In Your Arms

Where it Begins

HOUSE SITTER WANTED
Professional seeking a responsible adult to care for large dog and vast estate.

Must be available 24/7.
Must not have any other clients.
Must be ok with staying alone overnight.
Must be experienced.

You stare at the bulletin board. It is cluttered with tons of brightly colored flyers that are all advertising shitty campus apartments or seeking people for miscellaneous work.
    
Today is a day much like any other. You are dressed in your scrubs, books cradled in your arms as you head back to your car after an exhausting day filled with practical labs and tedious training.
    
It is a wonder why you stopped at the bulletin board at all. Though Boston was a large town, you never had any shortage of clients. People talked about you to their friends, who referred you to their friends, and so on. It seemed you spent more time with people's dogs than with your own classmates, these days.
    
This flyer though, was articulate. Pristine. Short and simple. It was printed on thick white paper that looked expensive. Running your fingers over the material you can feel the smoothness of it. Card stock, maybe? The letters were raised on the page and you pictured someone sitting behind an old-fashioned typewriter.
    
You could almost hear the faint clicking and whirring of the machine in use and thought idly of the type of person who would use a typewriter in the year 2020.

Your fingers finally dug into your pocket and retrieved your phone. You entered the number listed on the posting quickly and saved it under "Potential Client".

Without a second glance, you headed back to your car... your brain still settling over the weirdness of the brief listing.

Sure, being tasked with the responsibility of watching someone's house was nothing easy. It was a sort of silent agreement between parties that you would be available if they had any questions or desired updates on their furry loved ones during the duration of your stay. However, this wording seemed different.

Could whoever the person behind the fancy paper ad really expect you to be available at their beck and call twenty four hours a day? What happens when they call at 3AM and you suddenly need to rush over to watch, what is sure to be, some designer dog?

With a sigh, you throw your books into the passenger seat of your car and begin the drive home.

It won't hurt to call and inquire, right? Judging by the ad alone, this could be a really cushy gig. The phrase "vast estate" implied money. The rest made sense, you supposed. How could you be expected to take on any other clients if you were to be available at any notice for this mystery client?

Reaching your modest apartment building, you exit the car, leaving your books in the passenger seat. Normally, you were an excellent student - but it was the end of a long week and you couldn't be asked to stick your nose in your textbook and study the anomalies of various skin diseases tonight.

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(KYLO POV)

It had been two days since Kylo Ren had watched the girl take a picture of the information he had listed on his job ad. Judging by appearance alone, she looked like she would be the right type of person for the job he was requiring.

It was unlike him to linger in any place for unnecessary people-watching, but he couldn't help but find himself drawn to watching her.

It is rainy season and the hair pulled back and pinned behind her head looked damp as she stood beneath the awning of the bulletin board. Her scrubs looked worn, as if she had been wearing the same ones for her entire semester so far. His nose scrunched at the idea.

It wasn't that he was pompous, he could appreciate the cost effectiveness of only really needing one set - especially with the understanding that any good and comfortable set of scrubs couldn't be cheap. Kylo wasn't the type to recycle clothes though, even when he was busting his ass at temp jobs. He always looked clean and professional, his hair being the only part of himself that be allowed to look a little unkempt and wild.

Two days. Why hadn't she called yet? Why hasn't she at least reached out via text. He sat, his head resting against the back of his chair, in his office. A crease on his forehead as he pondered the cause for delay.

Whatever. He thought. Maybe she wouldn't have been a good fit anyway.

He can't help the feeling he gets as the thought enters his head. No. For whatever reason - she was going to be the perfect fit - and he just knew it.

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Authors Note:

Hi everyone! Welcome to my fic :D

It isn't my first time writing one, but it IS my first Kylo x Reader work!

I cant wait to jump into this with you guys.

Don't be afraid to leave a comment or two!

Expect frequent (and longer) updates from here, happy reading! 🥰