

It took Momo a couple weeks to pick her jaw back up and swallow her pride. It seemed as though the latter was the only thing she inherited from her family, and she managed to set herself apart yet again.

Her parents would have never set foot in your restaurant again. Not that you had lacked respect or anything, but the fact that you managed to set her off balance… Something about it she didn’t particularly like.

Why was she back then?

You asked yourself that same question when you stormed out of the kitchen at her request. If it weren’t for your manager and his speech about image and reputation, you never would have allowed her to interrupt you and abandon your brigade mid-shift.

Hands on your hips, dragging your feet, you walked into the office she awaited you in and felt your voice die down on your tongue at the sight.

Beauty or surprise, either way it came down to her presence.

The way her hair fell down her back, delicate and blending in with the fabric of her perfectly tailored shirt. The sleek black attire formed a shadow, painting a hole cut against her silhouette and into the spring she admired in the sakura tree out the bay window.

“Hi.” She smiled, her voice a fitting melody to the sights now behind her. Enchanting, sure, but odd.

She wasn’t exactly known to be a warm one to strangers. More power to her, you could understand that. But why didn’t it apply to you?

If it weren’t for the stories associated with that voice suddenly popping into your mind, she’d have lured you in. Nothing too bad about them; only testaments of her success. Rumors about the danger surrounding her, setting her apart from her family. You didn’t care for the big industry names, but theirs always had you curious.

“You asked for me?” Your voice rang in the quiet space.

Momo didn’t seem to notice your apprehension, her smile ever so welcoming, “I did.”

It felt as though she owned the place for a second.

“Do you have some more compliments?” You wondered, eyes following her figure as she went to take a seat in the armchair across your manager’s desk.

“I do actually.” She turned the seat to face you as she mused, “That black cod was to die for.”

You nodded, thankful. “Glad you liked it.”

As much as you didn’t like the way her family capitalized on the food you took such care to value, you couldn’t deny their expertise. Even if not a lot to you, Momo’s compliment did mean something.

“But that’s not all.” Her voice pulled your eyes back on her.

You found her posture quite imposing, matching her tone, but her infamous shyness was something she never got around to master. Her gaze held yours but it lacked control.

It was hard to ignore how endearing the attempt looked to you. It just made you want to give her whatever she wanted. Reward her efforts.

“What is it?” You wondered, curious.

What could she possibly want from you? This restaurant wasn’t yours. The only thing you had control over was the kitchen.

“I want you to cook for me.” She said, and you didn’t leave room for a breath before responding, “Excuse me?”

“I meant I’d like to hire you.” She clarified, a smirk dancing on her lips at your transparent thoughts. You tried to make sense of her proposal, but she didn’t waste any time in providing details. “I’m sure you’re familiar—the annual Hirai banquet my mother holds for shareholders. I never cared for the specifics, but I want to do good by her. I haven’t been the best daughter lately so I thought I’d make it up to her by holding it this year.”

It all clicked at the mention of her mother. Of course she wouldn’t be back with her own motives.

The Hirai Culinary Group was an empire. A home to the most prestigious restaurants of the country. All housing different specialties, techniques and themes… Quite a whole lot to manage yet the quality remained flawless. Fifty years of irreproachable cuisine, you could only respect it. If only they didn’t care about business so much…

Those banquets were popular, talk of the town within the industry as it usually set the next trends and whatnot. Make no mistakes, you were tuned in as well. They did bring in some interesting elements, but you hated the way they set it all up. A disguised year-end performance meeting. White collars expecting numbers and being served them on gold plates, horizons and growth perspectives hidden in desserts.

“So she’s actually the one that asked for me.” You smirked, unexpecting of the way she’d wipe it off just a second later.

“No.” She said simply, a serene smile gracing her lips. “Why would she know about you?”

You scoffed. Good point. You could recognize that despite the blow to your ego.

“Fair enough.” You nodded. “But why should I help you?”

“Help me?” She repeated, a hint of offense creeping into her whole being. “I’m offering you to work with me.”

Perhaps she wasn’t that much of an ugly duckling among the Hirai’s.

“My question still stands. Why should I?”

A silence followed your words, hanging low over your heads and expecting the next ones to come out of her. Hopefully they’d be good enough.

Momo’s gaze suddenly drifted from yours, finding interest in her surroundings. A few details she’d noticed earlier, various frames highlighting the establishment’s foundations. She could count three of them : its history, the owner and visibly the most important—you.

“Are you happy here?” She finally spoke, tearing her eyes away from your latest reward.

“I am.”

“I’m sure you are,” she remarked, tone striking a nerve. “Highest rank, valued both within and outside—you’re basically ruling the place…”

“What’s your point?” You asked, growing impatient.

“You’ve hit the ceiling, Y/n. It’s time for a new challenge, don’t you think?”

Silence enveloped you again as you found yourself contemplating her proposition.

Momo took the sight as a sign of her job being done here, and you watched as she left her business card on the desk before gracefully excusing herself; leaving you to deal with your internal struggle.

—

In the days that followed, her offer continued to linger in your thoughts, and with each passing day, the idea of a new challenge began to take root in your mind.

It spread enough to takeover a good portion of it, sending it all elsewhere. Far enough for your closest friend here and sous-chef to notice.

“What’s up with you, you’ve been all over the place lately.” Jeongyeon asked after you nearly knocked an nth plate to the floor.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” You met her gaze and it was enough to backtrack on your words “Okay, fine there is something, but… I don’t know it’s pointless.”

The empty pot you were carrying resonated as you put it back into its designated place, partially covering Jeongyeon’s words. “Does it have to do with that Hirai girl?”

“How do you know?”

“It’s the only thing out of the ordinary enough to throw you off your game.” She chuckled, drying her hands on her apron.

Weird way to tell you to live a little more, but okay.

“So what did she say to you?” She sighed, leaning her back against the sink. “What even happened in the office, you never told us.”

“Well…” You trailed off, gettng that business card out of your back pocket. You handed it to her, and it took her a second to notice what it was.

“What are you waiting for?” She scoffed, causing your eyebrows to furrow together.

“What do you mean?”

“Whatever she proposed just accept it, Y/n”

You spotted a hint of annoyance in her voice, but you had trouble seeing if it was about you or Momo. She sure was scrubbing that counter pretty hard.

“Why?” You asked, watching as she practically polished that stainless steel by hand. Something bothered you, and it wasn’t her cleaning technique. “Are you not even gonna fight for me?”

Jeongyeon paused to look at you, catching the slight pout on your lips. Her own twisted along her features in disgust, teasing you, and you let out your first laugh of the day.

“I should be the one asking you that.” She pointed out. “The fact that you haven’t thrown that card as soon as she left tells me enough.”

“I was just thinking about it…” You admitted, only proving her point.

Jeongyeon chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re past the point of even considering it, I mean… You’ve been walking around with that business card glued to your ass for the past week, yet you haven’t told me a thing about it.”

“You think you know me so well.” You grimaced. It was playful, but part of you wanted to provoke her. You didn’t blame her for that small jab at you, but it did hurt to think she didn’t put turning your back on this place past you.

She did know you so well, though. That’s why she continued to argue her point.

“What is there to think about, y/n? The heiress of the most acclaimed and prestigious restaurant chain of the country is asking for you. No sane person would say no, never mind a chef!”

The sigh that pushed past your lips came as far back as your lungs.

“Would you say yes?” You hesitated after a while, but her answer was much faster. “With no remorse.”

“I mean, have you seen her?” She added and you laughed.

“Fine. I guess I’ll call her…” You picked up the card from the counter and stared at her name.

Well… It’s not like she had asked you to quit your job…

—

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.”

“What?!”

Momo pulled the phone away from her ear at the sheer volume of your voice through the speaker. How unprofessional. Her eyes rolled soon after, once she registered what your reaction held and meant for her plans.

“Y/n, this isn’t some side hustle for your experience.” she sighed, “I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. If this all goes well, you could become our youngest chef in history.”

A point was made. As much as you were cautious of her voice, it seemed you couldn’t do much about the way it managed to get to you. The words she used were ambitious, they spoke to you.

But she failed to measure just how ambitious you were.

“Why can’t I do both?” You finally asked, prompting a string of arguments being thrown to one another. A futile game of ping-pong you were determined to win, only irritating the woman at the other end of the line.

All this whining, it was like dealing with a child, and truthfully you felt like one. Asking for the best of both worlds seemed completely reasonable to you, so why wouldn’t she give it to you.

“Listen, you can’t give your all to something if your attention is split in two.” She said, losing the last bit of patience she managed to keep today. “You can’t expect to grow by splitting yourself in half, and if you think otherwise, then consider my proposal void.”

A small silence fell over the line. She made sense. She was right. So why couldn’t you bring yourself to accept it?

“If you actually stepped foot in a kitchen once in your life you’d know two isn’t even the minimum.” You scoffed.

Whatever you wanted to mean by that… even you didn’t know, but apparently it was worth thinking over as you heard Momo sigh.

The woman closed her eyes to think.

Why couldn’t you just say yes like everyone else she approached. Maybe she should have made you say it back in the office, use that pathetic confidence of yours against you.

Oh how easy you were to read and see through. Pushing buttons was so much easier when people stood in front of her.

That’s why she hated phone calls. How could she know what to say—oh.

The light bulb went off over her head.

Right… That pathetic confidence of yours.

“I’ll step in if you do.”

—

It shouldn’t have been so easy.

All it took was a half-genuine smile, and a simple promise to make things different this year with a focus on the culinary side of things. Sure, she had to admit to scouting the area in search of the most skilled and promising, which eventually lead her to your restaurant, and then… you. But it was all ego strokes. Child’s play.

Part of her was disappointed. She’d hoped for a little more resistance, a challenge promised by your initial tone and attitude towards her.

“Damn it!”

She should be more careful about what she wishes for… Momo sighed, expecting your face to peek in by the doorframe of the manager’s office, and it did just seconds later.

“Momo, it’s not working.”

“What isn’t?” She said, confused. Machinery’s top-notch, brigade is her best, there was no way anything would stop working out of nowhere.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, just come and see.”

Momo stared at you, noticing a smile fighting to make its way onto your lips. She was apprehensive but followed you anyway.

You’d been working on a technical plate : a type of hybrid dish-dessert. An ambitious idea you’d prompted to Momo during one of the early meetings to work the menu out.

Only she had to make it an order. A boring one and near impossible to pull off. She wouldn’t listen, so you decided to show her.

As you led her to the kitchen, you couldn't help but start venting away about everything that went down since the last time she'd stepped foot in there, which was a day or two ago.

"So, first, the soufflé collapsed twice because someone—I won't name names, but it rhymes with 'intern’—forgot to preheat the oven."

Momo sighed internally. Why were you so fixated on every little mistake? Who cares about interns and their mistakes, that’s what they’re here for. She could excuse a non-preheated oven, but forgetting her birthday? Yeah, that Boo Seungkwan is definitely off the list. He had a good run, only regret was he was good with her dogs. And nice maybe.

"Then, the new mixer decided it wanted to be a blender, and let's not even talk about the chocolate ganache incident."

She nodded absently, her mind drifting to the text she received earlier from another potential suitor. The daughter of her family ‘s right hand man, Jihyo if she remembered correctly? The Park’s had a rocky history though, she took note to raise her guard on that one before your voice pulled her back.

"And of course, the sugar sculpture? Total disaster."

Momo glanced at you, wondering if you realized how whiny you sounded. She had bigger fish to fry than a failed sugar sculpture, like figuring out if she even wanted to leave this family business. If it meant she had to deal with one more daddy’s pocket leech…

"On the bright side, we finally perfected the citrus glaze for the salmon, and the guests couldn't get enough of the hors d'oeuvres last night, so I guess the test was a success.."

When you finally stopped talking and walking, she found herself face to face with an… interesting looking thing on a plate.

“What is that?” She said, dumbfounded.

“Oh, that’s the lemon pie thing you asked for.” You answered nonchalantly. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“Are you serious?” Her stance and tone changed, cold and threatening like you had the joy of experiencing earlier this month. Didn’t shake you anymore though. The dumb smile on your face was still there, dangerously creeping into a smirk. She couldn’t wipe it for some reason.

“Yeah, that sucks. I guess I lost three hours of my life.” You shrugged, eyes lingering on the edible failure staining the porcelain. “Doesn’t taste bad, though.” You handed her a piece with a spoon you’d clearly already used, and Momo’s stare hardened.

“Fix this.”

Obviously, you would. But you couldn’t let it happen without messing with her first. So you stared right back into her eyes, holding her gaze just long enough to make her doubt and fear the opposite. The tension hung thick in the air, reaching a new high, until she finally broke away and walked off, her frustration evident in every step.

You watched her walk, the smirk now very apparent and mocking her back.

“I’ll do just that, you don’t have to worry.” You cupped your hands around your lips to make sure she heard it, distracting a few chefs around you.

You were oblivious to the looks they threw your way, your gaze was focused on Momo’s retreating figure.

"I'll leave you some on your desk, make sure to try it!” That smirk was evident on your lips, and she could hear it in your voice, feel it getting under her skin.

You were a challenge alright. A damn good one.

—

Momo walked back into the building only days later. You frowned at the sight of her, shoulders obviously tense paired with familiar sour features. The exposed skin told you a lot about her potential whereabouts these past few days. Added to the rumors going around, it didn’t leave that much of a mystery…

“Oh, we’re cooked.” Ryujin, the intern, mumbled under her breath, catching yours and a chef’s attention.

“Yeah, we should have seen it coming.” The chef, Mingyu, sighed, dropping a heavy pan on top of the counter beside you.

“Why, what happened?” You asked, easing yourself into their conversation.

Ryujin’s eyes widened, startled by the interruption. “I uh,” she stammered before Mingyu spoke up.

“Word on the street is, her father set her up with Park's daughter.” He chuckled to himself, making you curious.

“Park’s daughter… The Park branch daughter?” You asked, the name ringing more and more familiar. “You mean Jihyo? Isn’t she managing the H-Lounge?”

H-Lounge was a private, high end rooftop lounge managed by Mr.Park, Mr.Hirai’s right hand man. Big bar, little food, and big walls; a white collar’s favorite and the Hirai’s most profitable branch. From what you knew, Jihyo’s been pretty much running things for years now, her father only still there because of Momo’s.

“Yeah, but she’s on her way to the throne basically. Her dad’s been pushing for her to take the reins for a while now. Old man’s tired.” Mingyu commented, pulling a laugh out of Ryujin.

You squinted, watching as Momo disappeared around the corner to her office.

“Yeah. But didn’t they try to go solo with the Lounge once?” Ryujin asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she recalled rumors from a year ago. “Sounds kinda fishy.”

“And shady.” Mingyu nodded. “Seems to me like Boss Hirai’s desperate to make her stay.”

“Which one?”

You were confused out of your mind, and Mingyu could tell. He was amused when you met his eyes, begging for some clarity.

“Both,” he said. “Power play. Or two birds one stone type of deal. A Park-Hirai marriage would be beyond convenient for him—Jihyo’s a hot head, she could never hold this whole thing together without Momo stepping in at one point, he knows that. It’s the only way he gets to keep both of his most precious assets.”

You shook your head. There was no way. The idea didn’t even match with the Momo you knew. "I don't see it. Momo's way too stubborn and prideful to let something like this happen to her. She's not the type to be manipulated like that."

"You think?" Ryujin asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded. "Yeah. I mean, you see how she handles things... Father or not, she won't just bend to someone else's will.”

Mingyu shook his head, a knowing look in his eyes glued on Momo’s figure passing by. "I think she already is..."

You all watched as she disappeared around the corner to her office, and you noticed her shoulders slump for the briefest of moments

It was a slight, almost imperceptible shift, but it struck you deeply for some reason. For the first time, you saw a crack in that impossibly unyielding façade.

A mix of concern and confusion washed over you. Despite the fierce exterior she projected on that comeback walk, there was clearly more weighing on her than she let on. Could Mingyu be right? Was Momo already being pulled back into the company's grasp despite that stubborn pride of hers?

You felt a rush of protectiveness overcome you, but quickly pushed it aside. What a useless, unbased feeling. Momo was fine. She wouldn't let herself be manipulated so easily… Right?

You pondered on the question for a while, but came up with the same answer every time.

She’ll be fine.

You sighed as the day wound down, leaning against a counter. Your gaze wandered to the door to Momo’s office, finding it closed as always. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen nor heard it open since earlier that afternoon…

Was she still there?

Curiosity and concern got the better of you, and you decided to take the opportunity to show her the new and improved lemon pie she’d asked you to fix.

You made your way to her office, the building now eerily quiet. You didn’t wait for an answer before walking in. It was surprisingly dark, only lit by a small hanging light attached to the wall above the desk. This place was such a broom closet… You almost felt sorry for her then remembered what she’d told you.

"Technically this is still the kitchen, this wall is literal plastic."

You mentally scoffed at the memory. You couldn't believe the pettiness of that woman.

"What is that?" Momo asked, her eyes lifting from the paper for the first time in what felt like days.

Whatever was in that plate definitely looked better than the last thing you’d presented her. It held a certain finesse she wasn’t indifferent to.

"It's the pie you asked for," you said, eyes twinkling in pride. “Well, a deconstructed version of it.”

“It’s not what I asked for,” she trailed off, observing the fine details. Her eyes traced the delicate swirls of meringue and the vibrant yellow of the lemon gel. It wasn't what she had originally envisioned, but there was a beauty to it she couldn't deny. "But it's pretty."

You smiled, taking a seat on a corner of her desk as you pulled out a spoon as an offering. A clean one this time.

She was hesitant. Messing the dish up would feel like a crime, but so was leaving food unattended. So she finally dug in, picking up a bit of everything before humming at the taste of it all.

“Tastes the same as the failure, just… so much better.”

Your face lit up at the mention of that failed attempt a few days earlier. You’d kept your word and left it at her desk, hoping she’d have a taste despite the failure. It still had potential, and you wanted her to know.

“You had some?” Your eyes sparkled, and it made you look so much sweeter than you’d been lately. Momo felt herself falter for a second, slipping you a gentle smile before catching herself.

She cleared her throat, lowering the spoon down, the latter clattering on the porcelain as she went for another bite.

“I did.” She nodded. “You were right by the way. It wasn’t bad at all, just… unfortunate looking.”

You were only surprised she was admitting it; and this easily no less.

“So what do we do now? Do we listen to me more, or…?”

Momo sighed, and a victorious smile made its way to your lips before she even uttered the words. “Fine. You can freestyle a bit.” You cheered, and it took a lot for her not to mirror your happiness. “Don’t get too excited. You better follow the menu.”

“Or then what?”

She only glared at you, and the switch in her gaze was enough to turn you down. Or on. [What?]

“I’m kidding. Glad to be working with you.” You said, flashing her a grin that she could only see as cocky.

Momo's eyes rolled in annoyance, getting up from her seat and picking up the blazer on the back of it. As she gathered her stuff, you understood she was going home for the day. It was getting late, the restaurant had closed a couple hours ago and all the staff was gone too. You should get going too, but you feel a sudden pang of reluctance…

“You're going already?" You blurt out, unable to suppress the urge to keep her here just a little while longer.

Momo raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor. "You just shook my hand," she pointed out.

"Well, yes, but..." you trail off, grasping at your brain for any excuse to keep her here a moment longer. You couldn’t explain it. You didn’t understand either, but there was something about her presence that you find strangely comforting in the moment.

Maybe it was the lack of noise and chaos in the background, behind the office door she kept closed; only for you to burst it open anytime you had a complaint or an idea.

The silence, the dim lighting, their absence or her presence… Or the fact that she was actually pleased with your work for once. Explicitly at least. Most likely a gas leak you didn’t know about that messed with your thoughts—you couldn’t tell. But it was something.

There was something keeping you glued to that desk.

She was about to leave again, but this time you reached out and grabbed her hand, your fingers closing around hers in a firm grip. Both of you froze, the air suddenly charged with… again, something as you held her gaze.

"You said you'd be stepping in," you blurted out once more, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You weren’t sure what possessed you to say it, but now that it was out there, you couldn’t take it back.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching as her mind raced to make sense of your words.

When she’d told you she’d step in, she didn’t think you’d take it seriously. That was her first mistake maybe, but to her, stepping in meant overseeing the preparations, making decisions about the menu, and handling the logistical details of the banquet. She never intended to actually cook alongside you, and quite frankly, she didn’t know how you could possibly think she would.

Were you stupid or purposefully getting on her nerves like you so often seemed to enjoy? Didn't you realize she had other responsibilities, obligations she had to take care of over cooking?

This was literally why she’d sought you out.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"You haven't helped once in the kitchen since we started, and it's basically been a month," You retorted, your tone edged with frustration. "For someone who prides herself on integrity, you sure are amazing at keeping your word."

Your words were like a slap to the face, and Momo felt a surge of defensiveness rise within her. Your claims sure were bold for someone who did nothing but defy her words ever since the beginning.

But beneath the anger, there's a stain of guilt, a nagging feeling that maybe - just maybe - you might have a point. From a certain angle, you could say she did kind of manipulate you into working for her by throwing that phrase; or let’s call it as it was : an empty promise.

Momo sighed as she struggled to find the right words to get herself out of this. Your gaze was merciless on her, probing and insistent as you waited for an explanation. Or just admittance.

"I meant overseeing things, making decisions about the menu, handling the logistics, the usual," she finally explained, her frustration evident in her tone. "I still have a million other things to take care of for that banquet, you know. It's not like I can just drop everything and spend all day cooking with you."

She paused, searching your face for any sign of understanding or sympathy, but all she found was a stubborn determination. A refusal to back down from your position. And despite herself, she felt a small spark of admiration flickered to life within her.

"Look," she continued, her voice softening slightly. "I appreciate your dedication, I really do. But you have to understand that I can't just drop everything to cater to your whims. I have a responsibility to my family, to our guests, to ensure that everything goes smoothly. And if that means I have to delegate certain tasks to you, then so be it."

Her words were only met with silence. She waited for your response, bracing herself for another confrontation. But to her surprise, you nodded, a hint of understanding in your eyes.

The relief washing over her heart at the sight startled her. Why did she want to see it? Why did she want you to understand anyway?

"Alright," you said, your voice calm and measured. "I get it. I just... I guess I was hoping for more, you know? More than just orders and instructions. I wanted to be a part of something. Contribute in a meaningful way."

“You are a part of something, Y/n,” she reassured, and the hand she dropped on your shoulder caught you off guard. Her gaze had softened, but it only made you panic.

Here comes the guilt tripping, you mentally sighed, bracing for impact.

Before you could even muster an attempt to deflect the incoming emotional onslaught, she continued, her words flowing with as much determination as you were used to. "You know, this banquet isn’t just another project for me. It may not seem like it, but I care about it a lot. I take it as a farewell, a thank you to my family and the opportunities they’ve gifted me."

You opened your mouth to intervene, to offer some semblance of resistance, but she plowed on, crushing any attempts to cut in. "And not only are you a part of it, you’re leading it, Y/n. I trust you."

The words hit like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. One of the rare times in your life. Here you were, caught in the midst of a heartfelt moment, unable to muster even a hint of humor to lighten the mood. With a silent sigh, you resigned yourself to the inevitable, silently acknowledging her words.

All you could do was drop your gaze, nodding. You almost felt shameful for trying to ignore her possibly having feelings.

“Thank you for trusting me.” You muttered, fiddling with your fingers before looking back at her. “I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly. Food wise at least.”

Momo nodded in acknowledgment, finally removing her hand from your shoulder. Her feet stuttered before turning away. She’d made it to the door pretty quickly, but a sudden thought halted her tracks.

The sudden stop in the sound of her expensive heels caught your attention, and you looked up at her. Your gaze and eyebrows silently inquired her, and she smiled sheepishly. Another display of vulnerability that made your heart jump.

“Can I bring that home?”

Momo nodded towards the desk, referring to the unfinished dessert you’d brought her. She wanted to take it to her mother. Give her a preview of what was to come in a couple weeks.

The request made you smile. A little happy if you dared to say so. You reached for the plate to hand it to her, only to take it with you as you finally got up from that desk. “Wait, let me get you a takeout box.”

“We have takeout boxes?” She said, dumbfounded. You only stared at her, speechless but not surprised. You could only shake your head, before leading the way to the kitchen.

“I was just kidding by the way, I know we have them.”

She didn’t. Something you proved when you made her search for them. You let her walk around and act as though she had any idea where anything was in that kitchen before she gave up and surrendered to your amused, almost mocking gaze.

You added a few more of the day’s tests and leftovers into the box before packing it all up before sending her home with a smile.

She was nice to be around when you weren’t trying to step on each other’s toes.

—

The dining room of the Hirai residence was bathed in soft candlelight, casting a warm glow over an overly elegant table set for two. The head of the table felt empty with her father’s absence, a recurring one lately as he tended to matters deemed important for the company. Momo usually sat on his right, like she did tonight. Her mother, Mrs. Hirai, took her seat right across. Despite the picturesque scene, a palpable tension lingered in the air. Another recurrence Momo dreaded every day for months now.

Momo longed for the laughter that used to bring her family together around this table. The same one she announced her intent on renouncing to the heiress title. The same seat she’d left holding back tears at the words her father had thrown at her over a year ago.

Mr. Hirai never meant any of them, she knew that. He’d told her that, apologized soon after and long ago. But the thought, the scene, the sound… It’ll always tug at her heart, and dig the tears from deep within.

Momo swallowed hard at the sudden flashback, suppressing the pain. She managed to do that quite well; better as time passed.

The only problem was how she still couldn’t say a word at this table.

Conversation flowed in fits and starts as both women picked at their plate. Mrs. Hirai seemed determined to bridge the gap growing between them, her attempts at small talk falling flat against Momo's stony silence.

Then came a time where she was unable to bear the awkwardness any longer. The older woman cleared her throat and fixed her daughter with a searching gaze. "Momo, dear, I must say, this is all absolutely divine. You must have put a lot of thought into it."

Momo glanced up, her eyes meeting her mother's briefly before returning to her plate. "Actually, it’s Y/n who’s behind it all," she admitted, her tone guarded.

Mrs. Hirai's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Y/n? The new chef at your restaurant?"

Momo nodded, her mind already bracing for the inevitable conversation about her future. “A real talent for sure. Lots of potential. The whole experimenting thing is something we needed.”

Concern etched Mrs. Hirai's features before she composed herself, her expression becoming more serious. "Momo, don’t you want to reconsider at least once?”

Momo's shoulders tensed, steeling herself for the argument she knew was about to unfold. "Mom, we've been over this. I've made up my mind."

Mrs. Hirai regarded her daughter with a mixture of resignation and disbelief. "Think about what you’ll be leaving behind, it makes no sense! This company is your birthright, it’s your legacy, you have to uphold it."

Momo sighed, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I know, Mom, but I just don't want it. You’re asking me to be the head of it all as if I haven’t just been taking orders and following plans my whole life. I’m telling you I can’t bear all that, I don’t…"

Tears pricked at Momo’s eyes, “I don’t want to fail.”

"I understand, dear.” Mrs. Hirai's expression softened, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “But you have a responsibility to the family, to your father's legacy."

"I'm trying, Mom! Why do you think I go on all these dates for?" Momo's frustration boiled over, her voice rising slightly.

Mrs. Hirai recoiled slightly at the sudden outburst, her expression pained. "Well, it is taking a while," she murmured, "Maybe you should reconsider your approach."

Momo's jaw clenched, her frustration only mounting. "It's not my fault they're all brainless," she muttered, stabbing at the poor short ribs you’d braised to perfection. "Half of them are grossly aroused by your pockets. If you're fine with that, then tell me, and I'll gladly shorten the process."

Mrs. Hirai sighed, a mix between sorrow and anger. "Momo, we just want what's best for you. The company is important, yes, but so is your happiness."

As much as the company mattered to her parents, Momo’s happiness came above all. They’d worked so hard to provide for her, to ensure she never lacked anything. Especially love. Theirs had birthed this wonderful girl, whom they nurtured with, only wishing for her to find her own.

Seeing their daughter ready to sacrifice such a value broke their hearts more than her leaving the company.

"I know, Mom. I just wish..." Momo's shoulders sagged, her anger dissipating as she met her mother's gaze.

Mrs. Hirai saw the opportunity to mention what's been lingering on her mind. "I noticed your father has been setting you up with Jihyo. She's a capable woman, and the Park family is influential. It could be a good match for both of you, professionally and personally."

Momo scoffed, tearing through the last of her cutlet. "Jihyo’s basically the daughter of our closest enemy. She’s a wild card, Mom.”

Mrs. Hirai blinked, taken aback by Momo's bluntness. It was a true definition, but such frank acknowledgment of their family's associates was rarely spoken aloud. It felt like breaking a taboo.

“Momo—”

“Listen, she's a nice enough person, but she's not what I need nor want. I know Dad thinks that pushing me towards her will make me stay in the company and keep things stable. Nice try, but we’re not six, and it's not fair to either of us."

Mrs. Hirai's face softened, "Momo, he just wants to make you jealous,” she said, a light chuckle leaving her lips.

“What?”

“You’re giving your father too much credit, as always.” She shook her head, clearly amused. “Remember when you actually were six and didn’t want to go to bed? The way he went to grab the dog and act all cuddly with it, instead of you? He’s doing the same with Jihyo. Grabbing the closest thing to replace you, hoping you’ll come tear it up and claim your place again.”

Momo's eyes widened, processing her mother's words. She was over here claiming she was so old and mature now, but he was doing the same thing as when she was young. Getting a hold of the closest, emotionally threatening enough thing around to get her to listen to him.

"So... he's not serious about Jihyo?"

Mrs. Hirai sighed. "He's serious about wanting you to stay. He thinks seeing Jihyo in your place will make you reconsider."

Momo shook her head, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again. "I don't want to be manipulated like this. I want my decisions to be mine, not because Dad is playing games."

Her mother reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's. "I understand, dear. But sometimes, those who love us most will do anything to keep us close."

Momo's lip trembled. "I don’t care, it's not fair, Mom. How can you be okay with this?"

Hearing her mother back her father’s insane behavior was heartbreaking. Disappointing. Momo's chest tightened, a nauseating mix of frustration and betrayal surging within her as she caught her mother’s eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm not saying I agree with his methods, Momo. But I know he's scared. Scared of losing you."

Momo looked down, her tears finally spilling over. "I just want to live my own life, make my own choices. Why can't he understand that?"

Her mother sighed, squeezing her hand gently. "Because he loves you, and he's afraid. Afraid that without the company, without us, you'll be lost. He doesn't realize how strong you've become."

Momo shook her head, frustration and sadness mingling in her heart. "I wish he could see that."

Mrs. Hirai nodded, her voice gentle. "Show him, Momo. The banquet is yours. Let him see what you can achieve on your own terms. Prove to him that you're capable of making your own choices and succeeding."

Momo took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. "You really think that will make a difference?"

Mrs. Hirai offered her a soft smile. "I do. Just be patient.”

Momo nodded, though the weight of her father's manipulations still pressed heavily on her heart. As she focused back on the food on her plate, her thoughts wandered back to you, and she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope.

That glimmer of hope, it burned softly within her heart. Still too weak for her to feel anything other than relief at the thought of you.

—

“Can you at least pretend to be useful?” You snapped, slamming an oven door shut. “I need everyone on deck, and you’re just standing there complaining!”

The kitchen was bustling, the whole brigade rushing around to perfect their dishes as the deadline for the banquet loomed closer. Momo had scheduled a tasting tonight, placing you at the heart of the chaos. You tried to maintain control and ensure everything was perfect, but it was hard doing so when someone seemed determined to get in your way.

Momo's behavior had shifted over the past two weeks. She'd started paying more attention, trying to be more involved. It wasn't purely altruistic—she saw a silver lining in your presence. One that could solve all her problems. You challenged her in ways she hadn't experienced since her rookie days, igniting a new source of motivation. For once, she felt driven, compelled to prove herself.

So she decided to make you feel at ease—for her own gain, yes, but you won something in the deal, didn't you?

After that night in the office, she made it a point to be around more, offering assistance, and listening to you more.

It was promising.

But she had to ruin that too.

Today, she decided to supervise the brigade as you prepared for tonight's tasting. Her presence was only getting in the way of everyone, especially you. You tried to keep your focus, but Momo's constant hovering and her split attention were grating on your nerves.

As she stood in the kitchen, her phone buzzed constantly with texts from Jihyo. She tried to juggle the mounting pressure from her father, the complications with Jihyo, and her responsibilities; but it was obviously getting too much on one plate.

You glanced at Momo, noticing the tension in her posture, the way she bit her lip as she read her messages. The way she moved, the way her eyes sparked with intensity—it all captivated you for a second, distracting you in ways you didn't need at the moment.

Momo’s irritation mirrored yours. She snapped her head up from her phone, eyes blazing. "I would if you gave me anything remotely interesting to do. I won't just fetch things for you like some errand boy."

You scoffed, crossing your arms, trying to ignore the way her anger only seemed to add to her intensity. “Seriously? Picking and choosing at a time like this? If you were just going to screw me over you shouldn’t have bothered in the first place!”

Momo only chuckled, “Really? Because I could have sworn you’d begged for me to be here.”

“Right.” You nodded. “When I did that I didn’t think you’d take it as an invite to smear yourself all over anything I do again. We agreed you’d let me handle the kitchen, why are you so hellbent on keeping tabs, just let me do my job!”

“This whole thing was my idea.” Momo shot back, stepping closer. “You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me. That name you’re so proud of means nothing without my backing.”

“You’re not doing anything but sabotaging yourself.” Your voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. “I’m gonna need you to take your eyes off your own ass and look around you. Who do you recognize?”

Momo stayed silent, her mind racing. She glanced around, seeing the faces and eyes focused on her—some confused, some irritated. She realized she couldn’t put a single name to any of them. Her heart sank as the reality of her detachment hit her. The bustling kitchen, the brigade working tirelessly, and she couldn’t even acknowledge their efforts properly.

She felt a knot of frustration and embarrassment tightening in her chest.

You chuckled, “See what happens when you’re too busy playing corporate princess? Just let me f****** handle it.”

Her anger flared again, some kind of defense against the sting of that realization. “You think you’re so indispensable, don’t you?” she hissed. “That your presence is the only thing holding this together? Get over yourself, Y/n.”

“Sure I will. Please, lead the way like you so beautifully know how!” You gestured, hands as sarcastic as your tone.

The tension was palpable, your breaths mingling as you stood face to face, neither willing to back down. For a moment, it seemed like the argument might escalate further, but then Momo broke eye contact, her gaze shifting to her surroundings.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” she spat, voice trembling with suppressed rage. “You think you’ve done such a great job running this s***show, huh?”

When she looked back at you, her eyes met yours with nothing but anger as something else she couldn’t quite place tried to ease itself in. She hated the way you managed to make her feel—vulnerable, exposed.

“You better prove it tonight or I’ll make sure you’ll regret ever stepping into this kitchen.”

Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you standing amidst the chaos, that short and fragile truce between you two shattered yet again.

Tasting sure was going to be interesting…

—

That same night, the dining room was elegantly arranged, a stark contrast to the chaos of the kitchen earlier in the day. The table was set with fine china and crystal glasses, casting delicate reflections under the soft, ambient lighting. Momo sat between her parents, a tight smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes. Around the table were key senior staff members, trusted friends, and a few family members, all eager to sample the menu.

You, along with your brigade, moved seamlessly between the kitchen and the dining room. You made sure to put your hard earned skills to use, presenting each course with a practiced grace, detailing the inspiration and techniques behind every dish. Despite the tension in the air linking you to Momo, your professionalism never faltered, though your eyes rarely left the plates you were serving.

Each course was met with nods of approval, murmurs of appreciation, and the occasional question, which you answered with an admirable precision. Momo, however, remained silent, her gaze fixed on her plate. Her parents exchanged glances, concern etching their features.

When dessert was finally brought out, a hush fell over the table. You presented the dish—the deconstructed lemon meringue pie—explaining the delicate balance of flavors and textures. The room filled with the scent of citrus and caramelized sugar.

"Momo," Mrs. Hirai's voice cut through the murmurs, "you haven't said much tonight. What do you think?"

Momo looked up, her eyes meeting her mother's before shifting uncomfortably to the food in front of her. She felt the weight of everyone's gaze, including yours as you had paused in your explanation to listen.

"It's... it's very well done," she finally said, her voice painfully devoid of any enthusiasm. "The team has done an excellent job."

Her father frowned, leaning forward. "You can do better than that. Your opinion matters here. Speak up."

Momo's jaw tightened. She spent the entire evening avoiding your gaze, the argument from earlier still fresh and raw. Both of you were acting like children after a petty feud over a toy, going out of your way to avoid acknowledging each other.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "The dessert is innovative and beautifully executed. It’s exactly what I envisioned for the banquet."

Your eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and annoyance, recognizing the lie she’d just pushed through her teeth. She hadn’t envisioned anything—you’d fought tooth and nail over every detail up until hours ago.

"Thank you, Momo," Your voice strained in an attempt to stay polite. "I'm glad it meets your expectations."

The air grew thicker with obviously unspoken words. Momo’s parents exchanged another glance, sensing the underlying tension.

Mr. Hirai cleared his throat. "It’s important for us to be honest during these tastings. If there’s anything that needs to be improved, now is the time to speak up."

Momo felt her irritation grow. "I said it's fine, Father."

"Momo, we're just trying to help.” Her mother interjected gently, “If there’s anything you're not happy with, you need to communicate that."

That’s when you decided to step in, your tone sharp. "I think we all understand the importance of feedback. I have to say Momo's input has been invaluable—despite her current silence."

Momo's eyes flashed with anger. "Invaluable? Really? Seems to me like my input has been more of an inconvenience to you."

Your jaw clenched. "I never said that. But if you actually participated instead of hovering, it might be more constructive."

"Participated?” She shot back. “You mean following your every whim? I have better things to do than micromanage your kitchen."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. You caught Momo's parents looking between you and their daughter, realizing just how deep the rift had reached.

Mrs. Hirai spoke up first to try and defuse the situation. "Let’s not forget why we're here. The food is excellent, and we’re all looking forward to the banquet. Let’s focus on that."

Momo took a deep breath, faking a smile. "Yes, Mother. You're right. The food is great. Let's enjoy it."

But the damage was done. The altercation had cast a shadow over the evening and lingered in the air, unresolved and simmering just below the surface.

—

The kitchen was finally empty, the last of the staff having been dismissed for the night. You leaned against the counter, the cool steel pressing into your back as you took a moment to breathe. The day had been long and grueling, but at least the tasting was a success, earning yourself and your brigade a few days of rest before the banquet.

You should feel relieved, at least a little bit, you knew that. Yet you couldn’t break free from the weight of the air around you, mounted with tension from yours and Momo’s altercation.

It was suffocating. The hold she had on you, you could say you’d allowed it if only you could put a stop to it. If you at least wanted to make it stop…

The sound of the door to the kitchen creaking open halted your thoughts and Momo stepped inside. You could tell by the heels clicking softly on the tiled floor, and the way you instantly straightened yourself.

You watched her approach with guarded eyes, noticing her arms crossed over her chest. You mirrored her posture when she came close enough, crossing your own, guarding yourself up.

Momo noticed, eyes flickering to the tattoos peeking from beneath your rolled-up sleeves. She hadn’t seen those a lot, only finding out you had them when she started hanging around the kitchen more. Might have been a reason for her to do so, asking you to go and reach for utensils high-up just to peek.

She shook the thoughts away, finding your eyes and focusing on them. “Hey,” she began, her voice softer than you were used to. “Good job.”

The words almost made you choke. You swallowed hard, mouth drying up at the bitterness suddenly filling your heart. Momo waited for an answer, probably feeling entitled to one before she remembered you’d never given in to her.

“How are you feeling?” She tried again, leaning against the counter across from you. Her soft tone matched her eyes this time, so you allowed yourself to answer her.

“Fine, I guess.” You shrugged, eyes sweeping the floor. “It went well.”

She nodded, hesitating. “Yeah, it did. My parents were impressed.”

“That’s good to hear.” You replied, not looking at her.

Momo took a deep breath, steeling herself. "About earlier... I'm sorry. I’m the one who started yelling. Wasn't really professional of me."

You chuckled, finally meeting her eyes. "Did you just apologize? Didn't know you had it in you."

Her irritation flared once more. "I'm serious, Y/n. I get that this isn’t something you’re used to from me, but I can admit I was out of line."

"Okay, okay," you said, raising your hands. "Apology accepted."

You were so… nonchalant about it. As if you couldn’t care less. If you were honest, you could, but the reaction you were having didn’t exactly reflect that. It wasn’t the one she expected and she didn’t like it.

She almost started another argument before catching herself. Her jaw clenched, holding back some words to replace them with others she deemed more… gentle. Better suited to air out her frustrations. “Why are you still so defensive? The tasting went well anyway, didn’t it? Everything was perfect, my parents loved it, and everything has your name on it. You got what you wanted so why the attitude? Stop being so childish.”

That kind of shut you up. Momo couldn’t believe the silence that followed her words. She was right, you were adult enough to admit that. Just not enough to do it out loud. Not enough not to talk back.

You just had to do it for some reason. Maybe it was because her words struck a nerve, hitting closer to home than you were willing to admit.

"Fine," you muttered. "But you’re not exactly making it easy."

You honestly felt like a child, not being able to process or understand what's happening, so you took out your frustrations the only way you knew how to : throwing a tantrum.

Momo sighed, exasperated. "Are you going to keep this up during the banquet too? Does talking back to me and disregarding me turn you on or something?"

You scoffed, but it’s painfully evident in the moment, that you’re indeed attracted to her. But you’d never admit that either. You wouldn’t because, apart from her being attractive, you can’t tell why that is. “You wish.”

“You know what, maybe I do.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and Momo caught you struggling. She wanted—no, she needed—to let you know. That you couldn’t hide from her. Yet her lips refused to do anything else than let you know her own truth.

“Maybe then I could make a reason out of your behavior,” she whispered, words trembling in frustration.

Silence. Not an uncomfortable one, but odd. Eerie. Neither of you knew what the next words would be or where they’d come from, but you sure were getting ready for them.

Her eyes weren't looking into yours anymore. They were searching, reflecting, maybe even reaching out to her own fears. You saw it—the shift, the hesitation.

You didn’t expect her to speak up first.

“If you can’t do it for me then do it for yourself,” she started, “If this fails my family will take a hit, sure, but ultimately you and I both know we’ll be fine. Your career’s the only thing on the line here.”

Her voice was cold, icy, cutting through your ego with reminders of where you stood in this environment. In this industry. She jabbed her finger against your chest, making each one of her points clear and painful.

So you grabbed her hand, pushing it down with enough force to make a statement and let your stubbornness shine through yet again

"Don't," your voice low, enough of a threat to pull a reaction out of her too.

Momo's patience snapped. She grabbed a fistful of your white button-up, creasing up your pride and pulling you closer, her eyes not leaving yours.

You noticed for the first time, just how pretty she was and how dangerous that is. Your heart was desperate to make you feel it, practically racing against her own.

“You know what,” a smirk quivered on your lips at how tightly she held onto you. “Maybe this is all about more than just work.” You strained out, words slipping and pushing through the limits you’d drawn around her.

You reveled in the way she let you go. Her fist released your shirt, pushing you away only for her fingers to linger on the fabric and keep you from going too far.

You made a point to step back, biting the inside of your lip when she took a stepped forward.

Maybe it did turn you on a little.

"I warned you earlier, didn't I?” Her eyes burned into yours, as if trying to distract you from the weakness she’s been displaying. “You do whatever you want on Friday. One wrong move, and I might just keep my word this time."

"Maybe you should," you retorted, your eyes flashing with defiance, provoking the spark of anger in her own.

Her proximity was intoxicating. It would be betraying your own words, painting a coward out of yourself, but you still tried to step away. Your foot carefully slipped back, ready to carry you elsewhere and flee.

Halfway there, and you were back to square one. Suffocating under Momo’s impulse, drowning into the feeling of her lips continuously crashing against yours…

She pulled you back in even closer, her fist having claimed itself around the fresh crease of your shirt. You didn’t fight to remove it this time, finding it much easier and pleasant to surrender.

Your kisses were vicious against each other’s. Anything but gentle, fueled by anger and weeks of built up frustrations.

You lost yourselves into a simmering attraction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Even when you found enough strength to pull apart. And even less when you realized just how much it took to do so.

The air seemed to thin out, charged with more tension than it held moments ago. More than ever before.

Your breaths were heavy, mingling with hers as you stared at each other’s features in shock and confusion.

Momo’s eyes were hazy, lips a neat mess and swollen from the kiss. “This doesn’t change anything.” she whispered, visibly shaken by her own actions.

You only nodded, busy trying yet unable to process the depth of what just happened. She slipped herself away from your arms and you watched her go, a mixture of frustration and longing churning in your chest.

The night felt colder, the kitchen emptier as you stood there, thoughts in a whirlwind. The kiss had changed everything and nothing, leaving both of you with more needs and questions than before.

—

“You kissed her?!”

“No, she kissed me!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

It really didn’t, Jeongyeon was right. So you let her slap you on the arm, the sting a light and playful discipline.

A couple of days passed, and you wasted two days of your hard earned break wallowing on your couch until Jeongyeon came by to drag you out of it for brunch. You complained the whole time, for entertainment purposes, but you were thankful for her.

With how busy you’d been since joining Momo, the two of you had only seen each other once. You made sure to keep her updated though, or rather she did by pestering you and teasing you about both your behaviors. She managed to keep herself up to date with every single little thing that had happened between you and Momo.

All except the latest.

“Like it’s my fault?” You argued, “Who wears a cropped dress shirt to a tasting…”

Jeongyeon chuckled at the state of you. All sprawled out on the table, chin resting on your forearm as you played with a few crumbs of your toast. She noticed the way your eyes wandered far away from this table, probably digging into your memories of Momo in that cropped dress shirt.

How pathetic, to her delight.

She shrugged at your words, reaching for her cup. “Less fabric, less stain prone. She’s got a point.”

You threw a piece of bread at her, but she dodged. “Why did she wear a tie then?” You straightened yourself up in your seat. “Seems to me like that would be just as much fabric as a regular dress shirt.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, “Stop blaming the shirt, and get a grip. You kissed her because you like her.”

“Back. I didn’t kiss her, I kissed her back.”

“That’s still a lot of kissing. So you’re not denying it, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, and snickered when you sighed. “You like her.”

You ran a hand through your hair, exasperated. "I don't even know what I feel, Jeongyeon. It's... complicated."

Jeongyeon smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Feelings usually are. But denying it won't make it any less true."

You groaned. "She's infuriating. One minute she's criticizing everything I do, the next she's—."

"Kissing you," Jeongyeon finished, taking a sip of her coffee.

You wanted to knock that smirk of hers (lovingly) off her lips, but resigned, feeling yourself smile at the joke. Too bad she was being truthful too.

"Yeah.” You fiddled with a napkin in your reach, your smile fading as you thought back to the moment. “And it wasn't just a peck, you know? It was... intense."

Jeongyeon chuckled. "Sounds like there's some serious chemistry there. Maybe all that fighting was just foreplay."

You glared at her, but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips again. "You're not helping."

She leaned forward, her expression softening. "Look, Y/n, you've always been passionate about your work. Maybe she sees that and respects it, even if she has a hard time showing it. She's probably just as confused about her feelings as you are."

You sighed again, feeling the weight of her words. "Maybe. But what do I do now? She’s git the worst timing ever, we’ve got the banquet coming up; I can't afford any distractions."

Jeongyeon smiled knowingly. "Just be honest with yourself. And let go of your pride a little, who knows, maybe then she’ll be nice to you. If what you both truly want is for that banquet to work out, you’ll know to set this aside for now. Behave, and the rest will follow. Probably."

You gave Jeongyeon a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by her attempt to absolve herself of responsibility. "Probably?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Jeongyeon shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hey, I'm just here to nudge you in the right direction. The rest is up to you. Relationships are messy, but you'll never know if you don't try."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair again. "I guess you're right. It's just... a very uncharted territory right now."

Jeongyeon nodded, her expression turning sincere. "I know. But she might just be worth getting into it, I mean… I wouldn’t mind letting my guard down around her.”

You rolled your eyes, "Of course you wouldn't."

"You should do the same," she said teasingly. "Seriously, Y/n."

You looked down, a small smile playing at your lips. "Maybe. We'll see."

"That's the spirit,” Jeongyeon grinned. “Now finish that toast and get back out there. You've got a banquet to hold. And a girl to figure out."

You chuckled, “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Jeongyeon."

"Sure. Just invite me to the wedding."

—

Momo stood in front of the grand mirror in her room, adjusting the final touches of her outfit. The sleek black suit, paired with a statement pearl choker, gave her an air of authority and elegance she loved to see on herself. The sharp lines of the fabric contrasted with the delicate jewelry, creating a powerful and refined look.

She glanced at her reflection, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Her mind raced with thoughts of the evening ahead, the guests, the speeches, the food, and most of all, you.

Since that kiss, everything had become a whirlwind of confusion. You were infuriating, challenging, and utterly impossible to read. The kiss had only complicated things further, as if that relationship needed another tangled strain. What was she thinking… It was hard to focus on anything else when she replayed the moment in her mind, over and over again. Your lips on hers, the intensity, the fire—it had been unexpected, unplanned, and yet, it felt strangely good.

And then there was Jihyo. The situation with her was just as headache inducing. Jihyo's texts, her father's manipulations, and the pressure to stay in the company-everything just kept weighing on her. Yet somehow, in the midst of it all, she didn't mind any of it. As if the kiss had awakened something in her, something allowing her to bear all that weight. She hadn't felt that in a long time. It made her question everything, including her feelings for you and what she truly wanted for her future.

She didn’t like that. But she didn’t exactly mind it either.

As she walked into the venue, her eyes scanned the room, filled with guests fighting for best dressed mingling along with some others… settled for comfort. The atmosphere was buzzing, poking at Momo's racing heart. She felt nervous, not just from the pressure of the evening, but from the thought of seeing you again. She hadn't seen you since that night in the kitchen, and she wasn't sure what to expect.

It took a while, but her eyes finally found you across the room, looking dapper in your chef's uniform. For the first time, as a sign of gratitude and hopefully good news for your future, you were made to wear the official uniform of the Hirai kitchens. The jet black jacket, adorned with the restaurant's insignia, felt weird and new, but the colors … You could get used to them, and the material was soft enough.

You were talking to one of the guests, a polite smile on your face, but she could see the tension in your posture. You must have felt her gaze because you looked up, eyes locking with hers for a brief, electrifying moment.

You took Jeongyeon's advice to heart, determined to behave, to keep things professional despite the need to lash out at your own confusing feelings, and by extension; her. So you approached her cautiously, using the distance separating her from you to try and calm that pounding in your chest.

"Momo," you greeted, your voice came out steady enough, but your eyes betrayed your nerves.

"Y/n," she replied, her own voice calm.

You stood there for a moment, the silence hanging heavy with the memory of your kiss, a palpable tension neither of you could ignore.

"You look nice. Very professional," You finally said, breaking the silence. Your words were sincere, and for a moment, Momo's heart slowed.

"Thank you," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "You look... different."

You chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension. "Yeah, I do. It feels weird but... good."

You stood still. Just there, awkward and unsure, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. Anyone passing by could tell there was something between you two, although not able to put their finger on it. Not any more than you could. But you tried; to find a way to move forward without letting your emotions get in the way of the night's success.

"I think we should... talk maybe," You said, your voice dropping to a low, almost hesitant tone.

Thankfully Momo nodded, wanting nothing more. Until she remembered where she was. "Yeah, we do. But maybe not here. Later?"

"Later," you agreed, relief evident in your eyes. "For now, let's focus on tonight."

"Agreed," she said, her resolve strengthening. "Let's give them a night to remember."

—

The banquet was in full swing, and Momo couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she watched the guests enjoy the evening. After her brief but intense interaction with you, she’d thrown herself full swing into hosting, greeting the most important guests warmly and ensuring everything was running smoothly. She could see you, now dressed in the official Hirai colors, making your rounds with the staff in the kitchen through the glass doors.

She liked the sight. Enjoyed it even.

As the main courses began to be served, Momo took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the room. Everything seemed perfect, but she knew better than to let her guard down, and just as she was about to step back into the fray, one of the staff members approached her, looking visibly distressed.

"Ms. Hirai, we have a problem in the kitchen," the staff member whispered urgently, causing a surge of anxiety within her.

“What kind of problem?”

"The main course... there's an issue with the meat—well, it’s more the ovens not working properly—but we don't have enough time to fix it without some quick thinking."

Momo's heart picked up the pace again. This could ruin the entire evening.

Without a second thought, she hurried towards the kitchen, her mind racing with solutions. As she entered, she found you there, looking equally concerned.

“Y/n,” she called out, catching your attention. “We have a problem.”

The tension between you both flared up instantly, old arguments resurfacing in the heat of the moment. You tried to stay focused, but her presence was both a distraction and a relief. You were stressed, and seeing her only added to the pressure.

Momo crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What's going on? Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

Your jaw tightened, trying to keep your frustration in check. "It's under control. We have a backup plan. I'm using the emergency meat, but we need to cook it quickly and differently."

"Good," she said, biting back her irritation. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

You paused, debating on teasing her about stepping in, but it wasn't the time nor place. "Can you go around and make sure everyone is on time? Report back to me if there's any issue."

She nodded, her gaze softening slightly. "Got it."

As she moved through the kitchen, checking on the staff and ensuring everyone was on schedule, she couldn't help but notice the tension in your posture. Despite the pressure, you remained in control, your hands moving with precision as you prepped the backup meat. She saw the way your brows furrowed, the way you bit your lip in concentration. It struck her how much you actually cared, how deeply invested you were in all this.

When she returned to you, she gave a quick update. "Everyone's on track. No issues so far."

"Good," you replied, a brief moment of relief flashing in your eyes before the stress settled back in. "Thank you."

Momo only nodded. She wanted to say more, to ease your tension, but the words wouldn't come. So she just took a step back, intending to head back out when her eyes caught sight of a pile of uncut vegetables next to you.

"Is anyone on these?" she asked, motioning to the vegetables.

You cussed under your breath at the sight of them, wiping the sweat from your forehead. The meat chaos had messed with your train of thoughts... "Damn it, no. I completely forgot."

Momo stepped closer, pushing her sleeves up. "Relax. I'll handle it."

"What—Are you sure?"

You would question the move, but the help she was offering was too precious.

Momo nodded, already reaching for a knife. "Yeah. How do you want them cut?"

The way she proceeded to handle that knife shouldn’t have been a surprise. She did belong to a respectable culinary lineage, but seeing her in action was something else entirely.

You felt a strange sense of relief wash over you as you witnessed her skills from the corner of your eye. The fact that she was actually helping you made the situation feel a little less overwhelming.

The two of you worked side by side, and you could feel the tension easing up its hold onto the two of you as the minutes passed.

It was suddenly easier to breathe.

—

Much later in the night than you’d have liked, you stood outside the restaurant, the air of the night cool against your skin as you savored the last drags of your cigarette.

The streets were calm, the occasional hum of traffic in the distance adding a weirdly soothing track to the end of it all.

The banquet, everything had finally come to an end, and successfully, but the lingering thoughts of Momo and your unresolved tension clouded your mind.

You mindlessly watched as the guests left one by one, their laughter and chatter fading as they climbed into expensive cars and drove away. The soft glow of taillights disappeared around corners, leaving the street empty and silent every time.

You exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the dark sky above.

Sure, that little moment in the kitchen earlier was nice, but… There was still a lot to work through.

A familiar sound of stilettos against the rough concrete pulled your eyes off and away from some sweet looking Mercedes. It didn’t compete with the sight you knew was awaiting

Momo stepped outside and startled you with a soft, “You smoke too much.”

You looked over, a faint smile on your lips. “Well, I’m trying to quit, but I deserve this one.”

She chuckled, taking a seat beside you. You watched her, feeling bad for the expensive suit you’d eyed any chance you got. All night. “You’ll mess your pretty clothes up,” you said, stubbing out the cigarette.

“Who cares,” she brushed off. “Night’s over anyway.”

You nodded. Couldn’t argue with that. “Congratulations, by the way. Was your mom proud?”

Momo smiled at the recent memory of her parents congratulating and thanking her for her hard work. “Yeah, they both were.”

You eyed her fingers as they fiddled with each other. It made you smile, how no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to hide that shy part of her.

“Was the outfit supposed to be a statement?” you asked, and she shuffled, telling you it might have been. It amused you. “You shouldn’t have. Did it shake you up that much?” You smirked as though you hadn’t gone to cry about it to Jeongyeon.

“About that night…” she trailed off, silently hoping you’d take the reins.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell your suitors.” You shrugged, half-jokingly.

A small, playful but sincere gesture that slapped Momo in the face. She had completely forgotten about her little side quest with the pressure of the past few days. And also because you’ve been the only thing on her heart’s mind since your kiss. Before stepping out to join you, she even cut things off with Jihyo through a text, thinking it was finally the end of it all. She’d forgotten about all the other ones.

“Oh.” She managed to say after slowing her thoughts down. “Thanks.”

“No problem…”

A few long and awkward seconds passed.

“Wait, are you gonna carry on with those?”

Momo pursed her lips, thinking. “I don’t know.”

She really had no idea. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to quit the company anymore. Until her dad told her he’d slowly been warming up to her decision as he left moments ago, she forgot this was her last project.

It was great news, yeah, if it weren’t for one little detail you helped her realise a little too late.

She didn’t want it to be.

Momo cleared her throat, her lips opening and closing a few times before managing to get the words out. “Are you going to stick around?” she tentatively asked.

You shrugged, playing it cool although you had a feeling her question meant good news. Hopefully in both professional and personal parts of your life. “If you want me to.”

Momo grinned, “I wouldn’t mind.”

You nodded, suppressing a smile. “Will you?” you asked, and she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Will you stick around too? Or are you quitting and leaving the country to become a dance teacher on the other side of the world?”

“How do you know I dance?” She laughed.

“You’re a public figure, Momo. Investments make headlines, especially the heartfelt ones,” you reminded, referring to the time she donated a generous amount to her old dance school in need.

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Not really. Just news stuff.”

“Right.” You felt her eyes on you, rightfully suspicious. Another silence settled, although this one was a little less awkward and shorter. “Have you always wanted to be a chef?”

You simply nodded at the question, not wanting to dull the moment with details. “Thank you for the opportunity by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you, how rude of me.”

“You’re welcome,” she chuckled. “You deserved it. A lot of guests asked me to send their compliments to the chef.”

Her nudge to your ribs made you pull away instinctively, the sudden contact sending a rush of warmth to your chest. You looked down, hiding your smile as your mind rewound back to your first meeting. “You never called me chef, by the way.”

“And I never will,” she said assuredly, making you chuckle. It was all you could do for now with your focus on her hand fiddling with your own, watching as she intertwined her fingers with yours, the other caressing the exposed and sketched skin of your forearm.

She sure had gotten comfortable. The way she leaned into you, her touch becoming more familiar and assured... You wondered where it came from for a second before remembering how bad of a job you were doing at hiding the effect she had on you so far.

Well, if that’s what it got you…

“Bet on that?” You teased. A little provocation, for grounding purposes.

Momo just nodded though, still assured, and it made you even more curious about what she had in mind for her to be. “Why not?” you probed.

She only smiled, observing your features long enough to make you blush in the night. She inched her face closer to yours, her hand squeezing around yours. It felt only natural for you to lean in, and the nose scrunch she did was new, but the grin that came with it had you guessing it was a good thing. She couldn’t help but giggle as you leaned in, and you almost forgot what had pushed you so close until she spoke up.

“I’ll call you much better, and more flattering things than ‘chef’… darling,” she whispered.

You folded immediately, and this time, you were the one that kissed her. This one was much sweeter, softer. Flavors from the night dancing on your lips, teasing the ones on your tongues. Dessert and smoke, a blend of sweetness and bitterness that felt just right.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, you felt her lips turn into a smirk against yours.. “Doesn't mean we’re done arguing, though.”

“It doesn't?”

She shook her head, her free hand reaching for a displaced lock of your hair. “Not until you quit smoking.”

“I told you I’m already trying to.”

“I know, but I also happen to think you look hot doing it.”

“Can’t wait to fight about me being hot then.”

———

epilogue if you want

@cry4mina thank you for supportively bullying me to finish this i hope you liked it

[storiesforallfandoms]

just for us ~ johnny depp

word count: 1790

request?: yes!

“Hii can you please write a Johnny Depp imagine where its the 90s, you are both famous, and the press keeps beging you  expose your relationship?”

description: being famous at such a young age makes it hard to keep anything a secret, but you’re determined to make sure your relationship is just for the two of you and not for the media

pairing: young!johnny depp x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n, rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

I started acting when I was five years old. It was a commercial, and I had all of 30 seconds of screen time. But that 30 seconds was enough to impress the director apparently, because two years later when he was hired to direct some new sitcom, he called my parents looking to cast me as one of the main kids. The show only lasted one season, but one season was all it took to kickstart my career.

Becoming an actor at such a young age meant losing a “normal” life. I never went to normal school, normal prom or graduation. I never really had normal friends, just co-stars and other child actors. And I never had any privacy. Once I became a household name, privacy went completely out the window as I was followed by paparazzi and fans daily. Not to mention the creeps who came out in droves when I turned 18.

Nothing in my life was private. Nothing except Johnny.

We met on set of a movie we were working on together, and I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that I was going to fall for him. I tried not to. Dating as a celebrity was basically impossible, even more so when it was with another celebrity. But i couldn’t stop myself, and when he told me he had fallen for me too, I was a goner.

Being a fellow actor, Johnny knew exactly how to keep our relationship a secret. He knew which restaurants had the most hidden away seating, which ones had the most private parking so we could actually show up and leave together. He knew how to sneak in and out of my place without paparazzi noticing, and how to do the same with me at his place.

It worked for a long time. Like, two years at least. No one had any idea we were together. Until a fan spotted us out together. They didn’t see us acting like a couple, but apparently us hanging out together years after our movie had come out was suspicious enough to get the rumor mill going. Suddenly, every interview we did had us asked at least once about our relationship. But we never broke. We kept insisting we were just friends, and we kept our relationship a secret.

It was early in the morning when my alarm clock started to blare. I groaned as I rolled over to turn it off. The bright red numbers read “7:00am”. I groaned again, sleep fighting to take me again.

I smiled as Johnny wrapped me in his warm embrace and kissed my neck. “Why are we awake so early?”

“I have a morning interview at 9,” I told him. “I gotta get up and get ready.”

He squeezed me a little tighter. “Absolutely not.”

“I have no choice, J. I can’t cancel so close to the interview.”

“Just don’t show up. Problem solved.”

I turned in his arms to face him. His eyes were still drooping with fatigue, but he was trying his best to focus on me. I smiled at him and kissed his nose.

“You can stay here and sleep,” I told him. “I’ll be back by the time you wake up.”

“You better be,” he sleepily muttered.

I chuckled and finally wiggled free from his grasp.

Getting ready for interviews never took long. I didn’t have to do my makeup because the studio makeup artist would do it for me when I got there, and an outfit was chosen for me by my stylist prior to the day. All I had to do was get breakfast, clean myself up, and get dressed in my pre-chosen outfit. I was brushing my teeth when I heard a car horn honking outside, signaling that my ride to the interview had arrived.

I took one last peak into my bedroom. Johnny was sound asleep again. I smiled and quietly moved to my bed. I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before rushing out the door as the car honked again.

I was rushed through the makeup and placed in an uncomfortable chair within 20 minutes. I tried not to shift too much in an attempt to find a comfortable position. Morning talk shows always had the worst chairs for some reason.

The host walked onto set and greeted me cheerily. I smiled back at her, wishing I had her chipper energy for so early in the morning.

I wonder how many cups of coffee she’s had.

She sat down across from me and we were given the five minute warning. I adjusted myself in my seat one last time, then smiled as the cameraman announced we were live.

“Good morning everyone, and welcome to our special guest, (Y/N),” the host said, gesturing to me. The crowd cheered as I smiled and waved to them. “Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for having me. I’m so excited to be here!”

The host asked me about my new movie, and I went over the talking points I had been given for every interview. It was going as smoothly as most interviews did, until the host said, “I have to ask, is there anyone special in your life?”

I kept the smile on my face, but I was sure it looked much more strained now. “Nope. I’m absolutely single pringle.”

“Really? There’s not even anything going on with you and Johnny Depp?”

I glanced over at my manager, who looked about ready to shut the whole interview down. Most celebrities have a few off limits questions that interviewers are told they can’t ask about. It’s usually super personal and private stuff that they want to keep private. For me, the one topic that was off limits was Johnny. It wasn’t just because we wanted to keep our relationship a secret, but it was also because my management and I didn’t want all my interviews to suddenly be just about Johnny and not about my work.

It was clear from the look on my manager’s face that this host was told my limitations, and she was choosing to ignore them. This was her attempt at getting a huge scoop before anyone else so that she could boost the ratings of her show.

I knew I couldn’t just stop the interview. It was a live show, stopping would just cause a scene that I knew would do more harm than good. So, I took a very subtle deep breath and said, “Johnny has been my friend since we worked together years ago. There’s nothing more between us besides friendship.”

“Oh, come on. I know you’re aware of the rumors about you two. Everyone is dying for you to finally confirm that you’re together.”

“Well, everyone will just have to keep waiting because I am not confirming what’s not true. Also, I think it’s incredibly disrespectful and invasive to keep pushing this topic when Johnny and I have both said we aren’t dating and like to have our privacy. I don’t get many things that are just for me, but I want my relationship to be one of those things.”

My manager whispered something to the cameraman, who then signaled for the show to go to commercial. Once the cameras were off, my manager demanded for me to be un-miced so we could leave. I ignored the host’s apologies as the crew took off my mic and my manager beckoned for me to come with her.

As we left the studio, she nudged my shoulder and said, “You handled that amazingly, kid.”

I had no other obligations for the day, so my driver took me back home. I was happy to be back in the comfort of my own home after that interview.

The smell of food greeted me at the door. I smiled at myself as I made my way to the kitchen. As I expected, Johnny was stood at the stove, cooking up some breakfast. He was still in his pajama pants with no shirt on. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He leaned into my touch, allowing me to place a kiss on his bare shoulder.

“You’re back early,” he said.

“The interview was cut short,” I responded.

“So I heard.” I looked up at him in confusion. “I woke up just in time to turn on the interview.”

I groaned. “So you saw the whole thing?” He nodded. I buried my head in his shoulder. “We told her not to ask, I swear.”

He moved in my arms, turning so he could face me. He wrapped his arms around me, too, as I moved mine around his neck instead.

“I think you handled that whole situation very well,” he said. “It was pretty clear you were caught off guard by the question, but you still handled it maturely and with more respect than I think she deserved.”

“I wasn’t going to cause a scene over it, even though I really wanted to just walk out if she had asked.”

“Would’ve made for better television if you had just stormed out.”

“You’re right. It’s probably best that I didn’t then.”

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss me. Any tension I had left from that day immediately melted the moment his lips touched mine.

“We’ll have to tell people eventually,” I said with a sigh, resting my head against his. “We can’t keep this a secret forever.”

“We’ve done so for two years.”

“Yeah, but we’ve already gotten caught once. There’s just no proof of us actually being together for the tabloids to run with. But if we slipped up once, it can happen again. Then we’ll have to tell people about us.” I sighed and added, mainly to myself, “We’ll ever get a moment of peace again.”

“It’ll happen eventually, but until then I’m happy to have our private moments,” Johnny said. He kissed the top of my head and added, “But the day I get to loudly say you’re mine will be a good day for me. I want everyone to know eventually that I have the most amazing woman as my girlfriend.”

“You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Good.”

He kissed me again, but pulled away quicker than I wanted. I tried to pull him back in, but he just shook his head and smiled. “I don’t want the food to burn. The last thing we need is everyone finding out we’re dating because I burned your house down.”

I chuckled. “Okay, you have a point.”

“Are you hungry? I made enough for the two of us.”

I nuzzled close to him as he turned back to the stove. “I’ll never say no to your cooking.”

[clxja16]

Our Life

Pierre Gasly x Reader

Genre: established relationship, parents au!, dad Pierre

Warnings: angst, yelling, arguing

Word Count: 1.5K+

Author's Note: I realize this is probably the most I have ever posted here. and this is probably the first time I have two different 'on-going' stories out at the same time. well I had this idea for a while, except it was with Charles and I can't keep posting things with Charles man. but this concept works with Pierre so yeah. I don't think there will be a part two, unless you guys absolutely beg for a part two but there's a happy ending so yeah. also Idk if this is a fear for a lot of people or if im just being irrational, because its definitely a fear for me lol. anyway enjoy reading, pls let me know what you think.

------------------------

“If I want my son at the race then he will be at the race,” Pierre spoke loudly as he tried to get his point across to you.  

“Pierre, he’s only 10 months, I don’t think a race track when cars are flying past is the best idea for him,” you matched Pierre’s volume, you couldn’t understand why he just wouldn’t get it.  

“He can wear a headset, just like all the other drivers' kids do, I want my son at the race with me,”  Pierre wouldn’t let it go. 

“No Pierre, I don’t want him there, and I don’t want all the media with pictures of our son, we’ll be…”

“You don’t have to come this weekend, but my son will be there this weekend, nanny can come with him.” 

“Pierre you’re not getting it, I don’t think that's the best environment for our son, right now, maybe when he’s a little older.”  

“y/n what do you think is gonna happen to him?” 

“I don’t know,” you shook your head at this point, “anything could happen to him, I don’t wanna risk it.” 

Pierre sighed, running his hands through his hair, “he’s coming to the race this weekend, he’s my son…” 

“OUR SON,” you shouted at the top of your lungs, cutting Pierre as the tears finally escaped you, “he is our son.” 

The sound of the baby crying coming through the monitor stopped you from continuing on.  You and Pierre both sighed, knowing that you’re shouting at each other is what woke him.  “Let me…” Pierre spoke up first.  

You waved your hand to dismiss him, “I’ll get him.” You quickly exited your shared bedroom with Pierre and made your way to the nursery, wiping away the escaped tears.  Down the hall, before you entered the nursery you took a deep breath, calming your racing heart.  

“Hi boy,” you spoke softly to the crying baby, picking him up.  You held him close to you, afraid that he would be taken away.  You closed your eyes, breathing him in, your perfect son. You cradled him in your arms, rocking him back to sleep.  You watched him sleepily yawn, he had his father’s eyes. Eyes you loved very much.  

“Dear,” Marta called out to you.  Marta was an older woman that Pierre hired as a housekeeper to help around the house.  Marta didn’t have any kids, her husband had died many years ago.  She became a mother to you, since your mother wasn’t anywhere near.  

“Marta,” you sighed, “I’m sorry, did me and Pierre wake you?” Because it’s only Marta by herself, Pierre had her move into the downstairs bedroom, it’s especially helpful when Pierre is away during the season.  

“Don’t worry about me, I can sleep plenty when I’m no longer here,” Marta smiled, taking a seat next to you in the nursery, “what’s bothering you?” 

You shook your head, as you smiled at your little boy in your arms, “Pierre wants to take the boy to Monza this weekend, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”  

“That’s not it,” Marta said, as she gave you a look.  A look a mother gives when she knows her child is lying. 

You felt the tears begin to well in your eyes, “he’s our son.” You whisper into the night, like the words are a sin.  You look up at Marta, meeting her kind eyes, her eyes telling you to continue you on.  “He’s our son,” you speak a little louder, as the tears fall, “he’s not just Pierre’s son, he’s my son too.”  

“I see,” Marta hums, nodding her head, “and? Why does that bother you?” 

“He’s all I have left Marta.” You pulled the baby closer to you.  “He’s all I have.”  You took a deep breath, closing your eyes.  You breathed him in, you burned this moment to your memories.  You treat this as if it’s your last moment with your son.  You opened your eyes looking at Marta, “He’s all I have.  You know, when I got pregnant, it wasn’t planned.  It was an accident, me and Pierre had only been together for just under two years.  But we said we were gonna do this, we were gonna have this kid and raise him together.  Pierre makes more money than me.”  You took another deep breath, trying to gather all your thoughts.  “I had a good job, a place of my own, but there was no way I could raise a child by myself, and I couldn’t expect Pierre to move.  He lives in Milan because it’s best for his career, he was set up already.  I gave up all that I had, so he could be in his son’s life, and maintain his career.”  

“You regret that?” 

“No, no, never, Pierre is so good with him.  He’s such a good father,” you smiled at the thought of Pierre with the boy.  “But I’m so scared Marta.” you felt guilty for even speaking your feelings aloud.  “Everything belongs to Pierre.  I live in Pierre’s house, I drive Pierre’s cars, I fly on Pierre’s dime, I am completely dependent on Pierre.  We’re not married, I own nothing, all I have is this boy, and Pierre has all the power to take him away.”  

“You think…” 

“I know,” you spoke quickly, “I know Pierre wouldn’t just randomly kick me out, but that doesn’t mean I don’t fear the possibility.”  You felt the hot strikes of your tears, “If Pierre doesn’t want me anymore, I won’t have anything.  I have no money to my name, I have no job, no place to stay, I have nothing without Pierre.  If he decides he no longer wants me, I have no way to support myself or go back home.” 

“That possibility scares you?” 

“It does, and everytime we argue, he reminds me of that possibility, by saying ‘my son.’  He’s not his son, he’s our son, our child.  Both mine and his, our son, together.” 

“Oh dear,” Marta sighed, as she stood, pulling you close to her standing figure.  

“Is it wrong to be scared?” you asked as you silently sobbed, holding your son closer to you.  

“No dear, it’s not wrong to be scared, it’s the world we live in.”  Marta said, as she held onto you tightly, wishing she could take away your fears.  She wondered where in her lifetime did she go wrong?  Why do the women of today have the same fears as the women of before? 

Little to your knowledge, Pierre had overheard your conversation with Marta.  And he thought how could he be so stupid?  How did he not realize how damaging his words were?  How did he not realize the weight they carried?  How could he allow this to happen?  He mentally slapped himself over and over again for not realizing his mistake.  Our son, the boy, was your’s and Pierre’s son.  

-

“Pierre, where are we going?” you asked as you sat in the passenger seat, as Pierre drove.  

“To do something I should’ve done a long time ago,” Pierre said, as he pulled into a parking garage.  

“Isn’t this your lawyers’ law firm?” you asked, as Pierre parked the car.  

“Yes,” Pierre answered, as he made his way around the car to open the door for you.  

“What are we doing here?” 

“You’ll see,” Pierre said, taking your arm, as the two of you walked into the building lobby.  You silently followed after Pierre, as he made through the lobby, up the elevator and to his lawyer’s office. You watched him exchange a few words with the man behind the desk, before the two of you took a seat, opposite of the lawyer.  “I’m sorry these changes are a bit spur of the moment, but it’s something I should have done a long time ago.” 

“Since the house is paid off, it was actually really easy changes,” the lawyer spoke before setting down paperwork before you and Pierre.  “I’ll just need you both to sign on the line, and initially at the tabs.” 

“Pierre what is this?” you asked, picking up the paperwork before.  

“I’m putting your name on the house,” Pierre said, as he signed his set of paperwork.  

“What?” you asked, as you threw the papers back on the desk, as if they were burning your hands.  “Pierre this is a big thing, that’s your house…” 

“Our,” Pierre said, correcting your statement.  The one word had you shutting your mouth.  

“Huh?” 

“Our house,” Pierre said, as he set his paperwork and pen down, “We have a son together, and our son needs a home.  We need a home for our family.  This house can be our home, together.  y/n, I should have done this when you gave up everything for me, for our family together.  I am sorry this is so late, too late, but I want it to be our home together.  This is our life together, none of this mine anymore.”  

You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face even if the devil himself appeared before you.   You signed away at the line and initialed at all the tabs.  You were so grateful that Pierre was willing to share his life with you.  “You know, you could’ve just asked me to marry you,” you joked as you and Pierre made your way back to the car.  

“I am, I’m just going to do it right,” Pierre smirked at you, “plus it actually doesn’t cost money to add someone’s name to the deed of a house, when the house is paid off.”

[artists-ally]

{Train Wreck} Cassian!sister x Azriel AU {Pt. 1}

Man it feels good to be back with this series again. If you're wondering why the title feels familiar, you might have read this before. I decided I wanted to pick it back up again, but I needed to make a few changes. So, here is the revised version of Train Wreck!! Feel free to re-read, there are some new things here and there, so it's definitely worth it!! Anyway, enjoy my loves! Part 2 will be up soon!! Title and series inspired by this song!

Word Count: 8,587

Warnings: angst, language, traumatized characters (will come into play later in the series, you've been warned now), abandonment,

Tagging: @thelov3lybookworm @needylilgal022 @librafairy @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @sarawritestories @claireswritingcorner @dawneternal @ninthcircleofprythian @blessthepizzaman @lady-of-tearshed @pit-and-the-pen

Summary: After six years, this is the first time Ira and her brother Cassian have been in the same room. Under less than ideal circumstances, they're forced to meet again. Will Ira be able to forgive Cassian for the way he left things? Will she be able to trust the new friends she makes? Will she ever be able to open up to her brothers hot-shot best friend?

~~~~~

“He’s going to say no.” No response from the peanut gallery in the front seat. “Seriously, he’s not going to be okay with this. You might as well let me out of the car now.”

“Will you just be quiet?” Arthur snapped, eyes locking with mine from the rearview mirror. “Need I remind you that this is your fault. You’ve left us with no other option.”

“I told you, it wasn’t me. That was–” “Cal, I remember the story. And that’s all that it is. A story, a fabrication that Arthur and I are no longer going to be entangled in. You may be able to fool the police with that lie, but you can’t fool us, Ira,” Dana snapped, whirling around to shoot me some daggers. She couldn’t look intimidating if she tried; her face was like a bunny, and every time she frowned it just looked like she smelled something rotten.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. There was no way he was going to take me. We hadn’t spoken in almost six years, I didn’t even know he was alive until three months ago when I heard about his engagement.

Fourteen years of growing up together meant nothing to him, I guess.

The big, riverside house came into view at the end of an equally impressive driveway. A shame for whoever had to go and collect the mail every morning. 

“Stay here, in the car,” Arthur barked. 

I opened the door and got out of the car, kicking a few stones. Man this place was flashy; a big fountain in the circular driveway, a line of cars over by a garage. Not to mention the very obvious multi-million dollar mansion that never seemed to end.

“Lord, give me the strength to not strangle this child,” Arthur sighed, marching to the front door. I snickered, he was always so uptight.

“Not a child, Arthur,” I countered. “I’m fucking twenty years old.”

“Give it a rest, Ira. We’re trying to help you since you clearly don’t understand the basic human morals of being a functioning member of society,” Dana said, opening the trunk, catching a bag as it tumbled from the stack.

“Sorry that I don’t like to conform to the idealistic fantasy that is modern society.” 

Turns out it’s hard to get a job with a criminal record. ‘We can’t hire a liability’ this and ‘we won’t have delinquents running our business’ that. So, I had to get creative with my… places of employment. It had been a fantastic plan. Brilliant even. Just something simple to save a few bucks so I could move out of this god forsaken place. But it got fucked up. Bad. And ended up with me in handcuffs.

This was my punishment. Instead of serving six months in county jail, I’m instead being dumped at this doorstep. Just what I always wanted. Knowing if I ever go back to the shithole I called home I’ll be arrested with a warrant.

I’ll never go in on a deal with someone ever again. 

“Get your stuff,” Dana dropped a few things to the ground. 

I came around the side of the car and heard the door open, and that lovely voice of his ring through my head. 

Great. This is going to go fantastic.

“Arthur? W-What are you doing here?” he said, a hiccup to his voice. 

“Cassian, good to see you,” the old man grinned, extending his hand. I watched through the windows of the van, saw Cassian stare at Arthurs hand and do nothing with it. “We uhh… we have something for you.”

“I don’t understand. How’d you find me?”

I could hear the crunch of gravel and I knew what was about to happen. Any second now I was about to come face to face with the douchebag I was dreading. I won’t lie, some small, juvenile part of me wished for him to be happy to see me. But I know it’s not gonna happen. 

“Dana? What the fuck is going on? Why are you here? How did you-”

“She’s not the surprise, Cass,” Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and walked to the back of the car. I didn’t miss the way he shuddered. 

There was a sharp yank on my elbow and I was pulled from the safety of my hiding spot. I jerked away from his grip, fixing the sleeve on my favorite jacket. Then I looked up. Fuck he’s…

“Ira…” He blinked several times, as if he could ever mistake me for someone else. Then I watched the color drain from his face. “It’s uhh… it’s been a while.” “Don’t give me that shit,” I couldn’t be bothered to be pleasant. Nothing about this would be fucking pleasant.

Cassian looked from Arthur to Dana, then back to me. And to the duffle bag that I was holding on to. I could see him connecting the dots inside his thick-ass skull. “No. No no no–”

“Cassian, she needs someone to look after her,” Dana expressed, chasing after him when he turned around. 

“You cannot just plop her on my doorstep like some stray dog,” Cass shouted, throwing his arms in the air and all around.

“She’s your sister, for fucks sake,” Arthur joined. “She needs you to look after her. Since you left, Ira has done nothing but cause me headaches and gray hairs.”

“I’m right here, you know,” I walked over, throwing the bag down. “And I’d appreciate if you talked about me like a fucking human being, not some gag gift that is always shuffled around Christmas because no one wants it.”

“This is fucking ridiculus. I cannot take you in, Ira. I have too much going on.”

“Some things never change,” I huffed. “See, I told you he wouldn’t give me the time of day. You’re still the same selfish, self-centered asshole you’ve always been.”

“Don’t talk like that to your goddamn brother,” Arthor yelled, spit flying onto my cheek. It took every ounce of self restraint to not rip his fucking throat out. Do not stoop to his level, Ira. Calm the fuck down.

“Cass? What’s going on?” Someone called

Cassian scrunched his face, and my eyes went to the door. A pretty woman was standing there with her arms folded. She had a scowl on her face and narrow eyes. Her long brown hair was braided over her shoulder. 

He heaved a sigh, rubbing his eyes. “Nothing, these people were just leaving.”

“Who’s here?” Another voice, a man, asked next. He was tall, had black hair and really deep blue eyes. They actually looked violet in the light. He was just as tall as Cassian when he came next to his side. The woman, with the most terrifying gaze I’ve ever seen, stood on his other side. 

Cassian muttered something under his breath and rubbed his forehead. “This is Arthur and Dana. My foster parents from years ago. And this… this is my sister.”

“Your sister?” Both of them exclaimed at the same time. 

He didn’t even tell them about me… 

I stand there, shocked to my core. God I knew he was an asshole, but he never once mentioned me? What a fucking–

“They were just–” “Come in come in,” the man stepped down and shook Arthur's hand. “I am Rhysand, call me Rhys. Welcome, we are so pleased to have you. Cassian never mentioned having visitors today.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Dana let out the fakest laugh I’ve ever heard. She was one of those people who, when nervous, laughed after every sentence. I’ve come to despise the sound. 

“No, Rhys,” Cassian shook his head. “They are not welcome. Take your fucking shit, take your goddamn bags, and go. You’re not allowed back here.”

At least that’s something we could both agree on. Neither side of this party wanted to be here. The feeling was mutual. 

“Welp, you heard the man,” I clapped my hands together. “Sorry to disrupt your whole life, to remind you that I still exist but we’ll go now. We all know that you don’t want the responsibility anyway. You didn’t want it six years ago, so why would that change today?”

“You know goddamn well that if I had a choice I would’ve–”

“Okay, okay can we cool it a couple degrees here? Someone better start explaining what is going on,” the man, Rhys, said. He put an arm between Cassian and I. I wasn’t sure when I got in his face, but he might want to remove the barrier before it gets ripped off. 

There were a couple too many silent heart beats, but both of us backed down. Cassian glanced at Arthur and Dana, taking a deep breath. I watched his chest rise and fall. 

In for four, out for four. In for five, out for five…

A lump rose in my throat. 

I could practically hear the conversation between Cassian and Rhys. This silent exchange of glances and body language I’m sure I’d never understand. But then Cassian backed down. Literally, he took a step back, hands on his hips.

“Would you guys like to stay for dinner?” Rhys asked Arthur and Dana.

Dinner? Dinner? Oh fuuuuck no. The four of us haven’t been in a room together for six years, and this crackhead just asked if we wanted to have dinner?

“We would be delighted,” Dana accepted, shooting me a look from head to toe. “Since it’s still midday, would you mind showing us around the property? It looks gorgeous.”

“Certainly,” Rhys says, offering his elbow. Dana latches on like a lost duckling, Arthur trailing after her. 

And then there were two. 

I looked up at the clouds, finding no discernible shapes amongst them. Welp. Here fucking goes nothing. 

“Lovely weather we’re having.”

“Do not,” he pointed at me. “You are not staying here, whenever this little tour is over, you’re gone with them.”

“Gladly.” 

“How the fuck did you guys find me anyway?” His eyes were full of rage. Full of hate. Full of resentment.

“It's amazing the things you can find with twenty bucks and a library computer.”

“You hacked into a library system and stalked me?” Cassian was dumbfounded.

I just smirked. “It wasn’t that hard, don’t give yourself too much credit. Kinda hard to hide somewhere when your face is plastered all over your website. ‘Velaris Hotel and Casino’ has a catchy ring to it, come up with it yourself?”

“I swear to god if I ever see you set foot in my hotel or my casino you’re gonna regret it. I cannot believe you hunted me down.”

“And I cannot believe you abandoned me,” I screamed. Years and years of pent up aggression. Years and years of shower thoughts and late nights wondering what I’d say to him when this moment came. And every single thing I’ve thought of has flown out the fucking window. 

Cassian had the gull to roll his eyes. I almost smacked him across the face. 

“Yo, are you coming inside or what?” A third voice sounded. God, how many people live in this fucking house?

A petite, blonde girl was in the doorway, her eyes bouncing between us. 

“Well? You gonna invite me in or is that privilege only reserved for Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb?” I asked, rocking back and forth on my heels. 

He looked me head to toe, and I got that same feeling as when Dana did it. Just raw disgust. 

“Break anything and I’ll murder you.”

“I’m thinking you’re gonna murder me regardless but eye-eye-captain,” I nodded, following behind his solid frame. 

The house was absolutely massive. I thought shit like this only existed in movies, not… wherever the fuck we were. Certainly not my normal run-down streets I was used to, and certainly not somewhere I ever thought Cassian was going to end up. 

There were cabinets filled with fine dishes and a chandelier hanging in the front entrance. There was a massive living room with the biggest TV and couch I’ve ever seen. Same with the kitchen and the dining room, which was being prepped by maids. Legit, actual maids. For fucks sake could this get any stranger?

Cassian took a left and went up a set of stairs. Classic Cass, running away at any chance he gets. My phone buzzed in my pocket. 

Cal: your a piece of shit I hope you know that

Me: You’re* but it’s fine.

Cal: i cannot believe you fucking left me

Me: Whoops. Sorry bud, I couldn’t stick around. You dicked me over so… guess that karma’s a bitch.

Cal: you know im bad with names

Me: WE USED EACH OTHERS MOTHER FUCKER. HOW HARD CAN IT BE TO FORGET MY NAME

Cal: hopefully pretty fucking easy because i don’t ever want to fucking see you ever again fuck you ira

Me: Right back atcha, asshole.

The only person that I had remotely trusted was out of my life. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve ever had someone to trust. There were plenty of things I never told Cal. Plenty of things I kept hidden for my own safety. It was a strictly need-to-know partnership. I always got a little weary when he started asking too many questions. 

And I learned pretty fucking quick you can’t trust your own blood either. 

Lesson learned. Always. Trust. Your. Gut. 

I trailed behind Dana and Arthur, always five steps behind, close enough to hear, but far enough to make an escape should I need to. 

“Oh, and this is my wife Feyre. My darling, this is Arthur, Dana, and Ira, Cassian’s foster parents and his sister,” Rhys spared me a glance and I scrunched my face. Had Cassian really never bothered to tell them about me?

“Wow,” she had a small smile on her pretty face. Why was everyone here so pretty? “You look just like him. You both have the same eyes. And the same hair.”

“Great, what I’ve always wanted to be. Cassian's clone.” I couldn’t stop the eye roll.

“Ira,” Dana hissed. “Some manners?”

“Thank you, your Royal Highness.”

Dana smacked her forehead, mumbling something about gray hairs and a headache again. I chuckled. I thought it was funny. Especially the curtsy. 

“They are staying for dinner, I’ll let them know to set a few extra plates,” Rhys said.

“Good, I wouldn’t mind getting to know some of Cassian’s family,” Feyre nodded, that small smile still on her lips. We had all meandered outside to look at their yard, at the fountain in the front of the house. 

To no one's surprise, there was a matching one in the back by the pool. 

We all went inside after seeing the yard, but Cassian lingered at the back of the pack. While Rhys took Dana and Arthur around to the kitchen, Cassian yanked me–why was everyone throwing me around?–into a room off to the side. 

“What the fuck did you do this time?” Off to a great start.

“Wow, Cassie-”

“Do not call me that.” 

He used to hate it when I called him Cassie. Especially around his friends because they would make fun of him for days after. 

“No hi, how are you? No ‘it's good to see that my sister is alive and doing well?’” “Clearly not well enough since they dragged you all the way out here.” Cassian’s eyes were full of fire. Looks like he still had that canyon of a line between his bushy-ass-eyebrows when he was upset. 

“You don’t know anything of what I’ve had to endure the last six fucking years without you.”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

I swallowed, I hated when he scolded me. “It wasn’t even that bad. They just gave me community service.” I lied out of my ass.

“Jesus Christ, Ira. What did they want to give you?” Cassian shouted for the whole house to hear. 

“Doesn’t matter, I got myself out of it. Like I always do, without your fucking help. I am capable of taking care of myself without you.”

“Yeah you seem to be doing a swell job,” Cassian looked me up and down, clearly judging my tangled hair and ripped up jeans that I’ve probably had since middle school. “I thought all of this was behind you, Ira. When I left you were-”

“Abandoned. You didn’t leave, you abandoned me.”

Cassian relaxed his shoulders. “You know if I could’ve taken you with me I would’ve.”

“No you wouldn’t have.” I was waiting for him to argue, to deny that fact. But he didn’t, and his haunting silence was enough of an answer. I scoffed, a hard, bitter noise. “You know I don’t blame you, no one would want to take a juvenile delinquent anywhere, especially somewhere like this place.”

“Ira-” “Save you’re fucking breath, Cass. You don’t have to pretend around me, you’ve never had to. Just play along with it for one night and I’ll be gone by the morning. Then I won’t have to be your liability to shoulder ever again.”

I didn’t wait around to see his response. Somewhere deep inside I was actually excited to see him. To meet the person my scrawny, gangly brother had turned into. Now he was… a man. Like a real man. I never thought I’d see him with long hair, but here we are.

He looked healthy. He looked happy. For fucks sake he was engaged. Albeit to the most terrifying looking woman I’ve ever seen, but they looked like they somehow worked.

I found Dana and Arthur with glasses of wine around a large table, two other women that I hadn’t met yet. 

“Ahh, this is her,” Rhys stood up, putting his hands on my shoulders. I immediately shrugged them off. “This is Ira, Cassian’s sister.”

“After all this time,” the pretty blonde woman spoke, looking at me from head to toe. “Who knew Cassian could keep you a secret.”

“You look just like him,” a girl who looked similarly to Feyre said, eyes wide. “I’m Elain. And that’s Morrigan.”

“Mor is fine, dear,” Mor smiled, coming over to me and Rhys. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

“Not really,” I grimace, but she linked her elbow with mine anyway, dragging me away. “I know that look. You’re overwhelmed. Follow me.”

I thought I was doing a good job at masking it. “You don’t know the fucking half of it.”

“I know Elain said this already, but fuck you look like Cassian,” she laughed, opening a room and revealing a giant bed with a balcony on the other side of some french doors. 

“It gets really fucking annoying,” I rolled my eyes. 

“Understood,” she nodded, not pushing it. “This is my room, you can go out on the balcony if you need some fresh air. Or the bathroom, whatever you want.”

This entire room was as big as the trailer I grew up in. I’ve never seen such a big bed, or a big closet. Jesus, she could have the entirety of Macy’s in there. 

She must’ve caught me staring at it cause she walked over and flipped on the light. “Wanna take a look?”

I snapped back to her, shaking my head. I shoved my hands in my pockets, digging my nails into my palms. Everything in here was so pristine, and I was so… not. I didn’t wanna step anywhere but the hardwood floor.

“I like your jacket, those are some really cool patches,” she smiled, taking a closer look. She reached out and touched one, the blue plaid square fraying at the edges. 

It was a cut out of Cassian’s flannel he left behind…

“Thanks,” I nodded, ignoring the lump in my throat. “I’ve spent a lot of time making them.”

“That's so cool, I have zero creative ability,” Mor sighed as she flopped back on the bed. 

“Neither do I, just something to pass the time, I guess?” I took my hands out of my pockets, digging some grime out from under my nails. 

I could feel her eyes on me. That tension. Knowing she’s about to say something. 

“Look, I know it’s not my place to ask, but–”

“Then don’t ask. Cause I’m not saying shit,” I said bluntly. “Sorry if that's rude but I don’t know you and you clearly don’t know me so… I don’t need the whole ‘I know what you’re going through’ speech. You don’t. No one does. Not even myself.”

Mor nodded, sitting up, propping her arms behind her back. “I’m a little pissed at Cassian too.”

My eyes snapped to hers. “Why?”

“Because he has never once mentioned you? I know some of where he came from, of bouncing around the foster system, about ‘siblings’ but… he never went into detail. I just assumed they were all other kids in the system, you know? If he would’ve mentioned something about you, trust me, we would have not waited this long to be introduced.”

That… makes me feel slightly better. 

“There's not much to know about me. I’m a fucking nuisance to basically everyone. Especially to Cassian, Arthur, and Dana apparently.”

“What the fuck is their problem?” Mor scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. 

“I don’t know. Well– of course I know, it’s me. I’m their fucking problem and they’re trying to get rid of me. I made a dumb fucking decision, but I already did my fucking time. I don’t want anything to do with Cassian so I’m not sure why they’re dragging him into this mess.” 

Mor just looked at me sorrowfully. Fuck, why did I say that? I don’t want her pity. I can’t pretend she cares about me. 

She got off the bed and stood in front of me. She was shorter than I was, but not by a whole lot. 

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. I know it’s fucking awful what they’re making you do, so I don’t blame you for wanting to hide. Help yourself to anything you need.”

And then she was gone. Blonde hair bobbing with her steps. 

This isn’t fucking happening. I’m not in some strange girls room, alone nonetheless, in a different city hundreds of miles away from my familiar streets. I was not about to be abandoned here by Arthur and Dana because they couldn’t stand to take care of me anymore. Not the first, not the second, but the third time I’ve been abandoned. 

Man this is some fucking bullshit. 

I just looked around, envying all of this. It was all hers. All this space, all these things. All these clothes and dresses and jewelry boxes… Why can’t I have these things?

I swallow my tears. I’m so fucking pathetic, why am I about to cry? This is so stupid. Everything about this is stupid. 

I head to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. 

A plan flickers to life in my brain. I know for a fact they’re going to sneak out and leave me and all my shit here. But, I’ll just leave in the middle of the night. Who the fuck is gonna stop me? No one. Who cares if I leave? Also no one. 

I won’t make the same mistake that Cassian did. When I disappear, no one will be able to find me.

I took a long look at myself in the mirror. My tired eyes, my tangled, ratty hair. But I could see it… the resemblance between him and I. The same eyes. Same nose. Same hair. I’ll never be able to unsee it now. 

Okay, Ira. just a few more hours and you're done. Done for good. You can change your name and move to Puerto Rico or something. Paris. Wherever you want to go. Well, you don’t know how to speak Spanish or French, which might be important but… that's why they have translating apps, right? You’ll be fine. You always are.

When I got back downstairs, there was a light chatter in the air. But it stopped the second I walked in the room. 

My hood was quick to go over my head. No one spoke as I sat down and poured some water from the pitcher into my glass. 

Thankfully conversation between Rhys, Feyre, and Dana resumed and the silence wasn’t eating me alive. I took out my phone and scrolled through instagram, posting a picture of a lake I had taken on the drive up here. Just like all the other posts, it wouldn’t get any likes. 

“How do all of you know each other?” Arthur asked. 

“Well I met Cassian when we were in high school, as well as our other friend Azriel,” Rhys started. “We made a deal with each other that when we graduate, we would do everything in our power to become the most powerful business owners we could. As you can see, that little pact is working quite well.” “How long have you lived here?” Dana asked next, clearly eyeing up Rhys. 

“For about three years now?” Mor answered, Rhys nodded. “We kind of all found each other on the same paths and stuck together. We sort of own and share everything around here.”

“That is lovely,” Dana smiled. “And what do you do?”

“I own a casino and a neighboring hotel,” Rhys smiled. The moment I had learned about this hotel and casino, alarm bells rang in my ears. The devil's playground, and it was calling my name. Maybe I’d hit up for a few poker hands. “Cassian runs the whole thing, and Azriel kind of has his own thing.”

“Who’s Azriel?” Arthur unfolded the napkin and laid it across his lap. 

“He is our other friend,” Cassian butted in, lips pressed in that line that I remembered. “He’ll be by later.”

“Great,” I rolled my eyes. “More people.”

“Will you please be polite for once in your life?” Dana whisper-yelled, clearly not being discrete enough since everyone looked at us. 

I just shut my mouth, grinding my teeth. It’s not worth it, it's not worth it, I told myself. A few moments later, a large tray with some type of bird on it came out. It was too big to be a chicken, but too small to be a turkey? Duck maybe? I don’t know, it didn’t matter. It was food. 

Everyone around me took their time while I ate like a heathen. Putting a little bit of everything on my plate and scarfing it down like someone was going to take it away from me. Guess I’m taking on the stray dog title pretty well. 

“So, Ira. What do you like to do?” Mor asked me. 

I don't know what part of my hood being pulled over my head gave off ‘I want to be a part of this conversation’, but here we go I guess. 

“I have many hobbies.” I could see Cassian’s eyes narrow from across the table. 

“Like?” Rhys stuck a green bean in his mouth.

“Uhh, f-fashion. And I’m very good at handling money. Other people's money. As well as picking locks and hotwiring cars-”

“She’s joking,” Cassian gave the fakest laugh– besides Dana’s– that I’ve ever heard. “We used to play cops and robbers when we were little, she always wanted to be the robber.”

“Did I?”

“Yes,” he practically growled. “You did.”

This was crazy. This was actually crazy to be doing this right now. If I had any particular feeling about the things I did, guilty and ashamed were not some of them. Who gave a fuck if I stole from Walmart or faked being a waitress to make a few extra bucks? If anything they should be thanking me for the extra set of hands. Which they didn’t have to pay for. 

It wasn’t like I stole the Mona Lisa for fucks sake. 

“I guess I did.” 

“What was Cassian like growing up? I can only imagine some of the stories you have,” Nesta chimed in from next to Cassian.

“I have a few. One time, Cassian was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich-”

“Do not-”

“And he thought that the peanut butter was in the fridge for some reason. Turns out he grabbed a bottle of dijon mustard and used that instead. He took one bite and threw up everywhere. It took Dana a week to get the smell out of the kitchen.”

Everyone grimaced, poking fun at Cassian for making a jelly-mustard sandwich. “I guess that explains the nausea every time I make one.”

“You still can’t stomach even the smell?” My eyes were a little wide. That had to have been from when we were still in elementary school.

“Nope,” Cassian’s tone was harsh, fork forceful as it went into his mouth. 

“What is everyone laughing about?” A new voice said from over my shoulder. When I turned to look… holy mother of Jesus fucking–

“Azriel,” Rhys, still in a fit of laughter. “Listen to this: Ira, Cassian’s sister, told us why he runs for the hills every time he sees peanut butter.”

“S-Sister?” 

I could not have ignored the exchange between Cass and Azriel if I tried. Those alarm bells from earlier? They were deafening now. Much like Cassian and Rhys earlier, their eyes and body gestures were like a language in and of itself. Impossible to understand, but something was said. 

“Azriel, this is my sister. Ira,” Cassian gestured to me without looking. “This is Azriel. And my foster parents, Arthur and Dana.”

I held Azriel’s gaze for a second. I couldn’t quite figure out what his problem was, but he better not have one with me. I challenged his gaze, but he refused to back down. 

Azriel gave a not-so-subtle look at me, but didn’t say anything as he moved to sit with us. A sharp kick to my shin had me wincing. When I looked up, Cassian met my heated gaze. 

Don’t even think about it, he mouthed, glare set so deep in his eyes I wasn't sure his eye lids would peel off his face. 

One raise of my eyebrow told him I was up for the challenge. I could see his jaw clench, and that only made me want to push his buttons. 

I managed to break my vice hold on Cassian and look at Azriel from across the table. He had these lighter colored eyes, hazel I think. And a dark mess of hair. He wore a fitted black athletic tee, and black sweats with a Nike swoosh on the hip. I think I stared a little too long, cause when I looked back up at his face, he sent me a wink. 

I damn near gagged. He wishes. 

“And you’re engaged? That’s wonderful, Cassian. I am so happy for you,” Dana gushed while looking at Nesta’s ring. “Congratulations, you two. Do you have a date picked out?”

“No,” Nesta said sternly. “We are just going to wait things out. Until both of us feel ready.”

Cassian nodded, not offering up any words. 

“What would you guys like for dessert?” Rhys asked, listing off a few options. I stopped paying attention after chocolate cake because who would want to hear anything else?

“I’m afraid we better get on the road, it is a long drive back to our home. Thank you for dinner, it was delicious,” Arthur stood up from the table, shaking Rhys’s hand. “Cassian, a word, please?”

With a deep breath, Cassian stood up and followed the old man out of the room. 

“Okay, now that he’s gone, can we all agree that there is something wrong with him? I’ve never seen him so… so rigid in my life,” Mor blew out air from her lips, shaking her head. 

I offered a tad bit of insight. “Dana and Arthur are kind of fed up with me so they’re just gonna take off. And leave me here. But don’t worry, I’m just gonna find a bus stop in the morning and be gone before any of you wake up. No biggie.”

The room was silent except for my fork scratching on the plate. When I looked up, everyone was looking at me funny.

“Ira, what? They’re gonna leave you here?” Mor gasped.

“It is a long story. And they think I need a role model to get my life together. Why Cassian is that role model I’ll never understand because the last I knew of him he was just as irresponsible as I was.”

Rhys took a sip of wine, “How long has it been since you’ve seen each other?”

“Six years. But I mean you all probably know him better than I ever did so, might wanna ask that prick why he abandoned me.” I took a big piece of this chocolate cake into my mouth. “Fuck, this is good.”

“What happened?” Feyre prodded.

“We are lightyears away from you being able to ask that,” I laughed. “No offense but, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Again, the room was silent, except for a small snort at the end of the table. It wasn’t Elain because she was so red she looked like she was gonna pass out. And the only other one was Azriel. 

“Hint taken,” Rhys pressed his lips in a flat line. “Well, you are Cassian’s family, so you are always welcome in our home.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be. I’ll figure it out, I always have. It’ll be like I was never here,” I took another forkful and shoved it in. Damn, I was gonna miss this cake. “So, Rhys, you own a casino and a hotel. What do the rest of you do?”

I’ll pretend like I care for my own amusement.  

“Well, Cassian runs the casino and hotel,” Rhys pointed out again. “Azriel owns and runs the adjacent club. We basically have our own empire here.”

“Sounds riveting,” I rolled my eyes. “What about you Mor.”

“I am the best fucking bartender this place has seen,” she grinned. “And I model here and there.” “Wonderful.” So she’s a princess. Got it. 

“I have an art studio. I teach classes and do some workshops,” Feyre said. “But most of the time I am at home with our son Nyx. He is… he’s a handful. A spoiled handful.”

“Hey,” Mor said, “to be fair, he is the first kid in our group, what did you expect?”

“He’s barely two, he doesn’t need designer clothes that he won’t fit into after a few months anyway. It's a waste of money.”

“Feyre, darling, I don’t know if you’ve looked around, but we kind of have a lot of money. It could use some wasting,” Rhys patted her thigh under the table. 

I can only hope to have enough financial security to be able to say sentences like that. They could probably retire right now, all of them, and never make a dent in their fortune. Lucky bastards. 

“What is it that you do, Ira?” Azriel poked his head from around Mor. 

“Oh,” I sputtered. What the hell was I supposed to say? Certainly the fact that I commit petty crimes won’t go over well. “I’ve had a lot of jobs. I don’t have a set career yet.”

“So hot-wiring cars is just a hobby then?” 

A stream of water shot out of Mor’s mouth and onto the table. How did he even hear that?

“It’s a skill. Don’t come crying to me when your battery dies and you don’t wanna pay a hundred and fifty dollars for AAA to come and pick up your ass,” I deflected. Another skill I had built up over the years. 

“And the locks?” Wow, he was kind of an asshole with supersonic hearing. I could see why he and Cassian hung around together. 

“I was a locksmith,” I mustered up my best smile and scooted my chair so I was sitting at an angle.

“Ah, so it wasn’t just the ‘cops and robbers’ you and Cassie used to play growing up. Good to know,” Azriel wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He stood up, saying something about having to leave because he had to open up. 

Just as he was walking by, I stuck my toe into the walkway and he tripped over me. Azriel all but went through the wall, Cassian coming around at the last second and catching his arm. 

“You alright?” He asked as Azriel straightened himself out. 

“Yup. Fine.” The glare he gave me sent a smirk curling at my lips. Two can play that game, mother fucker. 

I, very gracefully, scratched the corner of my nose with my middle finger. He got the message. But so did Cassian.

“Your stuff is in the driveway. Go get it and meet me upstairs.” Cassian looked so pissed off. His shoulders were pinned to his ears again as he stalked away, that silence settling back in the room. 

“Guess that’s my cue to get a move on. Thank you everyone, a pleasure to meet you all,” I said with a genuine tone. They were all cool.  

The three duffle bags and backpack were not light as I carried them up the stairs, trying not to knock over all the decorations and pictures on the wall. One of them didn’t survive. It crashed all the way down and shattered on the hardwood floor. Cassian cursed from somewhere. 

With a thud, I let go of all the bags in some random room at the end of the hall. It was barely big enough to call a hobbit hole. There wasn’t a window or a real bed, just some cot with a pillow and a blanket. “Glamourous.”

“It’s the best that I could do,” Cassian all but rolled his eyes. 

“A couch would’ve been better,” I plopped down on the taught fabric, bouncing a little. “Sorry about the frame.” “It’s fine,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Ira I’m sorry about how I left you.” “Yeah well apologies don’t mean a fucking thing to me unless you fix it, Cassian,” I folded my arms over my chest. “And for the record, I would’ve understood if you would’ve just fucking told me what was going on. Instead, not only did you not tell me, you ghosted me.” I just blinked up at him, waiting for an explanation. “Well?”

Nothing. Not even a strangled breath. “I just had to.”

“That’s the best you can do? Are you seriously still that fucking thick in the head?” “I didn’t have a choice, Ira,” he shouted. 

“Yes,” I nodded. “You absolutely had a choice. You could’ve at least left me a fucking note with a number on it so I could talk to you. You were all I had, Cass. All I fucking had and you just disappeared. What did you expect me to do?”

Cassian shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I-I don’t know. I thought you’d get yourself together and make it out too. Build your own empire, like the one we have here.”

“In case you forgot, I didn’t get to finish school like you did.”

“Well that’s not my fault.”

The fucking nerve. I stood up, barely coming to his chest, and smacked him across the face. His head jerked to the side, and his mouth fell open. I shoved him into the wall on the other side of the hallway and he fell into it. 

“You are a piece of fucking shit Cassian.”

“Ira–” “Did you really think that I would end up alright without you there? Could you really be that fucking stupid?”

“I didn’t think that–”

“Of course you didn’t. You never have. You’ve only ever thought about yourself and what would benefit you. You never gave a shit about me, I was just a burden you couldn’t get rid of.” “That’s not true,” he gritted his teeth. 

“Tell me that I am not a constant reminder of dad. Or mom. Tell me.” I waited for a response. When nothing came, I felt the nausea roll through my body. “You are one sorry son of a bitch Cassian.”

“Jesus Ira you think I wanted to abandon you?” “You haven’t given me one other reason to believe anything different,” I was screaming now. I didn’t care if anyone else heard. “The last memory I have of you is seeing you packing a fucking bag and climbing out your window, what else am I supposed to believe about you?”

A door clicked open, and Azriel emerged. He looked at us with raised eyebrows. “Everything alright?” 

No, you fucking prick. 

“Just re-kindling our sibling rivalry,” I gave a mocking look, staring down Azriel. “Mind your own damn business. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Ira,” Cassian said, somewhat appalled. 

“Just fuck off, Cassian,” I waved my hand at him. “Like I said, I’ll be gone in the morning and you don’t ever have to worry about making it up to me again because you won’t be able to. Hope you are happy living in your perfect little bubble with your perfectly little circle. Hope they’re all more important to you than I ever was.”

I slammed the door shut quicker than he could get a response out, leaning against it. I hadn’t ever realized that I was shaking.

Whatever. Fuck him too. I don’t need Cassian. I haven’t needed him for the past six years. God, has it really been that long?

There was no use in unpacking so I just piled the bags in the corner of the room. And there was also nothing to do besides lay down simply because there wasn’t enough room to do anything else. 

Maybe when everyone has gone to sleep, or home, I’ll go sneak around. Take something just to piss him off. Nothing too valuable, but something really inconvenient like all the salt and pepper shakers or all the spoons. 

Or one of the Corvettes in the driveway.

My mind was racing with thoughts, but eventually I had fallen asleep because the sun was peeking through the crack under my door. I stirred and sat up, sighing loudly. 

I changed into a hoodie and some other jeans, slipping my jacket on knowing it'll be chilly. 

With far more precision, I made it downstairs to the front door. It unlocked easily, thankfully no alarm system went off. The crisp morning greeted me and I slipped out silently. 

Fuck, this driveway was long. Couldn’t they be normal and have a normal fucking sized driveway? It was so unnecessary. 

And of course there was nothing at the end of it. Just the road and nothing else. Not another house or anything. Who knows how far it could be until a bus station. Hopefully this place wasn’t filled with a bunch of weirdos and I wouldn’t get kidnapped. 

The thought of carrying all these bags for miles would tear up my back and shoulders. I didn’t have that much but… I needed all of it. 

“Ira!”

I whirled around and saw a Cassian shaped silhouette coming down the driveway. Oh great. 

“Come to demand I pay for the broken frame?” “Stay.”

What? “What?”

Cassian breathed heavily, “Stay. I-I am so sorry for what I said. And you’re right, I don’t ever think of anyone other than myself. And I’m sorry I never told you where I was going. I want to fix it, but I can’t if you don’t at least let me try.”

I dropped the bags, totally not believing what I was hearing. “And what if I don’t give a flying fuck if you want to or not?”

Cassian completely deflated. “Please, Ira. I made a promise to mom and dad that I would look after you. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I don’t feel like a piece of shit for what I did. I miss you.”

So what if he made a promise to mom and dad? He made a promise to me. To always stick together. To always be there. He hung me out to dry before I even had a chance to notice. His apology means nothing. His desperation means nothing. 

I fucking hated Cassian. More than anything right now I wanted to watch him be boiled alive. Could he really even help me anyway? What was the fucking point of any of this? I was already humiliated, and dragging innocent people into my bullshit surely didn’t help. 

I sucked in a big breath, hiking my bag up on my shoulder, ready to bolt. “Why should I?”

“Because what other option do you realistically have?” 

“That is not fair,” I flare my nostrils. “You have no right to waltz back into my life and pretend you give a shit about me.”

“You were the one who was dropped on my doorstep,” Cassian pointed out, making my stomach drop. 

“You know, you’re doing a shit job at showing that you legitimately want me to stay, asshole.” I was getting a little angry. Good things did not happen when I felt betrayed. “And for the record, I tried to talk them out of bringing me here, but they went around me and got a fucking court order. So, whether you want to believe it or not, it was not my choice to be here. I can’t even go back with Dana and Arthur because there will be a warrant out for my arrest.”

“Shit…” Cassian dragged a hand over his face. “Ira I’m-”

“Sorry? I know. But you lost the privilege of my forgiveness long ago. It is gonna take a hell of a lot more than ‘I’m sorry’ to fix what you’ve done to me.”

“I know, I know,” Cassian softened his eyes and his voice, standing tall in front of me. “Just… give me something. Anything, and I will never betray you ever again.”

Should I believe him? I have no fucking idea what to do. All my senses are telling me to run and don’t look back, but that gaping pit in my stomach that formed when he left seems a little less… gaping.  

This was gonna be a rough fucking time. Nothing about this is going to be easy, but… he was right. I didn’t have another option. Prison, if I really was desperate, but I didn’t quite feel like losing all my basic human rights.

If he wanted me to stay, there were going to have to be some sacrifices on his end.

Maybe a little room for petty behavior. 

“I want a real fucking room.” I demanded

“Any one in the house.”

“I want yours.”

“Absolutely not,” Cassian furrowed his brow. “Plus, I don’t even live here anymore. Just Rhys, Feyre and Nyx. Nesta, Azriel and I live in the next town.”

“So what, you all just visit together and pretend to be a big happy family?” I scoffed, kicking a stone. 

“We don’t pretend, Ira,” he didn’t say it rudely, but more matter of fact-ly. And he looked at me like I had never known what a family was. I guess he forgot that when he left it kind of ruined me. Or again maybe he just didn’t care what it would do to me back then. 

Cassian looked sad. Not depressed or upset, just sad. 

“Your room or I’m gonna walk away right now.” There was no room for negotiating in my voice. I could see the conflict in his eyes, but with a sigh he gave in. 

“Fine, you can have my room,” Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Actually it was. I spent weeks designing that room. All for it to go to fucking waste.”

“Sucks to suck I guess,” I smirked, shouldering two of my bags. I took a long, non-rage-filled look at my brother. Man… he looked so different. Six years is a long time to not see someone. 

I gotta make this work. “I’m gonna work hard, you know. I’m tired of always being in the fucking mud.”

“Yup. Me too.” Nice, asshole. “You’re going to have to follow some rules and check in. This isn’t going to be a free-for-all, you’re gonna have a curfew.”

“A curfew? What am I, thirteen?”

“Until you can prove to me that you’re not gonna go and rob a bank, yes, you’ll have a curfew,” Cassian picked up my other bags and started walking back to the house. “We’re gonna find you a job because I will not be funding your operation.”

“What happened to ‘we have a lot of money. It could use some wasting’?”

“Rhys wasn’t wrong,” Cassian said. “But just because we have it doesn’t mean you get access to it.”

“Jeez, sorry I brought it up, grumpy pants. And what kind of rules anyway?”

“We’ll talk about it later. Some of us like to get a full eight hours of sleep every day so I am going back to bed. You’re not allowed to leave the house until I say so, so find something to do.”

“Or someone,” I whispered to myself. But Cassian heard. “A joke.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you eye fucking Azriel,” Cassian practically gagged. “That is one of your rules. You are not allowed to be engaged with him in any type of way. The last thing he needs right now is you.”

“Right to the heart. And please, I could do better.” That part was debatable for sure. 

“I mean it, he’s been through a lot the past year and a half. It took him a long time to get to where he is and I won’t let you ruin it for him,” Cassian said possessively. “He, along with everyone else, is my family. Fuck with them and you’re dealing with me.” “News flash, buddy, so am I. We share the same DNA, and hair and eyes according to everyone else on the fucking planet.”

“Ira, I’m serious. If you fuck around with Azriel and I find out I sweat to–”

“Jesus, calm down Vengeance. Gotham is safe from the Joker,” I followed him inside, clicking the door shut behind me. “I won’t get involved with Azriel.”

“Good.”

He carried the bags to his car, telling me we’d make it to his house sometime in the afternoon. After that? I just… wandered. I looked in the kitchen, grabbing an orange and a few granola bars from the pantry. I slipped out the back door to the pool and sat on one of the lounge chairs. 

The sunrise was full of oranges and golds. Much different from the other sunrises I’m used to up on the roof. The soft wind blew the water in the pool, making gentle lapping noises. I closed my eyes. Stretched my legs. 

I’ve gotta be careful or I might get used to this. 

I know the ending of this book. Read these pages, seen the titles. It’s gonna be no fucking different. I’ll give it the good ol’ college try, but it’s never gonna fucking work. I’ll do something stupid, piss off the wrong person and Cassian will kick me to the curb. Just a waiting game. 

Nothing I can do about it, so I might as well see where fate takes me.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Crossed Lines || George Weasley

Title: Crossed Lines Pairing: Single Dad!George x Nanny!Reader Summary: Crossing the line between professional and personal is always a risk, and this time it’s one George is willing to take.  A/N: I love dad!george and you can pry him from my cold dead hands. Feedback is always appreciated! <3

-

George Weasley never imagined his life would turn out this way. 

As a man in his mid-20s, he was living the life most would be envious of. For starters he and his brother started their own company as teenagers, and now several years later they are still their own bosses. Not to mention he’s a single man, living in central London, free to do whatever and whoever he pleases. He gets to do what he loves, makes his own decisions and he makes enough money to do whatever he wants while also saving enough for his future. 

That is until one fateful Tuesday morning, when he answered the door and found a car seat sitting on the welcome mat with the smallest baby girl he’d ever seen tucked inside. Whoever left her there was long gone, and when George brought her inside the note that fluttered to the floor revealed him as the father, with whoever wrote it stating that they weren’t cut out to be a Mother and the baby was George’s problem now. 

Two weeks and one paternity test later, George took full custody of his daughter Remi.

Despite having no real hands-on experience with babies, and having no intentions of having children for at least a decade, the second George held that little girl he knew in his heart that he could never give her up. So in the blink of an eye George Weasley went from a single man to a single dad.

Thankfully his family is the best, and rallied around him as he settled into fatherhood. Fred took on more responsibility at work so George could have a more flexible schedule, and his Mum moved in to help him as he learned how to be a Dad. And of course his siblings were always more than eager to babysit when George needed a break. 

But now that Remi is six months old, four months after she was dropped off at the front of his brownstone, it’s time for his life to resume. He misses work, and while he loves having his Mum around, he’s desperately in need of having his privacy back. Not to mention all the parenting books he’s consumed over the last few months all talk about how important it is for babies to have a routine, and it’s hard getting into one when George’s work schedule is in the air and Remi never knows if it’ll be her grandmother or her dad getting her up from her nap. 

When discussing what childcare arrangements George wanted now that he’d be back at work full time and Molly would be back up North, both Fred and his Mother vetoed his idea to just have Remi at work with him all day. Day care seemed like the obvious solution, but even after touring the best rated facility in London George was hesitant. He hated the idea of dropping his daughter off at some strange building everyday, and wasn’t too keen on the idea of Remi not being the only child someone was looking after. 

So George tasked his Mum with finding him the best Nanny in all of London. 

While more expensive than daycare, George liked the idea that Remi would be at home where she’s most comfortable and she’d have her caretakers undivided attention. Not to mention he liked how easy it would be to stop by and get some time with his baby whenever he could sneak away from work.

He left all of the hiring decisions up to Molly, citing his inexperience with raising a child. Who better to pick the person that will be caring for his child than the woman who raised seven of her own kids? 

And George didn’t regret trusting his mother for a second. 

Well until he answers the door on his Nanny’s first day, only to find the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen standing on his doorstep. 

She smiles up at him brightly, and George curses himself for not at least asking his Mum for a picture of his Nanny. All she had told him was that her name is Y/N and she has a degree in early childhood development. Truthfully, when George thought about having a Nanny, he always pictured an older woman who was looking for work now that her children have grown and flown the nest. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine someone like Y/N standing on his doorstep. 

“Hi,” she greets awkwardly when George doesn’t say anything. “You must be George, I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Snapping out of his daydreams, George gives her a nod. “Nice to meet you as well. Come on in.”

He steps aside so Y/N can walk through the door, and he has to suppress a shiver when their bodies brush. She can’t be much younger than him, and the subtle scent of strawberries wafting from her skin is driving him crazy. George shuts the door a little too hard, before motioning for her to follow him into the living room. 

Remi is sitting on the floor supported by some kind of special pillow Fleur bought for him, drool running down her chin as she chews on a toy. George watches as Y/N gets a look at his daughter for the first time, and the smile that takes over her face is breathtaking. 

“Oh my goodness,” Y/N coos as she approaches, crouching down in front of Remi. “And you must be Miss Remi,” she greets, her voice soft and cheery as she reaches out to stroke the baby’s cheek. “Your Granny has told me so much about you, Gorgeous. I’m Y/N and I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

George is a puddle as he watches this woman interact with his child. That little girl is his entire world, and watching people fall in love with her always fills him with pride. Remi giggles as Y/N strokes her tummy and a grin breaks out over George’s face. 

“She likes you.”

“I like her too.”

Remi squeals with joy as George scoops her up in his arms and he presses a kiss to her wet cheek before he places her on his hip. “Let me show you around and get everything sorted before I have to head off to work.”

Y/N follows behind George as he gives a quick tour, taking note of where everything is. Which is harder than it should be, since she’s distracted by the adorable baby and the gorgeous man that’s holding her. Molly had shown Y/N dozens of pictures of Remi during the interview process and talked about her nonstop, but she had been pretty silent when it came to her son. All she said was that George was young and had become a father unexpectedly when Remi’s mother abandoned the two month old on his porch. 

Her heart had broken for the little girl and her father, which made saying yes to Molly’s job offer a piece of cake. And as George points out all of his daughter’s favorite things Y/N is sure in her decision to take this job. It’s clear that George doesn’t know a lot about being a parent, but it’s even more clear that he’s trying his best and he loves his daughter with every fiber of his being. 

Y/N would be lying if she didn’t admit how attractive that is. Seeing this man who so clearly used to live the bachelor life bend over backwards to give his daughter the life she deserves is a major turn on. It doesn’t hurt that he’s extremely good looking either. 

But it’s really in her best interest to push those kinds of thoughts away considering the fact that George is her boss and he’s trusting her to care for his child. Remi is the only Weasley Y/N will allow herself to fall in love with. 

“So as far as a routine goes, Remi doesn’t really have one,” George admits sheepishly as they make their way back into the living room. “When she gets cranky we put her down for a nap and when she cries we feed her. We tried, but with my work schedule always changing and my Mum and I switching on and off, nothing we tried ever really stuck.”

”That’s what I’m here for,” Y/N reassures him with a smile. “It’ll probably take a few days for Remi to settle in from the change and get used to me, but once things settle we’ll start putting a routine in. And I’ll write everything down so you can follow it on the weekends as well.”

“Ugh, you’re amazing,” George gushes, and he doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s cheeks flush. “Okay well I guess that’s everything. I should head out now.” He’s thankful that Y/N turns away, pretending to look at her phone so he can have a private moment with his daughter. 

“I love you Rem-Dog,” George murmurs as he presses his lips to the top of his daughter’s head. “I gotta go to work now, but I’m gonna miss you so much. And you’re gonna have so much fun with Y/N. Okay, baby?”

George kisses his daughter one last time, pressing his nose to the crown of her head and taking a deep inhale of her sweet baby scent before he pulls away and hands Remi off to Y/N. 

“Call if you need anything,” George says as he walks towards the door. “My cell and office number are on the fridge. I should be home by five but I’ll call and let you know if that changes.”

”Sounds good.” Y/N follows George out, picking up Remi’s hand and making her wave. “Say bye to Daddy, Remi. Say don’t worry about me, everything’s going to be okay.” Her voice has that same dreamy quality it did when she first greeted Remi, and it immediately puts George at ease.

Y/N stays on the porch while George climbs in his car, bouncing Remi as she makes the little girl wave. He keeps his eyes on them for as long as possible, sighing when they disappear out of view. 

-

“Well your first full week back is almost over,” Fred starts as he enters George’s office. “How does it feel?”

”Fucking exhausting,” George groans, flipping Fred off when he laughs. 

Truthfully he really has enjoyed being back in the office. Over the past few months he’s been pretty hands off with the business, only coming in for important meetings or for emergencies, and it’s nice to get back working on the actual fun parts of his job. But holy hell is George tired. 

After being at work all day George heads home, and after a quick pass off Y/N also heads out, putting George on Dad duty for the rest of the night. Which he totally loves after being away from Remi all day, but by the time he gets her fed, bathed and settled in for the night he’s absolutely exhausted. It doesn’t help that she’s started some kind of sleep regression since he went back to work, so he’s up a few times to put Remi back down. 

When discussing with his mom what he might want from a nanny, they had discussed whether the position should be a live in one. George had shut that down pretty quickly, adamant that he only wanted someone there when he couldn’t be and that he could handle everything else. But after only one week he’s already considering asking Y/N if she’d be willing to make that change. 

And if part of that is motivated by his craving to spend more time with his nanny it isn’t anyone’s business.

The only time he gets to spend with Y/N is the few minutes before he leaves for work when he hands Remi off, and then the few minutes in the evening before they do it again when he gets home. But seeing the way she lights up when she talks about his daughter has George craving her presence every moment of the day. 

It helps that Remi seems to be just as infatuated with Y/N as he is. When he got home from work last night, Y/N had gushed about how amazing Remi has been, and that she barely seemed to need an adjustment period. She explained that sometimes babies have difficulties getting used to their parents being away and having a stranger in the house, but from that very first day Remi took everything like a champ.

The photo George has on his phone of Remi fast asleep on Y/N’s chest from Monday afternoon is a testament to that. The little girl has formed a bond with her nanny right from the start, and George knows his daughter would be thrilled to have some more time with Y/N.

“And how’s the nanny? Still hot?” Fred asks as he plops down in a chair across from George’s desk.

”Ugh, fuck. I never should have told you that.”

”Don’t worry, dude. I’d never try and screw one of your employees,” Fred assures. “Especially one that you wanna fuck too.”

George throws a pen at Fred in an attempt to knock the stupid grin off of his face. “I don’t wanna fuck Y/N.”

”Oh right, you wanna kiss her and hold her and date her and make love to her,” Fred teases.

”You’re such a fucking prat.” George sighs, shuffling some papers on his desk. “Fuck this. It’s Friday and I’m tired and I wanna see my baby. I’m going home early.”

Fred stands up as George starts to collect his things. “Fine, go back home to your girls. I’ll see you later.”

He’s almost out the door when George registers what he’s said and he whips a pad of post it notes at his brother’s retreating back. “Fucking prick!” He shouts, trying to ignore the bright pink blush on his cheeks. 

-

George’s decision to ask Y/N to move in is solidified the second he comes through the door. 

Remi’s cries echo off the walls, and he barely has the door shut behind him before he’s barrelling down the hall towards his daughter. When he reaches the living room George stops in his tracks. Y/N is slowly swaying back and forth, quietly murmuring to Remi as she rubs her back soothingly. His daughter’s red face is pressed into her nanny’s neck and even from across the room George can see how wet her cheeks are. 

“Is she okay?” George asks as he approaches, his voice frantic. 

Y/N spins around so she’s facing him, an attempt at a grin crossing her face. “Teething,” is her simple reply, and George nods in understanding. 

He vaguely remembers when Victorie, his niece, started teething since Bill often came to hang out with Fred and George when he needed a break. Not that George can blame a baby, if he had something sharp cutting through his gums and had no ability to verbalize the pain and ask for help he’d be screaming his head off too. 

“Yeah, my Mum thought she might be close to cutting one in the front.” Y/N passes Remi to him when he holds his hands out, and he immediately cuddles her close to his chest. “It’s alright, love. Daddy’s here.”

Y/N can practically feel her heart melt as she watches George soothe his daughter, and she silently kicks herself when she realizes how attractive it is watching this big man hold a baby. Of course she’s read those books, the ones where the hot single dad and the nanny end up falling in love and becoming a family. But when she graduated from Uni and decided to go into private care over a day care or teaching she had promised herself she would always remain professional.

Except the moment George Weasley opened his front door that notion went right down the drain. 

Watching this man be a parent makes her ovaries ache, and in a futile attempt to squander any feelings she may have for George, Y/N has tried to keep their interactions to a minimum. She keeps their hand-offs as brief as possible, showing up in the morning with only a few minutes to spare and exiting so quickly in the evening that George barely has his shoes off before she’s out the door. 

The last thing she needs is to fall in love with the man who signs her paychecks. 

It doesn’t help that Remi is probably the best child she’s ever looked after, and considering she started babysitting at 10 that’s a huge compliment. After only a week she already has formed an attachment to the little girl, and it pains her everytime she has to hand her back at the end of the day. Which usually ends up pissing her off, because how could the woman that gave birth to such a beautiful baby just give that all away? 

Apart from today’s teething related meltdown Remi has been nothing but a ray of sunshine. She giggles at everything, and Y/N instantly fell in love with her gummy smile. She’s also learned that Remi is a baby that loves to cuddle, and she spends most of her afternoon laying on the couch, holding the infant close to her chest as she sleeps. 

Sometimes she feels thankful for that horrid woman who gave all of this up, because Y/N is the one who gets to bask in the glow of little Remi. But sometimes those thoughts lead her down the bath of daydreaming what it would be like to be Remi’s Mum, and by extension George’s wife, and she has to shut them down quickly. Lusting after a life she can’t have is not helpful. 

“I put some of her teethers in the freezer,” she explains as George starts to sway back and forth in his own attempt to soothe Remi. “The cold will help soothe and numb the pain, but if you have a hard time getting her to bed you can give her some children’s tylenol.”

Y/N can feel her heart breaking as Remi lets out another wail, hating the fact that she is about to leave when she’s still so upset. She steps closer to George, resting a hand on Remi’s back before she leans in to kiss her tear-stained cheek. 

“Bye, Rem-Dog. I’m going to miss you so much, but you have your dad here with you, yeah? And I know you’re in pain but go easy on him, okay? I can feel the anxiety rolling off him,” she pauses to look at George, giving him a teasing wink before she refocuses her attention on the baby. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“You got this, George,” Y/N reassures, giving his arm a squeeze. 

She turns to grab her things and head out when a hand closes around her wrist. 

“Wait, Y/N,” George calls, tugging so she turns to look at him. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about, before you go. I was wondering if you’d consider becoming a live-in nanny?” He rushes the question out, clearly nervous.  

“You want me to move in?” Y/N asks, her voice breathy. Immediately she clears her throat, shaking her head to bring her back to reality. This is George asking for more help with his baby, nothing more. 

“I do yeah,” George confirms with a nod. “I'm in way over my head, and I could really use the extra help in the evenings. I can tell how attached Remi is to you already, and I know she’d love to have you around more.” He leaves out the fact that he’d love to have her around more too, figuring that would be anything but helpful to hear. “I’d pay you more, obviously, and you’ll still have the weekends off. If you’re stuck in a lease I can pay to get you out of it, anything you need.”

“I’ll do it,” Y/N agrees without even taking a second to think about it. 

Is moving in with her hot boss and his incredible daughter probably a bad idea? Absolutely. But with the wide grin George is directing at her it’s easy for Y/N to push all of those negative thoughts to the back of her head. 

Besides, living here with George and Remi is a good thing, she’ll probably learn all of George’s annoying habits and whatever feelings are starting to develop will fade just as quickly as they started. 

At least Y/N hopes so.

-

Turns out her plan to use moving in with George as a way to diminish her feelings for him is a failure. An epic, fucking failure. 

Because as it turns out, George has no annoying habits. 

When he wakes up with Remi in the morning he’s quiet, taking extra care to whisper and tiptoe around as to not wake Y/N up before her alarm. When he makes his breakfast he always sets some aside for her as well, and there’s always a fresh pot of coffee waiting. He’s always sure to clean up after himself, to the point where sometimes Y/N forgets he even lives there. And despite the fact that she moved in to help him out more, George is always respectful of her time. When he gets home from work he takes over with Remi, giving Y/N some time for herself. When she takes over again, putting Remi to bed, George always cooks them dinner and they spend the rest of the evening talking and hanging out. 

Everyday it feels less and less like she’s his employee helping him care for his daughter and more like they’re a couple caring for their baby together. 

Which Y/N knows is a bad thing, and there’s constantly a voice in the back of her head telling her she needs to put up boundaries to keep both George and Remi at arms length. But the more time she spends around them the harder it is. She is quickly discovering that she isn’t just attracted to George’s looks and his dedication to being a father, but to his personality as well. He has a great sense of humor and such a kind heart, and Y/N finds herself missing his presence when he’s not around. 

So again, her plan has been an epic failure. 

It certainly doesn’t help that three weeks into her new live in position, Y/N rushes into the nursery one night to comfort a screaming Remi only to find her boss standing in the middle of the room shirtless as he rocks his daughter. 

“Oh,” Y/N gasps as she steps in the room, alerting George to her presence. When he spins to face her it takes all of her willpower to keep her eyes focused on his face and not his naked torso. “I just wanted to check and make sure everything is okay.”

George swallows thickly, reminding himself that he’s got his crying child in his arms and now is not the time to be ogling his nanny. But fuck is it hard. Because Y/N is standing there in the tiniest pair of sleep shorts and the thinnest tank top George has ever seen, her hair still mussed from sleep. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he mumbles once he finds his composure. “I was hoping to get her back to sleep before she woke you, I’m sorry.”

Remi’s been cutting two new teeth this week, and it’s safe to say sleep has not been something happening here in the Weasley house. He and Y/N have been taking shifts during the night, but he could tell that the lack of sleep was starting to wear her down, so when Remi woke him tonight his sole mission was to soothe her back to sleep as quickly as possible.

“And is there a reason why the two of you are half naked?” Y/N teases, and even in the dim light George can see the blush tinting her cheeks.

George shrugs a shoulder, giving her a grin. “I read in a book that skin to skin contact is supposed to help comfort babies.” Truthfully he hadn’t even considered the possibility of Y/N coming to help him, so George hadn’t given it a second thought when he stripped Remi down to her diaper before he pulled his own shirt off. All he wanted to do was soothe his child, but seeing the way Y/N is having a hard time from looking at his bare chest George is thankful for his actions for a totally different reason. 

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Y/N responds playfully, and she doesn’t miss the way George’s eyes scan her body. It sends a shiver down her spine, and if there wasn’t a crying baby in his arms she certainly would be throwing herself at him. 

Over the past few weeks Y/N has had an inkling that the feelings she has are not totally one sided, and the way George is looking at her now is confirmation. Clearly they are both trying to keep from crossing into unprofessional territory for Remi’s sake, but she’s not sure how much longer they’ll be able to resist this pull. 

“Go back to bed,” George instructs, his voice low. 

Y/N nods, her stomach fluttering at the command in his voice. Wanting him to be just as affected as she is, she approaches George, maintaining eye contact as she places one hand on his bare shoulder and the other on his abs. She smiles to herself as he tenses under her touch, leaning in to kiss Remi on the forehead. 

“Goodnight, baby girl.”

Just as quickly as she was there Y/N is retreating, looking back over her shoulder at George as she lingers in the doorway. 

“Sweet dreams, George.”

As soon as she’s gone George tosses his head back and groans. “God damnit,” he mumbles. He looks down at Remi, who’s cries have finally started to quiet. “You two girls will be the death of me I swear.”

-

It’s the first sunny day they’ve had in weeks, so when he woke up this fine Saturday morning he decided a picnic in the park was the best way to spend it. Even though it’s technically her day off, after he’d packed up the food, Remi George had stopped by Y/N’s room to see if she wanted to join them. Much to his delight, a yes was coming out of her mouth before he’d really even finished asking. 

And as he watches her push Remi in a swing, both of them giggling like crazy, George knows one thing for certain: he’s fallen for his nanny. It’s something he’s come to terms with in the two weeks it has been since that night in the nursery. After the way she touched and teased him George had an inkling that his feelings for Y/N were mutual, and their interactions these last few weeks have only confirmed it. 

For starters, touching has become a normal part of their relationship. Now when they pass Remi back and forth it’s normal for their hands to brush, lingering just a few seconds too long. When they sit on the couch together in the evenings Y/N takes the spot right next to him, as opposed to sitting on the opposite end like she had previously. It seems like both of them take every opportunity to be close to the other. 

Their conversations seem to have a flirty air to them now too, with both of them taking every opportunity to make the other blush. Not to mention the fact that Y/N is supposed to have the weekends off, and yet she somehow always ends up spending them with George and Remi. 

Sometimes George even forgets that Y/N is his employee, because when the three of them are together it just feels like they’re a family. Much to George’s pleasure it seems that way to others as well, because on at least four different occasions when the three of them have been out together people have complimented them on how adorable their daughter is, and Y/N has been mistaken as his wife at least a handful of times. Even strangers know that they’re meant to be together. 

And George is just waiting for the perfect moment to make it official. 

He grins as Y/N starts to head towards him, holding his arms out for the baby. 

“Dada, dada, dada!” Remi babbles as Y/N places her in his outstretched hands, and it makes his heart burst just like every other time she’s said it. 

“Hi baby,” George coos, settling Remi down on his lap. He shivers when Y/N takes a seat next to him on the blanket, their sides pressed together tightly from how close she chooses to be. “Did you have fun on the swings?”

“Yes I did,” Y/N answers for Remi, her voice morphing into the delicate tone she always uses when talking to the baby. “Y/N is so much fun, Daddy. So much more fun than you,” she teases.

They both let out a laugh when Remi reaches for Y/N, seemingly confirming her words. 

Instead of taking the baby Y/N leans into George’s side, holding out both her hands so Remi and grab on to her pointer fingers. George immediately wraps an arm around her waist, pressing Y/N even closer into his chest. It feels so natural that George has to resist his urge to lean in and kiss her on the forehead. 

Y/N smiles as Remi tries to shove her fingers in her mouth, keeping her attention focused on the baby so she doesn’t get lost in George’s eyes. She can feel his gaze on her, and it’s taking everything in her not to return it. 

She shouldn’t even be here right now. She’d had plans to get brunch with some of her Uni friends, but the second George stopped in the doorway of her room, a stupid smile on his face and his perfect baby in his arms as he invited her on a picnic she couldn’t say no. It’s definitely not normal, the amount of time she spends with George and Remi when she’s off the clock, but Y/N stopped caring about that weeks ago. In reality, George could never pay her another cent and she’d still be sitting right where she is. 

Which should terrify Y/N, but it doesn’t. 

“I can’t believe how big she’s getting,” George comments, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. 

She hums in agreement. “It’s crazy how fast they grow at this age. I swear some days she grows overnight.”

“She looks so much like her mom.”

Y/N freezes, just watching George stroke his fingers over the dark, wispy hair that covers Remi’s head. He’s never talked about her before, and Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about the woman who makes up the other half of Remi’s DNA. 

“Maybe,” Y/N comments, grinning as Remi giggles. “But she has your eyes and your smile.” When all George does is hum in acknowledgement she continues. “What was she like? Remi’s mom?”

George shrugs as best he can with Y/N pressed against him. “I don’t know, really. Which sounds awful. We didn’t really spend too much time talking, if you get what I mean. I had totally forgotten about her until Remi showed up on my doorstep and the note from her fell out onto the ground.”

“I know I probably shouldn’t think ill of someone I don’t know,” Y/N says cautiously. “But it must take an awful person to just abandon their baby. Especially a baby like Remi. I mean, what if you weren’t home? Remi would have just been sitting out there on the porch for who knows how long.” She shudders in horror at the thought. “I just can’t ever imagine leaving her behind.”

The protective tone in her voice drives George crazy in the best way possible. He knows, obviously, that Y/N cares for his daughter, but hearing her be so angry at the woman who abandoned his daughter is something different. 

“I know what you mean. Being a dad was something I never even considered. But the second I held that baby for the first time I knew I could never give her up.” George pauses, considering his next words carefully. “Sometimes I think about what life would be like, if Remi’s mom had come to me when she found out she was pregnant and we had the opportunity to be a family. But I don’t think I would have liked it that much.”

“Oh?” The soft tone of George’s voice is sending goosebumps all over her body. “Why is that?”

“Because then I never would have needed a nanny, and Remi and I wouldn’t have met you.” 

His words take all of the air out of Y/N’s lungs, and her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest. Because she’s had those thoughts too, and as selfish as it is Y/N has always come to the same conclusion as George. Remi will never know her biological mother, and part of Y/N aches for that little girl. But a larger part of her is thankful that Remi will never know the pain of her mother’s abandonment, and she’s thankful that she gets to be the woman in her life. 

“Thanks for coming with us,” George murmurs after a few moments of silence, causing Y/N to finally look up at him. He has the dopiest grin on his face and it makes her heart race. 

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” Y/N responds, and the conviction in her voice lets George know she’s being honest with him. 

George reaches out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear, and he grins at the hitch in her breath. “Remi likes spending so much time with you.”

“Just Remi?” she asks teasingly, digging her teeth into her bottom lip. 

“No,” George murmurs honestly, reaching up to trace Y/N’s jaw with his thumb. “Not just Remi.”

-

Things finally come to a head a few days later, and they have to decide whether to end this arrangement all together or finally cross that line. 

-

“Y/N? Remi?”

Y/N grins as George’s voice echoes through the house as the front door clicks shut behind him. “Living room!” she calls back. 

As soon as George comes into view Remi starts babbling, her tiny fists reaching out towards George. “Dada, dada, dada!”

They’re sitting on the floor, with Y/N’s back against the sofa as Remi sits in her lap so they can read a book. But as George comes closer Y/N tosses the book aside, focusing on the man approaching her. Ever since the picnic in the park they’re subtle glances have become more obvious, and she doesn’t shy away from checking George out. 

Because damn that man knows how to wear a suit. 

“Hey Rem-Dog,” George greets, taking a seat on the floor across from Y/N. He opens his arms as Y/N lets Remi go, waiting for her to crawl closer before he swoops in. Picking Remi up under her armpits George hoists her in the air, blowing raspberries against her belly to make her laugh. 

Y/N waits for George to return the giggling baby to his lap before she acknowledges him. “Hi. How was work?”

George shrugs, giving her a smile. “It was okay. Couldn’t wait to get home though.”

The intensity in his gaze makes Y/N blush, and she clears her throat as she looks away. “Well it’s a good thing you’re here now,” she manages to squeak out once she’s calmed down. 

Things have felt so intense between them lately, but Y/N is waiting for George to make the first move. While she’s absolutely sure he feels the same way as she does, she doesn’t want to risk it by being the first one to make a move. Because on the off chance she goes for it and George rejects her, not only will Y/N be humiliated but she’ll lose Remi and that’s not something she’s willing to risk. 

“Yeah, good thing.” George leans down to kiss the top of Remi’s head. “How was she today? Any problems?”

Y/N chuckles at the notion of Remi being anything but a perfect angel. “Nope, she was perfect, as per usual. She tried broccoli for the first time and went down for her nap easily. And every time I’d show her a picture of you she’d reach for it shouting Dada.”

That makes George’s heart melt. “That’s my smart girl,” he coos. 

They both just watch for a minute as Remi squirms on George’s lap, one of her hands fisted in his dress pants while the other smacks his knee. No one says anything, but the silence between them isn’t awkward at all. 

George suddenly takes a deep breath and just as he’s about to open his mouth to say something Remi cuts him off. 

“Mama, mama!” she babbles for the first time, her little arms reaching out towards Y/N as she makes grabby hands. “Mama!”

Tears immediately spring to Y/N’s eyes, and she stands up, turning away from George so he can’t see how affected she is. “Oh. Um. I’ll be right back.”

George watches dumbfounded as Y/N disappears down the hall, presumably into his room. “Shit, shit shit,” he murmurs, standing up to follow after her. He places Remi in her playpen, kissing her quickly on the forehead. “Hang on, baby. Dada has to go check on Mama.”

Y/N’s door is closed when George reaches it, and he gives a tentative knock. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, George!” She calls, but George can hear her sniffling. 

“No, you’re not.” He pauses, grabbing the doorknob. “I’m coming in.”

She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, furiously wiping away tears and George immediately takes two steps into the room before falling to his knees in front of her. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she dismisses, shaking her head. “I don’t even know why I’m crying to be honest. It shouldn’t be a big deal, obviously I’m not Remi’s mom-”

“But you wanna be,” George murmurs, cutting her off. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, George,” Y/N apologizes. She wipes away the rest of the tears on her cheeks before she starts to push him away. “Let me just pack my stuff and I’ll be out of here, I’m sorry.”

George grabs Y/N’s wrists, keeping her hands pressed to his chest but keeping her from pushing him away. “What the hell do you have to be sorry for, Y/N?”

“I’m her nanny, George. I’m just supposed to be looking after her while you’re at work or whatever. I’m not supposed to be imagining a life where she’s my child and we’re a family. I crossed a line and you should fire me.”

“Fuck that,” George scoffs. “Look at me, Y/N.” He doesn’t continue until Y/N meets his gaze. “If anyone here crossed a line it was me. The second I saw you on my porch that morning I was fucked, I wanted you in every single way I could have you, Y/N. Hell, I asked you to move in under the guise that I needed more help with Remi when in reality I just wanted an excuse to be closer to you.”

George’s confession shocks her, and a humorless chuckle leaves her lips. “Really?”

“Really,” George confirms. “So if I should fire you for what you did, then you should quit for what I did. And if you really want to leave I will walk away right now. I’ll head back into the living room and sit with Remi while you pack and I’ll let you walk out the front door.”

“And if I don’t want to leave?” Y/N immediately asks. 

“Then I’m going to kiss you, and once I've conveyed to you how much you truly mean to me, we’ll go back out to the living room to spend time with our daughter. Because Y/N, you stopped being just the nanny weeks ago. And I think you know that.” George gives her a pointed look. “The choice is yours.”

Her choice comes in the form of her hands fisting in George’s shirt seconds before she pulls him into a kiss. George’s arms immediately wrap around her waist, and he pulls Y/N off of the bed and into his lap, needing to get her as close as possible. 

“Dada! Mama!”

Remi’s shout breaks their kiss, but George keeps their foreheads pressed together as they chuckle. “I guess we’ll have to wait until Remi goes to bed to cross other lines.”

Y/N shakes her head, playfully smacking George on the side of his head. He can be such an idiot. But at least he’s her idiot, and that’s all that really matters. 

[yestrday]

— TIE ME UP. yan! rich kid! childe x gn! mercenary! reader

your latest hit is a boy named ajax. the job's easy— kidnap him, bully him a bit, then send him back without any will to live. easy enough, it seems, but not everything will go the way you expect it.

( reader is not a good person; murder, mentions of torture; kidnapping; obsessive behavior, tying up, slight mentions of n/sfw, masochistic childe )

note. ahhhh im in a writing a slump so i decided to write the other part of anon's request to practice. idk if it's good enough, but childe will always be my go to whenever i want some disgusting yandere boy

you might like: childe's spiked drink

it's nothing you haven't seen. someone wants someone dead and they would pay millions just to see that come true. you whistle when you open the case of green bills for the nth time this day and the sight makes you smile.

what a haul you've gotten. despite the dread that's been growing inside you since you took this job, the million worth of cash inside this single suitcase is enough for you to retire. maybe you'll finally take a break from all this gory business, find a nice plot of land where the police can't find you, and make a farm for yourself. that sounds nice.

determined to finally finish this once and for all, you slam the suitcase shut and chuck it into the back of your car, along with the squirming ginger screaming at you through his gags.

"it'll be all over soon, love," you croon, sporting a wicked smile. "jus' get some sleep in here, mmkay?"

with one last muffled scream of his, you slam the trunk on the poor man's shaking expression and rev the engine to life.

"'ello there, babe," is the first thing the boy hears when he blinks his eyes awake. "good ting ya slept, hm? the road here was full of em potholes. not exactly pleasant for a passenger in the truck, right?"

it's a classic stereotype— that heavy country accent tinged with seduction and danger�� even you're painfully aware of how cheesy your voice is. but it's what you were raised with, plus most of your victims dig the accent anyway, so might as well make use of it. the boy grimaces when the single fluorescent bulb swaying on the ceiling hits his sight, and he lets out a little grunt. 

"ajax childe. third son of the ceo of childe's toy corporation and now…" you plop yourself onto the wooden seat in front of him, nonchalantly waving the knife in front of his wide-eyed stare. "the target of some rich sod's hatred." you give him a lookover, from his ruffled ginger hair, his lean bod, down to his strong calves. clearly, he's been working out. you sigh in mock pity. "what the hell did ya do anyway? make off with someone's girl?" he's pretty enough to entertain the thought, and judging how flirtatious he acts in front of the paparazzi, that very well might be the case.

he protests against the gag once again, and you shake your head. "sorry, babe. not really in the mood to listen to sum brat scream." you tap your cheek as you contemplate on what to do with him. "hmm... they didn't actually want ya dead, if i'll be honest with ya. just bully ya a little till ya want yerself dead, y'feel? it's good to 'ave less blood on my hands, but hm, when i get commissions like these..." you cock your head, pondering over the countless victims you had over the last decade.

"they don't usually come out alive, yanno?"

another muffled scream through the gag, and you watch in boredom as he tries to wiggle his way out of his binds. clearly, however, it's futile when all he accomplishes is burn himself with the rope. well, what else was he expecting? you were a hired mercenary, he a mere ceo's son living a cushy life. there really was no challenge here.

but looking at him... you feel somewhat sympathetic. you have no respect for those high-class scum who like to hide behind fake smiles and faker compliments. but the kid in front of you was just some irresponsible young adult who just happened to be born into the elite, and well, if he wasn't the son of such a big corporation, he'd probably have gotten away with whatever he did. such was the consequence of having too many eyes on you. maybe it'd make you less worse of a human being if you let this kid air his grievances out.

you sigh, getting up from your spot. "alright, alright, i'll ungag you. just shut up already, jeez." he seems to jostle around less when you say that, and you swiftly untie the cloth to let him talk.

you already know what to expect— teary pleas, desperate bribes, maybe even some angry threats. all these are common in victims and more often than not are you forced to listen to all that shit before you decide to gag them again or just shoot them in the head. so you brace yourself for whatever agonizing scream they might have in store for you.

"ah..."

you grimace. here it comes.

"you're prettier than anything i've imagined..." he tilts his pretty face up, gazing at you with lovestruck eyes under the shine of the harsh light. your shock is mirrored in those loony eyes as his smile widens till it almost splits his face into two,

"...[your name]."

"what the fuck?!" instinctively, you recoil away from him, taking steps back while he continues to pin that heart-eyed stare on you. "what in the–?! how the fuck do you know me?!"

"oh, [your name], is there anything i don't know about you?" this... this freak sighs almost dreamily, and it makes you grimace by how slimy it is. "your name, your occupation (obviously), your favorite drinks, your... heh, three sizes!" he lets out a low giggle. "finally...! to finally see you right in front of my very eyes!"

you blanch. "three...?!" this cannot do. you are being outdone and outsmarted by some rich playboy. clearing your throat, you regain your composure and narrow your eyes at him in a glare (why... why is he shivering?!). "bluffs won't save you from your fate, childe."

you live a life in the shadows. leaving traces of yourself for people to find could spell to be your doom, and yet here was this kid claiming that he knew everything there is to you. it was a laughable attempt at a bluff, and he only caught you offguard by that disgusting grin of his. you're confident enough in your own abilities that you know that no one would be ever able to track you—

"[your name] [last name]. single father, three siblings, but they're all dead. you became a mercenary at age 16 and you go to your headquarters every weekend. you like the cafe at sixth avenue and you order the fourth thing on the menu almost every time." his grin widens when he sees the alarmed expression on your face. "should i tell you more?"

impossible. gritting your teeth, you pull him by his collar, almost tipping his chair over until you catch it with your knee. it... spreads his legs and pushes against his bulge, and you want to scrub yourself clean when you see his red blush and lip-bite. "how the fuck d'you know all that?" you snarl. you shake him. "tell me!"

"because i love you," he says, almost breathless. he looks at you with eyes so full of devotion and obsession that you might believe him. "there's not a single piece of you that i don't love."

you pull your lip back. "you're fuckin' disgusting."

"ah, but!" he wiggles in his chair, his clothes straining against the binds. "you're the one who tied me up like this! all vulnerable and ready for you to torture, right?"

you can't believe this man. "that's how kidnappings go, you idiot!" unable to hold on to this weirdo any longer, you let go of him and he and the chair he's tied to collapse to the floor. it's a nasty fall, but you're too busy rubbing your hands together in some attempt to rid yourself of the germs he may have transferred over to you.

the gasp of delight when he hits the floor grates like metal against your ear, and he squirms when you look down at him with such hate and disgust in those pretty eyes of yours. "is it starting? are you gonna torture me now?" your eyes flit to the array of tools you laid out on the counter, but now you feel reluctant to dirty this man's blood with the tools you painstakingly polished to shine. "ah~ ♡ i wonder what you're gonna do to me! are you gonna cut me up and leave me to bleed? tie me up till it hurts to breathe? ah, [your name] ♡" he calls your name with ecstasy. "i'm so excited to see what you'll do!"

with your back turned towards him and facing the tools, you don't grace him with a reply. instead, you bite your lip, panicked and pale expression reflected in the cold reflection of a knife.

'why me?!' your thoughts scream. 'i've never met this man in my life before!'

'how am i supposed to break someone who's gone too fucking far?!'

he continues to smile at your back, watching as you contemplate which torture device you'll bless him with for that night.

'so, so cute!' you're shorter than him, but somehow the thought of you dominating him and spilling his blood makes his jeans tighter. 'they're gonna make me go through sooo much pain, i can feel it! they'll have the power to kill me. they might kill me!'

just like that man you shot in that alleyway, eyes staring blankly at the mess of guts and brain splattered against the wall. there was no remorse in your eyes as you wipe the blood off your cheek with the back of your hand. no remorse as you stuff that body into a bag and make a mess all over yourself.

he remembers it clearly. your skintight black bodysuit, how the blood seemed to match your soulless eyes, the peek of tongue as you licked the blood from your thumb— he remembers it all too well.

how could he not, when he had his back pressed to the wall, out of your sight, hand clamped to suppress his noises. not a terrified scream, mind you. but his heavy breaths as he continued to observe you from a distance.

better than an angel. more divine than an angel. you were the reaper itself, stained in blood and black.

and his obsession with that reaper grew, as you revved off with your motorcycle with the corpse in tow, and he lay in the alley shadows with a hand in his jeans and blood at his feet.

if you had looked closely beneath all the money, maybe you'd see one damning clue that would tell you that this commission was a bad idea. a clue stitched at the bottom of the suit, fancy lettering showcasing initials in cursive:

a.c.

ajax childe's grin grows wider when he sees you finally settle on a tool. even when bound up and knocked to the floor, those hungry eyes and crazed grin seem to make him more of a predator than the you holding a knife.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your monster husband drives you home from the bake sale

General Plot: Your tentacle monster husband gets a headache and drives you home from the bake sale

tentactle monster (Chase) x bimbo female reader

Part One, Part Three

Word count: 1K

W: tentacles, anal and oral sex, breeding kink, bimboification, murder, yandere behavior, smut

Chase glanced over at you as he drove you home, his heart pinching a bit at your long face. 

“It’s too bad we had to leave early,” you pouted, your gaze out the window. 

You didn’t know Chase had eaten the bastard that kept flirting with you at the library bake sale and he wanted to be far away from the scene of the crime when the police arrived and he would have to answer a bunch of questions. No one could link it to him directly but it would be a pain when they found the bloody bones scraped of flesh he'd left behind. He’d told you he had a headache and wanted to head home. You’d said goodbye to your fellow volunteers and they’d all wished your handsome husband well. 

“I’m sure they will sell all of your cookies, cupcake,” he assured you, “they were delicious and they’ll raise the money to expand the children’s center.”

He knew this because he’d written a check for the amount to cover it and dropped it in the donation box before you left. It was the least he could do for the inconvenience of murdering their director. They were going to have to go through a messy hiring process soon. 

You smiled at him. He always knew what to say to cheer you up. Your smiling face cheered him up, but he was still unsettled. You’d spent the day explaining the children’s center to anyone who would listen while you handed out pastries and he wondered if you wanted a child of your own. He’d thought about it, but he’d only just revealed to you that he was a monster. He hadn’t wanted to dump impregnating you with his monster hybrid baby on your head just yet. You could be sensitive and got overwhelmed easily. Still, the thought of holding you in a mating press while he banged his spawn into you got his cock hard and he had to adjust his pants discreetly as he drove. He wanted to see your belly swollen with his baby and your breasts fat with milk. 

“I’m so excited they are going to be able to put in a play area,” you said, “I love seeing all the kids when I go in. I hope there will be even more!” 

He put his heavy hand on your thigh and gave it a little squeeze.

“Do you want a little one of your own?” he asked.

You gasped. You hadn’t been sure it was possible, so you didn’t want to bring it up in case Chase was sensitive about it. 

“I-is this possible?” you asked, “are we…you know…compatible?” 

He chuckled. 

“Dumb kitten,” he said, “of course we are. Do you want me to put a baby in you? Just stop taking your pills.” 

“You want to make a baby with me?” you blushed, your cheeks getting hot. 

He grinned and pulled the car into an alley. You sat stunned as he unbuckled your seatbelt and shoved you in the back seat. 

“Chase! I don’t think it’s going to work yet!” you squealed watching him climb over the seat to get to you. 

He chuckled, jerking the panties you were wearing under your skirt over your ass. 

“I’ve got to get you primed,” he said, spinning you around and shoving your face into the leather seat. His big body took up most of the space in the car, crushing you underneath him.

“Primed?!” you squealed, “what does that even mean?” 

“What did I tell you about thinking, cupcake?” he growled as a few of his tentacles found your slit, prying open your swollen pussy lips. Another wrapped around your neck, holding into the cushion, while two more wriggled into your shirt to tease your nipples. 

“No…ah…th-thinking,” you gasped as his tentacle tightened around your throat. Tentacles gripped your wrists, jerking them behind you. 

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, “pretty little breeders like you don’t need to think.” 

Two tentacles slipped inside of your pussy writhing in you and coating your tight channel with precum in preparation for Chase’s cock. You heard his zipper and the tentacles inside you retreated, one of them finding your asshole instead. 

“When your hormones change I’m going to go into rut, cupcake,” he explained, “and then I’m going to fuck you endlessly until you’re bred. I need to prepare you. Your little pussy isn’t ready.” 

You felt his cockhead slide along your dripping slit and you shuddered as it split you. He pulled back slowly before slamming himself inside of you. You screamed and he muffled it with a tentacle in your mouth. 

“You can take it,” he grunted, “that’s a good girl.” 

Your eyes rolled back in your head at his praise and your lips stretched taking the tentacle in your mouth deeper. He fucked every hole grunting into your ear as his big body formed a cave over you. His fingers dug into your hips as he pounded into you, his heavy balls slamming into your pussy with each thrust. A tentacle latched on to your clit, flicking it and tugging it until your knees shook and you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. 

Chase caught your weight easily, jamming his cock deeper into you.

You whimpered into the tentacle in your mouth as you exploded, your pussy clamping down on his stiff shaft. Colors sparkled in front of your eyes as pleasure snaked up your spine blooming on your nerve endings like spring flowers. 

“Fuck,” he roared, thrusting into you harder, your soft, slick walls gripping him driving him to pump cum into you. 

All at once you were drenched with his spend in every hole.  Chase looked down at you, pleased with the ropes of white cum dripping out of you. He was going to have so much fun breeding you. He covered you in his jacket and left you in the back seat to nap while he drove you home, thinking about what he was going to do to you when he got there.

[t-top-apologist]

At the end of the day the average civilian wishes to be catered to like an old money steel baron or perhaps one of those chaps from Downton Abbey. The entirety of modern society has come together to enable this, mass-producing cheap facsimiles of fortunes that should rightly either be built on child labor or perhaps serfdom.

Their lawns, taking up what could otherwise be used to grow crops or serve as "outdoor garage space," exist to ape the wide ranging estates meant for the nobility to chase down a fox while adorned in silly jackets. Their houses sport columns and stupid windows meant to imitate three different classical artforms at the same time because of something called "economies of scale." They even have male-centric social clubs meant for parlour games, discussing sports, and dining with friends, in this case franchised out under such names as "Buffalo Wild Wings."

This aping of the upper class continues to the hire of "artisans" to do relatively simple work deemed too complicated to warrant the time of the average citizen. It's not that the jobs are too taxing for your average person, but rather that the market has crystallized around the desire to live like budget royalty. Therefore they take their wafer-thin computers to artisans (now more commonly called "experts" or "Apple geniuses") for repair and have democratized the position of carriagemen to 22 year old dealership lube techs named Ryan who will turn a 15 minute job into a 30 minute endeavor thanks to frequent vape breaks and a brief brush with what the industry refers to as "a misplaced drain bolt."

The mid-40s project manager and mother of 3 is no less competent when changing oil than her grandfather before her who knew what "Valve Lash" is, but what separates the two is a series of wars in the 1900s that required an entire generation of men to become very familiar with operating and repairing machines better than the Germans and Japanese (an exercise that Chrysler would later abandon in favor of the phrase "if you can't beat em, join em").

This conflict ended with a surge of able-bodied men finding themselves returning to their project management jobs (like their granddaughters after them) but armed with captured German weapons and a comprehensive understanding of tubochargers. Just as a line can be drawn from troop drawdowns to political violence, there's a distinct correlations between GIs returning home and the violence with which Ford Flathead V8s were torn apart by inventive supercharging methods paired with landspeed record attempts.

Give a man a racecar and he'll crash it on the salt flats in a day. Teach a man to repair a racecar and it will sit in the garage of his suburban house for a few years in between complete engine rebuilds required by what can only be described as "vaporized piston rods."

Of course this hotrodder generation created the circumstances we live in today, as the market saw their fast cars cobbled together from old prewar hulks and simply stamped out new ones from factory, faster and more convenient for the next generation than building one from scratch. Now the project manager mother of 3 drives a 4wd barge with climate controlled seats boasting more computing power than the moon mission and an emissions-controlled powertrain with more horsepower than her grandfather's jalopy and her fathers factory muscle car combined. And she doesn't care at all.

Yet Amongst the average civilians there walks a rare breed: people who know how to change their own oil. We the chosen move among you silently, bucking the system, operating outside the cultural helplessness and trading in forbidden knowledge in almost-abandoned forum threads (flame wars over conventional vs synthetic).

While we do have a marked air of superiority about this, I can't say I haven't stooped to imitating the rich myself. I've been known to wear a silly jacket from time to time.