George Davidson knew how to hold his own. He was 25 years old, damnit, and he sure as hell was going to do his job.
But when his job was to kill the most beautiful man he's ever seen, well, things might get hard.
George never guessed that he'd get assigned Dream, the Dream, The model of the year, to make a hit on.
He never thought he'd actually have to take the life of someone perfect, someone ethereal, someone sent straight from heaven to grace the Earth. But he did.
And he only had 4 small weeks to do it.
It all began when George's "supervisor" (A glorified agency member) called him in for his next job.
He thought it was going to be the quiet removal of another high society member, a red wine drinking rich bastard that's never had to lift a finger, but that was far from the case.
When His supervisor assigned him Dream, George's jaw dropped. "Dream!?," George said louder than intended.
"You want me to make a hit on DREAM- England's most beautiful man- AN ACTUAL MODEL- Harvey, Boss, Sir, you know this is a lot- you know I can't-" Harvey (the "supervisor") put up his hand,
signaling for George to stop talking. "Stop babbling, this ones straight from the top. You do it, or you're fired." George stared at the man in front of him, mouth agape. "Fired.
" He repeated slowly, voice kept in a hushed tone. "Alright," He said strongly, "I'll do it". Harvey just rolled his eyes and handed over the assignment file.
Flash forward a week later, George hasn't picked the file up off of his coffee table, and its starting to collect dust.
"Oh my goddd" George groaned to himself, rubbing his eyes, "If I don't do this I'll be fired, so I might as well get on it, yeah?
" He said, looking over at his reflection in the mirror nearest to him. "Yeah.
" He whispered, hoisting himself up from where he was sitting comfortably on the couch, blankets falling off his lap as he stood.
George walked to his bedroom and pulled out his best "Hi I'm here to meet and get to know you before I literally assassinate you" outfit, which consisted of black high waisted cargo pants,
a tight fitting light blue crop top, and af1's. George thought he looked rather nice as he examined himself in the full body mirror hanging on his closet door.
"He won't be able to resist me," the brunette said softly "He'll love me. Simply adore me. I'm lovely, I'm the temptress."
Something worth knowing is that George wasn't any average assasin, no he was quite different. He seduced the men he killed, romanced them to their cores.
He made them love him and adore him, which gave him the perfect opening to snuff out their lives quickly and quietly.
But Dream- Dream was different. He'd be a hard job, because what if George... Actually fell for him?
Pushing the thought away, George pulled on an oversized white zip-up and grabbed his bag.
He checked Dream's file and the time, and foudn that around this time everyday Dream frequented a small coffee shop on a street not too far from George's home.
"I'll walk," He thought "That way he'll have to give me a ride home"
As he walked from his house, George went over what he would say. "Hi cutie, is this seat taken?" He'd say, setting his bag down on the table whilst leaning in.
If his flirtatious attitude worked, Dream would say yes, and George would be well on his way to murdering the poor sucker.
George approached the cafe. He sighed to himself before opening the door, looking around for Dream.
He spotted the blonde sitting in a corner booth, looking at something on his phone while sipping a smoothie. George's breath hitched. Dream had to be the most perfect man he'd ever seen.
Sure, George had caught glimpses of him in magazines, but in person he was even more lovely. The afternoon sun caught his hair and freckled cheeks perfectly, making him look ethereal.
His eyes, yellow to George, sparkled in the light. He was perfect.
George gulped and began slowly walking over to the table Dream was sitting at. "Here goes nothing," He thought.
George set his bag down on the table. Dream looked up from his phone and jumped a bit at the sight of someone leaning on the table.
"Hey cutie, this seat taken?" George said, gesturing to the seat across from Dream as he leaned an arm on the table, causing his crop top to ride up just a bit, exposing more skin.
Dream's surprised expression was replaced with a sly smirk, "By you, darling," He said smugly. George's face heated slightly at the pet name, but his expression stayed the same.
He smiled and slid into the seat, maintaining eye contact with Dream. "God his eyes really are gorgeous up close" George thought to himself as he shifted to have his bag sitting in his lap.
"So, you come here often?" George asked, already knowing the answer to his question. "Yep," Dream answered with a cute smile, "Every day, babe,".
George flushed deeper at the simple 'babe' and struggled to keep composure. "It's my first time here, what should I order?" George said sweetly.
"Ah I recommend the iced vanilla latte with whipped cream" Dream suggested with a smirk. "I trust your judgement" George said, sliding out of the booth to go order.
"Oh, let me accompany you," Dream said, standing up himself "Wouldn't want anything to happen to you, pretty boy." He muttered into George's ear, placing a hand on his waist.
George idly thought that Dream's exsuse to go with him was stupid, but pushed the thought away.
They walked up to the counter and George ordered his drink, glancing up at Dream to find that he was already staring down at George.
It was then that George really realized what a large height difference there was between him and Dream. George stood at 5'6, and Dream was roughly 6'3. George found this insanely hot.
George picked up his drink after tipping the barista, and began walking back to the table with Dream. At one point during the walk he bumped his hip against the table and tripped slightly.
Dream took this as an opportunity to put his hands on George's hips in an act to 'Steady' him, but George knew it was just an excuse to grab his exposed skin.
When they got back to the booth George and Dream slid into their seats. "Try it," Dream said, "I'm sure you'll like it".
George rolled his eyes and pulled the paper off his straw, holding it delicately in his hands, showing off his slender fingers.
George then put the straw in his drink and wrapped his lips around it, drinking the sweet coffee. "This is quite good, thank you for the suggestion.
You're a man of good taste" He said between sips. "Of course, I'm glad you're enjoying it." Dream responded with another annoyingly sly smile.
Yeah, Dream's smirks were annoying. They were annoying and dumb. So why was George losing his shit? Why was George starting to feel a hot blush rise from his chest to his cheeks.
He decided to ignore it.
George decided to play up the seductive-ness of the situation. He pulled his straw out of the latte and licked the whipped cream off of the end, looking up to make eye contact with Dream.
The smirk on Dreams face momentarily melted off and left slightly parted lips accompanied with pink dusted cheeks.
After a few seconds, the smirk was back and Dream seemed to have regained composure.
But George was reeling.
Dream was something else.