#your standard for ''very first handbag'' can be whatever

[agnesmontague]

shoutout to your very first handbag. whatever age you got it at

[totallycloves]

CLOVER EWING is based on CLOVER from TOTALLY SPIES. she is a 26 year old human, pop culture columnist, and uses she/her pronouns. she has no powers. clover is written by ALEX.

At first glance, Clover is your typical valley girl, obsessed with appearances and speaking with plenty of smatterings of "like" and "totally" - but she's also an incredibly talented spy, willing to get her impeccably manicured hands dirty for the good of the world… Or to fight anyone who dares to cross her friends. Sure, she's materialistic, with a fashion obsession some roll their eyes at, but she's fiercely loyal, and she (with only some reluctance) would toss out her entire wardrobe to ensure the safety of those she cares about.

She's incredibly competitive, at times going to ridiculous lengths to prove herself as better than whoever she opposes or anyone who dares to underestimate her - and she can be incredibly petty when it comes to her rivals, fixating herself on nothing but defeating them until she's "won". Clover often projects a level of confidence some would find bordering arrogance, and while she does think fairly highly of herself on good days, admittedly, it also serves as an efficient mask to plague self doubt stirring within - which contributes to a constant urge to prove herself, even when it's doubtfully worth it.

Still, she uses the fact that she's often underestimated to her advantage, squeezing information from those easily convinced with shallow flirting who don't see her as a threat, gaining gossip by whatever means necessary... Which are mostly legal. At times, Clover can toe the line of morality in her pursuit for "necessary" knowledge , but it's all for the greater good, right?

HEADCANONS:

Clover is a serial dater, often instantly "falling" for for people she passes by - but after spending a few minutes alone in their company and unveiling their flaws (or, her idea of flaws), her romantic interest becomes soured. She has incredibly high standards - ones that she can barely match herself, but she tries anyway. 

Canon, but the fact that she can identify different water brands by taste alone is so funny to me. She’s a Fiji girlie, obvi!

Nearly her entire wardrobe is red and pink, supplemented with a few black and white basics. Speaking of wardrobe, hers is massive, with a normal sized closet devoted just to handbags, and another to shoes. She regularly cycles out her wardrobe, not daring to walk out in anything out of season… But, of course, she donates her old clothing to the less fashionable in need, or, as she would say, "stylistically challenged". 

She has a cat named Vivienne! Viv also has her own wardrobe, of course!

Clover is intelligent but very easily distracted if not passionate about the subject - in school, she did fine enough… As in, the bare minimum of passing because she couldn’t be bothered to work harder than necessary in subjects she didn’t care for. She cheated a bit in math - but was smart enough to get away with it. Of course, in her fashion design class, she was number one!

She's a secret nerd - she’ll act like video games, anime, and all that is totally uncool (even if she's gotten a lot more c, but she’ll indulge in her geek hobbies when she thinks no one is watching. 

Clover is big into yoga and pilates, and she maintains a rigid workout routine even in Evermore... Because as much as she's "settled in", some part of her is always waiting for her next mission, and she refuses to stay idle or unprepared.

She’s bisexual! She certainly was boy obsessed growing up, but as she grew older, she realized she liked girls, too - but was just a little more intimidated by them. I mean, girls are so pretty.

[svmproducts-blog]

Here's Why You Need an Inflatable Pillow When You Travel

It's likely that you're of the opinion that a travel pillow is just more baggage. On the other hand, an inflatable travel pillow may be a lifesaver, particularly for long-distance flights.

What is an Inflatable Travel Pillow?

When you're on the road and need a little more support and comfort, pack an inflatable travel pillow. An effective inflatable travel pillow may make the difference between a restless night on a lengthy journey or a groggy morning when you finally reach your destination. Inflatable travel pillows are convenient since they can be rolled up into a small package and taken anywhere. In addition, you may adjust the stiffness to your preference by blowing air into them. Choose a memory foam or other plush material to inflate a travel pillow out of. It's also important that the pillow features a quick-release valve for easy inflation and deflation. If you've invested in a travel pillow, try it out at home first. To find the most relaxing posture, test the pillow out inflated in a variety of ways. Some people like to sleep on their stomachs or sides, while others need a little more neck support. An inflatable travel pillow is a handy item to have on your next vacation. You'll be well-rested and ready to take on whatever greets you when you get there.

Why an Inflatable Travel Pillow Should Be a Staple in Your Travel Gear

 When you're on the road a lot, an inflatable neck pillow is a must-have accessory. They not only let you sleep during those long flights or vehicle journeys, but they also protect your neck from discomfort. Because of its compact size, inflatable travel pillows are ideal for stowing in a handbag or briefcase. Since they mold to your head and neck, these pillows are also a major improvement over their flat counterparts. Why an inflatable travel pillow should be part of your standard luggage: One, they are compact and light enough to take anywhere. You can easily pack them away since they are so compact. Thirdly, the price is quite low. And fourth, you may use them for both neck and lower back comfort. 5- They are simple to inflate and deflate. 6 There is a wide range of sizes and shapes available. Seventh, you can take them everywhere you go, inside or out. An inflatable travel pillow is the most cost-effective option if you're in the market for a new pillow.

How an Inflatable Travel Pillow Can Improve Your Travel Experience

When you’re planning a trip, there are so many things to think about – what to pack, where to go, how to get there. It can be easy to forget the little things that can make a big difference to your travel experience. One of those things is a travel neck pillow. A good travel pillow can help you get a better night’s sleep on a long flight or train journey. It can also help you avoid neck pain and stiffness after a day of sightseeing. There are lots of different types of travel pillow available, but an inflatable travel pillow is a great option. Here’s why:

1. They’re comfortable: Inflatable travel pillows are made from soft, comfortable materials. They can be adjusted to provide the perfect amount of support for your head and neck.

2. They’re lightweight: An inflatable travel pillow takes up very little room in your luggage. When it’s not in use, it can be deflated and rolled up into a small, compact size.

3. They’re easy to use: Inflatable travel pillows are quick and easy to use. Just inflate them when you need them and deflate them when you’re finished.

4. They’re affordable: Inflatable travel pillows are a great value option. They’re often much cheaper than other types of travel pillow, but they’re just as effective.

5. They have a wide range of uses: Inflatable travel pillows can be used for more than just sleeping on a plane or train. They can also be used as a pillow for camping, as a lumbar support when driving, or as a bed pillow for a hotel room.

So, if you’re looking for a travel pillow that will make your journey more comfortable, an inflatable travel pillow is a great option.

The Benefits of Inflatable Travel Pillows

A quality travel pillow is one of the most useful yet sometimes disregarded pieces of luggage. The difference between a restful night's sleep and a restless one spent craning your neck might be as simple as packing an inflatable pillow. There are a variety of travel pillows available, but inflatable ones are the most adaptable and comfy. Some of the many advantages of bringing an inflatable travel pillow on your next vacation are as follows:

1. You may choose the level of firmness to suit your needs since they are inflatable. You may effortlessly modify the pillow's firmness to meet your preferences, whether you want a softer or harder night's rest.

2. They don't take up much room in your bag because of how light inflatable pillows are.

3. They Take Up Little Room Until You Inflate Them Inflatable travel pillows don't need much storage space until you decide to use them. This allows you to conveniently store them in your handbag, backpack, or other small carry-on item.

4. They Provide Support - If you're going to be sitting in a small flight seat for hours on end, an inflatable travel pillow may offer much-needed support for your neck and head.

5. They Let You Relax and Fall Asleep In Public Inflatable travel pillows are often created from soft, comfy materials that will make it easier for you to fall asleep.

6. You can purchase multiples and store them in your luggage since inflatable travel pillows are so cheap.

If you're searching for a travel pillow that won't break the bank but will still provide plenty of comfort and support, consider getting an inflatable one. On your next vacation, don't forget to include one in your suitcase.

Why You Should Consider an Inflatable Travel Pillow for Your Next Trip

If you tend to get sleep on lengthy flights or in awkward postures, an airplane pillow is a terrific addition to your travel kit. While planning your next vacation, keep these benefits of an inflatable travel pillow in mind.

One, they may be used for a wide variety of purposes. Whether you're trying to get some shut-eye on an airplane, in the car, or on the beach, an inflatable travel pillow may come in handy. They're really little, for one thing. A deflated inflatable travel pillow takes up almost little room at all, making it ideal for use on long flights or for packing in a small luggage. They're cozy, for three. Comfort and support are prioritized in the design of inflatable travel pillows, which may be customized to the user's preferences. As a bonus, they are simple to employ. When you're ready to use the pillow, just blow it up, and then let it go back to its deflated state. There is no need to bring along an extra pillowcase or cram it into a small bag. Lastly, They are cheap. Affordable and convenient inflatable travel pillows may be purchased for about $20. An inflatable pillow is a great choice if you need a flexible, comfy, and cheap travel pillow.

How an Inflatable Travel Pillow Can Help You Get a Good Night's Sleep on Your Next Flight

If you have trouble sleeping on planes, consider bringing an inflatable neck pillow with you. A pillow may help you feel comfy and keep your head from slipping forward while you're attempting to sleep on a confined aircraft seat. While shopping for an inflatable travel pillow, it's important to keep a few details in mind. Make sure it's cozy first. Pillows constructed of memory foam are designed to mold to the shape of your head and neck. Several of the pillows are shaped more like standard ones.

To continue, check that the inflatable pillow  can be quickly and easily inflated and deflated. When you're trying to get some shut-eye, the last thing you want to do is fiddle around with a pump or attempt to inflate the pillow yourself. Try to get a pillow that can be inflated and deflated using a simple valve. Lastly, the pillow should be small and lightweight. You shouldn't bring a bulky pillow if you're attempting to minimize the amount of luggage you bring along. Inflatable pillows are convenient since they may be carried in a handbag or small suitcase. If you have trouble sleeping on planes, consider purchasing an inflatable travel pillow. There is a perfect pillow out there waiting to be discovered; all it takes is a little bit of digging.

Tips for using Travel Pillow

While preparing for a vacation, it's crucial to think about how you'll get enough shut-eye. If you plan on being gone for a while, this is of paramount importance. An neck pillow is a need for any trip lasting longer than a few hours, whether by airline, train, or bus. Although there are many options for this, an inflated pillow is our top pick. When deflated, these pillows take up very little room and are perfect for traveling. And they're soft and cozy, so you can rest easy on the road. What follows are some suggestions for making the most of your inflatable travel pillow:

-Before you use the pillow, check to see that it is at the right level of inflation. It has to strike a balance between being too soft and too harsh.

-Be careful to position the airplane pillow behind your head rather than under it. That's a certain way to keep your neck from hurting later on.

-The pillow may be used beneath the head or behind the back, whichever is most comfortable for you, on a bus or train.

-The pillow may be used in the same ways as a standard pillow when staying at a hotel.

-When not in use, deflate the pillow and put it away somewhere secure. You should take care to avoid tearing or puncturing it.

If you want to sleep well on the road, invest in an inflated travel pillow. If you follow these suggestions, your vacation will be relaxing and enjoyable.

Conclusion

For a comfortable night's sleep on the road, pack an inflated travel pillow. They're cheap, small, and lightweight, making them convenient for traveling. Furthermore, they provide superior comfort, making them ideal for extended travel.

[merryfortune]

Touched By Your Prescence

Clover and Violets 2022

Day 5. Touch

Title: Touched By Your Prescence

Ship: Sideshipping | Anzu/Shizuka

Word Count: 2,040

Universe: Duel Monsters - Canon Compliant

Rating: G

Tags: Sickfic, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Napping Together

   “Yeah, poor Anzu,” Katsuya mentioned flippantly as he shuffled the cards of his deck, “she had the day off from school and from her part-time job because she’s come down with the flu or something.”

   “What?” exclaimed Shizuka. “That’s horrible.” She bolted to her feet and turned to her brother, a determined look in her eyes, “Big Brother, did you take any good notes today at school? I should go bring them to Anzu.”

   “Wh-What? Well, er, no, to the first one. I mean, I tried but they’d never meet Anzu’s standards so don’t even bother but what do you mean? Go bring ‘em to Anzu?” Katsuya rambled.

   “She’s my friend and I care about her, obviously.” Shizuka said with a scant blush that made her feel like she had to defend her sentiments beyond the necessary. “I know how awful it is to be sick,” her voice turned quiet, “I don’t want Anzu to feel so bad, even if it's only something minor, like a cold.” She held her fist close to her heart as she made a very serious - and very adorable - facial expression.

   “You're a good girl, Shizuka, go on, just be home by supper and call if you're gonna be late.” Katsuya told her.

   “Thank you, Big Brother.” Shizuka beamed.

   Shizuka was then off in a flash. She darted to her room and grabbed some items she thought she would need such as a coat and her handbag. She then darted back to the living room, to the front of the house and waved Katsuya goodbye with a huge, bubbly smile on her face as she reached out to touch the doorknob.

   “And don’t go an’ catch whatever Anzu’s got, ya hear?” Katsuya barked at her but she was gone before he could even finish. The noise of the door slammed but rather than make Katsuya’s heart rattle, it just made him think fondly of his little sister.

   Shizuka was out of the building and into the quickest bus to near Anzu’s place as fast as she could. She was practically bouncing on the heel of her foot as she waited, holding onto one of the bars provided on the bus, as she thought about her surprise visit to Anzu’s. And what a day to get sick given that it was the height of summer and there was a cool breeze outside, too. Even the late afternoon had such an invigorating briskness, it was a shame that Anzu couldn’t have enjoyed it, though it was a school day.

   Shizuka got off the bus and she paused by a convenience store. She bought a few small items, like an aloe vera green tea, a packet of single use surgical masks, and some ingredients she could cook up into a congee, as well as plucking some mandarins to share. After paying, Shizuka was on her way again, now with a plastic bag swinging behind her as she had all but a lively skip in a step. She found Anzu and her family’s apartment easily and took the elevator up. The music that played made Shizuka’s toe tap and she wondered if it had the same effect on Anzu. She giggled at her reverie and then ding. It opened up onto Anzu’s floor and Shizuka continued on her way, she found the right nameplate and number then knocked.

   “Excuse me, pardon me, is Anzu around?” Shizuka asked the door as she rapped her knuckles on it.

   Shizuka waited a moment and her ears pricked up on some very slow movement on the other side of the door. She heard shuffling footsteps muffled by slippers and then a cough and she waited patiently as Anzu answered the door with a heavy smile.

   “Oh, Shizuka,” Anzu murmured, not quite a gasp, “what are you doing here?” Her voice devolved into more coughing.

   “I want to come around and make sure you were okay, if you don’t mind.” Shizuka replied and she glanced around the inside of Anzu’s home, hoping she wasn’t being rude, she was just curious. “Are your parents home?”

   “No, not yet,” Anzu said and then embarrassedly added, “I'm not a little kid anymore, they can trust me on my own here, even if I am… under the weather.” She sounded very groggy and her eyes were heavy-lidded.

   “Well, do you want the company?” Shizuka asked.

   “I would love some.” Anzu replied.

   Anzu shuffled aside and allowed Shizuka to come in. She bowed her head and said her thanks for abiding by her unexpected visit. Shizuka lifted her head again and Anzu’s family apartment was very prim and proper, like it had come out of a furniture catalogue. Though, despite the seeming stiffness and newness of the modern-looking lounges and the navy blue counter top in the kitchen and all the other little details of Anzu’s place, Shizuka felt quite comfortable in it.

   “So, have you eaten much today?” Shizuka asked as she wandered, half aiming towards the kitchen.

   “A little.” Anzu croaked. 

   “Would you like some congee then?” Shizuka said and she lifted her grocery bag. “I mightn’t look it but congee is my specialty.”

   Anzu laughed, or tried to. Instead she just made some awful, hacking coughing noises that spooked Shizuka.

   “Er, sorry about that.” Anzu mumbled, “But I’d love some, Shizuka.”

   “Sounds good, Anzu, well, how about you go get some rest then. I’ll bring it out to you when it's done.” 

   Anzu smiled but it was a guilty sort of, lopsided smile, “I feel like such a horrible host,” she murmured, sounding groggy, “making my guest make me food.”

   “It's no problem at all, though.” Shizuka insisted. “I dropped by unannounced but when I heard from my brother you were ill… I simply had to come and help. I know how lonely it is to be sick.”

   “Thank you, Shizuka, I-I’m gonna go and get some shut eye. Feel free to wake me but it's not like I was sleeping earlier…” Anzu mumbled.

   “You rest up, I’ll be lickety-split, don’t worry.” Shizuka said.

   Anzu smiled and she haggardly wobbled off back to her room. Shizuka took notice of where she was going but it was a small apartment and Anzu was an only child, so she doubted that she would get lost. Although, using the Mazaki family kitchen was a bit more worrying but Shizuka was fine. She placed down her grocery bag and then got started on making some congee. Even in an unfamiliar kitchen, Shizuka knew the recipe like the back of her hand so it was no problem at all.

   Whilst the rice that Shizuka had bought cooked, she checked up on the other things that she had brought with her. The tea had warmed slightly but Shizuka found ice cubes in the freezer to serve it with and sampling some, it had a sticky after taste but was very refreshing, she could taste both the aloe vera and matcha in it. She had no doubt it would be great for Anzu’s immune system, especially paired with mandarin slices on the side.

   Soon, the kitchen smelt of homemade, nostalgic decadence and searching through the cupboards, Shizuka found a tray that she could serve up on. She arranged the tray wonderfully with a bowl of congee in the middle, the plate of mandarin slices to its adjacent, and two cups of tea for Anzu as well as herself. Shizuka ripped open her packet of surgical masks and donned one, better safe than sorry, and from behind the fabric, she smiled. She couldn’t have been prouder of herself as she very carefully picked up the tray and began to move towards Anzu’s room.

   Shizuka nudged open the door with her foot and came inside when it opened just a slither. It was dark inside Anzu’s room, and it was very cute and girly, though gave Shizuka the impression that Anzu had grown out of it as it was too much of that. Anzu was lying down on her bed under her covers but rolled over when she heard Shizuka come inside. 

   She blearily rubbed her eyes and got up. She looked light-headed and was slick with sweat. She shivered slightly despite still having her blankets strewn across her.

   “Are you okay?” Shizuka asked.

   Anzu couldn’t even reply as her stomach rumbled first. “Y-Yeah, just hungry.” she mumbled.

   “You poor thing…” Shizuka murmured.

   Shizuka knelt down slightly and she pressed her forehead against Anzu’s, surprising her. Anzu felt herself grow warm as their foreheads touched one another. She felt her heart pound in her head as Shizuka took her temperature with nothing more than a serene, demure demeanour from behind her protective mask. She pleasantly recalled memories of her own mother doing this to her once upon a time and hoped that such kindness of intent transferred to Anzu, even though she was unbearably warm.

   “Oh, my,” Shizuka exclaimed, pulling back, “you're really burning up.”

   “Y-Yeah.” Anzu mumbled, but she didn’t think it was quite so much for the reason that Shizuka was assuming.

   “Here, have a spoonful of congee, or maybe a mandarin slice? Are you thirsty? I bought a healthy drink as well.” Shizuka fussed over her gently.

   “Thank you, Shizuka.” Anzu told her again.

   Shizuka helped Anzu to the treats that she had brought into her room with her. Anzu had a few slices of the mandarin first, letting the congee cool before having a couple spoonfuls. Anzu felt utterly spoiled by Shizuka and her cooking was fantastic, even something as humble as congee felt decadent and warm to Anzu as she savoured what little she did feel like eating. She cooled her tongue on the tea that Shizuka had bought as well, feeling refreshed by the gulps that she had taken.

   “Are you feeling better yet, Anzu? Or do you need some more rest?” Shizuka asked sweetly as she put away the glass that Anzu just finished using back onto the tray.

   “Y-Yeah, I’m feeling better but I’m getting drowsy again.” Anzu said.

   “I see, would you like me to go then? I don’t mind… I’ll even leave the congee and tea in the fridge if you feel like it later.” Shizuka offered.

   “That’s very kind of you, Shizuka, but…” Anzu’s voice trailed off, she sounded very hoarse but something else, too. Embarrassed, almost. “But I was hoping you could stay, here, with me. Just until my parents get back.”

   “O-Oh.” Shizuka gasped. She was suddenly very thankful that she had her mask on because she felt herself go red at Anzu’s admission.

   She looked so bashful, sitting up in her bed and Shizuka felt her heart pound quicker. Anzu was very lovely, very pretty, too, to be in such close proximity, it felt almost scandalous. Not to mention, she had promised her brother that she wouldn’t go and catch Anzu’s germs but when she asked so nicely, Shizuka couldn’t help it. She knew there was nothing better than company when ill and so, her pound heartstrings were more than pulled.

   “I’d like that.” Shizuka replied.

   Shizuka got up and she stowed away the tray of leftovers atop Anzu’s desk. They would be fine there for half an hour, maybe an hour, the cooled congee and the mandarin skins, the last of the tea at the very bottoms of their respective glasses. 

   Anzu shuffled over and made room for Shizuka. Her already hot bedroom suddenly felt like it was increasing in temperature again. Though her arm was unsteady, Anzu lifted up the doona and let Shizuka slot in against her, letting the doona flop down over them both, feather soft. Shizuka giggled, the noise muffled by her mask and she snuggled in close to Anzu and they shared a pillow together.

   “Sleep well, Anzu.” Shizuka bade her, her voice a whisper.

   “You too.” Anzu mumbled back.

   They rested against each other. Shizuka kept her hands close to her chest and Anzu reached out, her fingertips ghosting along Shizuka’s skin which was so warm and soft. Yet Anzu, meanwhile, felt so clammy but Shizuka didn’t hold it against her. Not one bit, not when they leaned in together, letting their foreheads touched once more and they rested peacefully together, warm and dozing.

[mintaka14]

See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Three – Living in a Blur

  “No Rose or Juleka today?” Marinette asked as she stepped down into the galley of the Liberty with that effortless grace that Luka was coming to associate with the woman she’d become. She reached up to tuck back a lock of hair that had escaped from the braid over her shoulder, and Luka moved around the tiny kitchen, pulling out mugs, while the kettle whistled loudly in the background.

“No, they had a few things to organise today for the wedding. They said to say hi, though.” He didn’t mention the other things that Rose had had to say, or the broad, suggestive beams she given him before she dragged Juleka away on whatever mission she’d manufactured.

He handed Marinette the tea that he’d just made and shifted towards the couch in the living room, cradling his own coffee. Marinette sank into the armchair across from him. She blew on the mug and closed her eyes to inhale the steam.

“I still can’t quite believe that Juleka and Rose are getting married. It feels like only yesterday we were all in collège.” Marinette smiled, and sighed.

“They’re incredibly lucky to be getting MDC original wedding dresses. That’s one hell of a wedding present you’re giving them.”

“Juleka and Rose are covering the materials I’m just volunteering my time and a bit of sewing.”

Luka’s eyebrow rose sceptically. “One artist to another, I know it’s not ‘just’ anything, Marinette. Your time and skill is a very generous gift, and don’t forget, I’ve seen what you’re putting together for them. Jules and Rose can’t have been straightforward to design for.”

Marinette laughed. “But they’re giving me the chance to have fun,” she insisted. “I spend all day every day dealing with clients with no individuality or imagination, trying to convince them to trust me, so it’s a relief to get a chance to do something interesting for a change, with friends who are happy to indulge me.”

Luka leaned back, all plans to rehearse forgotten, as he watched Marinette talk about the inspiration behind the wedding dresses and the creative possibilities in dressing certain clients, her face lighting up and her hands gesturing animatedly as she grew more impassioned about her theories of clothing as a reflection of self. He followed the movement of her hands and lost himself in the endless blue of her eyes.

“I really need to ask Juleka if she’d be willing to model for me sometime. She’s always so compelling in whatever she wears, and so much fun to design for,” she said eventually. He found her eyeing him speculatively. “I’d love to have the chance to dress you one day.”

“You could at least buy me dinner first,” he said without thinking.

There was a heartbeat, then Marinette burst out laughing.

“Smooth line, Couffaine. Does that work on all the girls?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He decided to lean into it, and grinned at her. “I’ve only ever tried it on you. Is it working?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “How are you still single?” she asked.

“You’re a hard act to follow,” he said, and Marinette levelled a look at him.

“Luka, I was a fourteen year old clumsy mess who kept on flaking out on our dates. You can’t tell me I’m the gold standard of your relationships.”

Put like that, it was ridiculous, but it was true nonetheless. He’d had relationships, and they were sincere in the moment, but he’d drifted out of them as easily as he’d drifted into them, and they’d left him with little more than fond memories. None of them had left a mark like Marinette had. Over the years, he’d put it down to rose-coloured nostalgia, but then she’d walked into his life again, more Marinette than ever, and he’d fallen harder and faster than he had before.

He looked down at the mug of coffee in his hands.

“How about you? Anyone special in your life these days?” he asked the coffee with casual disinterest. She gave a soft snort.

“Hardly. It’s not like anything’s changed since we were going out.” She seemed to catch herself, and froze as Luka’s head came up to stare at her. “I just… mean, who’s got time for a relationship, right? Life’s too busy.”

“Not since we were going out?” Luka echoed her, frowning. “Marinette, you were fourteen. You haven’t dated anyone since then?”

She shrugged uncomfortably. “I dated. It just never lasts long. It’s not that big a deal. And besides,” she muttered, “I’ve learned my lesson, the universe doesn’t want me to have a relationship.”

She put her mug abruptly on the table and stood.

“Weren’t we supposed to be practising?”

Luka got to his feet and reached for his guitar. Clearly this was a line of conversation that Marinette did not want to go down with him, and he dropped the subject to run through the song with her a few times, correcting her gently when her voice faltered.

He had to wonder, though, what the hell was wrong with the men in Marinette’s life that had left her love life such a sore subject?

Luka stopped again to make a suggestion about phrasing and breath control.

“All that time, never even knowing just how blind I’ve been,” Marinette tried again, sounding more confident with the slightly awkward vocal skips this time, and Luka gave her a smile.

“See?” he told her. “Fashion designer to the stars, artist, and now singer. You can add that to your résumé.”

He’d finally coaxed a laugh out of her, and then Marinette’s handbag buzzed. Luka watched the smile drop off her face. Her eyes flicked to the door. “I’m really sorry, I have to go. I have… a thing…”

She was gone before he could say anything further. For a moment, Luka sat there with his guitar silent in his lap, frowning thoughtfully. Apparently she was right – not much had changed in the ten years since they’d been kids together. There were still the abrupt excuses, the silences, the sudden disappearances.

Luka plucked out Now she’s here, shining in the starlight, and he considered the empty space where she’d been. He was coming to suspect that whatever had been going on when they were kids, whatever she’d been keeping to herself when she broke it off with him, it was something bigger than he’d imagined.

At that moment, Luka’s own phone chimed with an akuma alert, and the timing of it was jarring. His hand dropped, as it always did, to touch his empty wrist. He looked down at it, his frown growing troubled as a new thought took hold.

He found himself thinking back over the timing of some of those disappearances, and odd excuses, and the times she’d had just a little more knowledge of Ladybug's movements than any random civilian ought to, but it had all sounded so plausible at the time. Seen through this new lens, those moments took on a new significance the more he turned them over in his mind.

Black pigtails, unmistakeable blue eyes. The same damn plain black earrings that Marinette, the consummate fashion designer, was still wearing ten years later.

How had he never put it together before?

Luka was still sitting there, his hands resting on his guitar and his gaze fixed on nothing, when Juleka and Rose came home.

“Where’s Marinette?” Rose asked in obvious disappointment when she took in the quiet room.

“She had to leave,” Luka replied absently.

“Luka! You just let her leave?”

Luka could see the tiny frown that he was feeling reflected in his sister’s face, although he wasn’t sure what had prompted it in Juleka’s case.

“I’m not going to badger her into staying if she needs to go, Rose,” he said mildly.

Rose threw up her hands. “And how is she supposed to know you want her to stay if you don’t tell her? I don’t get why you’re both fighting this so hard. She’s single, you’re single, but both of you are too chicken to make the first move.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Juleka interjected, shooting a dark look at her brother. “Because I remember weeks and weeks of Taylor fucking Swift, and I do not want to go through that again.”

“That was ten years ago! You cannot tell me that there’s not something there!” Rose whirled and stabbed a finger at Luka. “You can’t argue with the Sparkly Sense.”

Luka was only half paying attention to the argument, and responded vaguely, “Marinette has too much going on in her life right now to worry about a relationship with anyone.” Like saving the city, over and over and over again, holy shit, she was Ladybug.

Once seen, it was hard to understand how he could have missed it, and his mind briefly derailed to speculate that it must be some sort of kwami-induced magic that obscured her identity. Given how adamant Ladybug had been back in the day that the secret of the miraculous holders’ identities had to be preserved, and how hard she had worked since then to maintain that secrecy, Luka had a bad feeling about how things would go if he told her that he knew.

He was about to become another crack in her armour, another worry dumped on her already overloaded shoulders. Although, what did he really know, when all was said and done? He had his suspicions, nothing more.

“Hopeless, the both of you,” Rose complained, and glared at Juleka. “Don’t you want your brother to live happily ever after?”

“I don’t want to have to live through weeks of I Almost Do again, because my stupid brother hasn’t got the sense he was born with, and you’re just encouraging him.”

Rose stomped away, muttering things under her breath, but Juleka stayed silent after that. His guitar still in his hand, Luka got to his feet and headed for his bedroom before Rose could come back and start again. He had too much else on his mind to deal with Rose’s matchmaking.

Every time he thought Marinette couldn’t get any more extraordinary, she surprised him all over again, but the music he played softly in the solitude of his room that night ached with all the burdens he’d seen in her eyes.

Some time later, he heard a soft knock on his door and it opened quietly. When he looked up, Juleka was leaning there, her hand on the door handle and a look of equal parts irritation and uneasiness on her face.

“Luka –“

“I’m fine,” he cut her off before she could say what he knew she was going to say. “I know what I’m doing, and it’s all good.”

Juleka’s mouth pinched. “Do you, though? Because from where I’m standing, we’re heading for Taylor territory again.”

Luka didn’t answer, his focus on his hands and the fragments of melody that he’d come to think of as Marinette’s song. Eventually he heard a sigh, and Juleka said, “I love you, you dumbass.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

The door shut behind her, and he was left alone with his thoughts and Marinette’s secrets.

~~~~~

“You’re playing with fire,” warned the voice of responsibility in Marinette’s handbag, and Marinette sighed. She shifted the bulky dress bags in her hands so that she could see the little round face peering up at her.

“It’s just a dress fitting, Tikki. Can’t I even have friends anymore?”

“It’s Luka,” the tiny kwami said primly. “Things never stay just friends with Luka, and I saw the way you’ve been looking at him. Remember what happened the last time you told someone?”

“That was ten years ago, and Luka is not Alya. Don’t you think things have changed a bit since then?”

“It never ends well,” Tikki insisted, and Marinette felt the weight of Ladybug closing in on her all over again. She looked up at the Liberty as she drew closer, and had never felt less free in her life.

“Don’t worry, Luka’s not even going to be there,” she said wearily. “Juleka said he’s got something tonight, so it’ll just be her and Rose there. And anyway, there’s no chance he’d ever be interested in me like that again.” Because if there was a chance, then Marinette would have to walk away now before she could do any more damage, and she’d never get to see Luka again. She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t.

“Luka was a wonderful holder for Sass,” Tikki conceded, “but he’s always been a little too perceptive for comfort. If he were to find out…”

“We’re here,” Marinette said, cutting off the rest of Tikki’s dire predictions. The kwami vanished into the depths of her handbag, and Marinette maneouvred the dress bags carefully as she climbed the gangplank onto the boat and called a greeting as she reached the empty deck.

In spite of her mood after Tikki’s lecture, she felt a tiny smile curl her lips as Rose’s answering shriek echoed up from below deck, and she followed the sound down into the depths of the boat.

“Marinette!” Rose scolded reproachfully as Marinette descended carefully into the galley with the two dress bags in her hand and moved through into the living room. “You didn’t even say goodbye last time! We got back and you were just gone.”

Marinette held the dresses clear as Rose engulfed her in a whirlwind hug, and turned to meet Juleka’s more sedate greeting. The dark-haired girl gave her a nod and a quirk of a smile that turned to a frown when Rose gave her girlfriend a smug look.

Rose turned towards the bedrooms, and bellowed, “Luka! Look who’s here!”

“What’s up?” she heard Luka’s voice, and felt her heart stutter. Oh, that wasn’t good. Luka swung around the edge of the door, leaning against the frame behind his sister as he directed a slow, sweet smile at Marinette.

“Hey, you,” he said, and Marinette couldn’t help but smile back at him. Juleka rolled her eyes and slugged her brother in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Juleka!” Rose scolded.

“Weren’t you going out? Rose said you had a thing tonight,” Juleka said, and Luka frowned at her.

“Not for another hour. The band we were going to check out isn’t on til later.”

“Did I say eight?” Rose said innocently to the ceiling. “I meant nine. Oops.”

Marinette found herself standing there awkwardly holding the dress bags, her eyes shifting between the three of them.

“You don’t want to keep the guys waiting if you said you’d be there,” Juleka pushed.

“I only said I might,” Luka said, shooting his sister an annoyed look.

“Besides, he can catch them another time,” Rose insisted, staring at her girlfriend with a pointed message that Juleka ignored for once. “They won’t mind, and Marinette’s here now.”

Luka elbowed Juleka aside none too gently and came into the room. “I’m getting a coffee. Did you want anything, Mari?”

“I’d like a coffee,” Juleka said in a saccharine voice, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“I didn’t ask you, monster child.”

“You don’t have to stay on my account,” Marinette told Luka. “I’m only here to do the final dress fitting.”

“Oh no!” Rose protested. “You have to stay for dinner. It’s the least we can do after everything you’ve done with the wedding dresses.”

“You haven’t even seen the finished thing yet,” Marinette pointed out, and felt a flush rising at the smile that Luka was giving her.

“We don’t need to see them to know they’re going to be incredible,” he said. “And it wasn’t important. I was only half thinking of going out anyway.”

The noise Juleka made was not polite, and Luka made a rude gesture back without looking at his sister.

“Well,” said Rose brightly. “How about we leave them to it? They’re going to be doing this for a while.”

In Juleka’s bedroom, Marinette didn’t have to ask Rose if she was happy with her wedding dress once she’d settled the clouds of soft pink organza around her and done up the miles of tiny buttons. Rose was making a noise like a tea kettle on the boil that rose to a squeal of happiness as she spun around in front of Juleka’s bedroom mirror. Handbeaded organza flowers spilled down in glittering trails across the skirts as she turned, and Rose raised a hand to touch the flowers that clustered all over her bodice.

“It’s perfect!” she breathed. She made a move as if she was going to throw her arms around Marinette, but Marinette fended her off with a laugh.

“Hug me when we get you out of the dress,” she smiled. “How does it feel? Nothing slipping, or too tight?”

“It’s perfect,” Rose repeated, her voice turning a little wobbly with emotion.

When Marinette finally got Rose to stop twirling around for long enough to take the gown off again, they headed back to the living room to find the Couffaine siblings glaring at each other. Luka looked away as they came in, his mouth pressed in a tight line, and Juleka spun on her heel, stalking towards the bedroom without a word, leaving Marinette to follow.

She carefully removed Juleka’s wedding dress from its hanger while her friend stripped down to her underwear and slipped her formal shoes on, and then Marinette started easing Juleka into the gown.

“Mari, what’s really going on with you and Luka?” Juleka asked, her voice a little muffled by the softly glittering black fabric over her head. Marinette slid the dress down and settled it into place. “I love you, but he’s my brother and I’m worried about him.”

“We’re just friends,” Marinette said, and suppressed a flinch at the words. Juleka rolled her eyes.

“You were never just friends even when you were just friends. And the last time I thought you were just friends it turned out you’d been dating my idiot brother. So excuse me if I’m not buying it.”

Marinette swallowed at that, stung but unable to argue the point.

“Believe me, Juleka, I’m well aware of how badly I fucked up back then, and the last thing I want to do is hurt Luka like that again,” she said, insistent in the face of Juleka’s scepticism.

“You won’t mean to, but Luka gets stupid when you’re involved.”

“That was ten years ago,” Marinette protested.

“That was two minutes ago.”

Juleka’s exasperated words provoked a cold wash of dismay. Juleka had to be mistaken. Luka was long over her, he had to be. Somewhere deep down, though, Marinette felt a tiny fireworks explosion of something that she didn’t dare acknowledge.

“The moment you turn up, he drops everything without a second thought,” Juleka muttered as Marinette eased the hidden zip up. Marinette stepped back, and Juleka turned to face the mirror.

“Wow. Damn, Marinette,” she breathed. She angled herself a little, her eyes still on her reflection in the mirror. “I take it all back. You’re welcome to wreck my dumbass brother, as long as I get to keep this dress.”

Marinette gave a tightlipped little smile, and went back to regarding the gown with a critical eye. There really didn’t seem to be much that needed adjusting. She repositioned the crystal chipped dragon brooch that coiled over Juleka’s hip, where it caught up the fall of the fabric, but it all seemed to be working.

She extracted Juleka from the gown again, and back in the living room Rose was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through something on her phone. Luka had his guitar in his hands again, strumming something with his coffee forgotten on the table beside him. He looked up as Marinette and Juleka came in.

“How’s the dress?” he asked.

“It’s stunning,” Juleka said, and heaved a put-upon sigh. “I can’t stop you from being stupid, but at least you have good taste.”

He gave her a suspicious look, his eyes shifting to Marinette when there was no further explanation forthcoming. “What was that all about?”

Marinette shrugged awkwardly, but fortunately he didn’t press her on it.

“So are we doing Thai or that new Indian place tonight? There’s nothing on the Akuma alert,” Rose said from the couch, “but there is a new theory about who Ladybug is on the conspiracy forums.”

“Aliens, or the Mayor’s secret revenge love child this time?” Juleka asked, dropping onto the couch beside her.

“I miss the Ladyblog,” Rose said, stretching her arms over her head. “Remember that time Alya thought that Chloe was Ladybug?”

Marinette remembered.

On the couch, Juleka laughed. “How is Alya,” she asked, and tilted her head to throw a look at Marinette. “Have you seen her lately?”

Alya again. The universe seemed determined to beat her over the head with her failures. She opened her eyes to find them all watching her, and she gave a strained and unconvincing smile.

“Not recently. I think she’s working in a travel agency now. It’s been a few years, though.”

Nearly six years, to be exact, since she’d last bumped into Alya.

“Jules,” Luka said casually, “how about you and Ro go pick up dinner? Mari and I really should work on the song for the wedding a bit more.”

It was a transparent excuse to shift the subject and give her a bit of space, and she was grateful for it, even if Rose did give Luka a very unsubtle wink that he pretended to not see. Rose and Juleka didn’t seem to have noticed anything odd, but Luka threw her a quick glance as he laughed at something Rose said, and reached out to toss his wallet at Juleka, who pulled a few euros from it and threw it back. Marinette managed to respond lightly enough to a question about her preferences, and by the time it was just her and Luka she’d pulled herself together again.

“I take it that things aren’t good with Alya,” he said gently.

She shrugged, and the smile she gave him was a little unsteady. “Our friendship didn’t end well. We don’t talk to each other anymore.”

It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was as close as she could get without giving away too much. There was no way she could explain how her former best friend had looked straight through her as if she was a stranger the last time they’d run into each other, or the sickening wash of guilt, remorse, and self-loathing she still felt over the reason behind it, even after all these years.

“It was a long time ago,” she said as easily as she could manage, but Luka had always been able to read her better than that. His hand closed over hers briefly, reassuring and strong, and for a moment she let herself draw on his warmth.

“It still leaves a mark, though, doesn’t it?” he said.

She couldn’t help wondering a little bitterly how different things might have been if she’d told Luka everything, instead of Alya, back when she was fourteen. Would it have been Luka looking at her with that terrible emptiness?

Marinette broke eye contact and pulled her hand away to wrap it around her now-cold mug. She was aware that Luka was regarding her as if he saw a lot more than she was letting on, but he didn’t push for more. Instead, he got to his feet.

“I need another coffee,” he said, and gave her a questioning look. “Tea for you?”

She took the distraction, and followed him into the galley.

Luka kept to safe subjects after that, telling her about the group of students he’d been working with after school, and a gig that had gone disastrously wrong, until she couldn’t help but giggle when he described the drummer slowly sliding off his stool and passing out face down on his snare drum.

“It actually improved the quality of his playing,” Luka said wryly.

And he laughed when she countered with an account of Chloe Bourgeois commisioning her to design and make an outfit last season.

“I don’t think she’d even considered that MDC might stand for Marinette Dupain-Cheng until she turned up for the fitting,” Marinette grinned. “You should have seen the look on her face, though.”

“Ridiculous!” Luka scoffed in a passable immitation of the Mayor’s daughter, and waved his hand in the air as Marinette giggled at him. “Utterly ridiculous!”

“And of course, nothing was good enough. She couldn’t believe I was expecting her to pay full price for such shoddy workmanship. I should be paying her to wear my rags.”

“Tell me you told her where to shove it,” Luka said, and folded his arms on the benchtop, leaning forward in anticipation. Marinette’s smile grew broader.

“Oh, better than that. I told her if it wasn’t to her satisfaction she was welcome to leave the dress and I’d cancel her contract, and I’d even waive the cancellation fee because we’d known each other such a long time. I was very helpful. I told her I was sure I could find someone willing to buy it instead, and Clara Nightingale had already seen it and asked if it was for sale. Which was true,” she added as an afterthought.

“And?”

Marinette tilted her chin, her smile turning smug. “She took the dress, of course. And ordered another one under a fake name a month later.”

“Seriously?”

“B. Queen, to be delivered to the Grand Paris Hotel. With her exact measurements. Seriously.”

Luka tipped his head back and laughed hard, and Marinette lost herself in the sound. God, he was a beautiful man.

Next to the couch in the living room, her handbag shuffled in agitation, and Marinette ignored it, but her smile faded in response to the reminder.

“Marinette,” Luka said more seriously, and when she looked up his blue eyes had deepened into something that was a little hard to read. He frowned a little, as if he was trying to decide what he should say. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I get the feeling that things haven’t been so easy for you. I know it’s been hard to let yourself get close to anyone.”

He was speaking slowly, measuring out each word carefully, and it felt like there was a whole lot he deliberately wasn’t saying.

“I just need you to know, the Liberty is always a safe place. We’re here for you. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

It would be so easy, so very easy, to fall into those ocean deep eyes and fall into his arms, and tell him everything. That was what made Luka Couffaine so dangerous to be around. With ten years of Tikki’s constant litany of concealment and duty ringing in her ears, Marinette clamped her mouth shut on all her secrets even as a tiny voice in the back of her head pleaded but this is Luka.

“Weren’t we supposed to practise the song?” Marinette blurted out, and felt the heat of an embarrassed flush rise in her cheeks. She hadn’t felt this thrown in years.

Luka accepted the abrupt shift with nothing more than a nod and a soft smile, as if he’d expected it.

“Back to the Disney salt mines,” he said drily, and startled a laugh out of her. “Don’t tell Rose I said that. She’d have me tried for treason.”

“How did we get ourselves into this?” Marinette asked, and Luka chuckled.

“Well, Ro loves Disney, no surprise there, and Jules loves Ro.”

“And you love them both,” Marinette said softly.

“And you’d do anything for the people you care about, even agree to sing at their wedding if they asked you to,” Luka said just as gently, and they exchanged glances. “So here we are, knee deep in Disney magic. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to sit through Cinderella, both versions, and I can recite Tangled in my sleep.” His smile softened. “I’m developing a new appreciation for it, though.”

Marinette dropped her gaze, avoiding his eyes. He said in an easier manner, “I have to admit, there’s some great music. You should hear Rose belt out Let It Go sometime, and Jules did an incredible cover of Once Upon a Dream one Valentine’s Day for Rose.”

“What about you? Do you ever sing along?” she asked, trying to match his tone.

“What do you think? Music nerd here.”

He rapped out a solid, syncopated beat on the benchtop, and that husky voice of his sang, “Tatou o tagata folau...” She couldn’t help grinning, and he grinned back as he segued into a phrase from Circle of Life before riffing a bit of the simple bear necessities, and then finished on “You’re welcome, and thank you!” as she burst out laughing.

“Good music is good music,” he said with a shrug. “I get a lot of eyerolling from some of the kids when I start talking Disney in class, but it’s a starting point for a lot of discussion, and it turns out everyone always has their favourite song.”

“So what about you? What’s your favourite?” she asked, and he said easily, “Oh, there are a lot I could go with. It all depends on my mood.”

“Yes, but if you had to pick one?”

She wasn’t sure why she was pushing, and he hesitated for a long moment. Just when she thought he was going to brush it off, he reached for his guitar.

“It’s not strictly Disney, but ...” She didn’t recognise the soft, rippling intro that he played, and it wasn’t until he started singing that she worked out what it was.

He didn’t look at her as he sang about someday, out of the blue. It didn’t have to mean anything, it was just a song, he could have been thinking about anyone, but when he sang about still believing and still having faith in a voice that was far too heartfelt, Marinette felt her breath catch.

She couldn’t be doing this to him all over again.

~~~~~

He knew, the moment that his hands stilled on the guitar strings, that he’d gone too far and given away too much. The stricken look on Marinette’s face made that blatantly clear.

From the doorway, Rose breathed, “Oh Luka, that was lovely!”

Juleka dropped the bags of takeaway on the table and muttered something, while Luka watched Marinette and felt his heart sink like a stone.

“We so have to do a Road to El Dorado movie night tonight,” Rose was saying brightly. “You’re staying, aren’t you, Marinette? Otherwise Luka’s going to be the odd man out again.”

“I wish I could,” Marinette said. “I… I have to go. Sorry, Rose, maybe another time.” Her glance flickered in his direction. “Sorry. I’m really sorry I can’t stay for dinner after all.”

She scrambled her things together, dropping her handbag and coming up red-faced. This was more like the Marinette he remembered from their teenage years, and it brought up some difficult memories. She flashed an awkward smile in answer to Rose’s protests, and then she was gone.

“Well,” Rose said, staring at the empty doorway. “I guess Marinette’s still Marinette.”

“Rose!” Luka’s voice cracked like glass, and his future sister-in-law’s eyes widened at Luka’s uncharacteristically sharp tone. “Remember all those plans to get Marinette and Adrien together?” How well did those work out?”

“But this is different!” Rose protested.

“This is no different. No more plans. I’ve screwed things badly enough as it is.”

He drew in a deep breath and blew it out again, thinking of all those secrets that Marinette had to keep, and the distances that had grown in her life because of them. More quietly, he said, “Marinette could really use a few good friends in her life. I don’t want her to lose us again because we’re pushing for more than she can give.”

“I…” Rose looked away, biting her lip, and then met his eyes. “Yeah, I get it.”

Dinner was quieter than usual, and Luka ignored the perturbed glances his sister kept shooting him. He pushed the food around, barely tasting it, and put it aside when he couldn’t pretend he was actually eating it anymore.

Luka swung away from the table, his phone in his hand, and hesitated, then he texted Marinette before he could talk himself out of it.

+Sorry about that. Rose has promised to back off on the matchmaking – I think she’s just got wedding fever. Want to run through the song one more time before the wedding?+

It wasn’t Rose’s schemes, though. He knew that. Marinette was taking far too long for it to mean anything good, although he kept trying to tell himself that she might not be able to answer, she might be in the middle of something, she might have her phone off... Juleka muttered at him to stop fidgeting so much, god, you’re driving me crazy, before it finally chimed with a response.

+I think I know it now+ she sent back. +See you next week+

Luka stared numbly at the words on his screen. It was happening all over again, and this time he had no defences left. Juleka was watching him with a look of exasperated sympathy.

“You’re just as stupid as you ever were,” she told him, and Luka exhaled heavily. It was hard to argue with that.

[silverlightqueen]

Teacher’s Pet

‘if I pass this quiz, will you give me your babies?’

little body, big heart masterlist

teacher!seokjin x student!reader - smut, fluff, angst, humour

Word count: 15.9k+

Summary - Peach sets her sights on her new Food and Nutrition teacher, and enlists the help of her friends to seduce him...

Warnings - bad language, mention of drugs and alcohol, teacher x student, age difference, oral sex (m and f receiving), cock-warming (but in her mouth lol), public sex (maybe, idk lol), fingering, degradation, underwear sniffing (lmaooo), gagging, pussy slapping, ‘sir’, I think that’s it, lmk if I’ve missed anything pls

a/n: the first instalment of the ‘little body, big heart’ series !! unedited as usual lmao but I hope y’all like this, and lmk if you wanna be added to the masterlist x

taglist: @jintendoswitch​ @atulipandarose​

silverlightqueen masterlist

‘Peach!’ I hear from behind me, turning to look down the corridor, spotting Daisy and Dream walking towards me. ‘Hey, girls,’ I say as they near me, hugging the two of them. ‘Hey, babe,’ Daisy says, pushing her glasses up to sit stop her head, handbag resting in the crook of her elbow. ‘You’re in Mr Kim’s lesson this morning too, right?’ Dream asks, and I nod, the girl grinning. ‘Good! Let’s go now,’ Dream says excitedly, Daisy rolling her eyes.

‘What for? The lesson doesn’t start for another ten minutes.’ ‘Don’t you wanna get seats together?’ Dream says, and Daisy lets out a gentle laugh. ‘Dream, we’ll get seats together even if we show up late. I’ll make sure of it,’ she replies, before turning on her heel. ‘Let’s go get a drink from the cafeteria,’ she calls over her shoulder, Dream hurrying after her, and I follow behind them both, taking my time.

My shiny black school shoes (with a slight heel on them) squeak against the checked linoleum floor, pastel pink and baby blue. Everything at this school is pastel pink and baby blue; the dormitories, the classrooms, the walls, the floor, the cafeteria, our uniforms. Though, I won’t complain about the uniforms; they are kinda cute.

The pleated check skirt is supposed to be loose and long, but my friends and I have tightened ours, rolling them up so they reach mid-thigh. The white blouse is supposed to be thick and long-sleeved, but my friends and I have thin short-sleeved ones, fitted to accentuate our assets. The pink and blue check blazer is supposed to be long and shapeless, but my friends and I have all cropped ours to our waists and bought a size too small. The white socks are supposed to be knee high and thick, but my friends and I wear ankle socks with a lace frill on them.

Whilst everyone else looks like conservative nuns, we look like we’ve just stepped out of Clueless, and as much as the teachers hate it, there’s nothing they can do; it’s not like we can go and get new clothes from the uniform shop in the city when we’re miles and miles away from it. And it’s not like we have time to travel there, what with lessons on Monday through Saturday, Sunday our only day off.

This school is like a prison. I guess that’s what it is though; a prison for naughty children. It’s a reform school, for anyone in the school years K-12, hence the ridiculously creative name (note my sarcasm there, please). We’re all in the final term of our final year, some of us having been here longer than others. I’ve been here since ninth year, Honey since ninth, Sunshine since tenth, Pearl since ninth, Daisy since eighth, Angel since tenth and Dream since eleventh.

We’ve all been sent here for very different reasons. I was caught shoplifting a designer handbag, and then they discovered my eBay account, selling hundreds of (stolen) designer items that I had stashed under my bed. Honey got into a fight with a girl at her old school and put her into a coma (she’s still in one, apparently). Sunshine was caught doing drugs with her ex-boyfriend. Pearl was caught selling drugs with her ex-boyfriend. Daisy was caught in bed with a boy years older than her (he still phones her sometimes). Angel flunked her ninth year because she ditched every other lesson to see her ex-boyfriend at the school down the road (the other school apparently thought she was one of their students because she was there that often). And Dream failed Chem (her parents are scientists and they took it a little… deep).

That’s our little friendship group, the pretty and popular girls that everyone hates. But we’re honestly not that bad. We can just come across as exclusive, but it’s only because we’re so close. We’re like sisters; we know everything about each other. Well, nearly everything.

We don’t know each other’s’ real names; the school gives all the girls a new name when we arrive, to help with reformation apparently. We’re all called sickly sweet things, like Princess, Buttercup, Honeybun, Sweetie. You name it, someone’s called it. They’re supposed to reflect the way we should behave; ladylike, elegant and graceful (what’s elegant about Peach, I don’t know, but whatever). The boys don’t have to have new names though. It’s just one of the very many double standards at this school. I think being out in the countryside means it’s light-years behind the rest of society. Our friendship group has changed that a little bit, though.

Some of the girls have boyfriends (which is totally against the rules), prompting some of the other girls in our year to do the same. Some of us have piercings and tattoos and false nails (don’t ask how Daisy managed to sneak in piercing and tattoo equipment). Honey smuggled hair-dye in with her, one colour for each of us (my hair’s peach, Honey’s is honey-blonde, Sunshine’s is bright blonde, Pearl’s is a silvery-grey, Daisy’s is a baby blue, Angel’s is platinum blonde and Dream’s is baby pink). Daisy brought loads of alcohol and Pearl brought loads of drugs, so we all get drunk or high every Saturday. If anything, the school’s made us worse.

As we enter the cafeteria, Sunshine and Angel call our names, waving at us from where they’re sat on our usual table in the corner with their boyfriends, Hoseok and Taehyung, and their boyfriends’ friends, Yoongi, Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook. We head over to say hi, Daisy strutting over with her head held high, attempting to catch Jimin’s eye.

They’ve been on and off since Daisy arrived in eighth year (the boys have all been here since seventh year after they set their school on fire at the end of sixth year), but he’s come back after the holiday with a new girlfriend, much to Daisy’s dismay. It seems he still fancies her though, his eyes glued to her as we near the table.

‘Hey, guys,’ I say, everyone greeting us in return. ‘What do you guys have this morning?’ Angel asks, leaning against Taehyung. ‘Food and Nutrition with Mr Kim. What about you?’ Dream asks. ‘We’ve all got a free lesson. How amazing is that? I’m so having a lie-in every Monday morning,’ Sunshine says. ‘That’s so not fair,’ Daisy complains, voice a little softer in front of Jimin. ‘You shouldn’t have chosen such a terrible subject then,’ Namjoon says evenly, and I roll my eyes. ‘It’s not terrible; the old teacher was. Maybe Mr Kim will be better,’ I muse, the boys laughing.

‘What?’ Dream asks, and Hoseok raises an eyebrow. ‘Have you not seen him?’ he asks, all of us shaking our heads. ‘Let’s just say, you won’t be doing that much learning in his lesson. You’ll be too busy staring at his face,’ Hoseok says, and Daisy raises an eyebrow. ‘Is he good-looking?’ she asks, the boys nodding. ‘Someone needs to tell Mr Kim to watch out. Daisy’ll be trying to seduce him,’ Yoongi says, everyone laughing. ‘I do have a thing for older men,’ Daisy jokes, referring to her ‘reform’ story, as the school calls it (everyone is required to share their reform story with their first class on their first day), and we all burst out laughing, save for Jimin who looks less than amused.

‘I’m going to get a drink. Anyone want anything?’ Daisy asks, and I nod. ‘I’ll have my usual, please,’ I say, Dream asking for her usual too. Daisy sashays towards where the lunch ladies serve food, Jimin’s eyes watching her retreating figure. As soon as they spot her walking over, they plaster big smiles on their faces. No one wants to get on Daisy’s bad side; I feel sorry for Jimin’s girlfriend.

‘Where’re the other two of your little gang? Pearl and Honey?’ Namjoon asks. ‘Pearl doesn’t arrive ‘til tomorrow, and Honey had a 9am with Mrs Lee,’ Dream explains, the boys nodding. Dream’s fit into our group really well, becoming the innocent little baby that our group never head. I’m the mum friend, Honey’s the ‘will fight you if you’re rude to her friends’ friend, Sunshine’s the sunshine of the group (her name’s fitting), Pearl’s the clever friend, Daisy’s the promiscuous and glamorous troublemaker and Angel’s the romantic drama queen. We’re all so different, and that’s what brings us together.

‘I know I’ve said this before, but I love the hair, Peach. I’ve been thinking of going that colour soon,’ Taehyung says, and I smile. ‘Thanks, Tae. I’ve got some spare dye if you want it,’ I say, and Angel whines. ‘No, baby, I love your hair the way it is. The blue suits you,’ she says, and he rolls his eyes. ‘I’ve had it blue for months. It’s time for a change. I’ll have that dye if you don’t mind, Peach. When my roots start to show,’ Taehyung says, and I nod as Angel pouts, Daisy returning with our drinks.

I have a caramel frappe, Daisy has a mango and passionfruit smoothie and Dream has an iced vanilla latte. ‘Come on, let’s head to lesson. We’ll be late otherwise,’ I say, Daisy groaning, and I shake my head. ‘No, come on, no complaining. It’s our first day back, we can’t be late. Let’s go,’ I say firmly, ever the responsible friend, and we bid goodbye to our friends before heading to Mr Kim’s lesson.

We walk down the corridor, people parting for us to get through, as Daisy and Dream gossip about the latest scandal at the school (apparently Kai cheated on his girlfriend, Crystal, with the new girl, Dumpling), and I just listen, sipping on my drink. When we reach the lesson, there’s a minute left until 10.30 and the classroom is completely full. Daisy, eyes set on the desks at the back of the room, whispers, ‘watch this,’ to Dream and I.

Now, Daisy’s not a mean girl. But she’s manipulative. Where anyone else would go and tell those people to move from their seats, Daisy takes a different approach. ‘Oh, no. You were right, Dream, we should’ve come earlier. Now we can’t even sit together, let alone at the back like we wanted to,’ she whines loudly, lips pouted and eyes wide.

Instantly, the boy sat in the back middle seat gets up and prompts his friend in front of him and his friend to the left of him to do the same. ‘Here you go, ladies,’ he says, eyes on Daisy, who giggles, placing a hand on his chest as she passes him, taking his seat. I sit in the seat in front of Daisy, Dream sitting beside her, watching as the boys make the people in the row in front of us move so they can sit in those seats.

I’m placing my books and stationery onto the table when the door opens and the teacher walks in, the class falling completely silent as the door falls shut. I look up, intrigued at this man that the boys said is good-looking, and I have to actively stop my mouth from falling open. ‘Good morning, class. I’m Mr Kim, your new Food and Nutrition teacher. Sorry I’m late, I got a little lost. I’ll make sure I’m here before you all next week.’

He’s beautiful, his skin fair and clear, hair dark and swept back, revealing a slice of his forehead and dark eyebrows, lips plump and pink and glasses covering his chocolate brown eyes. He’s tall with wide shoulders, complemented by his black suit. ‘It’s lovely to meet you all. I thought we could begin today’s lesson with introductions rather than getting started with content straight away,’ he says as he sets himself up at the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, my eyes glued to him.

‘Peach,’ I hear Daisy hiss from behind me, and I turn to look at her, her face covered in shock when she spots the blush on my cheeks. ‘I was gonna ask if you think he’s hot, but you obviously do,’ she whispers with a smirk, and I feel my blush deepen, turning to face the front once more.

‘Let’s start with the introductions. I’d like to hear all of your names, and your… reform stories? That’s what the school calls them, right?’ he asks, all of us nodding. We go around the room, from front to back, Mr Kim listening with interest to all of the stories. When he reaches me, I will my voice not to crack, and I hear Daisy whisper, ‘confidence,’ from behind me.

‘Hi, Mr Kim. I’m Peach,’ I say, sounding like a different person to my own ears. It’s almost like Daisy’s possessed me or something. ‘Hi, Peach. I like the hair,’ he replies with a small smile, and I feel a rush of satisfaction at his words. ‘Thank you, Sir. I like yours too. Anyway,’ I say, not giving anyone enough time to dwell on my compliment to him before I move on, ‘I was sent here because I was caught shoplifting a Saint Laurent bag. And then my parents found all the other designer stuff hidden under my bed that I was reselling on eBay to make enough money to go to Glastonbury.’ Mr Kim looks like he’s trying not to laugh, nodding with a smile on his face. ‘Okay, well, it’s nice to meet you, Peach,’ he replies before moving onto the next student.

When he reaches Dream (complimenting her hair too – the compliment he gave me seems a little less genuine now), she says, ‘I failed Chem and my parents were angry because they both have Chemistry degrees,’ and he lets out a gentle laugh. ‘Oh, gosh. Well, the only thing you’re here for is to improve your Chemistry grade, right?’ he asks, and she nods. ‘I was great at Food and Nutrition, sir.’ ‘That’s perfect. Makes my life easier,’ he says, before moving on to Daisy.

‘Hi, Mr Kim. I’m Daisy,’ she flirts, and he smiles at her, already sussing out the kind of person she is. I try not to feel jealous, knowing Daisy’s a natural flirt, but the smile he gives her makes my heart twist with envy. Grow up, Peach. ‘Hi, Daisy,’ he replies amusedly, and she pouts. ‘Sir, you complimented Peach and Dream’s hair. Don’t you like mine?’ she asks teasingly, and he laughs. ‘I can’t be seen encouraging behaviour that is extremely against the rules. But, off the record, yes, Daisy, I do like your hair,’ he replies with a grin, and I know the girl is preening from the praise without even turning to look at her.

‘Thanks, sir. Anyway, I’m here because the teachers caught me having sex with a high school senior in the school changing rooms. When I was in seventh year,’ she says, the grin audible in her voice, and Mr Kim’s cheeks and ears blush slightly as she speaks. I know Daisy’s over the moon about having this effect on him, the smugness clear in her tone. For some reason, Daisy brags about her reform story, when it’s very clearly statutory rape. ‘Well, that’s an interesting one, Daisy,’ he replies, voice slightly strained, and Daisy grins. ‘I’m an interesting girl, sir,’ she replies, Mr Kim nodding before moving on to the last person in class.

The lesson continues, not eventful in the slightest, but I can’t help but chew on my pen as I listen to him speak, the plastic mangled by the time we’re halfway through the lesson. He’s just so captivating, the unique way in which he laughs, how he’s got such a broad and intimidating build but seems so… sweet and kind, how beautiful his face is.

As part of the curriculum for Food and Nutrition, we have to learn about drugs and alcohol, and how they can be detrimental to your health, and when Mr Kim starts talking about this part of the topic, Daisy decides it’s time to disrupt the lesson. ‘Marijuana’s terrible if you’re trying to lose weight, Sir,’ she says solemnly, the man turning to look at her amusedly. ‘And why’s that, Daisy?’ ‘Well, I don’t know about everyone, but it gives me the munchies. I eat everything in sight,’ she says lightly, everyone laughing at her open admission to smoking weed. To our brand-new teacher.

‘I’m not sure this is something you should be discussing with your teacher, Daisy,’ he says with thinly veiled amusement, failing to hold back the smile from his face. ‘It’s fine, Sir. You’re no snitch… right?’ she says softly, almost threateningly, and Mr Kim seems to pick up on that, shaking his head. ‘I was a kid once too, Daisy, not long ago,’ he replies.

‘How long ago, Sir?’ I ask, and he smiles at me. ‘Is that a polite way of asking how old I am?’ he asks, and I nod shyly, laughing. ‘I’m 22, so I would have been your age four years ago. Gosh, that makes me feel old,’ he says, and we all let out disagreements, various ways of telling him he’s not old. ‘Sir, you’re the youngest teacher here. And the hottest. Old people aren’t hot,’ Daisy says shamelessly, Mr Kim blushing slightly again.

‘Thank you, Daisy,’ he replies, slightly stiffly. ‘No problem, Sir. You should hang out with us sometime,’ Daisy says, and he shakes his head with a smile. ‘That would be ridiculously against the rules. But thank you for the offer. Maybe at your end of year prom?’ he suggests, all of us nodding. ‘Now, anyway. Let’s get back on track,’ he says, continuing with the boring content of the lesson.

As soon as he sets us the first written task, Daisy kicks the back of my chair, gentle conversation beginning around the room. ‘You’ve so got a crush on him,’ Daisy teases, and I roll my eyes. ‘Why were you flirting with him then?’ I hiss, and she laughs. ‘Babe, come on, you know I’m not interested in him. There’s only one guy on my mind,’ she replies, and I deadpan her. ‘Okay. So why?’ I ask again, and she shakes her head.

‘I was sussing him out, Peach. Trying to get a feel for him, and whether or not he’s your type,’ she replies, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘And is he?’ ‘Totally. And he’d so go for you, too. See how much he was blushing when I spoke about my reform story? It means he was thinking about me having sex. If he can think about a student having sex and blush from it, then he can have sex with a student,’ Daisy says, and my eyes widen.

‘I don’t wanna have sex with him!’ I hiss, and she raises an eyebrow at me. ‘Girl, you don’t have to lie to me. Back me up here, Dream.’ ‘Yeah, Peach, it’s totally okay if you do. People always have crushes on their teachers, especially if they’re so good-looking,’ she replies, and I roll my eyes. ‘Okay, but would you advise me to if the opportunity arose?’ I ask, and Dream hesitates.

‘I wouldn’t advise you against it, because we’re already at a naughty school. What’s the worst they can do?’ she says, Daisy nodding in agreement. ‘You should so go for it. Try to seduce him. Yes, he might be a teacher, but he’s a young one, basically a boy. He won’t be immune to a bit of feminine charm,’ Daisy says, and I shake my head at her disapprovingly.

‘Oh, come on, don’t act all high and mighty. We’re at the same reform school, for God’s sake, you’re no better than me,’ she says, and I supress a laugh. ‘We’re here for very different reasons, Daisy,’ I point out, and she waves a hand in the air. ‘Promiscuity, stealing, failing Chem, it’s basically all the same thing,’ she says, Dream and I exchanging an amused glance.

‘Whatever you say, Daisy. The point is that you may feel comfortable to seduce a teacher, but I am not,’ I say firmly, and she rolls her eyes. ‘What’s the worst that could happen? They tell your parents? Wow,’ she says scornfully, and I shake my head at her. ‘It’s not happening,’ I say, and she purses her lips. ‘Spoilsport,’ she says, just as the door opens.

I turn to face the front, watching as one of the deputy headteachers, Mr Song, walks in. ‘Mr Kim,’ he says by way of greeting, not giving Mr Kim a chance to speak before he continues, ‘I thought you might like to know that I’ve been watching this classroom on the CCTV and those three young ladies at the back of the room haven’t done a single bit of work since you turned your back. I’d advise you separate them, or move them to the front of the room where you can keep an eye on their work.’ Daisy sighs as I internally groan, Mr Kim turning to look at three of us with a disappointed look on his face.

‘Thank you, Sir,’ Mr Kim replies stiffly, and I can’t meet his gaze, feeling ridiculously guilty. Not only have we disrespected him as a teacher, we’ve made him look like he can’t control his own class. In his first lesson. Mr Song leaves, Daisy sticking her middle finger up at the door as it closes, and Mr Kim sighs.

‘Girls… move to the front row, please,’ he says, Daisy groaning. ‘But Mr Kim-’ ‘No. Don’t argue with me. Move,’ he says sternly, the three of us collecting up our things and swapping seats with the people in the front row. Daisy pushes me towards the middle seat, right in front of Mr Kim’s desk, and I try not to blush as she grins at me.

I pull my glasses out of my bag, putting them on and beginning to write, and after a couple minutes, I hear Dream sniffling to my left. ‘Dream? You okay?’ I whisper, the girl looking up at me with watery eyes. ‘Yeah, I just… I just don’t like getting in trouble,’ she whispers back, my heart melting. ‘Here,’ I say, getting a tissue out of my bag and handing it to her, and she gives me a smile. ‘Let’s go the cafeteria together after lesson. We’ll get milk and cookies. My treat,’ I say, and she gives me a wide smile. ‘Thanks, Peach.’ ‘No problem, babe. Don’t be sad,’ I reply before going back to my work.

Time flies as I write pages and pages, and when the bell rings, I��m surprised the lesson’s already finished. ‘No homework for today, students, just make sure you remember the content we went over this lesson. See you next week,’ Mr Kim says as we all start packing up. ‘Sorry about earlier, Mr Kim,’ I say as I leave, and he smiles at me. ‘No problem, Peach. Just make sure you work next week,’ he says, and I nod with a smile. ‘Bye, Mr Kim.’ ‘Bye, Peach.’

As soon as I leave the room, I sigh dreamily, Daisy and Dream laughing at me. ‘You’re so into him,’ Dream says, and I smile. ‘Maybe,’ I reply in a sing-song voice. ‘Oh, shit,’ Daisy says, stopping dead in the corridor. ‘What?’ Dream and I chorus, turning to look at her. ‘You left your book. On your table. You should go get it.’ ‘I have my book.’ ‘I took it out of your bag,’ she says with a smirk, and I sigh, my body going cold.

‘Daisy, you need to stop meddling! You go get it!’ I say, and she shakes her head. ‘We’ll be waiting in the cafeteria for you. Milk and cookies will be my treat,’ she says, linking an arm through Dream’s and dragging her down the corridor. I sigh, heading back to the classroom with shaking hands and my stomach turning. I knock on the door, hearing Mr Kim call out, ‘come in!’ I open the door slowly, popping my head through first, and he smiles at me.

‘Peach. Back again so soon? You loved learning about drugs and alcohol that much?’ he teases, and I laugh. ‘I knew enough about those anyway,’ I say as I step into the room, and he laughs. ‘Well, what gives me the pleasure of your presence?’ he asks, leaning back in his chair, and my breath hitches in my throat. ‘I, um, left my book on my desk,’ I say, his eyes landing on the textbook sat atop my desk. ‘Forgetful?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘Embarrassingly so,’ I reply, walking to pick up my book and tucking it into my handbag.

‘Whilst you’re here, Peach,’ he begins, and I turn to look at him. ‘Yes, Sir?’ ‘Was today’s lesson okay? Should I carry on like this?’ he asks, and I debate whether or not to tell the truth. ‘Well, Sir, I won’t lie, it was good, but maybe you should make them a little more interactive. Maybe with, like, quizzes, or group discussions, or something like that. Just to engage us a bit more, or some of us will switch off,’ I say, and he nods. ‘Okay. Thank you, Peach,’ he says with a smile. ‘No problem, Sir,’ I reply, and he reaches into his briefcase.

‘Here. I saw you give Dream a tissue when she was upset. I felt terrible. Take these. One for you, one for Dream, and one for Daisy,’ he says, holding out three pink lollipops. ‘Daisy?’ I ask with a raised eyebrow, and he laughs. ‘I have no doubt I’ll hear all about it if I didn’t give her one. She’s outspoken, that one,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘You don’t say so. Imagine what’s been like for me, being best friends with her for nearly three years. It’s like having a daughter,’ I say, and he laughs.

‘I take it you’re the mum friend then,’ he says, and I nod with a sigh. ‘A mum to six other girls. Honey, Sunshine, Pearl, Daisy, Angel and Dream,’ I list off, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think I can get used to hearing names like that,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Trust me, it’ll take a while. They’re honestly terrible. Everything here is terrible,’ I complain, and he raises his hands in a ‘surrender’ motion.

‘I’m not saying anything. I need this job. My wife will kill me if I lose it,’ he says, his words like a punch to my stomach. His face drops when he registers his words, and the room is silent for a moment. ‘Well, anyway. Here you are, Peach,’ he says with a smile, handing me the lollipops. ‘Thanks, Mr Kim,’ I reply, trying to ignore the spark I feel when my hand touches his, drawing my hand away and tucking the lollipops into my bag. ‘See you later, Sir,’ I say, heading towards the door. ‘Bye, Peach,’ I hear him call after me as I leave, the door falling shut between us.

The moment I enter the cafeteria, lollipop in mouth, Dream calls my name, beckoning me over to our corner. Dream and Daisy are both there, along with Pearl, Honey, Yoongi and Jungkook. ‘Is that lollipop from Mr Kim?’ Daisy asks as soon as I’m in earshot, and I nod with a smirk. ‘Ooh, really?’ Dream asks, taking a sip of her milk. ‘Yeah. He gave me one each for you guys too,’ I say, pulling the two other lollipops out of my bag and handing them one each. ‘Aw, he’s sweet,’ Daisy says with a knowing glance, and I roll my eyes amusedly before turning to Pearl and Honey.

‘Hey, girls,’ I say, both of them greeting me in return as we hug. ‘Sunshine and Angel?’ I ask. ‘12’o’clock with Mr Choi,’ Honey replies. ‘So what did you talk about with Mr Kim?’ Daisy asks, lollipop between her fingers. ‘The lesson. And then how terrible the school is. And then he mentioned that he has a wife,’ I say, Daisy and Dream’s mouths falling open. ‘Well. That puts a spanner in the works,’ Daisy says distractedly, lost in her scheming thoughts.

‘Wait, what? What’s going on?’ Honey asks confusedly, and I sigh. ‘Daisy’s trying to get me with our new Food and Nutrition teacher,’ I say tiredly, Honey, Jungkook and Yoongi bursting into laughter as Pearl looks at us in shock. ‘Daisy, are you insane? Not only would you be absolutely ruining his career, it would get Peach into loads of trouble!’ Pearl exclaims, and Daisy rolls her eyes.

‘Pearl, babe, you worry too much. It’s totally fine. No one will find out,’ Daisy says, and Pearl raises an eyebrow. ‘You can’t guarantee that, Daisy. I know you guys never listen to my advice, but I’m telling you, this is not a good idea,’ Pearl says seriously, and Daisy waves her off. ‘Come on, Pearl, let’s be real. It’s not gonna happen anyway. It’s just a joke,’ she says, a glint in her eye, and I know she’s up to something. ‘Wait, it’s a joke? I thought you were being serious,’ Dream says, and Daisy shrugs elegantly.

‘I was, before I realised Peach would never do that. She hasn’t got the guts,’ she says challengingly, and I roll my eyes, the rest of the group looking between us interestedly. ‘Come on, Daisy, you know your manipulation doesn’t ever work on me,’ I reply, and she raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m not trying to manipulate you. I’m telling the truth. I’m also telling the truth when I say that I don’t think you could do it,’ she says, and I raise an eyebrow in return. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, if Mr Kim would get with a student, it wouldn’t be you,’ Daisy says, and I feel a pang of hurt. ‘Daisy, don’t be nasty,’ Pearl says, and Daisy rolls her eyes. ‘You know I don’t mean it like that. Peach is hot, we all know that. Right?’ Daisy asks Jungkook and Yoongi, who both nod instantly. ‘See? But she’s too… nice, too angelic. Teachers are never interested in the nice kids, and Peach could never play the role of the bad girl,’ she says, a daring sparkle in her dark eyes, and I narrow my eyes at her.

‘Daisy, I’m a drama student. Top of the class. I’m also a thief at a reform school,’ I reply, and Honey nods. ‘Exactly. Peach could act, but she doesn’t have to. She has the bad girl in her already. What she did is probably the worst out of all of us. No offence,’ Honey says. ‘None taken.’ ‘The point is that Peach is more than capable of playing the bad girl, but it doesn’t mean she should,’ Pearl says, and Daisy laughs. ‘How can I believe you without sufficient evidence?’ Daisy asks, and I roll my eyes.

‘Daisy, I love you, but you’re so childish sometimes. You think your manipulation will work on me? I’m not going to start acting up in his lesson to prove some point to you. I could get him without turning into a bad girl anyway,’ I grin, Pearl sighing. She knows her advice was useless; we won’t listen to it. ‘You think so?’ Daisy challenges, and I nod. ‘How, Peach?’ Dream asks, and I let out a little laugh. ‘Teacher’s pet.’

‘Teacher’s pet?’ Jungkook asks, and I nod. ‘I sit at the front of the lesson, attentive and hard-working. I show up early to lessons and stay late afterwards, asking if he needs help with anything. I ask him to do extra sessions with me. The more time I spend alone with him, the more likely he is to succumb,’ I say simply. ‘God, you’re good, Peach,’ Yoongi says, and I smile serenely, watching as Daisy thinks. ‘I don’t agree.’ ‘I don’t care. It’s not like I’m gonna do it anyway. I’m just telling you how I would if I did.’ ‘My method’s better.’ ‘No, Daisy, mine is, and you know it.’

‘Prove it,’ she says gently with a grin. ‘You try your method, and I try mine. We’ll see who’s more successful,’ she says, our eyes locked together as I think over her challenge in my head. It wouldn’t kill me… right? ‘You’re on,’ I reply, and Pearl groans as the others let out various noises of excitement and interest. ‘May the best girl win,’ Daisy grins, holding a hand out to me, and I shake it firmly. ‘Trust me,’ I say with a smile, ‘she will.’ 

‘Oh! Peach. Goodness, you scared me,’ Mr Kim says from the door. ‘Sorry, Mr Kim. I just… with our old teacher, I used to get here early and help her set up. I used to write the date on the board and tidy up if she needed me to. I thought you might like it if I did the same for you,’ I say softly, and he smiles at me. ‘That’s really nice of you, Peach. I’d appreciate that a lot, thank you,’ he says, and I smile back. ‘No problem, Sir,’ I reply.

I’m perched on his desk, phone in hand, and I watch as his eyes spot it. He doesn’t tell me to put it away. Instead his eyes travel over the rest of me, and I know exactly what he’s looking at. I spent a while looking at it myself this morning. The top two buttons of my shirt are open, revealing an ample amount of my chest, and my skirt is even higher than normal, skimming the tops of my thighs. My hair is up in a ponytail and I’ve put on a little more makeup than usual, glossy lips, shiny cheekbones, dark eyes. When his eyes meet mine, I grin and he blushes slightly. God, he’s so cute.

‘Do you have any chalk, Sir? So I can write the date?’ I ask, and he nods, putting his briefcase down on the table beside where I’m sat, opening it and rummaging around for chalk. When he finds it, he hands it to me and I take it from him, making sure my nails gently scrape against his hand as I take it. ‘Thank you, Sir,’ I say before walking around to the other side of the desk.

I check my phone for the date and write it slowly, not hearing any motion from behind me, and I know he’s watching me, probably noting how my skirt barely covers my ass. I take my time writing it, and only when I’m writing the last number do I hear him moving around, smirking to myself.

‘Okay, I’m done with the date, Sir. What else can I do?’ I ask before I drop the chalk (on purpose) and then sneakily kick it behind me. ‘Oh, God. So clumsy,’ I mutter to myself before turning around and bending over to pick it up, giving him a full view of my lacy pink underwear. When I turn back around, his eyes are on the floor and his ears are bright red, the sight making me satisfied that I’ve achieved the desired effect.

‘Sir?’ I ask again, and he coughs, looking up at me again. ‘Sorry. Um, can you… put one of each of these handouts on each desk please?’ he says, giving me a pile of different worksheets. ‘Yes, Sir,’ I say, taking the pile from him and starting to hand them out. By the time I’m done, he’s sat at his desk, glasses on and eyes focused on his laptop. ‘Done with those, Sir,’ I say, putting the spares on the desk, and he looks up at me with a smile.

‘Thank you, Peach. No problem, Sir. Anything else?’ I ask, and he shakes his head. ‘That’s it for now. You can go to the cafeteria for a while if you’d like,’ he says, and I shake my head. ‘Lesson starts in ten, I might as well just wait,’ I say, taking my seat at the front of the room and getting all of my things out and beginning to write the date into my book.

I’m practically lying across the desk, giving him a clear view down my shirt, and I know he’s enjoying it, his fingers no longer typing. Once I’ve done that, I go back on my phone, my classmates arriving one by one. Daisy and Dream walk in last, drinks in their hands. Daisy gives a smirk when she sees me, Dream’s eyes widening.

‘Peach, you look really good!’ Dream exclaims, and I smile. ‘Thanks, Dream. Nothing on you two though,’ I reply, and Daisy grins. ‘Looking like that, Peach, I want to be on you,’ Daisy says, and I let out a gentle laugh. ‘Bold of you to assume you’d top, babe,’ I reply, and she raises an eyebrow with an amused grin. ‘I love it when you talk dirty to me,’ she replies.

‘Ladies, I’m not sure this conversation is appropriate,’ Mr Kim says, voice strained and stiff, ears and cheeks red. ‘Are you being homophobic, Sir?’ Daisy asks mildly, and Mr Kim laughs. ‘Not at all. You girls can get up to whatever you want to in your free time, but I think it best you don’t discuss your activities in my lesson,’ he says amusedly, and Daisy nods, replying with, ‘fair enough.’

‘Take your seats, ladies, and we’ll begin,’ he says, and Daisy and Dream sit down on either side of me, Dream handing me a drink, my usual, as she passes by. ‘Are you allowed to have drinks in lessons?’ Mr Kim asks. ‘No, Sir,’ Daisy replies before taking a sip of her drink. ‘Noted,’ he replies amusedly before he begins the lesson.

Daisy doesn’t give him a chance to get through a single full sentence, constantly interrupting with witty one-liners, dirty jokes and double entendres. At first, Mr Kim is amused, but I can see his patience beginning to wear thin. Whereas, with me answering every question correctly, he doesn’t look at me once without smiling. Daisy’s losing this game, and we both know it, the girl scowling when he sternly tells her to stop interrupting the lesson. I shoot her a grin and she rolls her eyes, knowing full well who’s in the lead.

I also notice that he took my advice on board, starting a group discussion about the components of a realistic balanced diet, and doing a little quiz towards the end of the lesson. I get the highest score, both Daisy and Dream one mark below me, and Mr Kim gives me a lollipop as a prize. He seems to regret it a few moments later when I’m sat directly in front of him, leaning over my desk and writing with the lollipop in my mouth, trying desperately to focus his eyes elsewhere.

When we reach the end of the lesson, he sets us a 4 mark question, a very kind homework compared to all of my other subjects. When he dismisses everybody, I stay behind, waiting until the door’s fallen shut before I speak. ‘Today’s lesson was great, Sir. Better than last week,’ I say, and he smiles. ‘Thank you, Peach, that’s good to hear. I’ll continue the lessons like this then,’ he says, and I nod.  

‘Sounds good. How are you finding it here, Sir?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘It’s okay. My room’s decent and all of my classes are nice enough. It’s just…’ he trails off. ‘Homesick?’ I ask, and he laughs. ‘Not quite. It’s the food,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘The food’s not that bad,’ I say, and he shudders. ‘Peach, I’m a Food and Nutrition teacher. I’ve been on dozens of culinary courses. Believe me when I tell you that the food here is not that good,’ he says, and I’m surprised to hear how passionate he is about cooking.

‘Are you a really good cook then, Sir?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘You’ve gotta let us try some of your cooking sometime,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘Definitely. I’ll bring some of my baking in at one point. But for now, you’ll have to make do with the food from the cafeteria.’ ‘Honestly, Sir, if you order the right things, the food’s kinda nice. They do this cake sometimes – god, it’s to die for. I’ll bring you some next time they’re doing it,’ I say, and he nods with a smile. ‘That’d be great, Peach.’

‘Well, I’m gonna head off, unless you need me to do anything?’ I ask, and he thinks for a moment before shaking his head. ‘Nope, you’re free to go,’ he smiles, and I smile back. ‘Okay, Sir. See you next week,’ I say. ‘Bye, Peach,’ he says as I head to the door, and I hear him let out a long drawn out sigh as I shut the door behind me.

Dream and Daisy are waiting for me a little further down the corridor and I grin as I walk towards them, a little pep in my walk. Dream smiles at me affectionately and I throw my arms around them both. ‘Isn’t it just a great day, guys?’ I say happily, Dream nodding with a grin, and Daisy grumbles under her breath. ‘Relax, you haven’t won yet,’ she says to me, and I laugh.

‘Yeah, and you haven’t either. And I’m pretty sure you won’t. But we can keep this going if that’s what you want,’ I say, and she raises an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure? I will be stepping it up next week,’ she says, and I laugh. ‘So will I, babe, don’t you worry,’ I say, and she grins at me. ‘I can’t wait to see what both of you do next week. Now, come on, it’s a nice day, let’s go sit outside for a little while,’ Dream suggests.

‘Good idea. Let’s stop at the cafeteria on the way and get Honey and Pearl. And the boys, if any of them are there,’ Daisy says. Five minutes later, us five girls are sunbathing on the grassy bank beside where the football pitch is, Yoongi, Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook all playing football. We gossip idly, Honey playing music from her phone, and the atmosphere is so nice. The sun beats down onto us, a very gentle breeze cooling us down, and the sky is a bright blue, fluffy white clouds dotted around.

‘Daisy,’ Pearl says, interrupting the current discussion about Queen and whether or not she’s dating Daniel. ‘Yeah?’ Daisy replies without opening her eyes, lying on her back. ‘What’s that on your neck?’ Pearl asks slowly, and we all look at Daisy’s neck, spotting the purplish bruise disrupting her smooth and clear skin.

‘Oh. I forgot to tell you guys. Jimin stopped at my room last night,’ she says with a smirk, all of us gasping. ‘So he’s broken up with that little girlfriend of his?’ Honey asks, and Pearl gives her a disapproving look for referring to the girl like that. ‘Apparently so. I told you I’d get him back,’ she says smugly, and I shake my head. ‘You official with him?’ Honey asks, and Daisy scoffs. ‘We’ve never been official, and we never will be. You know that’s not how we work,’ Daisy replies, all of us rolling our eyes.

‘I wonder if he knows that you’re trying to get with Mr Kim,’ I say, and she sits up, rolling her eyes. ‘Of course he knows. All the boys know about our challenge. They placed bets and everything,’ she says, and my mouth falls open. ‘This is news to me,’ I say, and she grins. ‘Well, Jungkook and Yoongi were there when we first discussed our… competition, and it’s not like they’d keep their mouths shut about something so interesting. Of course they were gonna tell the other boys,’ Daisy says, and I sigh, annoyed that the boys know about something like this.

If it got out that Daisy and I were doing this, I can’t even imagine the trouble we’d get into. ‘Why’d you look so troubled, Peach? Got an issue with the boys knowing about it? Because we can call it off if you want,’ Daisy smirks at me, and I roll my eyes, wanting to knock the girl off her high horse. ‘No, I’m just worried about you. It won’t be good for your pride for the boys to see you lose to me,’ I say, Daisy rolling her eyes in return. ‘We’ll see.’ ‘We will.’

‘Ladies, how are we all on this fine day?’ Hoseok says as he throws himself down onto the grass beside us, the other boys following suit. ‘We’re good. Just discussing Peach and Daisy’s bet, dare, competition thing,’ Dream says, and I shoot her a look, the girl grinning mischievously in response, prompting me to stick my tongue out at her. ‘Oh, yeah, Yoongi mentioned it to me. Sounds interesting,’ Namjoon says, the boys all nodding in agreement.

‘I’m assuming this competition thing is the reason behind your new look, Peach,’ Jimin says, and I nod. ‘I just hope this look works because I don’t want to be hoeing it up every Monday for no reason,’ I say, everyone laughing. ‘Well, I certainly like this look of yours, Peach. Mr Kim must be either insane or a monk if it doesn’t work,’ Taehyung says with a flirty smirk and a sparkle in his eye.

We’re all more than used to Taehyung’s flirty nature (though Jimin can put him to shame if he’s in the mood), but I still can’t help but glance over to Angel to see her reaction. It used to really bother her when her boyfriend flirted with her friends, regardless of it being jokey, but she’s gotten used to it over time. She’s lying on her back, enjoying the sun with her eyes closed, obviously only half paying attention to the conversation.

‘Thanks, Tae. I just… don’t you feel like it’s too much? I feel like a cheap whore,’ I say, Pearl making a disapproving noise. ‘Stop feeding into misogynistic ideas about women, Peach,’ she says, but before I can reply, the boys all start talking. ‘No, Peach, you look good.’ ‘You don’t look like a whore at all.’ ‘You could definitely get away with another button open if you wanted to.’ ‘Don’t be silly, Peach, other girls do way more than you.’ ‘You look like this look is unintentional.’ ‘It’s sexy, Peach, not whorish at all.’

‘Thanks guys,’ I say, just as Pearls breaks into a coughing fit. ‘You okay?’ Honey asks, hitting her on the back. ‘I’m fine. Just allergic to all the misogyny that just came out of all of their mouths,’ she says drily, us girls laughing as the boys all shake their heads and roll their eyes.

‘Get used to it, Pearl. It’s never going to change,’ Namjoon says, and Pearl narrows her eyes at him. ‘Not if people like you exist,’ she says, and I can sense an argument brewing between the two of them. They’ve always had a tense relationship, having been competing with each other academically since Pearl started in ninth year and threatened Namjoon’s place at the top of the class in all of the subjects they have together.

‘Anyway. Should I carry on with this look then?’ I ask, and everyone nods. ‘I think you should have this look every day, Peach, not just Mondays. Let the rest of us appreciate it too,’ Jimin says with a small grin, eyes piercing and hooded, and I have to fight to not sound breathless when I reply, ‘I’ll consider it.’

Daisy looks between us amusedly; she’s never felt threatened by Jimin’s flirting because she knows that whilst she might not own his eyes (which wander all the time), her name is written across his heart. He’s hers and everybody knows it. God help the person that gets between them. ‘If you do, Peach, you’ll practically own any boy at this school. Maybe even some of the girls too,’ Yoongi jokes, all of laughing.

‘We all know that if Peach were to get with a girl, it would be me,’ Daisy says confidently, and I roll my eyes, though I’m not quite sure whether it’s a lie or not. We played truth or dare a couple years ago, and she was dared to kiss me. Let’s just say, I’ve seen her kiss Jimin the same way, just before they disappear to one of their dorms. And I didn’t exactly dislike it either.

‘Aren’t you gonna deny it, Peach?’ Taehyung asks after a few moments of my silence, licking his lips with a glint in his eye. ‘Why would I deny it? I’m not a liar,’ I say serenely, hunger practically emanating from the boys. Daisy winks at me from across the group and I grin back, the boys watching with desperate interest, the girls completely unbothered; they’re used to Daisy flirting with all of us.

‘Well, Peach, if you ever wanna join Daisy and I, you know where to find us. Or if Daisy’s busy, you know where to find me,’ Jimin says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Down, boy,’ I reply, everyone laughing as Jimin grins. ‘I don’t mind spectating,’ he says, and Daisy rolls her eyes. ‘Not for free, babe.’ ‘So I’m guessing,’ Yoongi begins with a playful grin, ‘you’re gonna say no to the rest of us watching too?’

‘Morning, Peach,’ Mr Kim says when he enters the classroom. ‘Morning, Sir. How was your weekend?’ I ask, with a smile. I’m sat on his desk, just like every Monday, and I’m dressed provocatively, just like every Monday. Short skirt, unbuttoned shirt, pretty bra visible through my shirt and pants visible when I bend over, peach hair up in a ponytail and just a little bit of makeup.

‘It was good, thank you, Peach. I went home on Friday night and I just arrived back this morning,’ he says with a smile, putting his briefcase down onto the desk beside where I sit. Just like every Monday, he opens his briefcase and pulls out a lollipop, handing it to me, and I grin back at him. And just like every Monday, I reach into my bag and hand him a piece of cake wrapped up in foil, and he takes it with a smile. His hands linger on mine for a moment, eyes locked, before he pulls his hands away, putting the cake into his briefcase without looking at me.

‘That must have been nice, Sir. How’s Mrs Kim?’ I ask, noting the way he blinks a few times, just as he does whenever I say her name. ‘She’s… she’s okay,’ he replies, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘That doesn’t sound very convincing. Less and less convincing each week, Sir,’ I say, and he lets out a gentle laugh. ‘It’s difficult, Peach. Married life is difficult. You’ll understand one day,’ he says, and I pull a face.

‘Me? Getting married? You must be crazy, Sir,’ I say, kissing my teeth, and Mr Kim bursts out laughing. ‘Why not, Peach? Marriage is a beautiful thing.’ ‘Oh, yeah, sure seems beautiful, based on the way you sigh and frown whenever I bring up your wife,’ I say sarcastically, and the smile disappears from Mr Kim’s face, the man looking down at his briefcase unseeingly.

‘No, marriage isn’t for me. I’d rather travel the world with my friends and have a string of glamorous love affairs that I can one day tell my friends’ kids about,’ I say, and Mr Kim laughs. ‘Where will you get the money from for this, Peach?’ he asks, and I grin. ‘How I was planning to get my money for Glastonbury,’ I say with a wink at him. He laughs, shaking his head, ears reddening slightly.

‘Well, I hope these plans work out for you, Peach. If I ever meet a man whose heart was broken by a mysterious beautiful girl with peach hair, I’ll tell him he was lucky to have even met you in the first place,’ he says, my heart warming at his kind words, and my cheeks warming at hearing him call me beautiful. ‘Thanks, Sir,’ I say shyly, and he laughs. ‘Oh, don’t act all coy now,��� he chuckles, trying to act cool but his reddened ears betraying him, before moving around to the other side of his desk.

Just like every Monday, I take the chalk out of his briefcase and go around to the blackboard. I write up the date, my ass mere centimetres from the back of Mr Kim’s head. Still thinking about what he just said, I’m distracted, and so the chalk slips between my fingers. ‘Butterfingers,’ Mr Kim teases when he hears the chalk hit the floor, and I laugh as I bend down to grab it. My ass hits the back of his seat, and I fall forward from the impact.

Mr Kim spins around, a worried look on his face, and I burst out laughing at myself crumpled up on the floor, the man joining in too. ‘Come on,’ he says, getting up from his seat and tucking it in so he has space to pull me up from the floor. He holds out a hand to me and I take it, his other hand wrapping around my waist as he helps me up. ‘You’re so clumsy, Peach,’ he says, hands still around me, his eyes unwaveringly locked with mine.  

For a moment, just a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, our heads moving closer together as my lips part, and my heart rate rockets. And then there’s a knock at the door. We instantly jump apart from one another, and I quickly grab a stack of worksheets on the desk. ‘Come in!’ Mr Kim calls, his voice slightly shaky, as I begin to walk around the classroom, putting one worksheet on each desk.

One of the deputies, Mrs Lee, walks in, bidding me good morning before talking to Mr Kim about some stupid briefing this Wednesday. What feels like a million years later, she finally leaves, and I turn to look at Mr Kim with a grin, the teacher smiling back at me.

The rest of my class starts arriving then, and I take my seat at the front, writing up the date in my book. When Daisy and Dream arrive, Dream hands me my drink and we idly chat about the upcoming prom, mere weeks away, until Mr Kim begins the lesson. It seems that Daisy’s given up on our competition, having gotten bored after four weeks. Now, two and a half months after I first met Mr Kim, it’s no longer about the competition for me.

I get on with him so well, and he’s so kind. I’m doing so well in this class, better than I’ve ever done it in before, and I find it so fun, because he’s the one teaching it to me. Whenever I get an answer right, or raise my hand to ask a question, or even just make eye contact with him, he gives me this smile, and my heart melts every time. Our conversations before and after class are the highlights of my week, and when we catch each other in the corridor, I replay the moment in my head over and over again. He’s just so… mature, and he really gets me.

I think I’m slowly falling in love with him.

The lesson flies by in a blur of shy glances, gentle smiles, subtle touches and locked eyes, and when everyone leaves, I stay behind, just like every Monday. ‘Sir,’ I say, and he smiles at me. ‘Yes, Peach?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘Um, it might not be my place to say this, but I feel like you’re not really close with any of the other teachers, so I don’t think you’ve got anyone to talk to, and I thought you might want to get it off your chest, so I wanted to ask what’s going on with your wife?’ I say all in one breath, and the smile slowly disappears from Mr Kim’s face as I speak.

He sighs, taking off his glasses, and leaning back in his seat as he pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘Oh, Peach,’ he says tiredly, and my heart jumps. ‘Sir, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business. I’ll just get go-’ ‘No, Peach, it’s okay,’ he says, getting up from behind his desk and coming to sit in Daisy’s seat beside me.

‘You’re right, Peach. I’m not close with any of the teachers, and I don’t have anyone to confide in. but that doesn’t mean I should confide in you,’ he says gently, and I sigh. ‘Sir, can we be honest here?’ I ask, and he nods, though he looks slightly nervous. ‘Our relationship is already pushing the boundaries. And you and I both know that this isn’t accidental. It’s intentional, on my part. And you haven’t rebuffed my advances once. You’ve encouraged them. And we’re both in the wrong, you and I both know that.’

He sighs, sitting back in his seat. ‘But it’s wrong, Peach. It’s so wrong,’ he says, and I laugh humourlessly. ‘It doesn’t feel wrong. But we’ve already slightly broken the rules. Why not just go all the way?’ I ask, and his eyes lock with mine, his tongue poking at his cheek. ‘What are you saying?’ ‘You know what I’m saying. But, wait. We’ll come back to that. Tell me about your wife first. You need to get it off your chest. I can tell it’s affecting you.’

He’s silent for a few seconds before he finally speaks. ‘We were so happy, so in love. And then I started teaching here. And I met you on my very first day. And my first night sleeping here, instead of thinking of her, I thought of you. The girl with the peach hair. I was thinking about my wife less and less, and you more and more. And then… the first time I went home to visit her, after a few weeks of working here, and we had sex, I…’ he trails off, and I know exactly what the rest of the sentence is. I was thinking of you.

My heart is nearly beating out of my chest at his confession, and I’m trying not to jump up and celebrate. ‘You’re just… you’re so grown up, Peach, and I see you as an equal rather than as my student. You just… you get me. And you’re beautiful, Peach, you’d have to be blind not to see that,’ he says, and I blush, unable to believe my ears. He likes me too. He really likes me too.

‘And my wife knows that there’s someone else. I don’t know how, but she knows,’ he says, stress written all over his face. ‘Women always know,’ I reply, and he nods. ‘Yeah. She knows. So she confronted me about it on the weekend. Because she said I’ve been distant, that I’ve been avoiding sex, that I’ve been coming home less than I promised I would, that I never text or call her. And she asked who the woman is. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it isn’t even an affair, and it’s just a crush that has me like this,’ he says.

‘So… so what are you gonna do now? What did you tell her?’ ‘I lied. I said there’s no one else. That I’m just busy and stressed, but she knows. Anyway, she said she wants to work on us, she wants to try and fall in love again, like the way we were before. We’re high school sweethearts, you see, and I proposed to her fresh out of uni. We got married a few months later, and only three months after that, I started here. Maybe we rushed into it, because now… I’ve fallen out of love with her.’

I’m in complete shock. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. But I know I can’t let this pass me by. He feels the same way. I have to seize the moment.

‘Sir, I… I really like you. And you really like me. I don’t… I’m not seeing an issue here,’ I say, and he laughs humourlessly. ‘Peach, you don’t even know how much I wish I could agree. But I’m married. I’m your teacher. If we were found out, I’d lose my job, and I’d never be able to teach again,’ he says, and I sigh.

‘Mr Kim, no one would ever know. I won’t breathe a word, and neither will you,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘I… what are you suggesting, Peach?’ he asks, and I feel a rush of excitement that he’s actually considering it. ‘I mean… I don’t think we’d get away with you coming to my room. But I could go to yours. We could say that you’re tutoring me,’ I suggest, and he thinks for a moment.

‘Give… give me some time to consider this, Peach. Because I need… I need to consider whether or not this is worth it,’ he says, and I frown. ‘You don’t think I’m worth it?’ I ask, and his face falls. ‘No, Peach, that’s not… that’s not what I’m saying. You know what I mean,’ he says, and I stand up. ‘No, Sir, I’m not sure that I do. Forget I said anything,’ I say, and he gets up too, panic on his face.

‘Let’s discuss this, Peach, don’t leave,’ he says as I begin gathering up my things. ‘I think it’s best that I do,’ I say, brushing past him and leaving the room. When the door falls shut, I grin to myself, knowing my plan will just fall into place now, and I join my friends who wait for me in the corridor. ‘Did it work?’ Dream asks and I smile. ‘We’ll see.’

‘Peach! Peach!’ I hear Angel calling from behind me, and we turn to see her rushing towards us with Sunshine, the boys following leisurely behind them. ‘What? What’s happened?’ I ask when she reaches us, and she grins. ‘The whole school is talking about you. It worked,’ she says, and I grin. ‘I told you it would,’ Daisy says, and I roll my eyes.

‘I came up with the plan,’ I say, and she raises an eyebrow. ‘Half of the plan. And I lent you my man to enact this plan,’ she says, and I laugh. ‘Come, let’s go sit outside,’ Taehyung says when the boys reach our group, and we all head out to our usual spot outside, where we can talk freely with no one eavesdropping.

‘I’ve had loads of people asking me this morning if it’s true,’ Jimin says as I sit down beside Dream, the girl instantly resting her head on my thigh. ‘What did you say?’ ‘I didn’t say yes, and I didn’t say no. I was just laughing, or I said that ‘a gentleman never tells’ or some stupid shit like that,’ he says, and we all laugh.

‘It was genius, Peach. It happened exactly the way you said it would,’ Hoseok says, Sunshine’s head against his shoulder and his arm around her waist. ‘Let’s just hope it gets back to Mr Kim,’ Namjoon says, and Honey scoffs. ‘Of course it will. The whole school is talking about it. You don’t think he’ll hear people in his classes talking about how Peach slept with her best friend’s man?’ she says with a raised eyebrow.

‘What if he doesn’t buy it, though? He knows Peach well enough to know that that’s something she’d never do,’ Dream says, and Yoongi sighs. ‘Yeah, but we never thought Peach would try to seduce a teacher, and here we are,’ he says, and I frown at him. I don’t like it when they say I’m trying to seduce him. This isn’t just about sex. This is something more. I can’t tell them that, though. They wouldn’t understand.

‘And, anyway, I think that a group of people seeing Peach sneaking out of Jimin’s room at like two in the morning, wearing his clothes with her hair a mess and her mascara streaming down her face means that it’s more than likely people will believe it,’ Pearl says drily, and we all laugh, blood rushing to my face.

‘What did you guys actually do?’ Jungkook asks, and Jimin smirks. ‘Guess,’ he says with a grin in my direction, and I roll my eyes. ‘We chose suitable clothes of his for me to wear for when I left, messed up my hair and smudged my makeup across my face,’ I say, and Pearl narrows her eyes at me. ‘For like four hours?’ she asks, and Jimin grins at me. ‘And we played scrabble,’ I say, the others bursting out laughing.

‘Scrabble? Is that a euphemism for something?’ Taehyung asks, and Jimin shakes his head, still grinning. ‘We sat there, on my bed, and played scrabble for three hours,’ he says, and Daisy looks between us. ‘Who won?’ she asks. ‘Peach,’ he admits straight away, and I smile proudly. ‘Of course I did. He wanted to play strip scrabble,’ I say, Daisy swatting at him amusedly as the others laugh.

‘Yeah, so we compromised,’ he says mysteriously, our friends looking intrigued as I roll my eyes at Jimin. ‘We played dirty scrabble.’ ‘Dirty scrabble?’ Namjoon asks interestedly. ‘Scrabble with dirty words only. I’d have gotten bored otherwise. But I was surprised at how… vast Peach’s vocabulary is,’ Jimin says with another smirk at me, and I feel my face heating again.

‘You out-dirtied Jimin?’ Namjoon asks, the whole group looking surprised, and I nod with a small smile. ‘Our Peach is a dark horse,’ Daisy grins at me, and I grin back. ‘Okay, I hate to change the subject, but, like… what are you guys gonna do now?’ Yoongi asks, directing the question at Daisy and I. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I mean, you supposedly slept with her man. Shouldn’t Daisy act like she’s angry at you?’ Yoongi says, and I shrug.

‘It’s fine. Look how many rumours there have been; we haven’t let those affect our friendships, because we know they aren’t real,’ I say, and Yoongi shakes his head. ‘But you want people to believe this one, surely?’ ‘It’s fine. As long as Mr Kim has heard the rumour, that’s all that matters,’ I say, and Pearl raises an eyebrow. ‘So what happens now then? What is your plan after this?’ she asks, and I hesitate for a moment.

‘I don’t know yet,’ I lie, not wanting them all to know. I only need to tell two people; nobody else needs to know. And I think it’s best to keep this as quiet as possible. Because it’s where things start to get serious.

So, hours later, in the literal dead of night, I sneak out of my room, praying no one sees me. When I reach my destination, I knock carefully on the door, making sure it’s not loud enough for anyone else to hear. The door opens a few seconds later, and a cosy Jungkook stands on the other side of it, dressed in his pyjamas with his hair a fluffy mess. ‘Peach?’ he asks but I shush him, pushing past him into the front hallway.

‘I need your help,’ I say once he’s shut the door, and he looks confusedly at me. ‘My help? What with?’ he asks, just as Yoongi pops his head in from the bedroom. ‘Peach?’ ‘I need your help too.’ ‘Come sit in here,’ Yoongi says, turning back into the bedroom. Jungkook and I follow behind, and I take a moment to look around their room.

It’s neat and tidy, very minimalistic, with two beds a few feet apart from each other, a TV mounted on the wall, and several computer screens set up on a desk, a game paused on one of them. ‘What’s up, Peach? Is everything okay?’ Jungkook asks, concerned. ‘Everything’s fine. It’s not, like, serious. I just need your guys’ help. But… no one else can know,’ I say, both of them raising their eyes. ‘Um…’ Yoongi says, and I sigh.

‘Please? I swear, it’s not that bad. I just… I need you guys to not tell anyone,’ I say, and Jungkook sighs. ‘I won’t say anything,’ he says before both of us look to Yoongi. ‘Fine, I won’t either. Now, what is it?’ Yoongi asks, and I grin.

‘You know how there’s a camera in every classroom?’ I say, both of them nodding. ‘I need you guys to disable to one in Mr Kim’s classroom,’ I say, both of their eyes widening. ‘You’re kidding?’ Jungkook asks, and I shake my head. ‘I’m not. I just…’ I begin, but Yoongi waves me off. ‘You don’t need to explain; we’re not stupid, we know exactly why you want us to disable the cameras.’

‘But… won’t they realise straight away? If the camera isn’t working, they’ll just get someone to fix it,’ Jungkook says, and I sigh. ‘I only need it disabled up until Monday’s lesson.’ ‘I’ve got an idea. What if… instead of disabling the camera… we loop the footage from last week?’ Yoongi says, directing the question to Jungkook. ‘Good idea. But how?’ Jungkook asks, and Yoongi laughs. ‘Don’t act like we haven’t hacked into the school cameras before.’

‘Yeah, but we did that to delete footage. Not loop it,’ Jungkook says, and Yoongi raises an eyebrow. ‘It’s not like we won’t be able to do it, we’re practically experts after years of computer science. It might take a while, but it’s night time, so it’s not like anyone will notice that we’re messing around with the systems. We can take as long as we need. Let’s at least give it a go,’ Yoongi says, and Jungkook hesitates before sighing.

‘Fine, let’s do it. But I’m gonna need snacks,’ he says, and I grin, holding up the bag in my hand. ‘I came prepared,’ I say, both of them grinning. ‘Won’t your roommate notice you’re gone?’ Jungkook asks, and I shake my head. ‘If Angel can sleep through Taehyung’s sleep-talking, sleep-walking and cuddling, she can sleep through anything. That girl needs a foghorn to wake her up,’ I say, both of them laughing. ‘Right, then,’ Yoongi says, ‘let’s get to it.’

The boys spend the entire night at the desk, hacking into the school’s CCTV systems and looping the footage, whilst I watch You on Netflix, nap, and hand them snacks and drinks as and when they need them. The boys finish at sunrise, Jungkook instantly crawling into his bed and passing out as Yoongi shows me what they’ve done.

‘So, long story short, the footage from the past week is looped. It will keep playing again and again until someone realises and changes it, but I doubt anyone will notice it for a long time. So you’re free to do whatever you want in that classroom without it being caught on camera. I’ll keep checking up on it to make sure it hasn’t been discovered,’ he says. ‘Thank you, Yoongi, you’re the best. And tell Jungkook I said thanks to him too,’ I say, both of us looking at him fast asleep on his bed.

‘Yeah, of course. Just shout us whenever you need help with anything. And, don’t worry, we won’t mention anything to anyone. Now, you go, get some sleep. I think the others were saying they want to spend the day at the football pitch today so make sure you’re there, and not looking tired, or they’ll suspect something,’ he says, and my heart warms at his kindness.

‘Okay, Yoongi. See you later. And thanks, again, for your help,’ I say, and he grins. ‘It’s cool. Just make sure that you fill us in on whatever happens with Mr Kim tomorrow. If anything does happen, that is,’ he says mischievously, and I grin. ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ I grin back, ‘there’ll be plenty to tell.’ 

‘Peach? Do you mind staying behind please?’ Mr Kim says as I begin to walk towards the door with Daisy and Dream, and I grin to myself before I turn back to him sullenly. He waits for everyone to leave the room before he speaks. ‘Take a seat,’ he says, and I scowl. ‘I’d rather stand.’ ‘Peach, don’t be like that. Please, just sit down,’ he says and, with as much attitude as possible, I sit down in my seat.

‘Why weren’t you here at the beginning of the lesson?’ he asks, looking concerned, and I laugh humourlessly. ‘I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted,’ I reply, and he looks so pained. I actually feel a little guilty. ‘Peach, come on. You know that that wasn’t what I meant last week. I’m just worried about the consequences. I could lose my job,’ he says, and I roll my eyes.

‘No one would ever find out,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘I know you wouldn’t say anything, Peach, but that’s not to say that nobody will find out. Someone could just walk in at any moment,’ he says, and I look at the door. ‘There’s a lock,’ I say, and he sighs again. ‘The camera?’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘What if I told you I’ve taken care of it?’ I say carefully, and his eyes widen. ‘Please tell me you’re joking,’ he says, grabbing on to his temples. ‘I’d be lying if I did. Sir, I’m serious about this,’ I say, and he’s silent for a few moments, head in his hands.

I take the silence as my opportunity. ‘What if I persuade you, Sir?’ I ask, and he looks up at me, only his eyes uncovered by his hands. ‘Pardon?’ he asks, voice muffled, and I get up from my seat, slowly walking to the door. ‘I said… what if I persuade you?’ I say, leaning against the door, Mr Kim’s eyes on my fingers as they turn the lock. ‘Peach,’ he says in a strained voice, and I know it’s working, my heart beating so fast.

‘Sir, stop stressing, for just a minute. You worry too much,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘It’s in my nature,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘It was in mine too. And then I realised life’s too short to worry about everything. I didn’t worry about stealing designer things to sell so I could go to Glastonbury, and I’m glad I didn’t worry about it,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow at me.

‘You’re glad?’ ‘Yes, I’m glad. Because of it, I’m away from my stupid parents, at a school with a group of people that I love. And I’ve met you,’ I say, and he just stares at me, face unreadable. ‘Life’s too short to worry,’ I repeat, and I can practically see the battle between his head and his heart. His heart seems to win.

‘Persuade me then,’ he whispers, the words nearly making me cry from happiness. ‘Pardon?’ I ask, wanting to hear him say the words again. ‘I said, persuade me then,’ he says, all the stress and worry suddenly disappearing, a small smirk now on his face. Taking my time, I walk over to him, joining him behind the desk, and I grab on to his tie. He grins at me as I pull him up from his seat, before looking over at the camera.

‘Are you sure you handled it?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘Want proof?’ I ask, and he nods. I grab my phone out of my bra, his eyes lingering on the curves of my breasts as I dial Yoongi’s number, putting the phone on loudspeaker. ‘Hey, Peach,’ he says, his voice ringing out into the room. ‘Can you check the camera for me?’ I ask, and he lets out a gentle laugh before I hear some movement and then some typing.

‘According to the camera, Mr Kim is sat at his desk, marking. No one else is in the room,’ he says, and I grin at Mr Kim who looks shocked. ‘Okay. Thanks, Yoongi, you’re the best,’ I say, and he laughs again. ‘No problem. Have fun,’ he says amusedly before the phone cuts off. ‘Does he know?’ Mr Kim asks, and I shrug. ‘I haven’t said anything to him about why I wanted the camera hacked, but he’s probably worked it out. He won’t say anything,’ I say, Mr Kim nodding, obviously slightly nervous.

‘Stop worrying. It’s okay,’ I say gently before I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down towards me. I close my eyes and wait for him to kiss me. When I feel his soft lips brush against mine, I supress a celebratory shout, instantly pulling him closer to me.

Within moments, the kiss has gone from tame and innocent, to passionate and desperate. His hands furiously trail up and down my body, our mouths moving in sync. He pushes his tongue between my lips, and I sigh into his mouth at the feeling. He wraps his hands into my hair and accidently tugs it, but I let out a gentle moan against his lips.

‘Fuck. Fuck, you like that?’ he asks, mouth still pressed against mine, and I nod. He pulls my hair again, this time harder, and I moan again, the sound obviously driving him crazy. He pulls away from me and lifts me up to sit on his desk before his lips attach to mine again. I wrap my legs around him, sitting on the edge of the desk so that our bodies are completely pressed up against each other.

I can feel how hard he is, his bulge pressed against my upper thigh, and a surge of confidence makes me palm him through his trousers. ‘Fuck, Peach,’ he groans, the sounding making me let out a shaky breath. ‘Can I… can I do something?’ I ask against his mouth, pulling away a few moments later. ‘Do what?’ he asks, and I grin.

‘I want your lollipop,’ I joke, and he laughs. ‘I’ve got some in my briefcase,’ he jokes, and I raise an eyebrow, holding back a laugh. ‘I want the one in your trousers instead,’ I say, looking up at him through my lashes, and his eyes darken, a smile on his face. ‘Who am I to deprive my best student?’ he says lowly, and I grin.

I get up from the desk, grabbing his tie again and walking backwards around the desk. I sit down in his seat, and he grins down at me. ‘Authority suits you. You look good in that chair,’ he says, and I let out a gentle laugh. 'I’ll look even better when I’ve got your dick in my mouth,’ I say lightly, and he chokes, coaxing a laugh out of me. ‘Let’s test that then,’ he says, and I grin. ‘Gladly.’

I pull down the zip of his trousers, purposely scraping my nails against his bulge. I push his trousers down just to the tops of his trousers, and his underwear goes down with them. His length, hard and red, springs up and slaps against his clothed stomach, and I try not to actually salivate. He’s long and thick, smooth with a prominent vein running along the underside, and his head is swollen, already leaking with precum.

My tongue darts out to wet my lip before I spit on my hands, Mr Kim watching me with interest. Gently, I place my hands on his length and run them up and down the shaft, revelling in pride from hearing the hitch in his breath. I lean forward, tentatively licking the precum from his tip, looking up at him with big eyes, and he groans. ‘God, Peach, you’re so fucking sexy,’ he breathes out, just before I sink my mouth down around him until he hits the back of my throat.

His hips buck up, pushing down my throat, and I gag around him, as he moans. I take a moment to compose myself before I start bobbing my head up and down his cock. ‘Yes, Peach, God, that feels so good,’ he grunts, gathering my hair into his hands and holding it back from my mouth. I lick along his vein, hands cupping his balls, before I swirl my tongue around his head.

‘You suck dick like a pro,’ he breathes out, and I grin up at him. ‘Thank you,’ I say before sinking my mouth back down onto his length. Obviously he’s getting close, moans and curses falling frequently from between his plump lips, and it’s as though he can’t control himself, starting to thrust into my mouth. I grip onto his strong thighs as he rams into my mouth, forcing himself further and further down my throat with each thrust. And then there’s a knock on the door.

Mr Kim panics, but my brain engages instantly. I pull boxers and trousers back up, quickly zipping him up, before I push him towards the door and hide myself under his desk. Mr Kim takes a couple deep breaths before he unlocks and opens the door, and I hold a hand over myself to stop the loud breathing.

‘Mr Kim. Why was the door locked?’ a voice asks, and I recognise it straight away. Mrs Choi, the strictest deputy headteacher. ‘Somebody kept pushing it open and running away, and it was annoying me, Mrs Choi,’ Mr Kim replies instantly, and I’m impressed at how quickly he thought of that reply. ‘Oh. Well, I need to speak to you about something. Let’s sit,’ she says, and I hear her enter the room, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. Her feet are mere inches from where I’m sat on the floor, only a wooden panel separating us.

Mr Kim takes his seat opposite her, slotting his legs around either side of me, and my head is centimetres from his crotch. The idea forms in my mind straight away, and I grin to myself, adrenaline running through my body.

‘What would you like to speak about, Mrs Choi?’ Mr Kim asks, just as I rest my hands on his knees. His body tenses beneath my hands, before relaxing a few moments later. ‘I’d actually like to speak to you about your twelfth-year class,’ she says, and I move my hands further up his legs. ‘Are you finding any problems with them?’ she asks, as I unzip his trousers as slowly and quietly as possible.

‘Um, no. They’re a fantastic group. High ability and a pleasure to teach,’ he says, voice tense. I’m not surprised, considering I’m pulling his still rock-hard dick out of his underwear as I unbutton my blouse so that if he looks down, he’ll get an eyeful of my boobs, spilling out of my bra. ‘Is that so? No problems at all?’ she asks as I lean forward and put my mouth around his head, staying still once I’ve done so. ‘No, Mrs Choi, none,’ he replies, hands finding my shoulders. I wait for him to push me away, but he surprises me, pulling me closer to him so that my mouth sinks all the way down onto his cock.

‘Really? I’m surprised to hear that. Am I mistaken in thinking you have Daisy, Peach and Dream in your class?’ she asks, and I try not to react at hearing my name from her mouth. ‘No, you are not mistaken,’ he replies, hands on my neck, holding me still, and I realise what he’s doing. He’s turned the tables back on to me. Instead of me torturing him beneath the desk, he’s torturing me, forcing me to hold his cock in my mouth with no movement.

‘And they don’t cause you any problems?’ she asks. ‘No, they’re brilliant students. Engaged in the lesson, intelligent, hard-working, helpful. They’re a lovely group of girls,’ he says, and Mrs Choi is silent, obviously surprised. ‘I must say, I’m shocked to hear you think so, especially of Daisy. We’ve had issues with her since she arrived. Dream and Peach, not as much, but still. They’re all part of the worst friendship group in the school. Their friendship group is the root of nearly all problems within their year group.’ Lovely.

‘That’s surprising to hear. I’ve never had any issues with them. A little talkative at times, but nothing more. They’re on track to achieve the best grades in the class,’ he says, and my heart swells at hearing him speak about us like this when no teacher ever has before. ‘That’s pleasing to hear. They must really like you, Mr Kim,’ Mrs Choi says, and Mr Kim lets out a gentle laugh. ‘I’d like to think they do,’ he says, and it’s obvious he’s thinking about the fact that one of the students must definitely like him because she’s under the table with his dick in her mouth.

‘Well, as it’s reaching the end of their time at the school, we’re looking for… a valedictorian, of sorts. A student, or even multiple, to give a speech at their end-of-year prom. Do you have any recommendations?’ she asks, and I’m curious to hear what he has to say. ‘Any of the three girls. Dream, Daisy or Peach. Or all three of them,’ he says instantly, and my heart warms. ‘That’s not the first recommendation I’ve had for those girls and the rest of their friends. It’s obvious they’re popular with the staff, despite being troublemakers,’ she says, almost fondly, and I think back to all the times we’ve been shouted at in Mrs Choi’s office. Now that I think about it, we almost always have a lecture from her, almost like the lectures you get from your mother. She must have a soft spot for us. Bless her.

‘Well, thank you for your recommendations, Mr Kim. We’ll definitely take them into consideration. I will leave you to your marking now,’ she says, her chair scraping against the floor as she gets up. I hope she doesn’t point out my belongings sat on my desk. ‘Thank you, Mrs Choi. See you later,’ Mr Kim says, and she bids him goodbye before leaving.

As soon as the door shuts behind her, I’m taking him as far down my throat as possible, and he stifles a moan. ‘Let me lock the door, Peach,’ he breathes out, hands weakly trying to push me off, but I ignore him, wanting to make him cum as soon as possible. ‘Fuck, Peach, someone could come in,’ he says pleadingly, but his words are broken up by moans, and I know that the thought of someone entering is turning him on even more, because it’s not long before his cock is twitching in my mouth.

‘Fuck, Peach, I’m gonna cum,’ he groans, and I pull him out of my mouth. I tug at his length with one hand, playing with his balls with the other, and his orgasm hits him within seconds. He throws his head back, face scrunching up, as his hands tighten on my shoulders. He lets out a long, drawn out moan of my name as his hot cum spurts out of the tip, covering my chin, neck and breasts. It’s as though he hasn’t cum properly in a while, depositing an endless amount over my face.

He looks down at me once he’s done, cursing under his breath at the sight of me. I gather some of his release up from my chin and lick it off my finger, the man biting his lip at the sight. ‘Sorry. I don’t usually cum so quick,’ he says sheepishly, moving back and helping me get up from under the desk. ‘It’s okay. I have that effect,’ I joke, and his eyes darken. ‘Oh. So did you have the effect on Park Jimin?’ he asks, and I nearly scream aloud, so glad that he’s brought it up (I really thought I’d put in all that effort for nothing).

He makes me sit on the desk in front of him, and he spreads my legs, making me rest my feet on his armrests. ‘I asked you a question,’ he says, eyes on my soaked pants. ‘I, um… who told you about that?’ I say, and he scoffs. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I was going to hear about it. Everyone was talking about it. Peach sleeping with her best friend’s man,’ he says, looking up at me disdainfully.

‘Are you that desperate for cock? That desperate you’d sleep with Daisy’s man?’ he says, and I stay silent, biting on my bottom lip. ‘Go on, speak. I’m sure you had a lot to say with Jimin’s dick in your pussy, huh? Or did he shut you up with his cock in your mouth? Fucking whore,’ he says, landing a harsh slap on my clothed heat, and I whine at the feeling.

He hooks a finger around my pants and pulls, ripping the flimsy material off me and holding it up to his nose. ‘Fuck. You’re so wet,’ he says, looking at my dripping wet core as he puts the ripped material down on the desk beside him. ‘Only for you, Sir,’ I whimper, and he groans. ‘Fucking slut. I bet it’s for Jimin. I bet you’ve been thinking about having him inside you again, huh?’ he says, and I shake my head. ‘I’ve only been thinking about you. I thought about you while I was with him,’ I whisper, and he looks up at me with dark, dilated eyes.

‘Is that so? Well, what were you thinking about?’ he asks, and I bite my lip. ‘Your pretty lips on my pussy,’ I breathe out, and he groans again. ‘God, you’re so fucking sexy. Let me give you what you want then,’ he says, and I spread my legs even more, leaning back on my hands and shuffling forward so I teeter on the edge of his desk. I’m so close to his face that I can feel his breaths hit my core. ‘Please, Sir,’ I whimper, and he grins at me before he leans forward a licks a bold stripe across my pussy.

I let out a pathetic sigh, my head falling back as he licks at my core slowly, tongue lapping at my slit languorously, dipping his muscle between my folds every few seconds, sending mind-numbing shocks through me. ‘Fuck, you taste so good. So fucking sweet,’ he praises as I let out a small moan, legs curling around his shoulders to pull him closer.

Without warning, he attaches his lips to my clit, sucking and tugging on the bundle of nerves, and my back arches as I throw my head back, broken moans falling from my lips. ‘Stay still, whore,’ he warns harshly, the words against my heat making me shiver as one of his arms snakes around my waist, tightly holding me in place. His other hand scoops some of his cum from my breasts before joining his head between my legs, rubbing the cum onto my clit as more moans escape me.

‘Please, Sir, I want your fingers,’ I plead and he chuckles before slowly pushing one finger between my folds. ‘So tight, baby. Am I not turning you on?’ he asks, plunging another finger in, forcing another moan out of me. ‘How will I get my cock in? At this rate, I won’t even fit another finger into this tight little cunt,’ he says, still with his lips wrapped around my clit and his two fingers slowly pumping in and out of me.

Gradually, he increases his pace, adding another finger in, his mouth still working wonders at my clit. I can feel my orgasm building up, moans falling more frequently from my mouth. He only increases his pace more and more, until his fingers pump in and out furiously fast, his tongue licking up and down my folds before pulling on my clit with his lips.

My hands, threaded into his soft, dark locks, pull him closer and closer to my core, and I can feel myself fast approaching the edge. He curls his fingers into me, hitting the soft spongy spot inside me, and I let out a particularly loud whine. ‘Fuck, Mr Kim, right there, please,’ I whine, and he freezes. ‘Fuck, you’ll make me cum again if you call me Mr Kim. Here,’ he says, pulling his tie off and stuffing it into my mouth before going back to his ministrations.

I can feel myself tumbling towards the edge, pleasure coursing through my veins as I let out muffled moans. ‘Come on, I can feel you’re close, Peach. Fucking cum for me,’ he whispers and, when he curls his fingers and pulls on my clit at the same time, I finally reach my climax. I curse and moan, all of it muffled by the tie, as my orgasm washes over me, back arching.

Once I’ve come down from my high, he licks my release up as I pull his tie out of my mouth before holding his fingers out to me, and I lick them clean as he watches with a smug smirk, lips swollen and shining. ‘That was so fucking hot,’ he says as I hop down from his desk. I pick up my pants and tuck them into his chest pocket with a grin before smoothing down my skirt and rebuttoning my blouse, the man watching as I do so.

‘Wait, are we not going to…?’ he trails off, and I look over to see that he’s already hard again. Very hard. ‘I’ll come to your room,’ I say as I pull some tissues out of me bag, cleaning his cum off my face. ‘But I’m…’ he says, looking down at his length, and I hold back a laugh, putting some powder on my face and pulling on a hoodie.

‘You left me hanging a week. You can deal with a few hours,’ I say, slipping out of the room before he can even formulate a response. I walk down the corridor, unable to wipe the smile off my face, nearly skipping all the way out to the grass where I know my friends will be waiting for me. Honey, Pearl, Daisy, Dream, Namjoon, Jimin, Yoongi and Jungkook are all lazing around on the grass, instantly perking up when they spot me.

‘So?’ Honey asks excitedly when I reach them, and I grin. ‘Mission accomplished,’ I say, pulling a spare pair of pants out of my bag and pulling them on underneath my skirt. ‘Wow. He kept your underwear?’ Jimin asks, and I nod with a smirk. ‘Had he heard about you and Jimin?’ Dream asks, and I nod again. ‘He was so mad,’ I grin, all of them laughing as Jimin smirks.

‘Well, damn it, Peach, I didn’t think you would, but you did. You really had sex with a teacher. You won the competition. Good on you, girl,’ Daisy says, and I grin at her. ‘Well, I didn’t really have sex with him. I just… sucked him off. And then he ate me out,’ I say, and Daisy frowns, everyone else looking confused. ‘You should’ve fucked him,’ she says, and I shrug.

‘I’ll fuck him when I go to his room tonight,’ I say, the girls squealing as the boys (and Pearl) look at me incredulously. ‘Wait, you’re really leaving him this long before you fuck him? God, you’re evil, Peach,’ Namjoon says, and I smile smugly. ‘Peach, fucking in a classroom is one thing, but going to his room? You’re asking for trouble,’ Pearl says disapprovingly, and I shrug with a grin.

‘You know what, Pearl? Maybe I am.’

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ || Day Eleven: Total Silence ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hiashi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ AO3 Link ]

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Noise, noise, there’s always only noise.

No matter how many times she tells her father she hates these social gatherings and publicity preening parties, he still strong-arms her into coming. You’d think as an adult herself now she’d finally find the guts to tell him no, but...well, a childhood and teenage years of a controlling parent that forced obedience through a constant threat of removing what you hold dear birthed a fear of that power still lingering after maturity.

...or so she tells herself.

Hinata Hyūga knows she’s mostly just a pushover no matter who it is she’s dealing with. Whether it’s her father, or her cousin, or even her little sister. Making waves and starting arguments just...isn’t in her skillset.

Hence why, more often than not, she ends up at her father’s obnoxious gatherings. His business in the medical technology industry means rubbing all the right elbows. And while Hinata’s choice to pursue journalism isn’t exactly in line with his expectations or standards, he still portrays her in the best light he can...in order to make himself look better.

And through all of that, his company...and its stocks.

For most of her time at these get-togethers, Hinata sticks to the walls, socializing only when necessary and otherwise trying to be as unnoticeable as possible, and evade such interactions in the first place.

But for some reason...tonight is just more than she can handle.

Not only is there music pulsing through speakers, but conversations, laughter, and even some shouting fill the air to a staggering degree. Ugh, she can feel a headache coming on...maybe she’ll just -

“Hinata.”

...wonderful.

Turning to her father, Hinata forces a smile. “Yes?”

“I’ve been talking to a young up-and-comer who would like to speak to you about a possible piece you could write about his company.”

She blinks. “...a piece?”

“Yes, a degree of publicity to help him get things off the ground. Say a few nice words, interview him...that sort of thing.”

Immediately, something in Hinata’s stomach churns. This sounds a lot like a piece of bribery, and that’s the last thing she wants to get herself into. “I...could look into it.”

“He’d like to speak to you now.”

Oh no...no, not now. Not with her head spinning and senses overloading. “I...I’m sorry, I’ve been fighting a headache, and -”

“It will only take a few minutes, Hinata.”

“Could -? Could you give him my email, and I’ll just -”

“No, now.”

The brazen order actually makes her catch herself in a lurch. Her vision is swimming, her skin feels clammy - she has to get out of here, now.

So, without a word, she holds up a hand and just...stumbles forward toward the door.

“Hinata…? Where do you think you’re -?”

For once in her life...she ignores him. With a push, she urges the door open and steps out into the cool air of the city evening. It washes over her like a relieving tide.

But it’s not enough. If she doesn’t move, he’ll just drag her back inside.

So she flees.

Turning to the right, she keeps on down the sidewalk, heels clicking. Thankfully she’s so used to them, even an unsteady gait born of dizziness doesn’t twist her ankles. A few curious passersby give her strange looks, but none make to stop her.

Good.

It’s late enough most other doors are locked and lights out, but by some grace she finds a place alight and open. An old brass handle turns in her hand, letting her into...wherever. At this point, it doesn’t matter. Anywhere is better than there.

Once in, she pushes the portal closed, leaning against it and heaving a weary sigh.

...and then notices something odd.

It’s completely and utterly silent. Such a change from her prior surroundings, her ears begin to ring.

Lifting her head, she takes in the building properly. At first glance, it appears to be nothing more than a second hand or antique shop. The building itself is also old, with crown moulding and rich wooden floors, worn but shining. The smell of old paper permeates the air.

Feeling almost like she’s stepped into another world, Hinata then realizes the door has a glass panel, through which she can be seen. Hefting upright, she moves between rows of shelves to better hide herself from view. And, with nothing else to do, she starts looking through the merchandise.

In truth, it...doesn’t look like much. Random knick knacks, decor, old-fashioned tools and kitchenware. It’s like someone went through every grandmother’s house and looted them, putting whatever they can find into the bins and rows.

It’s...bizarre, and not at all what she expected to find on the same street as the fancy hotel her father almost always rents for his parties. But at least that means it should be one of the last places Hiashi or his goons think to look for her. She walks slowly down the aisle, wondering if something might catch her eye while she’s here.

“...what are you doing?”

Jolting with a gasp, Hinata turns to see she’s no longer alone. At the head of the aisle where she came from, a man about her age eyes her almost suspiciously.

What an odd way to treat a customer, but...well, on second thought, she’s a little overdressed to be shopping for...whatever this stuff is.

“I, um…” How to explain…? “Someone was...following me, so I stepped in. Are...are you open?”

“...yes,” he replies after a pause, clearly weighing her story. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes - I’m fine. I’m sure they won’t think to look for me in -” She catches herself, not wanting to be rude. “...here.”

That earns a hint of a snort. “Well...I’m open another half hour, so...stay as long as you like until then.”

“Thank you…” She watches him turn back and vanish from view.

A nagging in the back of her mind sees her follow.

“May I...ask what your store is called? I, um...I m-missed the sign on the way in…”

“Curiosities.”

“...is -? Is that the whole name?”

“Did you expect something more?” he counters, stepping behind a register at the rear of the room.

“I...guess I didn’t know what to expect.”

He leans on his arms, looking her over. “...I find things that are unwanted, and try to find the person who’s meant to want them,” is his cryptic explanation.

“People look for -?” Again she cuts off, realizing she’s...about to be very rude. “...I’m sorry. I’ve, um...I’ve never been to an antique shop before…”

“That’s not exactly what this is, but...a close enough guess.”

Something about his refusal furrows her brow. Is he...hiding something? “How do you find these...curiosities?”

“Most are happenstance. Some I look for specifically. Though those sorts of wares are kept in the back.”

“Because they’re...valuable?”

“To the right people, yes.”

Another pause at his odd reply. “...I should introduce myself,” Hinata then backpedals. “I’m Hinata. Hinata Hyūga.”

“Sasuke Uchiha. And what do you do for a living that’s clearly above the par of a humble shopkeeper?”

His jab makes her go pink. ��...I’m, um...I’m a journalist.”

“Hm...you have the air about you. Maybe that’s why you ended up here.”

“...I beg your pardon?”

“It’s Curiosities,” he replies, a grin curling one corner of his mouth. “Only people who are looking for something tend to find their way to my little shop. And journalists are always looking for something. A new story, a new point of intrigue.”

“Well, this...place is rather intriguing,” she agrees, glancing around again.

“One way to put it, yes.”

“As is the man behind the counter.”

His smirk seems to grow, and for a flicker of a moment, as his head tilts, Hinata swears there’s a ruby-red shine to his otherwise dark eyes. “I’d argue that my wares are the true point of interest, but...I can’t deny another’s observations.”

Suddenly, Hinata feels her inner writer coming out. “So...is this a family shop?” she asks casually.

“You could say that. It’s been in the line for quite some time.”

“Anyone else help run it?”

At that, Sasuke seems to hang up for a moment, and an unreadable look passes over his face. “...no, just me.”

“...was that a bad question?”

“No. I...had an elder brother, but...he passed some time ago.”

Shocked sympathy wilts her features. “...I’m so sorry.”

“It’s in the past. Feels like it was centuries ago now, but...well, even old scars can ache.”

She mutes for a long moment. “...seems awfully quiet.”

“Yes, my clientele tends to be...sporadic. Or by appointment.”

“Appointment?”

“People call looking for something in particular, and I...acquire it. We then arrange to meet.”

In spite of herself, Hinata gives a soft laugh. “Sounds suspicious.”

“Any business dealing is, in the right light. But I can assure you, it’s all perfectly legal.” His smile begins to return.

Opening her mouth to speak again, Hinata hesitates as a buzz sounds in the little handbag she’s miraculously kept ahold of. “Oh, sorry...my phone…”

“No apology needed.”

Bringing up her mobile, Hinata grimaces at her father’s name.

“...unwanted conversation?”

“Unwanted lecture,” she sighs, muting it. Guilt and apprehension grow, but...she’ll find some excuse. Her headache is gone, but...well, Hiashi won’t have to know that. “Still, I...should probably be going. It’s getting late, and...I’m doing l-little more than pester you.”

“Pester away. As you said, it’s quiet...a bit of conversation is nice now and again. Perhaps you can do a proper piece about the place another time, since you seem to find it so curious.”

His quip earns a laugh, then a pause. Right...there’s that other piece her father wants her to write.

...she’ll think about that in the morning.

“It was nice to meet you, Sasuke. Um...thanks for letting me hide out in here,” Hinata then offers sheepishly.

“Of course. I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting a gown-clad maiden in tonight, but...you’d be surprised what other sorts of characters I end up with in here.”

“You’ve already sold me on the place, you know,” she replies with a smile. “No need to keep whetting my appetite. I’ll be back.”

“Just being thorough,” he replies, giving a wave as she peers out the door, and then trots back the way she came. “...hm…”

With a trill, a feathery figure alights upon a stand that rests atop the counter.

“Yes, yes...she’s gone. Thank you for behaving yourself.”

A bird of gold and auburn plumage blinks vermillion eyes at him, a small comb of fire flickering along her regal head. But as Sasuke gives it fond strokes, it doesn’t burn him.

“Yet...I wonder…” Looking back to the door, he seems to sink into thought. “It’s very rare we get anyone el’tahl in here. Maybe she has some ven buried in her bloodline, hm?”

In response, the phoenix gives another melodic flow of notes.

“You liked her, did you? Well, that’s all the convincing I need. We’ll have to see how deep she manages to dig when she comes back. But for now, time to call it a night.”

With a snap, the lights extinguish, lock bolting shut at the front. In his hand, an orb of revolving fire lights his way through the back door. Here, objects clearly not meant for unenlightened human eyes glow, spin, float, and hum.

“...how deep, indeed.”

     So this is very late because wow my toothache is...unreal. I’m so sorry, guys. It’s also not what I first envisioned but sometimes characters just veer you off course! I was going to have this be vampire-themed but instead we got...this!      Which is...technically another crossover with a work of my own. DL is mostly a medieval-fantasy sort of world, BUT I do have one story in it so far that’s modern. And Sasuke is being directly crossed with one of the characters, but uh...it’d take a lot to explain and possibly spoil things so we’ll just leave the mystery intact xD      Anyway, I’m...totally exhausted and technically still in pain. Might be going to a dentist tomorrow, no idea, so...I dunno when I’ll get more done since I’m still behind. Thank you for your patience - I WILL finish this event one way or another, it just might be delayed because life things, woo. Buuut on that note, I’ll be heading off. Thanks for reading!

[beca-mitchell]

Swiped Right (Hey, We Got a Good Thing) (1/1)

Summary: There has to be a rule about mixing Tinder with business. Rated M/E for sex.

A/N: For a donor to my birthday fundraiser. You didn’t send a prompt, but there wasn’t any way I was going to let you off the hook for this. There were rules! I know how much you love your AUs! Sooo, here’s a 3.1k smutty mess of coworkers and Tinder.

Thank you to my beta @cptkrieger.

The title (and maybe a bit of the premise) is inspired by "Digital Love" by Digital Farm Animals, feat. Hailee Steinfeld.

Word count: 3,159

Read on AO3 or below.

– – – – –

Beca wakes up in her bed, cold and alone. It was extremely tempting to take Chloe up on her offer – a very generous offer – to stay over again. She had promised that Beca wouldn’t be late for her first day of work, but Beca had thought of how beautiful Chloe’s apartment had been, compared to the clanging pipes and shoddy handiwork of her own charming little apartment. Nothing like the clean white walls and glass windows of Chloe’s high-rise in midtown.

She never did figure out what Chloe did for a job. There was not really a lot of room for talking. Thank you, Tinder, Beca thinks.

In any case, if she took Chloe up on her offer, it was likely that Beca would have been very late to work, to say the least. So she settled on declining, but promising to call Chloe again – probably over the weekend – so they could schedule another date. Hopefully with more eating food and getting to know each other and less–

Well. It wasn’t like she didn’t get to know Chloe. She vividly recalls the way Chloe’s skin felt beneath her hands, as inch-by-inch, Chloe slowly revealed more and more skin, right down to the gorgeous and likely expensive black lace lingerie set. Beca had fun peeling that off Chloe’s body. She had even more fun figuring out what sounds Chloe could make with Beca’s tongue buried as far as it could go in Chloe’s wet cunt.

Fuck.

Beca jolts, not realizing she had nodded off. She attempts to rid herself of the last vestiges of Chloe’s moans from her brain and fumbles for her phone on the bedside table. Peering at the time, she is relieved to see that she is still “early” by her standards and there is more than enough time to make herself presentable.

Upon catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she is horrified to see the fading hickey on her neck like a reminder of two nights ago. She had hoped it would fade in time, but as persistently as Chloe had been in bringing Beca to orgasm not once, not twice, but three times in one go, her hickeys appear to be equally persistent.

“Damn it,” Beca mutters. She prods at the bruised skin, relieved to note it isn’t particularly tender. She would prefer not to have to waste time on extra make-up, but she figures it wouldn’t be professional if her new boss had to stare at the evidence of Beca’s fun weekend all day. Beca doesn’t really know who her boss is as of yet, just that she is a woman who apparently would prefer if Beca referred to her as “Miss Beale” on the job. The other assistant and HR manager who interviewed Beca all those weeks ago had seemed fairly terrified yet completely in awe of their tyrant boss. Beca enjoys imagining what this woman will be like. On some days, she has slicked back hair and black suits for days. On others, she’s elderly and stern, with glasses persistently perched on the bridge of her nose. Most other days, she’s faceless and Beca resigns herself to her own curiosity. 

This is a job, like any other. Enough to placate her father while she works on her music. The extra money will help even if Beca thinks her YouTube money is more than enough for the moment. Alas, New York is expensive.

Holding up her concealer, she sighs and begins to get ready for her first day of work.

 – – – – – – – – – –

 Chloe Beale is having a Bad Monday Morning. Typically her New York mornings are far from pleasant, especially considering she works in midtown. The short walk from her apartment to the office means that she has to interact with at least ten people. ‘Interact’ is a little loose. Depending on the day, she passes at least four catcallers, at least two people trying to sell her on some cause or another, and at least twenty tourists. For whatever reason, today is even worse.

It likely might be that she had to get herself off the previous night because she had sorely missed her last bedmate. She is not typically one to resign herself to lusting over bed-warmers and Tinder dates, but Beca had been something different. Somebody special, she’s sure of it. Even while she had been steadily fucking Beca from behind, firmly rocking her fingers deeper through Beca’s folds and Beca had been an incoherent sobbing mess, Chloe had somehow wanted nothing more than to curl up with this woman and learn more about her life. Beca had been remarkably interesting over drinks – bright eyed and passionate in a way that sparked something new and something old in Chloe.

She missed passion.

It also didn’t help that Beca had been amenable to sleepy morning sex the next day. As the sunlight peeked through Chloe’s automatic curtains and she had tangled her fingers into Beca’s hair, it had felt like the most stability in a long time. Like warmth that had nothing to do with the way the sunlight began to stream in.

“I’ll see you again, right?” Chloe had asked, trying not to sound desperate. “I...had fun, honestly.”

Beca had softened and pulled her scarf around herself – a beautiful vintage scarf, passed down from her mother – before nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Tonight?” Chloe had tried hopefully. “We can...we can get dinner this time,” she said. She had blushed a little at the way Beca’s eyes track down her barely clothed body. She had tossed on an old t-shirt and tiny shorts to whip up a quick mug of coffee for Beca before she left. “You can uh,” she cleared her throat. “Totally stay over again, if that’s what you want.”

Beca’s face had fallen. “Maybe not tonight. I have work tomorrow.” She wrinkled her nose. “I heard you should be...early for your first day of work at a new job. Something like that anyway.”

Chloe sighs at the memory and tries not to think about the slow heat building in her chest and between her legs. Beca had kissed her goodbye – one of the sweetest and most tender kisses Chloe had ever experienced in her life.

“Good morning to you too,” Aubrey greets when Chloe brushes past her on the way out of the elevator. “We have that big quarterly report due at the end of this week. Don’t forget, Chloe.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Chloe calls back. She makes a beeline for her office, hoping against hope that Gabrielle has remembered to at least get her coffee early today. 

“Here you go, Ms. Beale,” Gabrielle chimes in from her left suddenly, nearly making Chloe drop her handbag. “Soy latte?”

“Thank you,” Chloe murmurs gratefully. She accepts the cup, pleased by the warmth in her hand. “Agenda?”

“Nothing too heavy until around eleven. Harris wants to see you about the campaign we’re going to start up soon for the Superbowl. Oh, and your new assistant starts today.”

Chloe blinks. “Aren’t you my new assistant?”

“Well...another new assistant?” Gabrielle tries. “We need more talented hands on board, I guess.”

Talented hands.

Chloe is thrown into another memory, unbidden. She sighs heavily and settles into her chair. “Okay, just...give me a moment. Can you print out copies of the contract?”

“Sure thing.”

On that ridiculously-chipper-for-a-Monday note, Chloe rests her chin on her palm and slips into her memory more fully, wondering if this is bordering on desperation. Or if she is so past the desperate line that it doesn’t really even matter.

 – – – – – – – – – –

  Beca's hands are everywhere. “Talented hands,” Chloe had joked earlier in the evening over drinks, when Beca had explained that she was a musician and struggling producer.

She is decidedly not laughing now as Beca’s hands slide down her shoulder blades, like determined little caresses. Hands on her hips, her ass, grabbing her thighs. Everywhere all at once, like Beca can’t quite decide which part of Chloe she wants to hold on to, so she pays every inch of skin equal attention.

The sensation makes Chloe’s head spin. She has to gasp for air and pull away from their kiss so she can just take a moment to take in Beca. Beca, lying beneath her, chest heaving. Chloe bites her lip, sitting up more fully astride Beca’s narrow hips. Boldly, she rests her palms on Beca’s nipples, shivering a little when they press back insistently against her hand. Beca whimpers, the sound escaping past kiss-swollen lips.

“Touch me,” Beca rasps. “Please.”

Chloe pouts. “I want you to touch me.”

There is something in the way Beca succumbs to obedience. The way she draws her lower lip between her teeth and runs her hands up Chloe’s thighs in a faux-soothing manner. Her thumbs begin to dip further down, nearing the place where Chloe aches for her. Where she is wet and smearing traces of her own arousal across Beca’s lower belly.

And all because Beca touched her when asked.

Talented hands, indeed. 

– – – – – – – – – –

“Your new assistant is here.”

“Send them in,” Chloe says distractedly. She sighs when the door creaks open again and stands from her desk. Gabrielle moves to sit in the corner of her office while–

Beca ?

Chloe barely stops herself from saying Beca’s name aloud.

Because she’s there. She is literally standing there, wearing a cute scarf and jacket. Her hair is up, which is different, but not unpleasant.

Oh crap, Chloe thinks, as her Monday spirals to new depths.

“Hi,” Beca says, more timid than Chloe remembers her.

(It has nothing to do with how Beca had rigorously chanted her name, back arched and head tilted back.)

“Who are you?” Chloe blurts before her brain can really reconnect with her mouth.

A million images must pass through both their minds. She can see it on Beca’s face.

Beca glances quickly at Gabrielle. “I’m your...new assistant.” She blinks. “Beca. Beca Mitchell.”

Each step Chloe takes towards Beca is another step closer to the person who has been on her mind for the last forty-eight hours at least. Though the blazer isn’t quite the leather jacket Beca had sported over her pretty red dress, this look is equally appealing.

“Nice to meet you, Beca,” Chloe says as steadily as she can. Beca reaches out to shake her hand, her eyes darting around Chloe’s face with a kind of nervous energy. “I can tell we’re going to work so well together.”

 – – – – – – – – – –

 “So,” Chloe says once she has collected herself. She moves to stand by Beca at the counter in the thankfully empty kitchenette area. She watches Beca fumble with the Keurig cup she had been holding and gives her a moment to compose herself. When Beca turns to face her, Chloe is struck by how beautifully blue Beca’s eyes are. “Am I going to see you again?”

“I’ll text you,” Beca replies, but it is light and playful. “Uh, why didn’t you tell me you worked here? I could have asked for a transfer or something if we had, I don’t know. Figured this out earlier.” Her eyes flit everywhere across Chloe’s face, lingering on her eyes, then her lips.

Chloe’s heart races. “Is there a reason why...you would need to transfer?”

Beca’s brow furrows like she is attempting to figure Chloe out. “Uh, because...isn’t this a conflict of interest? Or like. Is there a rule about having fucked your boss?”

“Who was doing the fucking?” Chloe asks before she can help herself.

Beca’s eyes widen almost comically, then she seems to relax. The tiniest of smirks spreads across her lips. “I think it was pretty even.”

Beca looks so smug. Chloe kind of just wants to kiss that smug expression right off her face.

Beca takes her staring as something else. “Oh shit,” she says quickly. “Am I going to be fired? Like, actually fired?”

Chloe shakes her head quickly. “No, just. We’ll figure something out.” She glances down at Beca’s hand and reaches out to graze the back of her hand with her fingers. “I...do want to see you again. And we probably shouldn’t be working so closely together. But I’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Beca relaxes at that. Her entire body softens and sags. It is completely adorable. She adjusts her scarf nervously – the same one she wore on their date, Chloe notes with delight – and nods. “Okay, I trust you. And I do want to have another date. WIth more talking and stuff. But I wouldn’t be opposed to...staying over again,” she mumbles. “If that’s appropriate for me to say, Ms. Beale.”

Chloe’s eyes flash. “Meet me at the bathroom on the fifteenth floor. The one at the end of the West hallway.” She checks her watch. “At around two-thirty.” 

Beca swallows. “Uh, sure.” She tries not to nod too eagerly. “Sure, two-thirty. You got it, boss.”

Chloe straightens and part of her professional mask slips back across her face. “Meanwhile, I’ve got some work for you to do.”

 – – – – – – – – – –

 It ends up being very difficult for Beca to focus on anything, really. Not while Chloe leans over her shoulder. Despite the appropriate distance, Beca still catches a whiff of Chloe’s perfume. She can still feel her body heat radiating against her shoulder.

Chloe’s slender fingers pointing out specific folders and charts on the company server.

A quick glance at the way Chloe’s lips twitch into somewhat of a smirk – an impressive smirk, Beca would know – and Beca knows Chloe is playing with her.

 – – – – – – – – – –

  Beca thinks that Chloe’s laugh – her giggle – is the prettiest sound she’s ever heard. She watches in awe as Chloe slumps against her pillows. Absentmindedly, Beca swipes at the trace of wetness along her chin and climbs up Chloe’s body slowly and surely so that they are pressed together intimately once more.

“Aren’t you tired?” Chloe asks softly. Her fingers run through Beca’s hair. She doesn’t stop smiling.

Beca steals a quick kiss from Chloe’s lips. Quick so she can retreat and look at Chloe’s smile again.

God, she’s cheesy. It’s weird though, Beca doesn’t feel any urge to retreat or run away. She just wants more of it.

She wants to know if it is normal to feel such an intense connection to somebody, despite their seemingly limited communication. The whole premise of matching with each other just to hook up. The whole idea of never seeing Chloe again.

The idea of that makes her heart pound uncomfortably, so she kisses Chloe again, well into the night.

 – – – – – – – – – –

 The good news is, Aubrey finally agrees to take Beca off her hands after an inquisition that lasted at least twenty-five minutes. Maybe thirty.

The bad news is, that means Beca will be working exactly one floor above Chloe and she won’t get to see her often.

The fantastic news is, Chloe won’t feel so guilty about wanting to date Beca because she’s no longer Chloe’s subordinate. And they’re barely considered co-workers – at least not so strictly – because Aubrey runs her team like a tight ship.

There might be additional bad news in that Beca has no idea what’s in for her, when she starts working for Aubrey.

But Aubrey promised a mild pay increase.

 – – – – – – – – – –

 Two-thirty can’t come fast enough. But when it does–

“Fuck,” Beca rasps. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all day.” 

Chloe lifts her head from Beca’s neck, stilling her hand. “You have?” she asks, trying not to sound too hopeful. She had shared the Great News with Beca earlier, though Beca had been confused as to why Gabrielle and another intern had given her sympathetic looks.

But that’s all for another day (tomorrow).

Now, Beca looks like she might start to cry. “Y-yeah. Yeah,” she grits out. Her hips shift restlessly with some difficulty with how Chloe has her pinned against the wall. “God, don’t stop, Beale.”

Beca hadn’t known her last name before – two nights ago. She hadn’t known anything except “Chloe” or “Chlo” or various, stuttered iterations of Chloe’s name.

So it sends a bolt of arousal straight to Chloe’s core when Beca moans her last name like it’s the last thing she will ever do.

Chloe curls her fingers in a beckoning motion. Beca’s head thumps back against the wall, exposing her neck for Chloe to nibble at playfully. 

“Harder?” she asks innocently, like she’s asking Beca whether she finished her photocopying task. Not like she’s asking if Beca needs her to fuck her into oblivion in the middle of the day in a private bathroom.

“God yes,” Beca moans out. It echoes nicely around the room. Chloe is so grateful that past two-thirty, this floor is basically empty.

“Tell me how much harder,” Chloe orders.

“Chloe,” Beca whimpers.

“Beca,” she responds, leaning in to brush her nose against Beca’s jaw. “Tell me.” A muffled scream sounds from Beca’s throat. Slowly pushing Beca back against the ledge so she is more firmly stabilized, Chloe lifts her now-free hand to Beca’s mouth without really pressing down on her lips. “I want to hear you,” she murmurs.

Instead of responding again, Beca takes her fingers into her mouth and sucks. It makes Chloe jolt hard against Beca’s body and she becomes more cognizant of her growing need between her legs – how her clit seems to ache and pulse with each shift of her fingers inside Beca. Beca, for her part, finally releases Chloe’s fingers from her mouth and gasps out a series of short, steady breaths.

Chloe twists her wrist and thrusts hard, once more. 

Beca falls apart in her arms breathlessly. 

Chloe trails kisses up and down Beca’s neck and jaw. She had been amused to see Beca examining her hickey in the mirror earlier. She doesn’t intend to leave another one, but the fact that she left one at all (“Oops, I really didn’t mean to,” she had said apologetically without any real apology in her voice.) had sent the hottest streak of possession through her body. Now, she just wants to coax Beca down from her orgasm and linger in the moment as long as possible.

“Was that congrats-on-getting-the-job sex?” is the first thing Beca asks when she catches her breath.

“I mean, who’s to say?” Chloe says, backing away so Beca can push herself from the counter ledge. “There should probably be some thank-you-for-getting-me-the-job sex. Maybe.” She raises an eyebrow, waiting to see what Beca will do or say.

Beca raises an eyebrow back – Chloe was always going to lose this battle – and slowly sinks to her knees.

“You know,” Chloe says in a matter-of-fact tone. “This is the cleanest bathroom in our company. Maybe the building.” Words keep spilling out of her as Beca’s hands begin pulling her underwear down. “Don’t ask me why. It just–” her breath hitches. “It just is,” she whispers, the moment Beca’s lips start trailing up her thigh.

Beca, as it turns out, is very grateful for the job.

fin.

[mischiefandmystics]

Quirks and little details

✒️ — How does your muse hold a pen? Sun’ra holds writing utensils in a tight grip, using his middle finger to brace the tip against the nail bed of his ring finger, he also tightly clutches the barrel of whatever he’s writing with between his forefinger and thumb. This becomes very uncomfortable when he is writing for long periods, and it is not uncommon for him to accidentally snap a writing utensil from gripping it too hard.

👖 — How does your muse position their legs whilst sitting? Often, Sun’ra straddles a chair in a reverse sitting position, leaning forward with arms crossed atop the back of it. Otherwise, he tends to lean back, and may cross one leg over the other, or lean forward on it. If sitting on the ground, Sun’ra most often crouches, rather than sits, balanced on the balls of his feet.

💺 — How does your muse adjust themselves in their seat? Freely, quietly, and without second thought. If Sun’ra is uncomfortable, he will adjust himself as quickly as possible, and may opt to simply stand or crouch if he finds the other seating options simply not up to standard.

📚 — Does your muse dog-ear or use a bookmark when reading? Sun’ra is the type to both dog-ear a book, and to abundantly mark it up as he goes through. From highlighting words and passages, to writing or doodling in the margins, he tends to be very active with his reading. Any book that Sun’ra has perused is likely to have many pages dog-earred, not just to mark where he had left off, but also any pages that might have included information to note, phrases to remember, or ideas he wants to explore or study.

💭 — How does your muse physically focus themselves whilst in deep thought? To focus himself, Sun’ra will often roll himself a joint and take a hit or two. He finds his focus to be more streamlined for whatever a task at hand might be. He also finds both the sound and the rhythmic action of drumming his claws against something to be helpful when thinking about the words another has spoken, or what his next move should be in a conversation or action.

🤞 — What behavioural ticks give your muse away when they are lying? Sun’ra actually does not like lying, nor is he fond of liars, so he generally will try to tell the truth in most situations. If he feels that the truth will work against his goals, he will simply not answer, or attempt to change the subject. As such, it is not so much trying to figure out if Sun’ra is lying to you, but if he is avoiding telling you all that he knows. Either way, the most direct hint that can tip you off that conversation is broaching on something he does not want to discuss, is if Sun’ra is not looking at you while speaking, or a sudden uptick in irritable responses.

🚘 — What bad driving habits has your muse picked up?

💬 — Does your muse talk or sing to themselves when alone? While Sun’ra does not speak aloud or mutter to himself, he is prone to singing and humming to himself. These songs are usually some kind of sky pirate shanty he has picked up, or some somber tune he has overheard while around refugees and others downtrodden. 

👁 — Under what situations does your muse flinch or look away? Sun’ra will flinch if caught off guard by a sudden movement towards him in a proximity of his close personal space. Usually his flinching consists of the near-instantaneous appearance of a throwing dagger though. He is inclined to look away when he has lost interest, or if he has not lost interest, but something of new interest has caught his attention, or if during a conversation he is adjusting his response to avoid both the  truth and a lie.

🛌 — How does your muse position themselves in bed? This mostly depends on if there is someone sharing the bed with him or not. If Sun’ra is alone, than he is likely to sprawl himself out. Whether on his front, or on his back, he may just starfish out on the bed, taking up as much space and blanket/sheet as possible. If sharing a bed with someone, Sun’ra is prone to curling into a fetal position. If the bed-mate is not someone he is fond of, this is likely to be with his back towards them, but if it is someone he is fond of, he will most likely attempt to spoon them, and if spooning is rejected, turn away from them.

🔎 — When searching for something, does your muse use their eyes or their hands? Eyes, and then hands. Sun’ra is the type, that when something is lost or he is looking for something, will stop completely in movement and scan the area visually for the thing in question, or any thing or place that the target in question may be located. He will mentally list these things, and after scanning the entire area and making note of every potential location, will methodically check each and every one in extreme detail.

📏 — How does your muse adjust to others that are taller or shorter to them? Outside of tilting his head up or down so that he may look them in the face, he does not adjust. How tall or short someone is in comparison to him means nothing to him.

⏰ — What is the first thing your muse does after getting out of bed? Generally, when Sun’ra wakes up he will head outside to both stretch and do breathing exercises during the last light of the sun. Normally this will consist of various yoga poses and Nauli Kriya breathing exercises, but is not always the case. Sometimes, the first thing he does is roll himself a joint and lie in bed to mentally plot out a list of things he needs or wants to do while awake, or note the various schemes he needs to move forward or follow up on.

🚶 — Does your muse sit up straight or do they slouch? Sun’ra tends to sit up straight. He has a bit of poise that makes him seem as if he is always prepared to react to a person’s actions. He does slouch, but that is generally only when he is exclusively around people he trusts completely, and seems to be an action that he has to be particularly conscious of to do.

👓 — If your muse wears glasses, how do they adjust them? He does not wear glasses for sight, but does wear sunglasses when out during the daytime hours or if the light is particularly harsh. If he needs to adjust them for whatever reason, he’ll generally use the back of the second knuckle of his index finger to push them up the bridge of his nose.

❓ — Does your muse bend down to look at something on the floor or do they pick it up first? Sun’ra will probably just lower his eyes without changing his posture at all to look at something on the floor. If the something in question is particularly interesting, or if he cannot get a real good look at it, he will then either tilt his head, or crouch down close to it to give a real good once over, and probably a few good pokes. If Sun’ra picks something up, he is probably intending to keep it... Or throw it.

🔑 — Where does your muse keep their keys? Sun’ra has one(1) key, which grants outside entrance to his personal residences that he keeps hidden within a secret pocket sewn on the inside of his shirt. The only other “key” that Sun’ra possesses is actually his tongue ring... Which is kept in his mouth, and grants access to the various secret chambers and locations that his first key does not.

🤧 — How does your muse cover their cough or sneeze? Do they apologise for it after? Do they comment if someone else does? He pauses, takes a deep breath, turns his head and coughs or sneezes into the crook of his elbow. He does this with the intention of clearing out all that has triggered the reaction in one go in the hopes of preventing fits. The concept of apologizing after a sneeze or cough never crosses his mind, but he may offer a ‘bless you’ after someone else sneezes... Which may get annoying as if he does it after one, he will do it after every subsequent one in the case of a sneezing fit. Sun’ra will not acknowledge a cough at all unless the person is coughing on him, or if they seem to be ill and is not covering their own nose and mouth.

👋 — What objects or movements does your muse utilise while fidgeting? Sun’ra’s only fidgeting type habit is drumming his claws against a surface while thinking. He tends to find fidgeting annoying, and wishes for people to remain still. 

📎 — How does your muse react to a paper cut or scratch? Pleasure.  Sun’ra finds small, persistent pains enjoyable to a weird degree. A small, sharp, consistent pain such as a paper cut is a curious sensation for him, and he is likely to rub a finger against it every so often to keep the area agitated for just a bit longer than necessary..

🛋 — Does your muse sit on one end of the sofa, in the middle, on an arm, or sprawled across it? If the space is available, or if someone he likes is already sitting on the couch, he will sprawl himself across it, lying his head in the person’s lap or against the arm of the sofa. Otherwise, Sun’ra will tend towards the middle of the sofa, claiming it for himself while forcing any other person to be seated directly beside him.

‼️ — What everyday object does your muse most often lose track of? Sun’ra does not lose track of his everyday objects... Because he uses them... Every day...

💻 — What is your muse’s computer or phone password? What is their primary device’s wallpaper? If Sun’ra had a computer or phone, he would probably opt for one that uses the fingerprint of iris scan for a password, rather than anything typed. He would find that technology amusing and would want to indulge it. As for wallpaper, he would probably flip between it being a selfie of him with the various people that he is fond of, and a picture of someone he has brutalized or murdered so as bring him back to that moment.

👜 — What does your muse keep in their wallet or handbag? Nothing because he does not carry either of these.

[agentkgent]

Fic: If You Want It Back

Chapter One: You’d Probably Think (Tumblr | AO3)

Chapter Two: If You Knew | Read on AO3

(This is a short chapter, mostly establishing that our boys are on opposite sides of the country as adults; They do not remember each other and they are not happy; this isn’t necessarily a HAPPY chapter, but it’s setting up for some cavity-inducing sweet fluff heading your way!)

- - -

Eddie | 39

“Eddie, there just won’t be enough room for all of this!” Myra insists, gesturing to the boxes of clothes.

Eddie gives a half-hearted chuckle and runs a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart, I need space for my stuff, too.”

Myra quirks her eyebrow at him and continues to argue. “This is my closet. That was the deal.”

“Honey, it’s attached to our bedroom.”

Myra turns icy at his response. “It is my closet. We’re in this tiny apartment that you wanted, that you said was so important, and I said I need my own walk-in closet. That was the deal.”

“Myra, this apartment is hardly tiny. And I have to be able to put my clothes away.”

“There’s a dresser over there,” she points.

He looks for a moment. “How can I fit all my things in three drawers?”

Myra shrugs carelessly. “And I didn’t get my craft room. Figure it out, Eddie.”

He sighs in defeat. “Yes, dear, I know.”

Eddie and Myra Kaspbrak are finally moving into their first home in New York - an apartment just south of Midtown Manhattan. It’d been a long time coming, a lot of long, frustrating conversations on home amenities and proximity to the airport. He had to do a lot of traveling, after all.

Eddie knows this isn’t what Myra wanted. What she wanted was a two-story, four-bedroom, two-bath modern home and a fucking jacuzzi in the backyard. If he had a nickel for every time he had to say, “I just don’t make enough money, sweetheart,” or “That’s too far a drive from JFK,” and “We may need to move, I can’t get locked into a mortgage just yet.” He mine as well have been negotiating with his mother. (God rest her soul.) Myra only understood that Eddie made “good money” with the insurance company. To her, that meant they made “plenty of money” to afford whatever she wanted.

He pulls off his jacket, and pulls up his long sleeves to get to work on his boxes of clothes.

“Eddie-bear, you know you don’t need all those clothes. Just get rid of some things,” Myra says from inside her closet. He refuses to turn around and watch her carefully placing her designer handbags and shoes. “Just keep work clothes out and leave the rest in storage.”

“Sure and I’ll just sleep in my work clothes, too.” He says quietly to himself. He carefully cuts open the first box and looks over the stack of nicely folded shirts in air-tight bags, organized by color. He pushes the box to the side and moves onto the next box, that reads “Eddie: Miscellaneous” on the side in marker. This one might actually contain stuff he can get rid of to appease his wife.

His wife.

Eddie loves Myra. Of course he loves his wife. Eddie is a good man with a good job and goals and loves his wife very much. Myra was the perfect woman for him, exactly his type. He enjoys kissing her. He enjoys sleeping with her. She takes care of him. She loves him. Not a lot of people love Eddie, but Myra does. She’s his better half. She keeps him in check. Keeps him focused on what’s important. ...Which, would be her, he guesses?

The key to a healthy, successful marriage is repeating these things over and over again until they’re real, right?

He hears his lovely, selfless, caring wife strut out of the room towards their new living room.

He cuts open the “miscellaneous” box, full of clothes that are not in air-tight baggies nor are they organized by color. He can already smell age on them, possibly dust and mildew from sitting in his mother’s storage. He pulls a few items out, looking at them and then back inside the box. There’s not too many things in here, but it’s obvious they are not from his adulthood. He then examines the few clothing items he’s pulled out - an old fannypack (From when he was a kid, always carrying his meds around. That can go;) an old pair of pajamas (Myra will yell at him for wearing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pajamas like a teenager. These can go;) a couple old polo shirts (From college, probably. And probably too small by now. They can go;), a zip-up hoodie…

The hoodie looks like it might fit. (But he never wears ash-gray, it’s too cheap-looking for his tastes.) It is a jacket hoodie, might be nice for layering in cold New York winters. He looks over its condition. It’s very worn, almost like it’s supposed to look vintage. One of the wrist cuffs is ripped open at the seam, like someone’s been shoving their fingers through it, something only an annoying kid would do. There’s also a rusty brown stain on the opposite cuff, which is undoubtedly blood. Ew. He looks at the zipper of the jacket, which is missing a metal tab, and extra difficult to zip. Okay, well that’s great. There is no size or manufacturer tag, it’s apparently been ripped out. The strings coming out of the hoodie near the neck are discolored and dingy, and ...are those bite marks at the plastic ends? Disgusting.

There are dark, hard spots around the edges of the pockets on the front. He rubs his thumb across them gently, and knows. They’re cigarette burns. Wow. Well, this definitely wasn’t his, he’s never smoked a day in his life. He would really like to not die of cancer, thank you very much.

His thoughts are abruptly cut short when Eddie subconsciously catches a whiff of the jacket. Undoubtedly, he smells cigarette smoke. Maybe even marijuana, which he’s never touched. But there’s more than that. He pulls the jacket closer to his face, closes his eyes, and smells.

Body spray. Not the nice cologne Eddie wears, but some kind of cheap, douchey-smelling body spray meant to impress girls. Wood. Burning wood, like a bonfire. And… sweat. Someone else’s sweat. Which really should be gross, and it sort of is first, but he keeps breathing it in. It’s an unidentifiable, masculine smell from someone this hoodie belonged to.

There’s something warm in his chest. His heart is pounding as he inhales the jacket’s bouquet over and over again.

“It’s one of my faves.” He can hear a voice say quietly, from somewhere dark in his brain.

His hands are shaking as he sets it down and wipes his hand across his mouth and nose, fidgeting. His mind is racing to identify where this jacket came from, but he can’t complete his mental search. There’s like, nothingness where he expects to find answers. He can feel sweat forming on his forehead and his throat getting tighter. What is happening? Is this an asthma attack? He hasn’t had an attack in years. He puts his hand on his chest and forces himself to breath at a steadier pace, in and out, in and out.

“Eddie-bear, you ok?” He’s startled for a moment. How long was Myra standing there?

He clears his throat. “Yes, dear, I’m okay.” Gotta make up something to throw her off, he doesn’t want her thinking he has ever smoked. She’d never let him live it down. “Just trying to figure out if this is clean or not.”

Myra rips the hoodie from his hand, Eddie grasps at it pathetically. “Why? What does it smell like?” She holds the hood of it up to her nose, then scrunches her face at it. “It doesn’t smell like anything. Just smells dirty.” She tosses it back to him. “Also, it’s torn up. Why do you still have it?” She steps across the wood floors back towards her precious closet. “Just throw it out.”

He knows already this isn’t even his jacket. He just… doesn’t understand why he has it. What he does know is getting rid of it is not an option. He needs this. He’s… supposed to return it, he thinks.

He decides that there is room for it. So he folds it tightly and sticks it in the back of his bottom dresser drawer, where he hopes Myra won’t ever notice it.

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

Richie | 39

Richie wants to fall asleep. Everything will be easier if he just falls asleep. Everything will be over sooner if he just falls asleep.

He looks at his smart watch. It’s 2:40 a.m.

He’s lying on his bed in his LA home, naked except for his boxers, next to a stranger he has just had sex with. The sex was fine, pretty standard. She wasn’t interested in foreplay, which he doesn’t mind because he’s not good at pretending to enjoy it. He’s not really interested in her. She’s not interested in him either, he thinks. She’s probably just interested in writing about it on one of those bullshit ‘celebrity sex review’ blogs. A part of him kind of hopes, actually.

He’s sure of one thing: he wants her out of his home so he can continue to be miserable in peace.

The bed is shifting and he can feel a hand on his chest.

“You okay?” The stranger asks in an innocent voice that fools no one. She’s pretty enough. Rich, dark hair and brown eyes. Tanned skin and a nice body. He doesn’t remember her name or if they even actually talked at the bar. She knew who he was, and that was enough.

“Fuckin great.” He fakes a smile at her. She starts to snuggle against him, which is not the response he wanted. “Hey, listen, this was awesome, but I’m flying out early tomorrow.” He had really hoped to just doze off and deal with this in the morning. But his favorite lie usually worked to get these types of strangers out of his home, out of his life.

“Oh. Where are you going?” She rests her chin on his chest.

“...Chicago.”

“I love Chicago!” She giggles.

Another fake smile, but more difficult to pull of. “Yep.” And he gently moves from under her, leaning away.

“You should totally go to the giant silver bean and take selfies by it-”

“Listen, I gotta get up super early, so I’m gonna call you an Uber.” He lifts himself from the bed and walks across the bedroom to pull on a t-shirt.

“Oh? Okay.” She responds too happily. It’s irritating that she isn’t taking a hint. She gets up and begins pulling on her shorts and heels.

Richie heads to his nightstand, where he picks up his phone and requests an Uber to his Hollywood home. “‘Jerry’ will be here in six minutes in his ‘2015 Toyota Camry.’ He’ll take you wherever you want.” He’s not very good at hiding the fact that he doesn’t really care if she gets home, just as long as she goes.

He hears her ridiculously tall Stilettos click behind him and feels hands on his shoulders. “My number’s in your phone. Call me when you get back?”

Goddamn it, just go already. “Sure.”

Her arms drop to her sides and she makes an annoyed noise. She just got the hint.

His sexual guest struts across the living room towards the entryway, holding her bag and jacket. Richie can’t help but examine her ass as she walks, even though there’s no longer any mystery to what lies beneath her shorts. He scans the room for anything missing (he’s been robbed by a hot woman once or twice) and sees a bright pink bra and lacy top still lying on the couch. He  sees that she is wearing his shirt, on her way out.

Nuh-uh, no, NOPE, they are not playing this game. “Uh, sweetheart.” He whistles. She stops and turns to him, and he responds by eyeing her up-and-down. “Can I have my shirt back?”

She tests him with a coy smile. “Well, maybe I’ll bring it back to you?”

“No, no no no no no no, you can wear your own clothes home. That’s my favorite shirt.” He extends an arm and is flexing his fingers in a ‘gimme’ motion.

She’s taken aback, but comes back towards him to take off the shirt. Slowly. Presenting her tits.

They’re not that impressive. And she’s being annoying, so he’s done pretending to be charming.

He smirks, snatches the shirt from her hand, and then walks back towards his bedroom.

He can hear her shuffle to pick up her remaining clothes, her heels clicking across the floor. She scoffs. “So, that’s it?”

He doesn’t face her, he just raises a waving hand to gesture ‘goodbye.’ “That’s it!”

“Wow. Fuck you.” She spouts.

Richie tosses his shirt on his kitchen counter. Bless his open floor plan. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

She mockingly laughs and opens the front door. “You’re an asshole. And you’re not funny.”

“Okie dokes!” He says casually at her.

The Uber driver pulls up behind her in the driveway. “ASSHOLE!” She shrieks, and slams the door shut.

He slumps onto his stupidly-expensive couch and exhales in relief. “Yep. I sure am.”

He doesn’t know why he allows himself to get used by every horny fan he meets. (And “fan” is a generous term. None of them even give a shit about his comedy, they just know who he is and that he’s got a couple specials on Netflix.)

He should be grateful. He’s got everything he could ever want and need. He’s got a huge house, plenty of money, 156K followers on Instagram, more comedy special gigs on the way, may even go on tour with some big names. He’s got a shot at Saturday Night Live, his manager tells him. Not that Richie wants to move to New York. He doesn’t know anyone in New York.

Not that he knows anyone in LA, either. Just horny fans he meets in sleazy bars.

He should be grateful, and he knows that. But he’s just miserable. And alone.

He rubs his eyes under his glasses and lets them fall back onto his nose before he stands up to march himself to sleep. He grabs his shirt on the way back to his empty bedroom.

“Bitch thought she could take my favorite shirt.” And he flicks off the lightswitch.

[starlightseb]

I Couldn't Be More In Love • Ruben Loftus-Cheek

A/N: Requested by the lovely @fuxkingzzle!  This is very loosely based on the song I Couldn’t Be More In Love by The 1975

Words: 2143 Warnings: none apart from the fact that this is EXTREME FLUFF!

You are meant to hate your ex boyfriends, right? You are meant to blast IDGAF by Dua Lipa, Irreplaceable by Beyoncé and such songs until you are 100 percent over him and never want to see him again.

So why am I sitting next to my ex, in my favourite dress with candles littered across the table and my favourite meal in front of me?

-

Earlier that day

"Are you sure I look alright?" I asked Ruben for reassurance as I did a quick twirl, showing off my dress.

"Yeah, you look great." Ruben looked me over, causing me to clear my throat and divert his attention back to my face. It looked like he had been hit by a tonne of bricks. "When are you meeting him?"

I had a date night arranged with a friend of a friend, set up by one of my closest friends who claimed that this guy was "the perfect guy" for me. I wasn't too sure about the whole situation, but considering the fact that Ruben and I had broken up over a year ago and I hadn't been on a date since, I had decided there would be no harm in meeting new guys now.

Plus, Ruben and I had basically secured our relationship as friends these past months. With him back at Chelsea and me now graduated from University, we were now able to spend time with each other again. Time for the feelings once hidden away to resurface yet again. I had basically accepted that we were never get back to what we were before: two lovesick teenagers, joint at the hip and in a stable relationship.

"10 minutes or so." I answered casually, quickly checking my make up in the pocket mirror.

"Do you want me to drive you there?" He offered, twirling his car keys around his index finger.

"Yeah, that would be useful actually. If you don't mind?"

"You know I'm always here to help."

His words and his smile caused my stomach to twist and turn, that fuzzy feeling rising up. I try to ignore it as I tuck a piece of stray hair behind my ear and break the eye contact between us, my voice light and airy as I speak.

"Likewise."

-

I said 10 minutes, but it ended up being nearer 20 minutes until I was making my way out of the house with a new colour of lipstick covering my lips. I decided that red was too bold for a casual first date. I ensured that the front door was locked before stuffing my house keys into my handbag and made my way to Ruben's car, parked in the drive.

As I opened the passenger door, Ruben's head shot up and the small smile that he had etched on his face remained as he looked up at me as I took my seat in his car.

"What instagram model are you DMing now?" I sarcastically asked, turning around to reach for my seatbelt.

"You have such low standards of me." I heard him laugh as he put his phone down and started the ignition.

"Well if you are smiling like an idiot at your phone like that, it can only mean one thing." -

"Excuse me," I raised my voice to get the attention of the waiter as he passed. "Did anyone show up for this reservation before I arrived?"

It had been half an hour since I arrived at the restaurant, expecting my date to already be there considering the fact that I was fashionably late already. However, I was met with a vacant table, which has been my only company for the past 30 minutes.

Either:

a) I had been stood up, which is just the most embarrassing thing as I sat amongst all the other couples who kept staring oddly at me.

or b) He thought I stood him up and only waited 5 minutes over the time we said to meet before rushing off again.

For the state of my self-confidence and self-esteem, I hoped it was option b. However, deep down I knew it would be option a.

"No, I don't think so. Sorry." The waiter said in a rush, but did not fail to give me a sympathetic look before rushing to a table across the restaurant. With that, I had enough of waiting and decided to get a taxi back home.

-

I was hardly through the door when my phone began to buzz and a familiar name popped up on my screen: Ruben. Hesitantly, I answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, how did it go? It seemed really quick?"

"How did you know that I'm back??"

"Snapchat maps, babe."

"Because that isn't creepy..."

"I was just making sure you weren't going to get kidnapped or something. You know, stranger danger?"

"Well you don't need to worry about that. He didn't even show up."

"He didn't??"

"Nope. No one."

"Dickhead."

"Yeah, but whatever. I'm just going to get changed into my pyjamas and watch some Netflix, I prefer that anyway."

"No!"

"No?"

"I mean no, don't ruin all the hard work you put into yourself tonight because of a dickhead. Come over to mine, we can watch some films."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, of course. You'll be over in 30?"

"See you then."

-

As soon as I stepped into the lounge of Ruben's house, my heart felt like sinking to the bottom of my chest. The lights were turned off and there was nothing giving light apart from the candles and the TV screen, already open on Netflix. Blankets covered the sofa and there was a strong, endearing smell coming from the kitchen. I placed my jacket over the sofa before strolling slowly into the kitchen to find Ruben dressed slightly smarter than before and fussing over a pan, stirring it with a wooden spoon.

"Ruben?" I raised my voice to get his attention, causing him to jump and turn around to face me.

"You're here!" he exclaimed before awkwardly smiling and turning back to the pan.

"What you making?" I asked, curious as I approached him, peeking over his shoulder.

"Pasta. That is your favourite, right?" He turned his head slightly to look at me. I nodded in response and bit my lip in an attempt to hide the smile threatening to make its way onto my face.

I picked up the fork and plunged it into the pan of pasta to pick out a piece to test it. Ruben watched carefully as I blew gently on it and took a bite.

"Mmm perfect." I mumbled before repeating the process but this time offering the piece to Ruben who hesitantly leaned forward and ate the pasta off of the fork I still held in my hand.

"Yeah, that is quite nice." he nodded in agreement, turning the hob off and getting out the plates. I stood back and watched him serve up the pasta with care, my heart fluttering at the sight. Do friends do this for each other?

"Parmesan?" he offered, holding up the tube of parmesan with a smile.

"Duh, of course." I laughed, watching as he was overly generous with the amount of parmesan he put on my pasta, knowing my love for the cheese.

"You can go and sit down in the lounge, I will be through with the pasta in a second." Ruben gestured towards the direction of the lounge. I nodded and slowly walked through to the lounge, taking my shoes off and making myself comfortable on the sofa. When I brought the blankets up to my face, I was overwhelmed with a familiar smell, indicating that these blankets were from his bed.

"For my lady." He finally walked through, a smile on his face as he presented me with the plate full of pasta. I smiled generously at him before he walked away again to get his plate. For the short time he was in the kitchen again, my hand went crazy over his words 'my lady' and that tingling, fuzzy feeling returned in my stomach.

I waited until he was back with his plate and sitting down comfortably beside me before I started to eat away at the pasta. He passed me the remote for the TV and nodded for me to choose whatever I wanted, which he instantly regretted with a groan as I pressed play on 'Pride and Prejudice', a favourite of mine and an annoyance to Ruben.

"Well you let me pick." I winked at him before returning to my pasta.

Soon, the end credits appeared on screen and empty plates and glasses covered the coffee table in front of us. I found myself snuggled into Ruben's side, his arm firm around my waist as my eyes began to get increasingly heavy and watery with tiredness. I unwillingly broke free of his grip as I stretched and let out a small yawn before turning to face Ruben, who looked equally tired, his eyes looking into mine before glancing down towards my changed outfit.

Half way through the film, my dress was getting increasingly uncomfortable with the amount of food I consumed. Ruben suggested that I help myself to his wardrobe, to find something more comfy and cozy to wear. I decided on one of his football shirts and a pair of his sweatpants which seemed to be grabbing his attention an unusual amount throughout the film, every now and then, glances at the back of his shirt on my body to see his name on my back. I decided not to confront him about it.

"Thanks a lot for tonight. Really, you have made my night 100 times better." I thanked him in a sincere tone, a genuine smile on my lips.

"It was what you deserved." Ruben simply shrugged, stretching his own arms out, showing off the muscles in his arms, causing me to bite my lip slightly.

"Well, thank you anyway. I don't know what I would do without you,"  I blurted out, my eyes meeting his as I utter the words. His eyes seemingly sparkling at my words. Scared of the intimate moment, I regretfully change the mood of the conversation. "I'm sure if you do this for the instagram model you were talking to earlier, she will fall head over heals in love with you." I joked, a false laugh escaping out of my mouth.

Ruben's look suddenly turned serious. His eyes narrowed as he reached over to grab his phone. "You want to know what I was smiling 'like an idiot' at in the car?" he didn't give me a chance to answer as he turned his phone around to my face and flicked through the several selfies that I took on his phone when he left it unattended earlier that day. They were all quite embarrassing actually, each of me pulling a different stupid face: tongue out; overdramatic pout; several chins; thumbs up. When he flicked past the one with me over enthusiastically smiling at the camera, he quickly flicked back, looking at it for a moment before showing it to me again.

"That one is my favourite." he chuckled, but by this time I was unable to speak. I could feel my cheeks turning a deep shade of red and by body heating up all over. "That smile is unmatched by any instagram model." he uttered quietly before turning the phone back off again and placing it beside him.

"Ruben... I..." I finally managed to mumble, albeit in the most quiet whisper I could. He looked back at me, our gazes locking. I opened my mouth to speak again but was interrupted as he began to speak again.

"The truth is," he started, nervously biting his lip and rubbing the back of his neck. "It's always been you. Always been you that I want to see in the crowds of my games, cheering me on. Always been you that I want to see smiling last thing at night and first thing in the morning. Always been you that I picture spending the rest of my life with. The reality is, I couldn't be more in love with you."

As his little speech ended, I could feel my heart beating frantically in my chest and my hand instinctively reach out for his, bringing his hand towards my mouth to press a kiss on it.

"You have no idea how difficult it was for me to be apart from you for a year, the only times I saw you was through the TV screen." I admitted as I mumbled into his hand.

"Then, it won't happen again. From now on, it will me you and me." He insisted, gently bringing me towards him again.

"Yeah," I smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek and then his lips. "You and me."

[beautytipsandtricks0252-blog]

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[blood-and-cigars]

More alutegra angst pls

Integra slipped the door closed behind her with a light click. She should have noticed the icy chill in the air, how the shadows clung darker to the corners of her room despite the first rays of dawn filtering inside. But she was hazy on terrible vodka. (It wasn’t even cheap, just bad) It took her a moment to register the figure standing by the window, silhouetted by the bruise purple sky. Of course Alucard was still awake.

She ignored him, instead she dropped her handbag on a chair and wrestled out of her coat— still in the dark. Ghostly fingers reached out for it, and she let them slip it from her shoulders. He was clearly trying to get some sort of rise out of her; she didn’t intend to let him.

Integra had stopped staying at the manor past sundown and so he’d taken to waking early in the day. He anticipated her return, she thought, like some trapped damsel in a tale. No, like a dog watching the driveway. Waiting always waiting with a blind devotion that she knew was unearned, and shuddered to consider how it had come about.

“My Master.” He turned to her with what she thought to be a smile playing at his lips. “You must be trying to put Walter in an early grave.”

Only then did she remember the briefing she’d missed, scheduled hours ago.

It wasn’t the first time either, she’d taken to staying away, to drinking late and working remotely in the evenings. She preferred to avoid the manor at night, and more specifically the vampire waiting in the basement for her return.

How could she have simply forgotten? She wanted to think it wasn’t like her to be so scatterbrained. Well, she supposed there’d be other briefings.

She shrugged. “He hasn’t said anything yet.” She slipped her shoes off letting them fall where they may. There was the not entirely unpleasant echo of a song stuck in her head. Whatever had just been playing on the radio. Oh, she was more than a little tipsy.

Sometimes she wondered what his hands would look like on her skin. If she rested her head on his shoulder and listened to him breathe—

No. That was the opposite of where her mind should be wandering.

“He won’t. You’re his employer.” It took a bewildered moment for her to remember what he was replying to. Right. They were still talking about Walter.

He had to be grinning. It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but she heard the mirth in his voice.

As if on cue, the lights flipped on. She blinked as her eyes adjusted. If she turned to look over her shoulder, no doubt she would see a disembodied hand— or if he was feeling exceptionally dramatic, maybe some inky half liquid mass—lingering on the light switch. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of checking either way.

“And I am your Master. Does that stop you?” She walked past him— just a touch too close, the fabric of his coat grazed her sleeve— and collapsed onto a pile of pillows on her bed.

“I wouldn’t dream of questioning you,” he said, just solemnly enough to be comical. “I merely… suggest that you be more upfront about your excursions. You don’t need to pretend you’re sneaking out.”

She scoffed. “I wasn’t. And Walter’s fairly advanced in age already. I’d say he’s had a good life.”

He laughed at that before taking a seat next to her. “I’ll let him know you think so.” His hair lifted and swayed around him in an invisible breeze, a few locks reached out to brush her cheek. Presumptuous as always.

Yes she’d been avoiding him— the curve of his lip when he spoke to her. The way, among his ever changing forms, his eyes were always the same.

Alucard was her vampire, and though he seemed casually affectionate of her, though he sought her out even when she ignored him, she couldn’t help but think that every time she indulged him she was somehow exploiting this magic that tied them together, and the various ways a mind could twist after nearly a century of captivity.

However, for this moment the tension had fallen away by the graces of exhaustion and drunkenness and she remembered how easy it was to be around him, when she didn’t consider the blood on his hands, or what it meant to be the one that controlled him.

“Why are you still awake?”

“I’d ask you the same thing. You did not sleep the night, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” she said.

“Now tell me Integra,” he said, grin acerbic. “Is this how you intend to lead? Sneaking back inside your own home stumbling and drunk? You’re setting such an example.”

“Says the man infamous for impaling his victims.”

“Am I the moral standard you set yourself to? That’s going to end very well.” His mouth twitched but he didn’t show any other sign of displeasure at the mention of his human life. “Oh and everyone’s half convinced you’re dead, might I add.”

“Of course they’re panicking.” She sighed. “I took the car, what did they think happened?”

He shrugged. “We are so accustomed to our Sir Hellsing being married to her work. Surely only disaster would keep her away from responsibility.”

“I was tired and… I forgot. Surely you can carry on for a single day without me?”

“Night,” he said. “It’s the question of whether we can carry on without you for a single night. And I’m not sure, can we?”

“Well apparently not.” She stared at the room not quite seeing it, wondering how she could clean up this mess. The worst part was that he was right, she knew no one else would ever say a word about this.

“Integra, as far as vices go, this isn’t the worst. But it isn’t the healthiest either. Will you consider… ”

“Consider what?” She turned to him, waiting. In certain conversations with her, he always chose his words very carefully. Yet another thing she didn’t want to think about; the list was ever growing.

For better or worse she liked his presence, he’d been a constant in her life these last few years. And she suspected there was genuine fondness in the way he gazed at her sometimes; perhaps even now.

He’d doted on her since she was a young girl in a way she liked to think he didn’t have to.

“I watched your father take on this very same mantle, and I saw how your grandfather shaped it. They both struggled. Hellsing suffocates its leaders, it’s a cloying thing. When you run from it, it only becomes hungrier in your absence. ”

“Are you sure you’re talking about the organization?”

“You might balk at the sheer burden resting upon your shoulders,” he said, ignoring her half hearted attempt at a joke. “However, your time is yours, and so are the decisions. Should you choose to leave, should you choose to work, should you choose to have me disembowel anyone who earns your ire.”

He was beautiful, in his own way. So beautiful that sometimes when he knelt at her feet to gaze up at her, her heart would hurt with it. And when he did not grin and show those teeth, his face was soft and almost kind.

Their faces lingered too close for a moment and she just knew he heard her breath catch. Of course he smirked.

“What are you getting at with this, Alucard?”

“I mean, my Master, that all of us bend to your will. If you do not wish to sit in for a briefing, all you’d need to do is speak the words and there is no briefing. It’s far simpler than making yourself sick with drink. You may hold my leash more literally than most, but do not forget we are all of us at your beck and call.”

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “And, if I don’t want this power? If I don’t know what to do with it?”

There was no denying the fact that she was a teenage girl saddled with responsibilities and decisions she could hardly comprehend and each morning and night she wondered at her own inadequacy at handling them. She was so young, brimming with it. She nursed the slow growing wounds in her heart with more bad choices and staggered back to the manor— no it was not home— every time, feeling even more hollow than before.

“Contrary to what might often be said, there is more pain in youth. More suffering, and it will only reflect on your future. Set yourself up for unhappiness now and you’ll have a lifetime of it waiting for you. You may not want your power, but it has you. And it will consume you, if given the chance.”

She looked away, to the creeping dawn outside, and the daylight that did not reach inside her room. She didn’t know what to make of this conversation.The first year, the very first year, she’d decided that her father simply hadn’t known. Alucard was clearly a good vampire (whatever that meant) and Arthur must have been tricked into thinking otherwise.There was a mistake, somewhere along the line. There were many mistakes and misunderstandings but that didn’t matter anymore, she’d thought, because she knew now and things would be better.She’d been a foolish child. She thought she probably still was, in many ways. Unfortunately while hindsight is 20/20 it isn’t as easy to discern one’s current failings. Sometimes she liked to think of herself as a memory, as something far away. She’d sit and pretend she was watching herself from ten, twenty years in the future, which of her present choices would she be ashamed of then? Nothing? Everything?

She hadn’t noticed that he’d been searching her face, with varying signs of distress. Likely checking if he’d offended her somehow.

He’d told her before that while she’d forbidden him to take liberties with her mind, he did catch snippets of her thoughts here and there. That he could sense high emotions, even if he couldn’t unravel what exactly they were.

She smiled wanly in assurance.  “That was unnecessarily long winded, you know.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t certain you were sober enough to keep up. Walter rescheduled the briefing for this evening. Will you attend?”

“Going out is much more fun though, don’t you think? If I’m staying in, then you must entertain me instead.” The change was subtle. She wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t close enough to touch. He went very still for a moment, and she could see something about his relaxed posture was now forced. She could’ve blinked and missed the look of sheer horror cross his face before he smoothed out his features.  

Integra watched him, confused. Had something happened? Had he sensed some disaster somewhere else? It’d just been a joke, she’d expected a half hearted smile. Another one of his silly responses. Really the question was nothing compared to the outrageous things he’d said to her before.

“If that’s what you wish, Master.” And the hollow, too steady tone to his voice made her understand.

“No.” She jumped to her feet, as if putting more distance between them would prove her point. “Absolutely not—  I’d never expect anything like— it was a joke. I was making a joke.”

He did not move for too long, that falsely pleasant expression frozen on his face.  “Are you running from me little Master? I thought you wanted entertainment. Come here, let me entertain you.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“If my Master desires my bloody embrace, who am I to deny it?” He crossed over to where she stood in a flurry of shadow. His voice turned raw, barely human. “Does it thrill you to think of all the lives I’ve taken? The bones I’ve snapped between my teeth? Or is the appeal in fucking a glorified corpse? Tell me Integra, do you aspire to necrophilia?” She flinched away from him, knocking into the wall behind her. From her eye level all she could see were his teeth. “Stop,” she hissed. “That is enough of this. Get away from me. Sit down.” “Is that an order?” He did not back away just yet, but he straightened, putting some distance between them.

“It is.”

And so he had to obey. She thought she saw his hands tremble, but then he folded them neatly in his lap. “Any other instructions for me, my Master?” Of course his tone was mocking. She raked her fingers through her hair. God knew she wasn’t sober enough for whatever this travesty was. “I have cigars in the nightstand. Give them to me.” He did as she said, but not before a disapproving look. “You’re too young to smoke.” “I thought I’d give myself a head start.” She lit one of the  cigars with an unsteady hand. It didn’t do much to calm her, she hadn’t expected it to, but at least it was something to focus on. She couldn’t quite bring herself to peel herself off the wall yet. “Well that explains the smell.”

“I was joking,” she said again.  It was not lost on her how quickly he’d jumped to that particular conclusion. “So that is Hellsing’s great legacy, is it?”

He did not respond at first, only watched her. She could tell the stillness was a thin veneer, ready to collapse at any moment. Underneath there was a depth of hysterical restlessness, or perhaps that was just how she felt herself.

“I have nothing,” he said. “Yet you Hellsings always want. ”

She thought of her father and his calm reassuring voice. Of the portrait of Van Helsing hanging in the foyer, of the stories Arthur had told her about the legendary grandfather she’d never met.

She took a deep pull from the cigar, let it out in a puff of smoke. She counted heart beats until her breath was sufficiently even before she asked, “Even my father?” But still her voice came out small, frightened.

“You mustn’t ask questions you don’t want answered.”

“Are you trying to spare my feelings?” She asked, incredulous.

Again that thin calm broke. “Fine. What would you like to know, Integra?” He all but snarled. “Your father liked his alcohol, just as much as you, and Abraham now that I think of it. It must run in the family.” His smile twisted. “ He expected drinks before bed, several. He preferred his top shelf scotch, but really he’d down an entire bottle of dessert wine if that’s all there was on hand.

“Do you know what else he liked? Young girls. Very young girls. Have I shown you my other forms before? It took some time before we settled on his favorite.”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“He was also very fond of rope, and chains. For himself ironically. And surprisingly enough that was the worst part, for me. You see I’m loathe to cause a Hellsing pain, I think it’s part of the seal. But Arthur—“

“Stop it, stop it. You were right I don’t want to know.”

“ Did you want to hear about Abraham instead? He had two identical medical kits— modified for vampires of course. One was for research, the other for—”

“Just shut up, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes it bloody well is.” She shut her eyes for a moment, forced herself to calm down in the ensuing silence. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  

“The iniquity of the father is indeed visited upon the children, Integra. You meet the eyes of your forefathers’ sin every day. Does that upset you?”

“What do you think?” She put out the forgotten cigar in her ashtray. Not much of it was left anyway, it had all but burned out.

“It isn’t my place to make assumptions, is it?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, because really that’s all she could say. “I’m sorry for my family’s past actions, and that I made you recount them.”

“May I stand?”

She looked at him, confused for a moment before she remembered her orders. “Yes, of course. You may leave, if you wish.”

He did not stand. Instead it seemed he was slowly dissolving into thin air.

“Alucard, wait.”

“You are indecisive today, my Master.” He paused, more silhouette than person at that point.

“I will never use my power over you in such a way. And if I ever do, you have free reign to slit my throat.”

“And kill the last Hellsing? Who then will hunt the creatures of the night? Who will keep me in check? Do you intend to release me upon an unsuspecting world, Integra?”

She was silent.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, the seal wouldn’t allow anything so drastic, in any case.” He hadn’t appeared to move, but he was closer now, on his knees before her. “My first Master was far too clever for that, he thought of everything.”

“You don’t sound displeased by that.”

“He was an extraordinary man; I loved him. I loved Arthur too.” He laughed bitterly. He did not look at her as he spoke, “I embrace that which destroys me. I adore it. Do you intend to destroy me Integra?”

“No,” she said softly. Her throat was hoarse, as if she’d wept, as if she’d screamed. And maybe it was because she was still a little drunk, but she reached out, tentatively, to cup his cheek.

He tensed for a moment, before leaning into the touch. “Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

“No, it’s a pretty lie.” And with that he disappeared, leaving her alone in the morning sun, still reaching out for nothing in particular. 

For awhile after, all she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears. Unsteadily she changed into a fresh set of clothes.

Walter would be preparing breakfast, she best go down to apologize.

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Even though many many people have apple iphones and say outright great things about it, they nevertheless aren't confident that they must basically receive the mobile phone or not. However should they were to read this report then their brains could be looking for confident, so take a look on your own and discover what has fascinated individuals for numerous many years concerning the phone.

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