#my new pen should arrive at some point today at least

[candyboydeathparade]

"Pen still broken?" "Pathetic"

[cherrycottoncloud]

🚃 Evening Train

tags: megumi x f!reader | megumi, yuji and nobara meet reader and her friend on the train, yuji asks for reader’s number because megumi is too shy to ask you himself | reader dislikes summer

a/n: sitting in school on warm days is the worst :|

wc: 1,4k

warnings: -

Most people associate summer with a blue sky, going out with friends, relaxing outside and just generally having a good time. But you definitely did not have a good time at the moment. You were currently sitting in school, the essay you are supposed to work on long forgotten. It’s the sixth of august and it is way too warm to focus on anything but the overwhelming heat. You are sweating without moving, your school uniform is sticking to your skin and the splitting headache you got from the heat is making you feel dizzy. You absolutely hated summer, especially on days like these, on which you had to stay in school until late in the afternoon with no hopes of going out with friends or even refreshing yourself by drinking something cool.

At least that’s what you thought until your best friend burst into the school library, in which you are currently trying to write your essay, who is calling out to you way too loudly for a library. “Heyyy, Y/N!! There you are! I’ve been looking for you for a while now. Who knew you are still trying to work on that stupid homework.” You turn towards your friend, wondering how they are always this energetic. “Well, compared to a certain someone, I actually care about my grades” In Return they snort and start rambling about their grades not being that bad and that not everyone takes school as serious as you do. After explaining some stuff about their grades and school, they walk near the table you are sitting at, closing your exercise book and snatching your pen out of your hand to put it back into your pencil case. “You shouldn’t work that hard on a warm day like this or you’ll probably overwork yourself. Let’s leave school for today and get some refreshing drinks! There opened a new café nearby that also sells some fancy sodas and alcohol-free cocktails. We should definitely check that out!” You were about to start complaining to them about wanting to finish your essay right now but your friend already grabbed all of your stuff and starts off towards the exit of the library.

In order to get your stuff back, you needed to run after your best friend, resulting in you two being on your way to the café that they mentioned before. The café was really not far from your school so that you two arrived there after a short walk. The café was designed in a kind of cottage core aesthetic, creating a cute and comfortable atmosphere. You two ordered your favorite flavored sodas and sat down at a light green wooden table with white benches that matched the design of the table. It quite frustrated you that you were not able to finish your essay but the relief to be able to refresh yourself with a cool drink was way more present in your mind than the annoyance over your school work. During your stay at the café you two chatted away about your current interests, class mates, teachers and family members while sipping on your drinks from time to time. You were glad to get the chance to talk to them like this again, since you were extremely busy with school work these past weeks, which made it almost impossible to actually meet up like this. After finishing your drinks, you left the café and searched for the nearest train station because you had to take a train to get back to your homes.

“Wow, the evening train is way less crowded than the train I usually take in the afternoon.” is what you stated after you two sat down in the train you just went onto. The train in the afternoon, that you had to take after school, is extremely packed, up to the point where everyone is squished together in order to fit everyone into the train. But the evening train you are currently taking is pretty empty in comparison. You two immediately found a seat after entering the train and there are still some seats free so that nobody had to stand. “Yeah, it really is. This is way more comfortable than our usual train rides home. We should get drinks after school way more often if that means that we can always take the evening train.” Their answer put a small smile on your face while you realized how much you missed spending time with them like this. “We definitely should! I really enjoyed spen-“ But you didn’t get to finish that sentence as your friend nudged you and interrupted you by nodding towards three high schoolers. “Hey, what is up with them? They keep on glancing towards us while whispering to each other. Do we have something on our faces or what?”

He wasn’t even aware of the fact that he had been staring at you since you and your friend entered the train until his friend asked him about it. “Hey, Fushiguro! How long are you going to stare at that girl over there?” Of course his first reaction upon hearing that question is to get defensive and to deny the accusation his friend just made. “What are you even talking about Itadori? I was not staring at her, I was just looking outside of the window behind her.” “Yeah, yeah, right. If you think she’s cute just ask her for her number or something.” is what his second friend countered after hearing his very obvious excuse. And of course his other friend had to agree with that and adds, “Yeah, Kugisaki is right. Just shoot your shot, this is your chance to get to know a super cute girl! Look, she’s even looking back at you right now! Just ask her!” Him realizing that you were looking in their direction caused a light blush to spread on his cheeks due to him getting flustered. He found this whole situation to be extremely embarrassing and awkward, making him complain to his two friends. “Okay, I admit that she is quite cute but I can’t just walk up to a random person and ask for their number. That’s way too awkward.” Upon hearing this, his friend Itadori got an idea on how to solve this situation without turning it too awkward for any of them. “Heh, I’ve got you bro.” That was the only thing Itadori said before he stood up and made his way over to the cute girl and her friend, not giving him the chance to argue or stop his friend.

“Huh?” was all you were able to reply before one of the high schoolers got up and started walking up towards you and your friend. He stopped right in front of you and you did not expect the thing he is going to ask of you. “Hey, sorry to bother you but my friend Fushiguro back there thinks you are really cute. Could he have your number so he can get to know you?” You were taken aback by that request and just stared at the boy in from of you for a few seconds before you were able to process what he just said. As the realization of the situation kicks in, a deep red blush stared to spread over your face while turning your head in the direction of the other two high schoolers. The boy, whose name seemed to be Fushiguro, was blushing just as much as you, as he stared down at his feet to avoid eye contact with you. He seemed to be just as flustered by this whole situation, reminding you of the fact that you should probably answer the boy in front of you so that the situation would not be getting more awkward than it already was. “Uhhh, huh? What? I mean, uh, yeah sure!” Immediately after answering the boy, you proceeded to give him your number, after what he returned to his two friends with a huge grin on his face. Your friend also started grinning and teasing you about how much you were blushing just now and about how you actually agreed to giving out your number to them.

When the train was getting close to the stop you had to get off, you stood up and said goodbye to your friend. During that, you realized that you told none of the three high schoolers your name and that you should probably do so before leaving the train, so that the boy Fushiguro knows under what name he should save your number. You decided to wait until the train was right before your train station before you tuned around towards the high schoolers again while yelling “Oh, I almost forgot. My name is Y/N!”. Afterwards you immediately ran out of the train compartment, already wondering if he will actually message you and what he would probably text you.

[deceitfuldevout]

Hidden Treasure (Part 2)

Arranged Marriage AU: Dark!Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader

Warning(s): None.

Author's note(s): Polly finds the perfect woman for her nephew.

Today was a profitable day. You managed to sell some pastries made from scratch and made a good earning. You’re thankful for whatever money you could get out of the leftovers. There were enough to purchase some ripe berries for a tart. A happy sigh escapes your lips, it was a productive day indeed.

Life was hard, but at least you and your family had each other. You’re grateful for every moment of it. But for some reason, there was this gut feeling that told you it wouldn’t last very long. As if you'd sensed there was something that was about to happen. Something that would change your life forever.

Later that day

A bell chimes from your family's bakery door. Two men walk in, dressed from head-to-toe in tailored suits. One sporting a mustache, the other with a toothpick poking from the corner of his smirk. They part from each other to reveal a shorter woman in fancier clothing.

Your father looks up from the floor, he stops sweeping, “Good morning madame,” he nods. Her ruby lips curl into a smirk. She tilts her sunglasses down the bride of her nose and glances around, “A very good morning to you as well.” There’s a sudden pause. It’s silent for a brief moment. Your father is first to break the ice, “Is there anything I can get you with?”

“Oh no, I’ve come here solely on business, you see, I would like to purchase your bakery.” she bats her eyes. Her aura reeked of wealth, of power. Your father hums, “Sorry, no can-do ma’am, this here is all I have to my name, and I have a family to care for, I hope you can understand,”

“You don’t have to worry about that any longer, I can assure you that this deal will benefit all of us,” she grins from ear to ear. Your old man raises a brow. He leans the broom against a wall, limping his way to a seat placed at the counter, “What do you have to offer?”

It only took a few minutes to discuss scheduling an official meeting. Polly leaves the bakery now filled with glee. She’s in quite the pleasant mood. Arthur and John exchange glances with each other, questioning whether or not it had been a wise decision. But then again, they weren’t the ones who called the shots.

Soon enough, Polly arrived at Tommy’s office in a cheerful mood, slamming the office door open. Her nephew looks up from his desk then to his watch. It was almost dinner time. Which means she should’ve been with his son by now. Tommy stills his pen, “Who’s watching Charlie?”

“He’s with his uncles, as should you be, there’s an important family meeting to attend to dear nephew,” a hint of glee in her voice didn’t sit well with him, “When?” he huffs out.

Polly quips, “Now.” that was an order. Tommy is hesitant to get up but pushes through. He stores his reading glasses into a case before locking them in a cabinet. His aunt holds out an arm for him to take. He wonders what exactly his clever auntie had in store for them this time. When the two arrive at the Garrison they’re met with the rest of the Shelby family. With John and Arthur looking especially nervous for him. Ada on the other hand is absolutely giddy, not sure if she’ll be able to hold it in before Polly spills the news.

They all wait for the Shelby matriarch to begin. As Polly stands up, tall and proud to announce the important news, “A celebration is in order," she grips her nephew's shoulder, "Congratulations Tommy…you’re getting married,” she clasps her hands together, intertwining her fingers. Tommy doesn’t say a word, his eyes widen for a split second. His expression quickly turns into a scowl, “Poll…” Tommy is at a loss for what to say next. Just when his day couldn’t get worse, “No.”

“Oh, hush now, you didn’t see John complain when we had to set him up,”

“You weren’t there to tame him,” he retorts. Arthur on the other hand, agrees with his aunt, “She’s got a point...”. Tommy looks up to his older brother with a look of bewilderment as Arthur quickly ducks his gaze.

Polly made sure to have Tommy visit the family in person. His own brothers, his own men followed her orders not to leave him out of their sights. After a few days of constant harassment and threats, he had finally caves in. And so, it landed the Shelby members on the other side of town. Where they stood right in front of an old-fashioned building. This was the address of Tommy's soon-to-be wife.

Polly swiftly turns to her nephew, “Listen to me well boy: Under no circumstances will you to try to scare them off, got it?” she points a gloved finger in his face, scolding him as if he were still a child. He glares at her before giving a slight nod. Polly retrieves a bouquet of roses from the car. They were the same ones you' had been eyeing at the marketplace. She remembers how you would stop by the florist just to smell them. She hands them to her nephew, “I expect you to give this to her,” before proceeding towards the house.

Polly knocks on the front door. A woman opens it. Her eyes are soft and welcoming, a bit worn out by time. She smiles softly at the two, “Polly, it’s good to see you!” she shakes her hand, planting a kiss on each cheek. Polly embraces her in a tight hug, “It’s good seeing you as well my dear,” She firmly grasps her nephew's arm, pulling him into their conversation, “This is my nephew I've told you about, Tommy Shelby,”

“Good evening, Ma'am,” He curtly greets the other woman. Polly’s friend raises a brow, “My, what a handsome lad!” she giggles, “Please, come in, come in!” she waves her hand for them to follow. The girl’s mother had informed them, that their daughter couldn't be here today. You were left to care for the bakery all by yourself. Tommy didn’t like that, not one bit. No future wife of his should be slaving herself away. If he can’t choose his future wife, fine. But once married the only role you would be taking is a dutiful wife.

They make their way into the living room, passing by a framed photo of the family. A young husband stood behind his wife’s seat as he held his eldest daughter. Their youngest sat shyly in her mother’s lap. More and more photos of them were scattered across the wall. Each picture told a story. It had shown throughout the years that their daughters have blossomed into beautiful women.

Their latest family photo had been small wedding. Their eldest daughter had grown into a blushing bride. Her mother held her father’s shoulder, as he tried his best not to tear up. Tommy recognizes his face immediately. After all, it was his fault the man had ended up in such a condition. He felt as though he owed him a favor. He's now face-to-face with the man. Polly is the one to introduce him, “This is my nephew-”

“Thomas Shelby.” the old baker spoke up, “It’s good to see you, old friend,”

Polly’s attention is now set on her dear nephew, “You know each other?” sounding genuinely concerned that her nephew may have sabotaged the unification, before even having a chance to finalize it. But that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, this was the man who had saved Tommy’s life.

During the war, the older man had been responsible for rescuing countless young men. From either being buried alive or blown to bits. But in the end, it did cost him. He could say proudly that the loss of his leg, was a fair exchange for the countless lives of his fellow companions. Tommy had no choice but to accept the proposal, the girl’s dowry had already been paid in full. After their meeting, the two families exchanged their goodbyes, gIving a few hugs and kisses before parting. Polly turns around to give one final wave, “Welcome to the family.” before entering the vehicle.

Little did they know, you were already on your way home. Unaware of what the future had in store. Your fate was sealed, as was his.

[vanishingreyes]

TIMING: Today, in the evening LOCATION: Downtown, Conor’s window PARTIES: Conor and Xóchitl SUMMARY: Music reaches Xó’s ears and she approaches Conor’s window, eager to know who might be producing all that sound. CONTENT WARNINGS: parental death mention

It had been a while since he’d started a new piece. He’d been playing with an ensemble before he got here, and they would practice twice a week all together. He missed that, but he hadn’t really had the time to search for something like that. The shop had kept him busy, and all those new things he learned about himself, all those fae he had met, they’d made his anxiety spike. This was meant to help with that. He always felt better after playing. 

Adding notes with his pencil and his felt pens, the faun was finishing his first read of the first pages of Sibelius’ violin concerto. Usually, his cat ran out whenever he picked up his violin, and today would not be any different. Deciphering a score was not the most pleasant part, surely, but it still managed to fill his heart with joy, even as he noticed which part would be tricky for him. It wasn’t Paganini, thank God, but those damn trills were going to be a damn nightmare.

He could lose track of time when he played, but he tried not to inconvenience his neighbors too much. He’d just arrived in the neighborhood, after all, and he doubted they’d approve of him for long if he played past 9pm. 

The near-summer evening air was cooler than the day, though still warm enough. Which was ultimately for the best, because Xóchitl did prefer the heat - at least if given the choice between that and the cold cold. So a walk was nice, made doubly so by the fact that she’d gotten to leave work early - there’d been no clients after 3pm, and she’d taken advantage of that to go and do some reading at the library. Another small test to see how easily she’d be able to access the archives, the past news clippings, no matter how much she didn’t entirely like the idea of dealing with that.

How much she disliked the fact that Mackenzie’s death hadn’t been a front-page story. Except that, if she were entirely honest with herself, having something like that be complete front page news was likely some great level of entirely inappropriate. 

She glanced around her, the streetlights bringing her out of her thoughts, as was the sound of a violin playing. “Well, I know I’m not in some fancy-ass European city,” she muttered, more to herself than anybody else, “so what’s…” Xóchitl looked up, trying to discern the source of the noise. 

“Nice music!” She called, hoping whoever was playing the music would hear.

It didn’t take much more than two words for the faun’s cheeks to turn pink. A great part of him was tempted to remain away from the open window, another, small part felt bad to leave a stranger alone in the street with her words and, surely, a whole lot of embarrassment at being ignored like that. With a sigh, he dropped his instrument from his shoulder into his left hand and headed toward the opening to look down to the pavement. 

There was a young woman looking around, up at the house facades, trying to point out precisely where the sound came from. It struck him as odd. Conor always had good ears, and never had this problem. Maybe she had bad ears. “Hi,” he gave her a small gesture of his hand, something meant to accompany his words. “Tha-” He stopped in his tracks and offered a sheepish smile. “That’s nice of you to say, but huh, it’s really not…” 

“I mean, I’m not a musician,” Xóchitl called back up, finally having found the source of the music, “so I’m not an expert, but I think you sounded good, and my moms used to take me to the Boston Symphony Orchestra and the Boston Pops, so I like to think I’ve got a decent ear for that, and besides, I like it, so that’s all that should matter, right?” She raised an eyebrow up at him.

“But also, if you don’t consider that nice, what do you like, as far as music goes?” She’d stopped fully now, feet planted on the ground, looking up at his window. “I’m Xóchitl, by the way, just so you know the name of the woman who’s decided to talk to you in the middle of the night.” She made a small face, “I play piano, by the way. So maybe I know something about music.”

“You’re from Boston?” He hadn’t been in Boston in years. His whole family lived there and that was precisely why he couldn't go back. His accent still remained, after all this time, in the way he dropped his Rs or rounded his Os. 

His cheeks turned red and while she commented on his music taste, he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "It's not that I don't like what I'm playing, but I'm just reading the notes right now. It has no heart right now…" he paused . "Give it a few weeks," with a small smile, he set his violin in his lap, sitting against the window sill. "I'm Conor, I work downstairs," he explained. She told him she played the piano. He frowned. "I thought you said you weren’t a musician.” Shifting lightly, he glanced down at her : "how long have you played?"

“Lived from when I was eight, but no, I’m from here.” Xóchitl made a small face, again, before shaking her head. “I mean not literally here, I grew up on World’s End Isle. Which doesn’t have a lot of kids. Or didn’t. I don’t know what it’s like now.” Mackenzie had visited all the time. Even if the house was up for sale, Xóchitlwas pretty sure she wouldn’t have been able to live there again. It was bad enough being in the town, going back to her childhood home that probably had “Mac and Xó, BFFS 4EVER” carved into her closet door would’ve been entirely impossible.

“Are you inviting me back in a few weeks, then?” Her lips curved up into a smirk. “I’d be honored.” Xóchitl gave him a small wave as he sat at his window sill. “Flower shop? I’ve been meaning to stop by, so now I’ve got enough more of a reason to.” At his question, she paused. “Twenty-one years, I think? I started when I was eight. How about you?”

“Ah, well I got here a couple of months ago. You must know Boston better than I know the area,” the faun assured her, leaning his back against the window’s frame to get more comfortably seated. “I have only been there for wedding venues. I didn’t take much of a look around,” he didn’t have much time for that. “People don’t like having kids at weddings nowadays. It’s a bit sad.” Sure enough, they were loud, and they kept moving around, but he remembered he liked weddings back when he was a little kid. Maybe he didn’t though, and he just liked spending the whole day with his mother instead of waiting for her to come back home from work.

“You want to come back in a few weeks?” Conor looked down at her, and catching her smile, felt his cheeks warm up a little. Was she making fun of him and questioning his word or did she really want to listen to the progress? "Huh, sure. If you want," he glanced down at the front of his store then back at her, or rather at a spot on the window sill. "Oh I started when I was 6 years old," with a half shrug, he glanced up. It wasn't precisely a lie, and it beat telling her he'd practiced for around 60 years. "You know, I think that makes you a musician." He noted, unsure of what she might have meant by that.

“I might, yeah.” she kept her gaze focused up toward him. “But I’m not a tour guide by any means.” Xóchitl nodded, “That’s true. My moms had me at their wedding, but to be fair, they couldn’t legally get married until just about a year after we moved.” That was too much personal information, and Xóchitl involuntarily winced - backpedaling a few steps. “It is sad, I mean, I get it sometimes, but never wanting kids anywhere seems a bit weird.” She and Mackenzie had gone with Mackenzie’s mom more than a few times to help cater events - she was a baker or a cook or something that Xóchitl couldn’t quite remember just this moment, but she did remember eating frosting out of a bowl next to her friend, feet hitting the doors underneath the countertop.

“I’d like to.” She offered him another smile. “We can communicate from the window again, I’m not inviting myself in, unless you’d like that.” Xóchitl sighed. “Two years before I did, then. He looked to be roughly her age, maybe slightly older - though she’d never been too good at guessing ages. “Well, then I’ll accept it, even though that won’t make me change my actual job, it’s nice of you to call me that.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want a tour,” Conor preferred exploring the area at his own rate, without rushing through town. On his first day in town, he had gone for a walk in his neighborhood, and ended up enjoying a stroll by the sea front. It was a nice town, if you could forget about that weird smell that enveloped it now for months. His garden provided for a nice change of air, but even his flowers weren’t enough to completely fade off the scent of rotten eggs and charcoal. 

“Oh you have two moms?” He fell silent, as if digesting the information. “I have one. I have no dad though,” he was happy to keep it at that. Conor had just gotten used to write parent as a singular word, that was all. His father wasn’t worth thinking about. Conor felt he’d have felt even better had he not existed at all. 

“That’s no way to listen to music,” he protested. He wouldn’t invite people over, he couldn’t bring himself to, but he wouldn’t allow for this either. “We could meet elsewhere?” The town was large enough, and offered enough options when it came to meetings with strangers. “I suppose. We look about the same age,” he gave her a small nod. “I don’t think you need to make it your job to call yourself a musician,” was it how that worked? You could play music for decades and still not be considered a musician? 

I wasn’t offering one. Xóchitl nearly said, but Conor was being nice, so she held back. “Yeah, that makes sense, and I mean I know some ways around town, but not having lived here in about two decades makes me not the best choice. 

“I do.” She nodded at his comment. “Well, my moms have always been married, so I also don’t have a dad. I - I’m sorry you don’t, though, if that was something you wanted.” Having two moms had always been the best for her - though she didn’t know of any other way, of course - but Xóchitl liked to think that even if she had the chance to have had a dad, nothing could ever have topped having the two best moms in the world.

“Sure, we could meet elsewhere. Whatever works for you, though I suppose if you want me to play, we’d have to go somewhere where there’s a piano. My house is always an option, but that might be too soon.” Xóchitl fought off a smirk. “That’s fair. Also maybe it’s just personal preference? I don’t know. If you want to consider yourself one, then I say you are.”

“That makes you a terrible choice,” Conor agreed. He wasn’t sure how much the town had moved in over 20 years, but it was safe to say that she didn’t remember much of it either way. How much did he really remember of Boston outside of the block around his mom’s apartment, aside from the way to school, or the park? 

He gave her a shrug. He didn’t like talking about that. “I’m glad you had a happy family,” not that his family had been unhappy, but they weren’t the sort you found in picture books. Every father’s day, Conor was one of those rare kids who came back home with a present he couldn’t give to the right person. His grandfather collected them dearly. He wondered if things would have been different for him, with a father. He wondered what would have happened if his father had stuck around. His expression darkened the more he thought about it. He tried to shake it off before she would notice. 

“Huh, yeah. I am pretty sure you’re not supposed to invite strangers over to your house,” even if he knew her name, he didn’t know her, aside from the piano playing or the two moms thing. “I play music, and so do you. We’re musicians,” the faun rose to his hooves, turning around to come lean his elbows on the edge of the window instead. “Don’t you have one of those portable keyboards?” 

“It does, I’d agree.” Which at least meant that there was little-to-no chance he’d ask for her view of the town. Which was something she was more than happy to have anybody not ask her about. Even if Xóchitl couldn’t pretend that she’d never lived in town (hell, there were still diner workers and librarians who’d known her twenty-one years ago), she could pretend like she didn’t still have a good portion of the town’s layout memorized. If only because maybe, somehow, that would help with figuring out what happened to Mackenzie.

“I’ve never taken that for granted.” She knew not to. Xóchitl also knew that her moms wouldn’t have faulted her for anything, but that was just another reason to love them. The fact that they truly did love her unconditionally. She’d elected to make cards and gifts for both of her mothers whenever the class did father’s day things – of course, she celebrated mothers’ day with both of them, but more gifts for them were never bad, and she’d taken to glaring at any teacher who questioned what she was doing. Thankfully, very few ever had.

“Seems like one of the first rules regarding stranger danger, huh?” Xóchitl offered another shrug. “Okay, so not that. We do both play music. We are musicians.” She offered him a bright smile as he came to the window. “I can see you better now, so that’s nice. But - yes.” Or she could buy one, because she preferred her non-portable piano. “Sorry, very good point, yes, I can bring it just about anywhere.”

“You shouldn’t take them for granted,” he paused. “They’ll be dead soon.” She looked about his age and he seemed to have forgotten, for a moment, that this was only true for him. Conor was nearing his seventieth year. Of course his mother was close to passing away. 

He returned to Xóchitl her smile, as though he never said something so grim. “That would be lovely, I look forward to it.” It would be nice, playing with someone again. 

“If you like it enough, we could ask around if others would be interested in playing with us,” he took a look down the street. “But I’m getting ahead of myself,” and a red tint colored his cheeks once again. “We can go buy music sheets across the street. The shop owner, Leti, she probably has them,” he paused. “Any piece you’d like to do in particular?” 

“I - yeah.” Reminders of death never sat well with Xóchitl. Because Mackenzie hadn’t been supposed to die when she did, they weren’t even double digits in age, and everything had gone wrong, then. “That’s true, I guess. Except they aren’t that old. They’re not even sixty, yet.” But he probably hadn’t meant that in a rude way. Maybe he was just far more matter-of-fact than other people were. “I look forward to it too.”

Xóchitl nodded, “that could be good, we can see about it.” She nodded again, “Leti? I know her, actually. She’s wonderful, and she’d have excellent taste in music, so I can tell that you’re smart, and you’ll do well with this sort of thing. Logical. If that makes any sort of sense. But I’d be up for anything - whatever strikes your fancy.”

Sixty. About his brother’s age. He didn’t want him to go so soon, but Conor knew he had no control over it, and that all he could do was cherish whatever time he had left with his loved one, even if he could never see them again. 

“You can tell that I’m smart?” Because he knew the woman across the street sold music sheets? “I’m really not that smart,” he shook his head, although didn’t care much to do more to dismiss her words of kindness. “Anyway, I’ll pick a sonata tomorrow. We can meet sometime this week to read it and start practicing right away,” he didn’t take her hesitancy to choose something as anything else but that. It didn’t occur to him that perhaps she was avoidant to get herself out of the interaction. He knew people lied all the time, and yet it never occurred to him that they did. 

“I mean, I’m not an expert on qualifying what is smart, but yes. Besides, aren’t you trying to make a good impression on me? It’s perfectly fine to say that you are, even if it’s a bit of a lie.” Xóchitl shrugged. “Well, you seem at least passably smart, then. You are a nice conversation partner, and I’ve enjoyed this.” She nodded, though she didn’t know if he could see that. “Sonata is perfect, and should I give you my number, or would you prefer to be called upon on the street again?” She’d only not chosen a piece because of her curiosity about what he’d pick. Nothing more - other than the fact that she was tired and didn’t want to try and think of one at the moment.

“I’m sure we’ll be experts in no time.” Xóchitl let her lips curve into a smile that was nothing but kind; a gentle sort; because the idea of playing music not all by herself was a very good sort of idea.

It’s fine to lie? His eyebrows curled. No. That was not fine. Lying was not fine. “Passably smart, alright, I’ll accept that,” shifting to rest his hip against the sill, he looked down at her, pointing toward the store front beneath him. “Just knock on my door, alright. No need to complicate very simple things, is there?” 

He gave her a shrug as his only answer. He wasn’t sure experts would be the term. He had played for over 60 years, he was beyond that. If she had been playing for 20 years, he was sure she would be fine too, had she been serious about it. “See you then,” Conor gave the girl a nod and a small wave. He’d never been great with social cues, and it was no wonder he bumped his head against the window’s edge as he stood back up and disappeared beyond the curtain. “I’m fine,” he called out. Stupid.

[saving-word-crawls]

Escape Room Crawl

By: Ellibotic

I love escape rooms–so I decided I had to make an escape room themed crawl! The amount you write will depend on your typing speed and how you do on some of the challenges. My estimate could be off, but I think this challenge should get you to somewhere between 3000 and 4000 words. I hope it helps you hit your daily goal. <3

All writing challenges are bolded. Italics indicate you have to make a choice or take a penalty if you lost a challenge. Oh, and your friend’s name in this crawl is Rando. Please feel free to mentally replace that with the name of one of your friends, as Rando is meant to be a placeholder.

Without further ado, let’s crawl!

ECTOLABS INC. ESCAPE ROOM CRAWL

You arrive at the address your friend gave you, but you almost miss it. The sign in the window is obscured by iron bars–at least, you think they’re iron. They might just be painted to look like it. You check your phone and see a text from your friend. It reads, <almost there, ten min away>. Write for 10 minutes while you wait for your friend.

Ten minutes pass and your friend, Rando, parks a couple of cars down from you. They get out, put change in the meter, and walk over to you. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” they say. “Can I borrow a quarter for the meter? I’m short.” Before you answer, what day is it?

Monday - Saturday: You fish a quarter out of your pocket. Write 25 words.

Sunday: You point out the part of the parking sign that says “ALL DAYS EXCEPT SUN.” Parking is free on Sundays, so Rando just wasted their money, but at least you don’t have to waste yours.

When you finally get inside, seven other people are gathered around a desk. Behind the desk is a young woman in a lab coat. She waves you over and says, “Welcome to EctoLabs Incorporated! We’re so happy to have you join us for a tour today. But first, please sign a waiver.” As you approach the desk, you see that the other guests have been given clipboards and pens. The young woman slides one to you, and you notice her name tag reads “Dr. Igoria”. That must be her character name. Thank her, then sprint to your next 100 words as you skim and sign the liability waiver.

You and Rando chat with another pair while you wait. Anna and Edgar are married and have decided to shake up date night with a new challenge while Edgar’s parents watch the kids. They’ve never done an escape room before! Write for 5 minutes while you tell them about the escape room Rando invited you to for their birthday last year.

Once everyone is done signing, the Dr. Igoria steps out from behind the desk and beckons for you all to follow her down a brightly lit hallway. “Today we’ll be visiting a lab run by my colleague, Dr. Frankenbauer. Before we enter, however, let’s go over a few rules…” Dr. Igoria goes over six safety rules to observe while you’re in the room. Roll a six-sided die and multiply it by 50. Write that many words.

Dr. Igoria opens the door to the laboratory and lets you all enter ahead of her. When you get inside, you look around. What do you notice first? Pick one.

A shelf full of books with curious titles. Pick a book (whatever you have near you) and flip to a random page. Check the page number and write that many words.

A map with four red thumbtacks in it. Write 4⁴ words. (That’s 256 words.)

A chemistry bench with a set of test tubes placed on it. You quickly count twenty test tubes. Sprint to 200 words.

The door shuts behind you and Dr. Igoria walks to the middle of the room. “Here at EctoLabs, we approach the supernatural from a scientific perspective. This has led unprecedented advancements in the understanding of the supernatural…” You tune out after a bit, looking around some more. She says something about studying ectoplasm and the importance of closed environments. Write 100 words while she goes on.

Suddenly, the room goes dark and an alarm goes off. A red light turns on, throwing the room into an ominous contrast. “Oh no,” says Dr. Igoria, “no no no no no!” She runs to the door and pulls at the handle, then tries the number lock, but it doesn’t budge. “It’s alright, everyone! Nothing to worry about. We’ve just had a… small containment breach.” A couple of guests in the back begin whispering. Then, a voice comes from the far side of the room.

<Dr. Igoria? Are you there?>

Dr. Igoria runs over to a screen mounted to the wall. On it is a young man, though he’s wearing makeup and a white wig to make himself look older. “Dr. Frankenbauer!” she says. “What happened?”

<A test subject escaped and we’ve had to lockdown the facility. The air in your sector will run out in about an hour. I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.>

“Can’t you let us out?” she pleads.

<The security system isn’t set up that way. There’s a way to override it, but–> <-BZZT-> The screen goes black, then a clock with red numbers reading ‘60:00’ appears.

“Doctor? Doctor!” The timer begins counting down. Dr. Igoria turns back to all of you. “Quick!” she says, gesturing at the room around you. “We have to look for a way to override the door lock!” The game’s begun. Write for 5 minutes as you search for your first clue.

You head over to the bookshelf while everyone else disperses throughout the room. “Ghost Stories Across Cultures”, “Unethical Science”, and “Resurrection for Idiots” are just a few of the delightfully thematic titles glued to the spines. Across the room, someone reads a clue aloud: “‘To find the right words, consult a book with more than most.’ Maybe a dictionary?” You check the shelf. You can’t find a dictionary, but there is a thesaurus. You open it and see a number scrawled on the first page–394. What does it mean? Do a 10 minute word war to find out.

If you lose: Do a 3-digit challenge.

That’s probably a page number, right? You turn to page 394 and see the words “yarn” and “yearn” underlined. Nice detective work! You head over to the person who asked and hand them the book. Write 50 words as they thank you for your help.

Next, you go over to the map on the wall with the red thumbtacks. Below it is a cabinet with a combination lock on the door. You figure the map is probably connected to the lock, but how? Do a 20 minute word war while you think.

If you lose: Write 300 words and think harder!

You see Rando pull two pieces of red yarn out of a drawer. That’s it! You ask for the pieces and Rando hands them over. By tying them to the thumbtacks, you make an ‘X’ over the map and the yarn intersects directly over Paris. There are three posters on one of the walls, each depicting a different city–Rio de Janeiro, Tokyo, and Paris. You point it out to the other guests. Sprint to the nearest 1000 words while Anna helps you find three numbers hidden in the Paris poster. You open the lock and find a sudoku puzzle painted on the inside of the door. Anna calls Edgar over and you decide to leave them to it.

You see Rando opening a briefcase, and inside is a colorful puzzle box. “Come help me with this,” they say, so you walk over as they set it on top of the chemistry bench. Attempt a fifty headed hydra to figure out how to open it.

If you lose: Sprint for 200 words as you rush to think of something else to try.

After studying the box for a while, you realize the colors of the wood panels are the same as the entirely solid “chemicals” in the test tubes on the bench. You count the different colors and write for 10 minutes as you tell Rando to press the panels down in this order: RED BLUE BLUE GREEN BLUE GREEN RED RED RED RED BLUE RED GREEN GREEN RED BLUE RED BLUE RED BLUE.

It opens! Inside is a key card–but hold on just a second. How far along in the room are you?

If you defeated the fifty headed hydra, your previous experience with escape rooms has made you faster and savvier than the average guest, and your group is way ahead of schedule. You hear Edgar say, “We have the code! Does anyone have the keycard?” Write to the nearest 100 words as you swipe the key card in the reader by the door. You step aside and Edgar punches the code into the lock. The normal lights turn back on and music plays. You did it! You escaped the room, and with fifteen minutes to spare!

If you didn’t defeat the hydra, but you won at least one word war, you’re running low on time. There’s a card reader on the door, so you go and swipe the card. The number lock beeps–it needs a code. “Does anyone have a code for the door?” you ask the room. Anna and Edgar perk up, and Anna says, “We have a code!” She steps forward and you sprint to 150 words while she punches it in. The normal lights turn back on just as the clock is about to hit zero, then music plays. You did it! You escaped the room!

If you didn’t defeat the hydra AND lost both word wars, the clock hits zero and another alarm blares. You didn’t make it out in time, but you sure had fun!

The game is over, and you exchange contact info with Anna and Edgar as you walk back to the lobby. Dr. Igoria, who reintroduces herself as Felicity, gets everyone together for a photo. Say cheese and write a final 100 words!

[elizabeaufort]

⏤ It was rivers of tears coming out from her grey-bluish hues that she had to blink, for not seeing anything blurry. ❛ I went there by Uber. M--My car has a bit of damage… ❜ Not as much as Paul's car. She took the pen, her hand was a bit shaky, and she wiped her tears with her own wrist, from the left arm, the tears dropping on the maps. ❛ I as-ask for the Uber dr-drop me here. ❜ She marked an X on the point she arrived. ❛ It is an abandoned parking lot, close to the club. I made my way till here… ❜ She made the line to the parking lot. ❛ And he's dead around, well at maximum 7 hours ago. It was today. ❜ Her voice was raspy, and she was sobbing, her delicate features puffy from crying and injured on one side. Liz made all her trajectory in the map, despite her hand shaky, and her chin shivering from crying harder.

The Aussie was on the floor, on her injured knees, sitting on her own legs, and her hair messy. She wore one of Ric's shirts. ⏤ New phone? New everything? Are you kidding me? She put her phone number, and the provider just like he said, and Ric's as well but still on the alias 'Pluto'. ❛ My friend's number... ❜ She repeated his words nervously. Since she genuinely believes that Damien could give her a sign of anything that might help her situation and Ric's. She genuinely believes that Damien could give her a sign of anything that might help her situation and Rics'. ⏤ Maybe she should've called him earlier, but part of her didn't want to do it, because she already thought she was abusing his kindness.

And she had no one to talk to about it, at the least none she could trust besides Ric, obviously. She watched Damien doing some calls, and she embraced herself, and unfortunately she couldn't make labial reading to know what the fuck he is talking about, it was confusing and it only added to increase her anxiety. ❛ I'm sorry Damien, I asked already too much of you. I don't know what to do. And what I should do now? ❜ The body… She has no issues with disposing of the body, although she has no idea how to do it.

Damien was worried, but what she said turned his blood to ice. Fucking hell. "How long has it been and give me the exact location of the body and I need to know all the streets and paths you've taken." He put a few sheets in front of her and a pen. "Write it down. Let's hope it's not too late. You and your friends will need new phones. I'll get them for you, but you need new everything. And those text messages, I'll make sure they get truly erased. So please write down your provider and your friend's too." He spoke as calmly as he could but this was urgent and he didn't have time to think about anything else right now.

Like how mad he was she hadn't called him for help. This could've been avoided had she just called him. Now, there was a chance her and her friend would be fucked for the rest of their life.

Once he had what he needed, he used one of his burner to call his grandfather. He spoke in French, but it sounded weird, like a lot of hidden messages and code words. He hung up then sat back by Liz. "They're going to check if something can be done. Should get a call back in thirty minutes. Who else knows? And how are you?"

[justanotherpitstop11]

The weekend of firsts

Okay, so I saw an interview with Checo today and got inspired, so I decided to write another fic, hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Checo Perez x Reader

Warnings: it's long, it's fluff, mentions of crash

English is still not my first language so please be kind. 🥺

-

The 2020 Sakhir GP was everything, but normal. First of all, it was a double header that weekend, which equaled double work, double effort, so you were exhausted just thinking of it.

You tried to do your best and perform on the highest level as the presenter of your local sports channel, but the first challenge came, when that horrible crash happened with Grosjean. The whole track went silent for such a long time, it felt like forever. You were absolutely terrified and shocked, but you had to keep it together because you had a job to do. Fortunately Grosjean was fine, but everyone knew that it was a miracle that he survived at all.

During the red flag you met some of the drivers, but this time you didn't ask anything, just wandering around with your cameraman shooting some scenes for your report and trying to forget what happened just minutes before.

You also met him during your walk, but you two just sadly waved at each other from afar. You had admit that you started to like him more than the rest of the grid. You liked all the drivers of course, but he was just...different. He always had something nice to say to you, even if he doesn't really like the media stuff, and also stayed there with you for a few more minutes when he could ask some questions about you, or just to know how are you doing.

That's one of the reasons why you were devastated when you heard the news that he will lose his seat for next year at Racing Point and probably in Formula 1 too. You were angry about it - more than you should have - but you couldn't do anything just to try cheer him up (and yourself) a little bit, most of the time with horrible jokes, which he actually laughed at everytime, so you could be satisfied with yourself.

This time however there was nothing to laugh about. The race had a restart, which was going well, but Checo had a DNF so it was just going downhill from that point. He arrived at the media pen soon after he got out of the car, and for your surprise he was directly heading towards you, ignoring all the bigger channels' journalists, which apparently surprised them too. You nudged your cameraman, cleared your throat to ask your questions, but as soon as you saw how mad and dissapointed he was, you just wanted to hug him and tell him, that everything's gonna be okay. But that would be very unprofessional of course.

"Checo, so sorry for what happened, but I have to ask, how do you feel right now?"

"Well, obviously it's really unfortunate, not just for me, but for the whole team."

"Do you think you could've finish on the podium today, if you were able to continue?"

"Yeah, definitely, we had the pace the whole weekend, so I think the podium was possible for me, even a win too."

You were smiling at him for the whole time to calm his nerves a little bit, and it worked, because his features softened a little bit, at least what you saw with a mask on his face. You just saw his eyes and god they're beautiful.

"Will you try again next week and go for the win?"

"Do you want me to?" He leaned onto the barrier between the two of you and looked directly in your eyes.

What?

"Well... of course it would be an exciting race if you could fight for the win."

"I can do that if you promise you will root for me."

What is he doing? He probably got hit on the head.

"I'm just rooting for an exciting and safe race, and we will see what happens. Anyway, good luck for tomorrow."

"Thank you Y/N."

This is the first time you are grateful for the mask because you blushing like hell. He never said anything like this before, it could be the adrenaline, or maybe he just tried to cover his anger, you don't want to see anything into this.

-

After last weeks' events you were exhausted, but also can't stop thinking about what Checo said to you. You would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn't liked that, in fact you would be more than happy to play along if there were no cameras. However, you didn't have time for these kind of thoughts during the day, because it was really busy with all the coverage from the track and the interviews.

You were of course rooting for Checo in secret, hoping that he will finally get his maiden win, because you wanted to see him happy and smile again and also you wanted RP to regret letting him go. Things were already going wrong in the first lap of the race, which you couldn't believe. Checo got kicked out by Charles and had to box to change his front wing which dropped him to the last place of the grid. You were already thinking about plans to comfort him after the race (including some inappropriate thoughts, but you reminded yourself that you needed your job), but the next thing you know he was going through the grid like a rocket and soon he was in 3rd place.

What happened at Mercedes was a huge mess, and you felt for them, especially for George, but this fuck up meant that Checo was leading the race. Just the thought of the fact that he can actually win this race blew up your mind, but it became more and more possible with every lap and you started to actually root for him, screaming and jumping up and down as you watched him driving in front of everyone.

Finally there was the chequered flag and he crossed the line, winning the Sakhir GP with team that abandoned him. You heard him crying over the radio and you couldn't help yourself but cry too, tears coming down your cheeks, you were so happy and proud of him. You wanted to go to the podium ceremony to hug and kiss him, because yeah... that's what you really wanted deep inside of you, but unfortunately you had a job to do.

You were more than excited to see him arriving at the media pen as the winner, and he didn't dissapoint you, he was almost running towards you, you could tell he was over the moon.

"Checo, congratulation to you, what a race! You did an amazing job today, falling back to P18 and now you standing here as the driver of the day."

"Yeah it was tough at the beginning, I thought I'm out of this race and have no chance to win or even finish on the podium."

"I can see it in your eyes that you're obviously really happy, but I expected more, maybe a little victory dance or something."

He started to laugh at your words, which made your heart melt.

"Actually, I still can't believe that I won, it feels like a dream, maybe I am in fact dreaming."

"No, you're not, if I could pinch you, I would do that to make you believe."

Suddenly he held out his arm to you.

"Please do it, so I can believe."

You were a little surprised at his action, but you grabbed his hand and pinched him hard. You cannot describe how good it was to touch him, but you had to stay focused.

"So? Is it okay now?"

"It is, thank you, glad you're really here and not just in my dreams." Oh no, he didn't. "Hope you were rooting for me." Yes. "Maybe you're my lucky charm."

"...Well, we will find out that on the next race. Congratulations again, you really deserved it. Enjoy your party tonight."

"Thank you, I will." He winked at you and he didn't go away to give his next interview, which was odd. Instead, he moved closer and started to talk to you.

"I was thinking, maybe you could join me tonight. I'm really grateful for you, because you always cheered me up even when things went really bad and I just want to thank you in some kind of way."

"Checo you're really kind, but there's no need to thank me, I'm just doing my job."

You obviously doing more than your job when it comes to him.

"Is it your job to comfort me, and look at me the way you do?"

Shit.

"Y/N, I can see how you look at me, and if I see that right, then I just wanted to tell you that I feel the same. So I would be really happy if you could be by my side tonight."

Oh my god.

"Checo, I'm... Look. The truth is that yeah, I really enjoyed every second of our little interactions, and what you said today and yesterday it made me feel good. I loved it honestly. I would gladly go out with you tonight, but it would be really suspicious, especially after those comments of yours and I don't wanna lose my job."

"I totally understand you, and I don't wanna get you in trouble. But you know me enough to know that I won't give up on this. I want to celebrate and share my happiness with you, and if it means that we have to do it in secret, I don't mind it. In fact maybe that would be much better."

You just stared at him, not a single idea what to answer. You wanted this too. You longed for his company, and even for more than that, if you want to be honest. Don't know when you started feeling like this for him, but you did.

"I will not leave until you say something and that will be suspicious."

Oh fuck, he's right you were talking for too long, the other journalists already looking at you questioningly.

"Okay, fine. I will send you my number, and call me tomorrow. I guess we need to find a solution for this."

You acted like you were forced to agree, but in reality, you wanted to kiss him right now, in front of everyone. What a headline that would be.

"You don't know how happy I am right now." His eyes were smiling at you.

"Believe me, I can imagine." You smiled back to him.

"Talk to you tomorrow then. I can't wait." And with that he took off to give the other reporters what they want.

You started to feel butterflies in your stomach, and you knew immediately you were in big trouble indeed.

[miss-tc-nova]

Betting Backfire - Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

I’m immensely torn between Leona and Azul. That’s it. I’m just in hell forever. Kay thanks. Bye. 

Premise: Azul makes a bet, not getting the outcome he expected.

Music Inspiration: Love So Soft - Kelly Clarkson

~~~~~

              Truly, the Monstro Lounge VIP room makes the perfect study room. A scritching pencil can barely be heard over the low, smooth jazz playing in the background, studiously taking notes. The chair, almost a throne, is comfortable without allowing its occupant to slouch and slack off. Before it sits the desk upon which some cunning documents have been writ is admittedly needlessly large, but does it’s job as a surface for my homework. Should one choose to, one of the two sofas may also make for fine seating for a reader. The coral lamp, however, provides the perfect amount of lighting for me, so desk it is. The only downside is the minor chill, though I suppose I can’t fault it too much considering the usual occupant of the room.

              Pen aside, requiring the briefest break, I take up the glass just within reach. A loud, empty sound breaks my perfect study aura to alert me to my empty drink.

              Normally, annoyance would be my first thought but today is a special day. Remembering the shining, silver bell on the corner of the desk is like a drug, flooding my veins with glee. The petite instrument gives off the most beautiful chime when lifted. And it summons the greatest prize I’ve ever won.

              It takes mere seconds for my reward to arrive. A scowl rests on that pretty face, his grey eyes hard, and arms folded.

              “What do you want now? I have customers to take care of.”

              “Oh don’t be mad.” The delight in my voice clearly grates on him. “I just need a refill on my drink.”

              That sigh is filled with his struggle to resume composure, but the housewarden stalks closer to take my glass. Aggravation laces his enquiry. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

              Perching my shameless smirk atop interwoven fingers, I say, “No, that should be it.” As he turns to leave, I tack on just a bit more salt for his wounds. “Thank you, Zuzu.”

              It takes him not long at all to return with a new beverage. By then, I’ve resumed my homework with a question to ask him.

              “Hey Zuzu, remind me what the traits for the Great Seven are?”

              There’s no hesitation in his answer. “Strictness, persistence, benevolence, mindfulness, tenacity, diligence, and nobility.”

              “Right. Thanks.”

              Eyes narrow at me. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable studying in your own quarters?”

              I mock consideration. “Mmm, nope.” One of the sofas holds my bag and I make my way towards it. “You got a nice little set up here. Besides, how could I ask you questions if I’m in my dorm and you’re here?” There’s at least three other classes I have homework for.

              “If homework is all you needed help with, I would gladly help you,” he says. “Provided you’re willing to wait until the Monstro Lounge is closed.”

              A loud slam sounds from my books hitting the desk. “Oh no no no.”

              Startled by my retaliation, he backs into the desk.

              One finger meets the brim of his hat, sending it to the floor. “We made a deal. Whoever got the lower score on the potionology test had to drink the potion made by the other.” By his scarf, I make a point. “And last I checked, ninety-nine is higher than ninety-eight.”

              His cool demeanor falters. “Yes, but I—”

              “You what? Didn’t think I’d score higher? Didn’t think I’d brew an obedience potion?” Arms fold. “Because I sure as hell know you would’ve made me drink every last drop of whatever you concocted. Isn’t that right, Azul? Say it.”

              He sighs. “Yes.”

              “And what was it you intended to make me drink? Poison? Eternal sleep? Maybe you also made an obedience potion.” Azul, some aggravation on his lips, looks away. “What was it?” We both know how this will end. “Tell me.”

              Immediately, the magic compels Azul to react. “It was a l—”

              But the boy, in some sad effort to fight his fate, slaps a hand over his mouth. That piques my interest: a potion he’s ashamed of despite wanting to use it on me.

              “Azul,” I warn. “Don’t make me force it out of you.”

              His head shakes in denial and I almost admire the fight in him. That shade of red creeping across his face is far more intriguing though.

              “Uncover your mouth and tell me.”

              Hands strain against the magic, but inevitably pull away from his mouth. Once free, his lips let loose his secret.

              “It was a love potion.”

              The shock that jolts my system is taken advantage of; Azul bolts for the door. A panicked grip snatches the handle, thwarted by just my voice.

              “Stop.”

              He freezes.

              Even I’m not sure what I’m doing. “Close the door.”

              It clicks shut.

              “Come back here.”

              Slow, reluctant steps bring him back to me, his face ruby red.

              “Sit down.”

              He does as he’s told.

              A hand presses to my mouth as I try to come to grips with my situation.

              It’s no secret that Azul has a reputation. He’s beautiful, smart, and crafty—granting any wish with steep price to match. He always comes out on top. Nevertheless, we got along well enough. That didn’t stop the Monstro Lounge manager from dangling his golden contracts in front of me, throwing out offers I have no doubt he could fulfill. Enough distance could not be put between me and those though, no matter how tempting that satin voice of his was. But what he wanted from all those trades never crossed my mind.

              It wasn’t until two weeks ago, when I stupidly took the bait for our wager. The terms seemed fair enough—until I thought about them later—and I figured it would give me the motivation to study. I had better odds sprouting wings than beating Azul in a test so I came to terms with my ill-conceived fate. When I say we both got surprise of our lives when the results came back, that’s an understatement. And in my jubilation, I hadn’t put much thought into what the consequences of losing were. Even if I had, I don’t think I could’ve ever guessed it would be this.

              It takes some effort to summon my voice. “So you were going to make me drink a love potion.”

              Silver eyes avert.

              “Why? What do you get out me being infatuated with you?” I’m an idiot. “Unless that’s what you wanted because…”

              Oh, that deepening shade on his face confirms it all and I’m torn between being speechless and flattered.

              “How long do those potions even last?”

              “A few hours,” he murmurs.

              “And what did you have planned for those few hours?”

              Immediately, he blurts out, “Nothing untoward! I assure you!”

              “Uh huh. So what did you think you were gonna do?”

              His mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens and closes again. He repeats this a few times, never actually coming up with an answer.

              “Nothing untoward, he says,” I scoff. “You’re saying you just wanted my attention? Is that it?”

              Azul’s hands make for a poor disguise. First defeated, then forced to obey, and now exposed as a poor octopus craving attention: today must be miserable for him. I, on the other hand, find myself enjoying this never-before-seen Ashengrotto.

              Little thought goes into the process when I decide to take up Azul’s lap. Muscles practically turn to stone beneath me and yet it takes only the smallest pressure to guide his gaze up. The shudder of his breath ghosts my lips, ruffling the butterflies in my chest.

              “Is this what you wanted?” The excitement rising in me nearly overwhelms my words. Azul, his skin burning beneath my fingers, swallows thickly. “Answer me.”

              It’s minute, but distinct; he nods.

              I have to say, the lightning that strikes when our lips meet, I was never prepared for. All thoughts instantly become covetous for more. Lips softer than air press back with an addictive coolness. There’s a nervous tension behind them, not that my infatuation-riddled mind really acknowledges that; I may as well have taken that potion for how hard this hit me.

              A few more kisses, however, and this craving turns insatiable. He’s holding back. Whether that be from the situation or the image he thinks he has, I want to break it. I want to rip out and expose that desire he’s been hiding from me all this time.

              “Relax, sweetheart,” I whisper against his mouth.

              In a soft exhale, stone lives again. There’s more reaction, more want in him, but it feels only like teasing. It’s still not enough—like a freefall perpetually waiting to hit the water.

              Frustration bubbling in my chest, I lean back to stare down at him. There’s searching in his eyes; he’s analyzing me for something. While that’s not necessarily a bad thing, in this moment, I know I’ll never get what I want if he’s thinking.

              With a growl, I leave the epicenter of my craving behind for the desk.

              “Wh-Where are you going?” There it is, deep in him; I just have to pull it out.

              Drawers nearly spill their contents for how forcefully I open them.

              Immediately, Azul tries to stand. “What are you—”

              “Stay right there,” I demand.

              There it is, just sitting among his things: the bottle of pearlescent maroon liquid. The pop of the cork is surprisingly satisfying, as is the insecurity brewing on that pretty face.

              Eyes follow in horror as the bottle is extended to him.

              “Drink it.”

              His hand reaches for the bottle. “Wh-What?!”

              A smirk tugs at my lips. “Come now, don’t be shy.”

              “But I already…” The bottle trembles in his grasp.

              I divert his gaze to upward, lulling him into dropping his guard. “I know. So let’s remove some of that inhibition, shall we?” This weakness, just for me, has me on the edge of my seat. “Drink it.”

               His glasses come with me as I pull away. Azul steels himself before tipping the bottle to his lips. I watch the contents disappear, the excitement building in my chest. Unable to help myself, I pull the empty flask from his hand and set it beside his glasses. Silver eyes train on me as I settle in once again and I see his apprehension losing its grip, giving way to the emotion he’s been trying to contain.

              My lips lower. Just before finding his, I pull back, earning a tighter grasp on my hips. I didn’t even realize he’d taken up holding me. Still, rather than delve in just yet, I swipe my tongue across his lips, clearing away the drop that escaped him.

              I don’t know what I thought a love potion would taste like, but an instant addiction was not my expectation. The sweetest, juiciest fruit had nothing on this, an immediate, euphoric buzzing infesting my skull. I can only imagine what it’s doing to him right now, but that groan gives me some indication.

              That exhilarating shock hits again, instigating the buzz in my brain. This is what I wanted: everything. Azul doesn’t take charge—I don’t think it’s his true nature—but he answers my every demand, plunging us both headlong into the passion.

              The time spent in our heavy make-out eludes me. Before I know it, we’re left panting messes by the time it begins to die down. Winning this wager of ours has opened my eyes to the kind of person Azul really is—and perhaps a bit about myself as well. Knowing has made me all the better with no intention of letting him go any time soon.

              Treasuring his face between my hands, I hum, “Just look at how gorgeous you are.”

              It’s been present on his face from the beginning, but that dust of pink across his nose brightens.  

              “I love you,” he murmurs.

              A fresh wave of heat crashes on me, but I laugh as I situate myself to lie across the sofa. “No, you don’t. Not yet.”

              To my delight, he moves with me, his head on my chest. “I mean it.”

              “That’s the potion talking, love.” Fingers card through his hair. “Just…enjoy this.”

              “But I—”

              A palm silences him. While it was fun to unearth his true desires, I feel letting him spill all his secrets while under the influence is a bit unfair.

              “No more talking. Just close your eyes and listen.”

              Arms around my waist tighten, but Azul complies and I know he’s focused either on my heartbeat or my breathing. Regardless, it does the trick, eventually lulling the housewarden to sleep.

              I, myself, am not down for an afternoon nap, even if I’m now pinned on the sofa. Thankfully, I have Azul’s phone—courtesy of his pocket and the thumb to unlock it—to entertain me. So I spend the next few hours mindlessly scrolling Magicam.

              A groan pulls my attention to the boy resting against me. Considering I’ve never had a hangover in my life, I assume that’s what Azul’s feeling after consuming two mind-manipulating potions.

              Careful fingers brush the hair from his face. “Hey there, sleepy-head. How’s that headache?”

              The fist against his face must be an attempt to relieve the pain. “If I live, I will never make another deal with you for the rest of my life.”

              “Bet you never had a deal backfire on you like that, huh.”

              Azul pushes himself up, staring down at me with a mix of mortification and annoyance. A smile blooms across my face as a blush blooms across his. Immediately he removes himself from the sofa.

              “Aw, Zuzu, don’t be mad. Didn’t you have fun?”

              Those shoulders tighten, but my question goes unanswered. Those pretentious glasses slide back into place. “What is the effective time limit of that potion of yours?”

              “Oh it wore off before you drank your love potion.”

              Ooo, he’s just as cute when he’s flustered as he is when he’s irritated. “Excuse me?!”

              “Oh yeah. I’ve got it down to a science. It ended sometime between making you confess and making you drink the potion.” I give him a wink with my cheeky grin. “And you still listened like a good boy.”

              The hat is next to take its place, aiding him in hiding his fluster. “I don’t suppose there’s anything troubling you as of late?”

              “Breaking your vows already, love?” My eyes slide to the housewarden. With his back to me, he pretends to peruse his tomes. Too bad I can still tell he wants something. “What’s the catch?”

              A slim digit traces a spine. “An NDA.”

              “Hah! No.”

              He whirls back on me, his frustration in full view. But a second time, he dips his head to hide that expression. “My dear, be reasonable.” The negotiator in him is beginning to return, bringing with it some confidence. “Surely we can come to some sort of agreement. There must be something you want.”

              “Of course there is. I am mortal after all.”

              I see the smile before I see his face. He’s really trying to convince me. “Then name it. You can have whatever it is your darling heart desires.”

              Having seen the state of him only hours ago, I know that gentle persuasion to raise my gaze to him is a façade. “I want…”

              “Yes?” Only slightly too eager to hear my wish. “What is it?”

              “—you to ask nicely.”

              The request wipes his face blank. “What?”

              On my feet, I snake my arms around his neck. “Oh Zuzu. You can’t treat me like a client—not anymore. I’ve beaten you, seen that poor, adorable, flustered boy behind the mask. I had you on your knees at my every whim. I would’ve hoped by now you would view me higher than those you scam out of their allowances.” A smirk takes my lips. “Or was this all just some little fling to you? You were gonna use your potion, taste my tongue, and just drop me?” He’s crumbling again. “You got your fill, Zuzu? Or do you maybe wanna try this again some time?”

              The tremor in his chest is answer enough. Still, he does as I ask.

              “Please don’t tell anyone about what happened.”

              My thumb brushes his bottom lip. “Oh, sweetheart. This beautiful, vulnerable face—that’s only for me behind closed doors.”

              I enjoy being the instigator, drudging up this side of Azul I doubt many have ever seen. Still, I want him to know vulnerability is an option with me.

              A softer side shows itself. “Your secret’s safe, Azul. Trust me.”

              He blinks once, twice, and then wraps his arms around my waist, resting his forehead against my shoulder.

              “Thank you.”

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[marvelettesassemblenow]

Colour my heart

Pairing: Steve x F Reader 

Summary: Steve picked up an old hobby – and it might helped that he was looking forward to see the woman selling the art supplies 

Warnings: a robbery (nothing graphic, Steve just enters the crime scene and reader tells shortly about it), jealous Steve who might pulls his rank 

Word Count: ~2.6k 

A/N: Covid sucks – but it kind of gave me the time to finally finish one WIP. Also thanks to Nika @intrepidacious who pushed me to continue writing 

In his youth Steve had loved drawing. He collected old stumps of pencils and sharpened them until he finally couldn’t hold them anymore. Even then he used the last of the pencil lead to shade something. It was hard for him to get new drawing materials, but it always brought him comfort. 

Now there were many more colours and pens he could use. Currently he was trying his luck with oil painting. A few months ago, he had given graphite chalk a try, but he wasn’t really confident with what had appeared on the paper. And there might have been another reason for always trying new stuff. 

„Hey Steve,“ a voice greeted him when he opened the door to the art supply store and a few seconds later the sound from the street was silenced and he could only make out the soft music that was playing in the background. His nose was filled with smells of fresh paint and he saw you with a brush in your hand at the counter. 

„Hey sweetheart,“ he greeted you with a smile on his lips. The first time he had called you that it had been an accident and he had been mortified, but you didn’t complain and he thought he had seen a small smile on your face so he was brave and stuck to his new nickname for you. 

„How are the oils treating you? Better than the chalk?“ you asked and put away the brush to give him your full attention. 

„Better than the chalk, but I’m still not sure,“ he said and walked over. „Wanted to pick up a few more colours though.“ 

„Yeah, you know where they are. Or do you want my opinion?“ you offered, not wanting to overstep anything. 

„I’ll take a look. I know where to find you, if I need your help.“ You nodded and he walked over to the station where the colours were. It didn’t take him long to find the colours he was missing. The shade of blue wasn’t the exact one he had in mind, but if he would mix them with the darker blue, he was sure he could create the colour of the shirt you had been wearing last week. But this was just a coincidence because he really had liked that colour on you. He strolled a little bit more through the store until he made his way back to you. 

„Quiet day?“ he asked once he reached his destination.  

„Yep, but it’s only the quiet before the storm. Tomorrow is Wednesday so the senior citizen group will make their biweekly visit. And we’ll get lots of new stuff tomorrow, so enjoy it while it lasts,“ you explained with a little laugh and Steve nodded as if he knew exactly what you were talking about. 

It was about five minutes until your usual Wednesday group would arrive and you were busy moving the boxes that had just been delivered so they could at least walk into the store without bumping into them when the bell above the entrance told you you had a customer. 

„Hello, welcome to... Steve?“ you asked confused as you had seen him just yesterday. 

„Hey sweetheart, I just wanted to drop something off. You mentioned you had a busy day today, so, I ugh brought you some coffee.“ He rubbed his neck nervously, but you found it endearing. „I thought about getting you one from the café around the corner, but I didn’t know what you liked and we have a really good coffee machine. You know Tony, always buying the best,“ at this point he was only rambling. Of course you didn’t know Tony! The only other Avenger that you knew was Bucky and that was only because he came in with Steve when he decided to start drawing again. „So I hope you like it and the label said it should stay warm for a few hours, so even if you don’t have time to drink it immediately it should stay warm,“ he placed a coffee mug on the counter. You spotted some pink on the mug and took a closer look. Homemade Coffee Therapy stood there in black letters and you blinked a few times. 

„Thank you so much, Steve. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it so much!" Before you could collect your thoughts, the bell rang again and the group entered the shop. Steve took it as his sign to leave and waved at you – after he held open the door for the older people and left. 

„What a handsome gentleman,“ Betty said and eyed the mug that was still standing on the counter before you quickly put it behind. 

That wasn’t the only time Steve brought you coffee. The next time he came over he handed you a mug – black, used but clean and without a sticker at the bottom that told you it was a new purchase. He traded it with the pinkish one and asked you if he should change the coffee. And after some time, Steve brought two coffees. One in a black mug for him and another on for you in a more colourful one. 

„Hey,“ you greeted him with more enthusiasm. The bag with the washed coffee mugs was already standing behind the counter as Steve came in almost every Tuesday. 

In return you were greeted with a big smile and the nickname you came to love. After exchanging pleasantries, you told him about an upcoming art class in the store. „If you want there’s still room. They’re using oil colours to learn a wet in wet technique.“ 

„Will you be there?“ he asked, which caused you to nod in reply. „Then you can count me in.“ 

„I didn’t even tell you the date,“ you laughed and after making sure that he was free that day, he told you he’d come again. 

“Oh, this looks good,” he heard your voice behind him. You were quiet as you didn’t want to disturb the other painters, but you had to make sure that Steve know you liked what you saw. His shoulders dropped. 

“This is nothing what hers looks like.” He sounded defeated. And when does Captain America sound defeated? Not that you could remember, so you just had to make sure that Steve knew that his was just as good – if not better. You bent forwards so your lips were near his ear, so he would hear you. 

“It isn’t supposed to look like hers. This class is to learn how to use the colours. How you can blend them and you can create whatever you want with it. This is the beauty in art. It isn’t supposed to be a certain way. You can do whatever you want with it. There isn’t a right or wrong way. These are only pointers and I really like what you did with it,” you said and pressed his shoulder. It did take you some self-control to not press your lips against his cheek. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” And he didn’t sound as sad as before. “I’ll stay and help you clean afterwards. Maybe we could grab something to eat at the café the street down?” 

“Psssshh,” the woman next to Steve made and he excused himself, but you couldn’t help to whisper that you’d love to get something to eat with him. 

The café was pretty empty and you managed to pay for Steves order as well. He tried to protest but you told him he brought you coffee each week so you wanted to give him something too. The both of you took a seat in the corner of the room where you wouldn’t be disturbed. 

“Tell me something about you that I don’t know. What made you pick up painting again?” you asked once your first hunger was sated. 

“Oh that’s actually... Will it stay between us?” he asked and turned a little bit more serious. 

“Oh, of course,” you said and put your fork down. You had thought it was an easy start into a conversation. 

“I’m about to step a little bit down. I’ll hand over the shield, it’ll be a slow transition. I’ll still be an Avenger and I’ll still work, but I do have some more free time and Bucky thought it would have been a nice way to calm down and pick up an old hobby.” 

“Wow,” you said not expecting that. “And is that okay for you?” 

“Yeah, I feel like its time. I’ve done this for a while and I’m kind of tired. And I’m sure they need someone else. Someone from this time, who gets them. Who knows their problems and I think Sam is exactly the person they need.” He said and you had no doubt about that he meant it. 

“As long as you are happy.” 

“I’m starting to get there,” he smiled at you and you picked up your fork again. 

“Are you okay?” Steve was out of breath once he reached you. If the door hadn’t been open Bucky would have been afraid that Steve would have ripped it out. He didn’t have any eyes for the police officer standing next to you or the other persons in the room, his only focus was on you. 

“Steve,” you breathed. “What are you doing here?” If Steve wouldn’t have known you by now, he wouldn’t have noticed the light tremor that accomplished your voice. 

“Are you okay?” he asked again once he reached out to you and his big hand cupped your face which cause you to feel safe. 

“Yeah, I am,” you said but he wasn’t reassured. 

“Sir, this is a crime scene,” the police officer next to you interrupted and it caused Steve to go rigid. He straightened his back, pushed out his breast and put on his Captain America face. 

“It’s Captain to you and I am very aware of that, so I’m making sure that my girl is okay. I’m sure you will understand that, officer.” The stare he was giving the other man didn’t let him much choice other than to nod and take a step back. Despite his harsh behavior the hand on your cheek was still soft and his thumb was slightly stroking you skin. 

“I’ll ask you for the last time and I’ll expect an honest answer, sweetheart. Are you okay?” The way he stood in front of you made you feel safe as he was shielding you from most of the gazes. 

“A little shaken,” you admitted. 

“Okay, I’ll get you out of here,” he said softly. “She’s done here today,” Steve said loudly and took a look at the office who had spoken to him before. 

“Sir,” he started, but a gaze from Steve let him change the title. “Captain, we’re not done here.” 

“But she is. If you have further questions send them to me,” he said and started to push you towards the exit. 

“Steve, my bag,” you started to protest. 

“Buck, will you grab it? It’s behind the desk.” 

“Of course, pal. I’ll catch up to you,” his friend agreed and because he was so focused on you, he didn’t even see the smirk that was sitting on his face after he knew you were alright. Oh, Steve didn’t even know how deep he was in. But Bucky had a slight idea. He wasn’t even sure that the two of you were aware that you were holding hands when he caught up towards you. 

“Why were you even there?” he heard your voice once he fell into step next to Steve – which made it almost impossible for anyone else to walk on that sidewalk. 

“It’s Tuesday, I was on my way to you to bring the coffee,” he said but stopped when he spotted some shards on the floor. 

“Is that my mug?” You stopped and picked up the shards before someone would injure themselves. 

“Actually, we were on our way to deliver a coffee order when we heard the news about a robbery in a bypassing police car and Steve recognized the address and then there was no stopping him and nothing to do to save the mugs,” Bucky told you without an ounce of shame to rat out his friend and his worry about you, but held out his hands to take the pieces from your hand to drop them in the next trash can. “But at least you’re okay,” he added to make sure that you were more important than a cup. “What happened?” he asked. 

“Buck,” Steve warned, but you said it was okay and told them about a robbery that had happened in the store. “A craft store? Who would rob out a craft store? I mean he got like 100 bucks from the cash register and he took like three pens that were lying on the table. Who does that?” 

You didn’t realize it yet, but you had reached the Avengers tower. Steve navigated you through the hall and towards the elevator until you reached the floor. “I’ll grab you some water and something with sugar,” Bucky said and Steve lead you towards his room. Steve’s room was not what you had expected. You knew that he was painting – he was buying supplies at your place a lot. But you weren’t ready to see his art that was in front of his window. 

“Steve, these are... You told me you didn’t like painting with the chalks but this is beautiful,” you said not being able to express what you felt when you saw his art. 

Steve had some people who saw his art. They were like “This is nice”, “I like that colour” and that was it. But having you seeing it meant a lot more to him. You were busy looking at the pictures so you didn’t notice Bucky coming towards the room. He pushed a glass of water and a chocolate bar in Steves hand, placed your bag that he still carried next to the door, winked at Steve and closed the door after him. 

Steve walked over to you and handed you the glass of water. “Thank you,” you replied and took a huge sip while you still looked at that painting that had caught your eyes. It was of a building and it featured a person with a very blue shirt. He might have thought of you, but it wasn’t noticeable in the painting. 

“You said something in the store. You actually called me your girl and I wanted to ask if that was only to get me out of there or if you meant it?” You quickly took another sip of water as not to show how nervous you were. 

“I did?” You face fell at Steve’s question. “I mean, I didn’t notice I did that. I’m sorry if I overstepped, I should have asked you out first,” he mumbled and the chocolate bar started to melt inside the wrapper as Steve’s body temperature and his grip tightened around it. 

“You could still ask,” you offered. 

“Would you say yes?” 

“You’re asking me if I would say yes to a date with the handsome man that brings me coffee every Tuesday? You mean the man that makes me look forward to the second day in the week although I do have to do inventory of the materials which is the most boring part of my job? Of course I would say yes. I would take any chance to spend time with him.” You searched for a safe place to place your cup down. 

“So, should I cook something for you? I heard my Mac ’n’ Cheese is mean,” he held out his hand to you and realized only when you wanted to take it that he still held that chocolate in his hand. You took it from him and placed it next to the water. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, but lead the way,” you grabbed his hand and both of you left his apartment for your first kind of official date – because Steve still hadn’t officially asked. 

Masterlist | Library Blog

divider by @fireflygraphics

[myherowritings]

PART 3. ACCIDENTAL SUGAR DADDY?

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. happy new year y’all! :3 i hope you have a good 2021 and here is some flirty ceo!shouto for u to enjoy as we enter the new year hehe ;) thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

“I heard you dropped by this weekend,” you said as a greeting, a playful smile on your lips. “Looking for me?”

If the tips of his ears didn’t tinge pink, you would have guessed Shouto was completely unaffected by your words. 

“Mn.” He drew his attention away from your gaze and pointedly adjusted his cufflinks. “Good morning to you too.” 

You laughed, accepting you wouldn’t get anything out of your attempt at teasing. “Morning, Shouto. How was your weekend?” 

The cafe was quite busy this hour, but Miyazaki took over the other register to alleviate the stress (though, what she really said was so you and pretty boy—who happened to be rich rich—could talk). Whatever the reason, you were glad for a small break whenever you could get it.

“You could say it was busy,” he replied, sounding a bit tired. For the first time since you met him, you actually noticed how exhausted he looked. You wanted to put cucumbers on his eyes and lay his head down on your lap to coax him to sleep. Nonetheless, he smiled softly at you. “And yours? I hope you were able to have time to rest and relax.”

You nodded. “I just slept a lot and caught up on the shows I missed throughout the week.”

“The real way a weekend should be spent.” 

His voice was teasing but he didn’t sound mocking. Just...somewhat playful. There was something about his tone that made you want to hear it again.

“Something tells me you need a weekend away where you could just relax and do nothing,” you commented, tapping the back of your pen to your chin. “Do you not have any days off at work?” 

He considered this. “Depends what you mean by day off.” 

“If you have to ask that, that probably means you don’t have a day off, huh?” you said with a frown, holding your hand over your chest as you sighed dramatically. “You poor thing. Overworked and tired. Maybe I should steal you away one weekend and get you to just relax.” 

You were only half-serious.

“Maybe you should,” agreed Shouto, sounding full-serious.

“Maybe I will,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. Maybe you could if you actually had his number… Then, feeling shameful you said, “But, ah, anyway, what can I get for you today? We actually have cheese danishes again!”

His face brightened. “You do? I’ll take five dozen.”

With a laugh you took down his order. You really weren’t sure where all these pastries were going when he bought it, but judging from his expression, you figured it must be somewhere good. 

“And for your drink?”

“This time I’ll have a large green tea with almond milk, please.” 

You nodded but tilted your head to the side in question. “No coffee with extra shots of espresso today?” 

“I add too much sugar and creamer to my coffee,” he admitted sheepishly. “And with all the baked goods I’ve been eating I realized I may have had an excess amount of sweets lately.” 

With an understanding laugh you patted his hand that was resting on the counter woefully. “I can definitely relate to that. If too many sweets are bad for you they shouldn’t have made it taste so good.”

Shouto glanced down at where your hands touched, an expression you couldn’t quite discern on his face. Averting your gaze, you quickly pulled your hand back. Was that inappropriate of you? Did he find it too pushy?

“Oh— Sorry about that,” you said, rubbing your elbow with your opposite hand. “Got a bit ahead of myself there.”

“No, it’s fine.” He blinked once. “I didn’t mind.”

Unsure if he meant anything by that and unsure if you were reading too much into things, you simply brushed the topic off and moved on to getting his order in telling him the price. 

“Paying by card again, I’m assuming?” you asked before hitting the appropriate button on the screen.

“Correct.”

By now the sight of the sleek and pretty credit card was one you grew rather fond of as he scanned over the payment terminal and signed his name. Was it weird you wanted to examine his signature more closely? Shouto seemed like the type of person who would have a fancy signature that somehow looked like art. 

As per routine, you told him his order would be ready for pick up at his right and, before he left the register, he thanked you and gave you another $100. 

Did it feel any less strange than the first time he tipped you? Not really, no. But you still weren’t going to complain about a generous tip from a willing customer.

Before he left with his cheese danishes and cup of tea in hand, he stopped by next to you with a small smile. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You grinned back. “Can’t wait, Shouto!” 

— ✩ —

This went on for a whole other week. By this point, he had given you over $1,000 in tip and you were starting to feel like you should give him something in return despite him assuring you he didn’t expect anything. 

When you told your friends about the nice guy you met while you were working and they asked for the details, the first thing they said in response to your situation was, “Sugar daddy?” 

Before they planted that thought into your head, you just took it as a rich businessman who hated the rich and believed in redistribution of wealth—you couldn’t complain about that. That made him even more appealing, if you must say. But once Kaminari and Ashido whispered those two words, you couldn’t help but see the comparisons. 

You had no issues with sugar daddies or sugar babies; as long as they were two consenting adults, what did it matter to you? It just wasn’t something you were looking for at the time and you didn’t want Shouto to get the wrong impression or involve yourself in something you weren’t ready to. 

As you commuted to work for your next morning shift, you told yourself today was the day you’d thank him one final time for the tips, but tell him you couldn’t accept anymore. You were sure he’d be understanding but you also hoped it wouldn’t deter him from coming to see you. That was the last thing you’d want. 

“Mrs. Miyazaki,” you said between customers. “When Shouto comes in, do you think I can step away from the register to talk to him for a little? I promise it’ll be brief!”

She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s not a problem. Are you finally going to ask him out or something?”

You scratched the back of your neck. “Or something, yeah.” 

Thankfully, by the time Shouto arrived today, it was later than he normally came, meaning rush hour was almost dying down. 

“Good morning! Someone’s a little late today,” you teased. “Overslept?” 

“I wish,” he sighed wistfully. “I had a meeting early this morning and it just ended. Didn’t have a chance to pick up some coffee or pastries beforehand.” 

You frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope whoever was hosting the meeting at least provided you guys drinks and snacks!” 

He paused. “He did, but… I just thought yours were better.” 

Smiling at the compliment, you preened. “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised. And I’m glad you were able to drop by still. Would’ve missed you too much otherwise.”

Again, you were only half-serious.

“Hm. I would’ve missed you too.”

And again, he seemed full-serious. Not that you minded. 

After taking his order and watching him pay, you pulled him to the side, looking over at your boss so she knew what was going on. She gave you a brief nod as you turned your attention to Shouto. 

A lapse of silence went by and he spoke up, “Did you have something you wanted to say?” 

“Yeah, actually.” You wrung your fingers nervously, hoping you wouldn’t say anything to offend him since you knew his actions were coming from a kind place. “I just wanted to say… I’m not really looking for a sugar daddy right now.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “Pardon?” 

You stared at him, unsure what to say. 

“I— Sorry. I wasn’t… It’s not my intention to be a...sugar daddy either.” Shouto’s face flushed a bright pink that made your own cheeks warm up in response. 

“But the—the money? I just… I guess I thought…” You winced.

So he wasn’t trying to pick up a sugar baby… Well, this was awkward. But regardless, you think you’ve gotten close enough to him to the point where it would feel weird accepting money from him. 

“I’m sorry if I was unclear. It really is just a tip to show appreciation for your service here.” 

You shook your head. “No! Sorry, that makes sense! My friends just said… And then I…” you trailed off, feeling a million times more flustered than when you started. “Sorry about that. The sugar daddy mishap aside, I still wanted to say that I really appreciate the tips you gave, but I don’t think I can accept them anymore.” 

Slowly, he nodded, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt. “I understand. Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened!” you were quick to assure. “I really am thankful, but… I think we’ve gotten too close for me to be comfortable accepting that much money, you know?”

Shouto tilted his head to the side, listening intently. 

“Like,” you tried to explain, fiddling with your apron, “over the past few weeks I just think we’ve gotten to know each other more and I think of you as a friend of sorts now.” You peered at him through your lashes, hoping your words were making sense. “I think as a relationship develops—for me, at least—adding money into the mix can cause weird power imbalances if not communicated properly. And I just don’t want that for us.” 

He thought through your words for a while before agreeing. “I get what you mean. I wouldn’t want to unintentionally make you feel like you owe me anything, so if you’re not comfortable with it, I can stop.” 

“Thanks, Shouto,” you said with a beam, glad he was so receptive. Really though, what else did you expect? From your interactions with him you took him to be kindhearted and open. Of course he wouldn’t be upset over this. “But just to be clear, this doesn’t mean you should stop coming! Right? I don’t want to stop being your friend or anything!” 

With a small laugh, he nodded. “Sure. I wouldn’t want to part with my favorite cafe. And I’d like to keep being friends as well.”

Those words warmed your heart. You really were nervous about this confrontation earlier; you didn’t want voicing your opinion to mean ending your friendship. (Although, if you sharing what you were comfortable with was enough to end a relationship, then you supposed it was bound to be a toxic and stifling one in the long run and it was good to know in the beginning to end it before it could grow.) Turns out, however, that you didn’t even need to worry about that. He was understanding and sweet and you were glad to have gotten this out of the way.

“Well, as new friends,” you said, gently nudging his side, “maybe we should get to know each other more? Exchange numbers… Hang out outside of this cafe…” You ran through some suggestions, almost bouncing on your feet in excitement. “I mean, I know you’re always so busy and might not have much free time to hang out. But— If you’re ever free one weekend…” 

“I’d enjoy that,” he cut in, saving you from blabbering your mouth off and accidentally embarrassing yourself. “Didn’t you say you’d steal me away from work to relax? I’m still holding you to that.” 

The beginnings of a smirk formed on his face as he looked at your flustered expression. Was he teasing you?

You huffed, pretending to be insulted by his playful mocking. “Guess I’ll really have to do it then.” 

“Guess so.”

“Maybe you should give me your number first so we could plan it.” 

“Okay.”

He handed you his phone and you handed him yours, both of your adding your numbers to the contact list. Smiling, you held the phone in front of the two of you to take a contact picture of yourself for Shouto’s phone. To your complete surprise, he laughed before promptly following suit and taking a selfie for his contact image. 

“Cute,” you said when he handed you back your phone. 

“You too.” 

Placing your device back in your pocket, you looked at him, hand on hip. “Since when did you become such a smooth-talker? Am I going to have to guard my heart now?” 

His only response was a shrug, but you could see hints of a smile playing on his face. The two of you seemed to be smiling a lot lately, you couldn’t help but notice. 

“I should probably let you go to work now—and I should go back to mine.” You gestured to the growing line at the front of the store. Your manager looked like she had things under control, but you didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness. “You should text me later though. If you want.”

“I’ll do that,” Shouto promised, picking up his drink and pastry boxes from the side counter. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. And… I’ll message you soon.” 

As you watched him leave the store, you were certain you had a silly look on your face as you stared in a trance. 

“I’ll turn my phone off silent just for you!” you said to his back, hoping he understood what a momentous occasion this was. Your phone was always on silent (unless you were playing a game, of course). But for Shouto, you could handle hearing the obnoxious ringtone and text tone. 

With an amused expression he nodded before waving goodbye.

Later on that day, at the end of your shift, you noticed a new message from a certain someone that made your stomach flutter.

Shouto: Hi there. It’s Shouto :)

You never knew those four simple words would be enough to keep the grin plastered on your face up until the moment your head hit your pillow to fall asleep. But, damn— Were you glad that happened to be the case. 

a/n: whY WAS SHOUTO AND Y/N EXCHANGING NUMBERS SO CUTE idk that scene got me all blushy and :DDD HFJDKSF like taking a selfie with shouto and getting his number? only goal in life BFHFGF,, also y/n said no more tips how we feeling? ;o 

what to expect in the next part:

an unwanted visitor ಥ_ಥ

shouto has a...proposition for y/n 

FLIRTING FLUFF SO MUCH CUTENESS U MIGHT CRY

y/n struggles with their fEeLiNGs~

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Nanny Pt. 1

Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader

18+ 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, Sandy and Carl being bad parents, 18+ content in later chapters 

Summary:

Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.

A/N: Here is the first part of my newest series and I want to thank the anon who reached out to me with this idea! 

If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know!

Taglist Form is in my bio and should be updated to now to include this fic! (If for some reason it isn’t working send me a message and I’ll make sure you’re added!!)

“Damn it, Sandy, can’t you handle that?” Carl yells from his dark room as the baby starts crying again.

“Fuck you, Carl,” Sandy shouts back, hurrying to put out her cigarette before heading to the nursery.

Their little girl was just about a year old, and neither one of them knew what they were doing. Carl was incredibly indifferent and despite her honest attempts at motherhood, Sandy’s maternal instincts never kicked in like she thought it would happen. Carl was annoyed that it cut into their time they would be on trips. They weren’t able to photograph models with the baby on the road, so he’d been itching to get back on the road.

“Is she hungry?” he shouts back, not even bothering to take his eyes off of the most recent photographs he had been developing.

“I just fed her!”

“Then why is she crying?”

“Fuck if I know,” Sandy shouts back exasperated. She scooped up the baby from her crib and started to rock her back and forth in her arms. Sandy also tried burping her, humming a little lullaby she made up on the fly… no luck. She walks around the house with the baby on her hip, trying to rock her back to sleep.

“We haven’t able to get back on the road in a year,” Carl says, clearly frustrated.

“That ain’t purely my fault,” she spits back, “Takes two to make a baby, Carl.”

“Fuck I know,” he groans, “But I need new inspiration. If I take one more picture of nature…”

“If she’s such a hindrance, pay for a damn sitter like I suggested months ago,” she counters.

“We can’t have no stranger walking around the house Sandy,” he points out.

“Just keep your damn room locked, it’s not a huge deal,” Sandy sighs. “Besides, no one is gonna snoop around if you pay ‘em enough. You damn well produce your own incriminating evidence; you should always have that room locked anyways.”

“We only have to worry about your damn brother,” Carl points out, “We hire a fucking sitter that’s two people we need to worry about.”

“You’re just to goddamn cheap to hire somebody,” Sandy states, moving back towards the nursery, the baby now snoring softly.

“You know what? Fine,” Carl says defeated. “But you’re in charge of putting the ad out and hiring somebody.”

“Thank you,” she says in a sing song tone, happy she got her way. But the moment of quiet that follows is short lived as they baby starts crying again.

“Please for the love of God can you just take care of that?” Carl yells, and the argument circles back to the beginning.

You had sat in the small dinner in the corner booth hunched over the newspaper and nursing your now cold cup of coffee. You had just arrived in Knockemstiff and were looking for work. “Any leads?” Julie asked as she topped off your coffee. Julie was your roommate. You had found her the same way you were currently looking for a job. You must have answered at least ten terrible Roommate Wanted ads until you had found Julie. The two of you now share an apartment- the top floor of a three-family owned by a sweet older couple.

“Thank you,” you say without looking up from scanning the ads. “Maybe this one?” You say pointing to one of the ads. She looks to see her manager stepped out for his smoke break before sliding in the booth across from you. You slide the paper over to her and she reads the ad out loud.

NANNY NEEDED Knockemstiff, Ohio

Couple that travels for work in need of a nanny for one-year-old daughter.

Temporary live-in position for several weeks at a time. Pay negotiable.

Call Sandy Henderson at the below number.

“I can sublet the room temporarily while you stay there,” Julie offers. “It’s a pretty vague offer,” she continues. “I wouldn’t commit until you call and speak to that Sandy woman.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll need to be interviewed,” you agree. “What kind of people are comfortable just leaving their baby for weeks at a time with a perfect stranger?”

“Paul is still out back I think,” she chuckles, “I’ll let you use the wall phone.”

You take a seat at one of the stools at the counter, and she dials the number for you and then passes you the receiver. You mouth a thank you and she waves her hand in dismissal as she heads over to take someone’s order.

“Whaddya want?” the woman on the other end answers abruptly.

“Oh, I’m calling about the ad in the paper regarding the nanny position. Is it still available?”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, hun,” the woman says, now in a much nicer tone. “Thought it was my brother calling. Yes, it is, and we need it filled as soon as possible. When are you available?”

“For an interview?” You ask.

“Yeah,” she says mumbled, like she is dangling a cigarette from her mouth. “Can you come today?”

“Oh, wow. Yes, I can,” you reply.

“Great, um, you got a pen? Take down this address.”

About two hours, a change of clothes and a cab ride later, you were standing outside a house towards the end of town. It was a little run down, but what building in this town wasn’t? You were a little nervous of course, but it was also the most unconventional way you have gotten an interview. Part of you was relieved, because the woman on the phone sounded real, not phony, but the circumstances still made you uneasy. Julie had the address and said you’d call when you got back to the taxi dispatch.

“Welcome, welcome,” Sandy smiled, opening up the door for you. She had one hand on the doorknob and one of the cutest babies you’d ever seen in the other. “Come on in, make yourself comfortable.”

“Who is this?” you coo, leaning down to the baby’s eye level. “She’s darling.”

“This little sweetheart is Valerie,” Sandy smiles, passing the baby to you. “She’s so well-behaved. Hardly ever cries.”

“She’s adorable,” you smile, as the baby cuddles up close, resting her head on your shoulder. “I didn’t properly introduce myself on the phone. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“I’m Sandy,” she introduces herself. “Please take a seat on the couch, get comfortable. I hate things that are so formal. Bleh.”

You take a seat on the couch, and readjust the little girl in your arms so she’s sitting on your lap and her back is resting against you so she is supported.

“So, my husband and I are on the road a lot, usually,” she begins, “We took some time off when we had Valerie, but we really need to start working again, you understand.”

“Of course, what do you both do?” you ask politely.

“We’re photographers,” she beams, “Mostly nature and landmarks- which reminds me! We have a darkroom in the house, but that door will be locked when you’re staying here. We don’t want any damage to any of the negatives we have stored in there you understand. Everywhere else in the house is yours to explore! And of course we gotta spare bedroom you can call your own.”

“Fair enough,” you joke.

“So, tell me about yourself, honey,” she smiles, crossing her legs in the armchair where she sat.

“Well, I just moved here a few weeks ago actually,” you begin, “I just recently finished school, and now I’m looking for work. I just got my degree in early childcare from the state college.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she says with a clap of her hands. “So, you’re local?”

“Yes, I live in town.”

“Excellent! We’d also love for this to be like an on-call thing as well, you know for date nights and things like that for times when we’re home. Like for a few hours here and there. And of course, we’ll always live money for groceries or whatever you need on top of your pay for emergencies incase Valerie needs formula or diapers or anything.”

“Perfect,” you smile, surprised how well the conversation was going. Sandy was easy-going and nice to talk to. The two of you sat and talked for a little under an hour, her asking all the standard questions you anticipated. You also were able to ask her some more of your own questions as well. It was the most effortless interview you had been on easily.

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to meet Carl today,” she says when she is showing you out. “But hun, I feel confident to offer you the job. We haven’t had many applicants and you’re the most qualified one I’ve spoken to. The job is yours if you want it?”

“When can I start?” you smile, making her laugh.

“Your number is on the resume, right?” she says, scooping up the baby. You nod, waving goodbye to the baby and then saying goodbye to Sandy.

“I’ll call you when I speak to Carl, but I think once he knows he’ll want to head out as soon as we can. Plan for Sunday,” she says as you get into the cab.

Just like she had promised, you get a call from Sandy on Saturday afternoon asking you to show up the next morning at 9. You spend the day packing up your clothes and anything else you’d need for a few weeks. Sandy said they’d be back in two weeks but you pack for three just in case. Julie was also nice enough to help you. You didn’t need to do much. Ever since you had settled in Knockemstiff, you had been pretty lazy with unpacking and for once procrastination played out in your favor.

Julie insisted on taking you out to celebrate that night before starting your job tomorrow. There was a small little bar, a little shack of a place just on the outside of town you went to. Julie had a car and you drove, anticipating she’d have a lot more to drink than you. It was a hotter summer night, so you drove with the windows down and the radio playing a little louder than you normally would.

The outside was decorated with string lights of primary colors and the wooden awning looked like it was one more storm away from collapsing. But the atmosphere inside was to die for. The jukebox was playing loud dance music, and the place was crowded. Empty recycled glasses lined the walls on a high shelf as decoration along with weathered posters of anything Americana. A row of motorcycles and trucks were parked outside the little place and it looked like a pileup from how crowded the lot was. People lingered outside as well, and you both hoped you’d find seats inside.

The two of you found a high-top table and Julie made her way up to the bar, skillfully maneuvering through the crowd to grab you both some drinks. You let your eyes wandering, surveying the room and just people watching. Couples were dancing closely to the music that was rattling the jukebox, and a group of people were sitting at the bar huddles in to watch the little black and white portable television. You also noticed a group of men in uniform several tables down, local police. They weren’t paying any attention to anyone but their own conversation, except one.

He just so happened to have looked up just as your eyes landed on their table. Steel blue eyes cutting across everything and just staring right back into yours. It was a fraction of a second and his gaze was broken by Julie taking her seat across from you. You cleared your throat, and finally allowed yourself to exhale. You felt her raise an eyebrow at you but she didn’t press, just gave you a knowing smirk you brushed off. You still felt his gaze on you even if your view was now obstructed.

Sandy and Carl were in a rush when you arrived in the morning. Sandy ran you through the details of where everything was kept and told you that she would call to check in when she could when they made stopped. She helped you carry your bags in from the trunk of the taxi while Carl packed their bags in their car. He was polite enough, but you felt in your gut to just keep your distance. Sandy led you upstairs to the guest room she told you she worked to clean out for you. It was simple, a bed and a dresser with a small closet. She said it mostly had been storage and her weekend project had been clearing it out for you. It was simple, but good enough for you for sure. You thanked her and she dismissed it saying you were the one doing her a favor, making you laugh.

The whole ordeal was very hurried. Carl was rushing to get on the road as soon as possible and you could tell he was clearly irritated at how long Sandy was taking showing you around and explaining things about Valerie. Carrying the baby in your arms, you finally were settled in to your new role and Sandy gave one more big hug and a kiss on Valerie’s head before rushing down to the car. You waved to the pair of them from the small front porch, Sandy looking back and waving to the baby from the passenger seat until they were out of your line of vision.

The first day was a little daunting. New space, living in a house that isn’t yours and a baby babbling in your arms. She was a sweet thing, and she already had taken a liking to you. Heading over to her nursery, you saw that she had a little play pen folded up in the corner of the nursery and you quickly set it up in your room so you could unpack while keeping an eye on her. She babbled just happy utter nonsense to you while you navigated around the space and her big eyes just followed you, just watching you was entertaining for her for now. You were a new face and she was entertained just by that for now.

A few hours later, Valerie had settled down for a nap in the early afternoon. She was sleeping soundly in her crib and you were getting formula ready for when she woke up. It was quiet, the only noise in the house was the small sounds of your own rustling in the kitchen. You wondered when you would hear from Sandy, if it would be later tonight or in a couple of days. You just were lost in your own thoughts when you were startled by a loud knocking on the door. Instantly, Valerie began to cry. You wiped your hands quickly on the skirt of your dress before grabbing her. You rested her on your hip and rocked her gently, shushing her to calm down while you went to grab the door.

The first thing your eyes saw were the same blue eyes who was looking at you at the bar last night. The man’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked really confused. He had one hand rested on his hip and the other against the doorframe, but he stood up straight when he saw it wasn’t who he expected. Your eyes then went down to the shiny Sheriff’s Badge fixed in place on his uniform.

“Who are you?” he asks abruptly. “Where’s Sandy?”

“Sandy and Carl left this morning,” you explain, not sure if he recognizes you. “I’m their nanny.”

He laughs and shakes his head as he looks down, almost like he doesn’t believe you, or he just doesn’t believe the situation. “Carl? Carl Henderson hired a nanny?” he scoffs and you nod, holding Valerie a little closer. The little girl rubs her eyes and yawns, when her eyes flutter open, she looks at the stranger in the doorway and immediately reaches out to signal she wants to be held by him. You ignore her resistance to wanting to be in your arms until you get more information about why the Sheriff is at their doorstep, though she obviously knows him.

“I’m Sandy’s brother,” he explains, “Did she say when they were coming back?” He doesn’t try to hold the baby yet, just holds out one of his fingers and her little hand holds onto it tightly.

“Two weeks.”

“They hire a complete stranger to watch my niece and live in their house unsupervised while they drive around?” he scoffs, shaking his head again in disbelief.

“I’m more than qualified…”

“It’s not a jab at you, sweetheart,” the man tries to explain, “More so a reflection on my sister and her husband is all. They are… fairly selfish people and I wished this situation surprises me more than it does.”

“Should I tell her you came by when she calls?” you ask.

“If she calls,” the man chuckles, “Sure, let her know Lee stopped by to visit.”

“You don’t think she will?” you ask, tilting your head.

“We’ll see,” Lee shrugs, “Do I know you from somewhere?” He rests his arm back up on the doorframe and looks down to the baby again, extending out his free hand to her again and scrunching her cheeks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, not wanting to admit you remembered seeing him last night. He purses his lips together and nods, not pressing further. He pushes off from the doorframe and puts his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Must’ve been in a dream then,” he smirks, and you feel your cheeks flush. He walks down the steps and back towards his cop car. “What did you say your name was?” he asks, turning back around.

“I didn’t,” you chuckle.

“Hmm,” he nods, and raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to fill in the blank. You tell him your name and he repeats it back to you like he’s thinking about it, trying it out to see how it sounds.

“Well,” he says, standing behind the open driver’s door, “Good luck, and I hope Sandy proves me wrong. Let me know if she calls.”

Taglist: 

@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro​ 

[tricksters-captain]

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 4

AN: I’m sorry I missed posting last week. I’m currently going through a hard break up and it’s really taking a lot of energy out of me so I struggle to write at the moment. 

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

In this chapter: You return to Boston for the week. 

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1,940

Warnings: Some strong language

You smiled as you looked at the copies of ‘Chess Review’ on the racks. 

Your first front page piece for Chess Review. 

They had used one of the pictures of Benny that you had taken at the hotel and you were pretty proud of your photography skills. 

You picked up a copy and took it inside to pay for it. 

On second thought, you picked up two so you could mail one to Angelie. 

You left the store quickly after and started to walk back to your apartment. 

Boston was busier than you had remembered and you finally had some time to sort out the apartment after your article went down well with the big man. 

You opened the door to your apartment and put down your groceries on the kitchen counter top. 

The last tenant hadn’t left the place in too bad a state, just a carpet stain here and there and a broken lamp. 

You had bought some paint to redecorate your living room and bedroom since it seemed too boring after where you lived in Paris. You had spent the last couple days painting and then you finally left to go check out your title page. 

The books that Benny had given you were still on your small two person dining room table where you had left them when you first got back. You looked over at them and furrowed your brow as you thought about whether you are actually going to bother to read them or not. 

Your phone started to ring and your frown disappeared when you realised it was probably Angelie. No one else had your number besides your work. 

“Hello?” You answered it, taking the phone off the wall as you leant beside it. 

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” You’d recognise that voice anywhere after listening to it so much over the last tournament. 

“Benny Watts?” You asked, almost in shock. 

“Have you read those books I leant you yet?” He asked, not even bothering to confirm it was him. 

“It’s been four days.” You told him flatly. 

“You could’ve easily gotten through at least two of them by now.” Benny challenged you which caused you to shake your head (even though he couldn’t see). 

“You know, Benny Watts, I do have a life to live.” You defended yourself to which Benny found amusing. 

“So, you’re back in Boston since you picked up this phone.” Benny changed the subject completely. 

“How did you even get this number?” You asked, genuinely curious and a little worried. 

“You really think Chess Review won’t hand over your telephone number to their favourite US chess player?” 

“You got it from Beth Harmon then?”  You teased the boy to which he responded with a dry laughter. 

“Ha Ha. Very funny.” Benny retorted, “If you’re in Boston, it means you currently aren’t working. Fancy an educational trip to New York City?” 

“Benny, I told you. I’m not coming to New York.” You reminded him about how you declined previously when he asked. 

“Come on, just for the weekend? We’ll play some chess, do some tourist shit and eat some food?” Benny asked, trying his best to persuade you Benny Watts style. 

“I’ve also told you before that I don’t play.” You felt a small bubble of excitement in your stomach as you considered going to New York but you quickly squashed it down. 

“What are you afraid of?” Benny asked. Deja Vu. 

“Why are you pushing this?” You closed your eyes as you let your head roll back to press against the wall. 

“Because I see that same light that’s in Beth Harmon, that’s in every decent chess player when you see a chess board.” Benny confessed to you. 

“I’m sorry, Benny. You’ll just have to find someone else to play with. I don’t want to be apart of this little game.” You hung up the phone with a sad sigh before Benny could respond. 

You found yourself looking at the books again. 

You picked up Benny’s and you opened it...

“I’ve been waiting all day for your call.” You half scolded Angelie as you answered the call. 

You heard Angelie’s laughter through the phone and it made you home sick. 

“Je suis désolé!” Angie apologised. “This new project has me so busy, constantly on set, costume changes, make up changes, redoing scene..!” 

“It sounds awful.”  You chuckled, 

“It is! You wouldn’t understand... You’re just a big time American journalist.” Angelie pouted. “Anyway, how are you?” 

“I’m okay.” You lied. 

“Menteuse!” Angelie called you out. “Tell me the truth. What is bothering you, Mon Cher?” 

“Benny Watts called me today.” You had filled her in on the tournament with him once you had first arrived back in Boston and she had already previously told you off for not taking his offer to New York. 

“He did?!” Angie gasped. 

“Yes, he did. He got my number through work and called me to ask if I had read the books he gave me which I haven’t because it’s been less than a week since. the tournament.” You explained. 

“That boy is in love with you, I am telling you now.” Angie was always the hopeless romantic type. It’s how she has had her heart broke so many times. 

“The boy wants to play chess with me to assert his masculine dominance over me and boost his ego with an easy win.” You argued. 

“You are always so negative about men! You hardly know this one!” Angelie groaned. 

“He’s Benny Watts. That’s all I need to know.” 

“I think you should go to New York and meet with him.” Angelie told you. You hadn’t even informed her about the fact he asked you again. 

“I think I should stay here and enjoy my first weekend off in six months.” You shook your head at the idea. 

“(Y/n), you only live once and how many girls are invited to New York by the Benny Watts?!” 

“Probably quite a lot.” You knew Angie was only trying to hype you up but you couldn’t help but knock her down. 

“Even if that is so. You could probably get another article out of it. Benny Watts and his life in the big apple?” Angie suggested. 

“I’m sure ‘LIFE’ has already done that piece before.” You pushed another idea aside. 

“Trust me, (Y/n). You need to stop being so afraid of the unknown and who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy yourself?” Angelie had had enough of the negativity from you at this point. 

There was a sudden knock at your door. 

“I’m sorry, Angie. Someone’s just knocked on my door, I’ll have to call you back.” You looked over at your front door and wondered who it could be. 

“Ça va. Call me back!” She told you as the knock occurred again. 

“Je t'aime.” You hung the phone back up on the wall and went over to your door. 

You opened it and you felt your face go white at the sight of who stood there. 

“Jesus, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Benny Watts. 

BENNY WATTS.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him. 

“Well,  you wouldn’t come to me so I came to you.” Benny shrugged. 

“You can’t just stalk someone. This isn’t okay. This isn’t cute!” You were bewildered. 

“This isn’t stalking. It’s simply coming to Boston to visit a friend.” He defended himself as he stood out in the hallway. 

“I wouldn’t call us friends, Benny.” You scoffed. 

“Ouch.” Benny put his hand on his heart. 

You went to close your door on him but Benny stopped you. 

“Wait.” He pleaded. His cocky demeanour suddenly dropped. “Look, I know this is weird but I really wanted to see you.” Benny started to explain. 

“I––” He cut you short. 

“–– This isn’t some game. I just want to help you. I want you to play chess again. I want you to play with me.” Benny stayed with his hand against the door and his foot in the gap as he spoke. 

“This is crazy, Benny.” You told him, your eyes locked on his as you felt your heart race. 

“I know.” Benny stepped back. “I’m staying in the hotel down the block. I’ll be here all weekend. If you don’t want to see me, then don’t. But if you change your mind. I’ll be around.” 

You watched him back away from the door and head back down the stairs. 

Benny fucking Watts. 

You rushed back to the phone and dialled Angelie’s number. 

“Bonjour?” She answered, 

“You’ll never guess who was at the door.” 

You ended up tossing and turning all night. 

You caved in at around 3am and started to read Benny’s book again. 

You finished it by the time the sun was rising. 

You had a cold shower to wake you up at around 9am and then you stared in the mirror as the thoughts racked your brain. 

You walked over to your chess set that rested on the dresser top and you took it over to your bed, opening it up. 

You set up the board and stared at it.  

You picked up the queen. The same queen that Benny had held in the photo you took. 

You caved. 

You dressed and did simple make up before heading to the hotel that Benny had told you he was staying. 

“I’m looking for Mr Benny Watts.” You asked the elderly lady at the front desk. 

“He’s staying in room 306 but I’m almost certain I saw him leave about an hour ago for breakfast.” She informed you. 

You thanked her then sighed. 

You left the hotel lobby and started down the street. There was plenty of places to eat around the hotel, you almost considered just waiting in the lobby for him to return. 

Then you saw it. 

Through a window of a small diner. 

The famous black hat. 

You pushed open the diner door and walked towards the booth where Benny was sat. 

He had his back to you but he didn’t seem surprised to see you when you sat down opposite him.  

“Morning.” He greeted you as he munched on some pancakes. 

“I won’t play chess with you.” You stated. “I won’t play chess with you but I will spend the weekend with you and you can talk about it.”

Benny remained silent as his brown eyes watched you carefully. 

“I finished your book.” You told him. “I'm ready to learn.” 

Benny placed his knife and fork down, picking up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his mouth. 

“Great.” He nodded, interlinking his fingers above his food as he elbows rested on the table.  “Let’s begin.” 

(WHAT HAPPENS NEXT HERE)

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[kpoppwriter]

Soulmate!ATEEZ Headcanons - Meeting their Soulmate

 ❧ Anon asked: Heyy! I was wondering if you would like to write an Ateez soulmate!au headcanon? like what type of soulmate bond would they have (tatoos, colourblind untill they meet their soulmate, feeling pain when soulmate feels pain...) and how they will meet their soulmate very briefly. I hope is okay for you and i explained it well. Love the blog💞

❧ Anon asked: Hii can i request a fluff non idol soulmate au scenario of yunho? This is specific but can u include it where both of u are able to sense and feel each other's emotions and feelings? I love ur writing. Thank you 🥺🥺💕💕🥰🥰

❧ A/N: so I looked up a bunch of different soulmate aus so no one would have the same one and oml there are a lot of soulmate aus. Some of these are non idol!au as well this took me so fucking long to write omg each one is like the size of a drabble

~※ Main Masterlist ※~

Hongjoong - You can hear whatever song your soulmate is listening to

That familiar sound of singing echoed in your head. You were practically hypnotized by it. You were so entranced that you didn’t realize you had been zoning out while standing in front of the recording studio. You shook your head and headed into the studio. The group you were going to work with for the day stood up and greeted you. You noticed they were practicing for the recording. One of the boys got up and went into the booth to record. You put on your headphones, as did he. You started recording then started the track. Your mouth went slightly agape when you heard that familiar voice but this time in the headphones. You pulled yourself out of your thoughts when you heard the man asking for your opinion on how the recording sounded.

“I think...here, try it like this.”

You sang the last part, the part he had just recorded, changing a few of the notes to fit the track better. Now the man in the booth was the one with his mouth open. He blinked a couple times before looking back at the lyrics in front of him. He’d definitely have to say something when the two of you had a moment. 

Seonghwa -  The outline of your shadow is your soulmate

You stood with your back against the sun, your shadow hitting the pavement in front of you. You stared at the shadow trying to engrave the outline into your memory. You were so curious about the shadow that you saw whenever the sun was bright- What were they like? Did you know them already? What did they look like? Who were they? 

While you were lost in thought, your friend Seonghwa walked up beside you. He called out your name bringing you back to reality. You looked over at him, sending him a smile. You looked down at his shadow. The shape felt familiar to you. Too familiar... 

Yunho - Feel each other's emotions

You sighed as you leaned back in your desk chair. You were far too stressed out from your homework. You really just wanted to stop worrying about your homework but you had to get it done for class the next day. You ran a hand through your hair, deciding maybe you should take a bit of a break. You made your way to the kitchen to grab a snack and some water. When you returned to your desk, you heard your phone ringing. 

“Hey Yunho,” you said answering the phone

“Hey Y/N. You feeling okay?”

“I’m just a little stressed out right now. How’d you know?”

“I guess I just have a sixth sense,” he chuckled, “You wanna hear what Mingi did today?”

You let him tell you the funny story of his adventures with Mingi, making you feel a lot better. He was always right there the moment you started feeling bad, even if you didn’t tell him. Maybe he did have a sixth sense...

Yeosang - A red string tied around your pinky is connected to your soulmate’s pinky

You’ve never seen your red string. You knew it was there, everyone had one, but you were never close enough to your soulmate to actually see it. That is, you didn’t see it until you moved to Seoul. 

You were out at a local coffee shop just relaxing on your day off. You sipped on your drink, a book in your other hand. You looked up briefly when a small group of boys dressed in athletic wear wandered into the coffee shop. They were chatting among themselves as they got in line to order their drinks. You didn’t think much of them until you went to take another sip of your coffee. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a bright red string tied in a bow around your pinky. You followed the string with your eyes until you were met with one of the boys. He noticed you staring between him and your pinky, his eyes glancing down at his own pinky. He quickly muttered something to his friends before coming over to you.

“Hi, I’m Yeosang.” 

San - Timer for when they’ll first meet

“You have to stop obsessing over your timer,” Wooyoung peaked over at San’s wrist

“It’s almost hit 0 though! I’m going to meet them any minute!” 

San and Wooyoung continued to walk through the halls of the KQ building towards the practice rooms. They didn’t notice you also walking down the hall. You were looking down at your phone when you bumped into something- or rather, someone. You apologized profusely, a dark pink blush appearing on your cheeks. The blush was mostly from the embarrassment of running into someone but also because the person you ran into was rather attractive. You quickly scurried away down the hall. San and Wooyoung just looked at each other in confusion and surprise. Wooyoung’s eyes glanced down at San’s wrist. 

“Hey, look!” 

He pointed at the counter on San’s wrist. There was a large zero where the numbers counting down used to be. San looked up at Wooyoung then back down the hall where you went. 

“Wait, were they...?”

Mingi - Write something on your own skin, appears on the other’s skin as well

You were too young to know. The two of you just thought you both had magic powers or something. No one told you about how soulmates could draw and write on each other. You wish someone had. 

You rushed into your kindergarten class and sat down at your table. You pulled out a piece of paper and your crayons. You started drawing, your eyes constantly glancing up at the door to the classroom. 

“Y/N!” 

In came your best friend Mingi, a large smile on his face. He sat down beside you and looked over at your paper.

“That’s a pretty rainbow,” he smiled

“Thank you,” you giggled, “You wanna draw too?”

You dug around for another piece of paper but you didn’t notice Mingi had already pulled out a pen and began drawing on his arms. You giggled when you started seeing the flowers and stars appearing on your own arms. You took out your own pen and doodled on the free skin on your arms. The two of you happily laughed and doodled together completely oblivious that you were sitting beside your soulmate.  

Wooyoung - Get the same injuries as your soulmate does

“My soulmate needs to chill out. This is the third bruise this week,” you groaned while putting some ice on your leg

You left the nurse’s office and headed towards the entrance of your school. Just as you were about to leave, your friend sent you a text. You mentally slapped yourself. You had promised your friend that you’d come with them to the school’s dance club meeting. You really wanted to reschedule due to your bruised leg but knew they’d scold the hell out of you for rescheduling on them for the third time. You sent a text saying you’d be there in a second before limping down the hall towards the music room. 

You arrived at the music room a few minutes later, your friend standing outside the door looking impatient. 

“There you are!” they looked down at your leg, “Did you get hurt?”

“I didn’t,” you huffed, “My soulmate did.”

“Ah, well at least Wooyoung won’t be alone then.”

“What?”

“He hurt himself and can’t really participate today so the two of you can hang out.”

The two of you walked into the room, the other members of the club greeting you. Your friend introduced you to Wooyoung before going off with the other club members. You tried to strike up a conversation with him, asking him about his injury.

“I bruised my leg trying out a new dance move,” he said pulling up his pant leg to show you the purple bruise that looked similar to yours, “What about you?”

You said nothing, only showing him your own bruise. He looked between your leg and his, his eyes going wide in surprise. His eyes wordlessly said what you were both thinking.

Jongho - Each other’s initials on their wrist

“Just come with us, Y/N!” Wooyoung whined, “It’ll be a lot of fun!”

“Will you shut up if I say yes?” you looked over at the boy

You rolled your eyes playfully when Wooyoung promised to leave you alone if you came out with the members of Ateez to karaoke. You hadn’t met all the boys yet so you were a bit apprehensive at first but after Wooyoung’s relentless pestering, you finally broke down and agreed. 

You and Wooyoung walked into the karaoke room, the loud sounds of singing and yelling coming from the room. Everyone, well almost everyone, were on their feet singing along with the song being played through the speakers. Wooyoung quickly joined in on the fun but you decided to sit with one of the boys- one you didn’t know. You introduced yourself, leaning in close to hear him tell you his name- Jongho. You talked for a bit before the boys were pulling Jongho up and shoving a microphone in his hands.You peeked at the initials on Jongho’s wrist. Your eyes went wide when you saw your initials on his skin. Was it just a coincidence or...

[ledenews]

Santorine: 'Let the Games Begin... the Political Season is Upon Us'

In just under two weeks we’ll arrive at the end of the filing period for many of the political offices that will be voted upon in our state and local elections. There will be incumbents coming back, some fresh new faces, and some who have run before and all are looking for a chance at success. You’ll be inundated with media of all kinds - outdoor advertising, radio, TV, social media, newspapers, and direct mail. Everyone involved in “the media” knows there’s always a bit more money around in a year with elections (and Olympics). As certain as I am that day follows night, I know that most, if not all of the candidates will message some form of “Working for YOU”, and that some anonymous Washington, D.C. entity with a nebulous name will go massively negative on at least one of the candidates. Oh, and don’t forget the incessant fundraising. I’m a student of history and “working for you” started popping up in the 1930s with the explosive growth of government. It’s not going to go away. It’s a recurring theme in political campaigns, and with good reason. Government puts it ham-fisted mark on so much of what we do every day. A good politician will help their constituents navigate the morass that they created. “Constituent services” is a critical part of what will keep politicians in office, and it should be top of the list for any newly elected public servant. It’s dealing with the alphabet soup that is government. DOT, DMV, SOS, AG; the list goes on and on. You’re not going to get what you deserve; you’re going to get what’s expedient for some bureaucrat. You’ll need someone in your corner to help. That’s where your elected officials become very, very important. Negative campaigning has been around since day one. John Quincy Adams supporters distributed the “Coffin Handbills” against Andrew Jackson in 1828. They didn’t tell the reader a thing about Adams. They did tell you how awful Jackson would be as President. There were also slanderous allegations about his wife that were used as negative campaigning. That’s nearly 200 years ago, and I’m sure if Photoshop were around then, they would have put his head, powdered wig and all, on a pig’s body for their “handbills”. I don’t think we have become more sophisticated about negative campaigning, but we might be a little more civil. Some of the early negative campaigns were simply brutal, and like today, no member of the candidates’ family are spared. We have seen negative campaigning use allegations from when the candidate was a child. At some point, it is insulting to the intelligence of the recipient. Negative campaigning is an attempt to trigger fear. “If elected, he’s going to start World War III!” “He’s a RINO!” (whatever that is), or “She votes with the commie, socialist scum of the other party 470% of the time!” None of it is true, but it might move some voters. Negative campaigning is ideally suited for today’s election cycles, which are typically short. The fear needs to be constantly reinforced for it to be effective, and campaigns will repeat the same message frequently and through many different media outlets. If it didn’t work, the professionals who run political campaigns would not spend so much money doing it. While I was writing this, I received two fundraising messages - “$5 could make all the difference in these final hours” (from a presidential candidate) and “If I don’t raise $11,231.24 in the next four hours, we are going to have to drop out”. Really now…. I guess my five bucks won’t make a difference. Here’s a collection of some from just this political season: “Friend, your name is still Missing.” “We have to win, or people will die.” “YOUR NAME WILL BE REMOVED.” “It’s not looking good …” While I’m sure there are really smart folks who are penning these fundraising letters, I have to question its intent. Again, they would not continue along these lines if it didn’t work, but sometimes I wonder if the young staffers who are responsible for this could not use a bit more adult supervision. I know your mailbox, both postal and email, will be full. You’ll chuckle at some of it. Your intelligence will be insulted by a chunk of it, and some of it will make it to the trash bin, directly or after a short detour to the bottom of the bird cage. So, let the games begin! The political season is upon us. I guarantee you’ll have a front-row seat. Read the full article

[ultralovedeluxe]

Hey I love your work! Would you mind doing Rohan with prompts 41 and 43 whenever you can? And maybe nsfw if your comfortable? 👉🏼👈🏼

Have a good day/evening!

Oml I love YOU so much! I'm a big fan of your work so I was nervous when writing this (it's very rushed oml), I hope you enjoy though!

Yandere! Rohan Kishibe with prompts #41 and #43

'I'm all you have left now'

'They didn't know you belonged to me so I had to get rid of them!'

Warnings: yandere behaviors, cheating accusations, manipulation, slut-shaming, inappropriate use of stands, non/dub con, blow-jobs, nsfw

Dating the famous mangaka Kishibe Rohan would be an honor to most people. He's a man of power and fame, who wouldn't want to be with him? The moms who hang out at the park always tell you that you should feel like the luckiest person in the world. They'd tell you that a million girls would kill to be in your shoes.

Although you love Rohan with all your heart (and you should feel deserving of his love), you sometimes start to wonder if dating the great Kishibe Rohan is worth it.

You met Rohan at an art exhibit in France. You had been a model for several pieces in that said exhibit, so obviously you had to come along for the event. Meeting Rohan was a love at first sight. He had asked if you would want to model for him sometime, and you had agreed. Soon after one visit and project, came after another, and then another, until you were working mainly with the mangaka. You can't say you didn't like it though, you enjoyed being in Rohan's presence. He was chivalrous when he wanted to be, and you found his sarcastic nature be quite humorous in fact. You spent so much time with Rohan in fact, you would have considered him a friend. Your relationship with the mangaka was no longer just work related, the both of you had become good friends.

However, the real problem in your friendship with Rohan began to show when your parents were involved. Your parents tolerated Rohan (or at least you thought they did), but they were getting annoyed with the fact the mangaka kept hogging your time. You should be modeling with professional photographers, or modeling for famous designers. But instead you're being used as reference from some manga artist in Japan.

You understood your parent's point of view in the subject, but you enjoyed working with Rohan more than you did any other project you had worked on. You continued to visit Rohan, despite your parent's protests (and Rohan couldn't have been happier).

The more visits that happened, the closer you got to the mangaka. It wasn't long before Rohan had asked you on a date. Eventually multiple dates leaded to the both of you starting a relationship. You knew your parents would hate Rohan even more now, but he didn't seem to mind. He'd always tell you that he didn't care what your parents thought about him, he was content with having you as a partner. Even if your parents did find out about your secret relationship, you highly doubt they would react dramatically. Sure, they'd really, really dislike it, but they wouldn't disown you for it. After all you were a grown adult, you should be able to make your own decisions right?

At least that's what you thought. One day, Rohan made an unexpected visit on your front door step. You didn't expect for him to be there, nor did you know how he got your address (considering the fact you lived in a completely different continent), but you didn't think much of it since you thought this could be your chance to properly introduce Rohan to your parents.

The introduction went by smoothly, Rohan was getting along with your parents, and your parents seemed to accept that Rohan was your partner. However, it did seem a bit suspicious that your parent's dislike of Rohan turned into an approval almost in a span of a few minutes. They had even agreed to let you move out with Rohan. While you could admit that you and Rohan had been planning to live in Morioh-Cho together, you didn't think it'd happen instantly. And that your parents would agree nonetheless. Regardless, you and Rohan accepted your parent's blessing's and left France.

You vividly remembered on your plane flight to Morioh-Cho, Rohan had whispered in your ear while stroking your hair softly, "You must be lucky to have me right [first]? I'm all you have left now.."

-

Life in Morioh-Cho was sweet to say the least. It was a drastic change from living in a fashion capital of the world, to a small quiet place where there was much to do. Nevertheless, you truly enjoyed your new life, it was better than going to photoshoots every week. Speaking of which, you never do photoshoots anymore. Rohan convinced you to quit your job as a model (since he is wealthy enough to provide for the both of you anyway), and you had agreed. Though, every time you mentioned getting a job to Rohan, he'd simply call you an idiot for wanting to work. He'd ask you if he needed step up his game for you, and you'd only close your mouth in the conversation.

Your relationship with Rohan was a drastic change too. From what was sweet, humble dates every weekend, went to being locked in a home for what was everyday. Rohan would spend hours in his art studio, drawing multiple pages for his manga. He'd tell you to not go out while he was working. But even then, that's most of the time.

You'd be lying if you didn't find this type of behavior weird.

-

"I'm leaving to go visit Italy for a couple of days [first]. Do you remember the rules?"

You nodded and kissed Rohan's cheek before handing him his suitcase. "Don't go outside unless we run out of groceries, don't let people inside-" Rohan cut you off "Especially those idiots Josuke and Okuyasu" he said scoffing at his distaste for the boys. You only sighed in response, "Especially Josuke and Okuyasu. Hope you have a good trip love" you smiled holding his hands close to your chest. Rohan kissed your lips softly and mumbled a quick 'goodbye' before leaving your shared home. You sighed and walked into the kitchen, before sitting down on a chair. You respected his rules, and you didn't want to lie to him, but you were bored out of your mind. You wanted to go out and have fun. Not to mention, although you know that Rohan could buy you whatever you wanted; but you wanted to have some money of your own. You can't rely on Rohan forever. You had decided that tomorrow you'd start looking for a job (any job, part-time even, you just wanted some type of job to keep you entertained for a while). Rohan would get mad sure, but you promised you'd discuss when he'd come back. You were sure he'd support you

You were sure of it.

-

Looking for a job was harder than you thought. It seemed that nobody wanted to hire somebody who only had 'model' on their resume. Sometimes you'd wish you had taken on other jobs other than modeling, maybe then people would hire you. Regardless, you kept looking, desperate to find a job somewhere.

In the end, you ended up finding an Italian restaurant after hours of searching. You stepped in and was greeted a tall, blonde Italian man. "Hello good afternoon my name is Tonio, welcome to my restuarant" he greeted you while smiling at you sweetly. You smiled awkwardly and muttered a quick 'thank you', "Um Tonio san, I'm not here to eat..but I'd like to ask you if you are hiring. I can't cook, but I can be a waitress!-" you exclaimed, leaving Tonio in a small shock. He looked at you up and down before smiling at you once again, "Well I don't usually hire people since I'm doing good on my own, but I guess a little help wouldn't hurt.." he told you. You smiled back and hugged him, "Oh thank you so much! You don't know how much I struggled finding a job today-" you let him go, "Uhm, sorry.." you mumbled. He chuckled and led you to a table.

The two of you talked a bit for a while, you told hima bout your modeling career and your relationships, while he told you about his journey to Japan and Italian cuisine. You both shared laughs and stories together, you had a good time. Your time with Tonio became even better when he officially had hired you as a waitress! You were happy, and you couldn't wait to tell Rohan when he got home!

"Well I'll see you next week Tonio!" you shouted as you left the door, carrying the bouquet of daisies Tonio had gifted you. Tonio smiled, "I'll see you then bambina!".

-

You arrive a little later than planned (guess you spent too much time talking to Tonio), but you finally made it home safe and sound. You might as well start cleaning, since you weren't going to sleep any time soon. As you opened the door, you were met face to face with Rohan. You dropped your daises on the floor, and began to think of all the apologies and excuses you could think of. But it was no use, excuses would only make Rohan's anger boil even more.

Why was he even here in the first place? Wasn't he supposed to be in Italy by now?!

"Rohan I-"

"Save it, I don't want to hear a word from you" Rohan growled angrily before walking towards you. He had pulled out a pen and you felt as if you passed out.

Rohan had used Heaven's Door to read the pages of your life. He looked for the information of today, and when he did, he was fuming. He read his newly learned information out loud, gripping onto your hair in the process, "This man named Tonio is so handsome, and he cooks too.. I feel like this skirt is a bit risqué, but oh well.." with that last sentence Rohan had the last straw. He removed his stand's effect on you, but not before writing a few things.

Once the effects of Heaven's Door were gone, you began to feel a heat between your legs. Noticing you were on your knees, you crawled your way to Rohan, "Rohann, feel so hot need you.." you mewled out. Rohan was furious with your previous behavior, but maybe this would help you learn a few things. "So you were tempted to cheat on me right? I bet you would’ve enjoyed if that Tonio flipped your skirt right?" he said slapping your face in the process. You whimpered, "No no no no, that's not true..please need you. Need you so bad" you were starting to tear up just by him insinuating you were going to cheat on him. Rohan looked down at you, gods you looked so pathetic, just like he wanted you to look like.

"Such a fucking slut" he said unbuckling his pants, eager to have your warm and needy mouth all around his cock. Once he finished doing that he looked at you dead in the eye, "Suck. Suck like the whore you are. Aren't you ashamed [first]? I bet you also sucked Tonio’s cock in that job interview right?” He said watching you as you sloppily sucked his cock. You probably aren’t even thinking right now, your just hungry for his cock right? Such a little slut. “And to think your parents didn’t like me. They just didn’t know you belonged to me. But that’s fine I had to get rid of them regardless..” he chuckled before he bucked his hips into your mouth repeatedly.

Rohan grabs you by the hair and begins to push your head down his member, sinking your mouth down to his pubes; much to your displeasure. At the moment however he didn’t care what you felt, sluts like you don’t mind right? He continued to do so for a few more seconds before he came in your mouth, groaning loudly. He came inside your mouth, and there was so much of it you couldn’t help but to cough some out.

You laid your head on his lap and breathed out softly, before Rohan lifted your chin up and grinned,

“Who said we were done?”

-

Dating the great Kishibe Rohan would be an honor to most people. Who wouldn’t want to be by his side. Unfortunately for you, dating Kishibe Rohan was not a glitter and sparkles.

Being Kishibe Rohan’s personal cum dump isn’t much better either.