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itbmojojoejo · 1 year

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Crimes Of Passion | OFC X TLK AU

Pairings: Finan x OFC & Sihtric x OFC

Summary: 1950's London. Uhtred runs his business from his pub - Bebbanburg's Beacon with hopes to upgrade it to a Gentleman's Club. After his own and multiple other businesses under his protection are targeted in a string of attacks and robberies he seeks the help of his brother Ragnar, who owns high end club The Dunholm to battle the ongoing issues caused by other crime lords in the area. Cnut's younger sister Runa who aids their mission to squash the brothers Erik and Sigefrid captures the attention of not just Sihtric, but also Finan.

On this journey navigating the world of disloyal organised crime and the ever changing power dynamics which man will gain and keep her affections, if any?

Series Warnings: MDNI18+ NSFW Content. This series includes themes of a sexual nature and cheating(ish), alcohol consumption, smoking, violence including torture and murder, and other crimes throughout.

Wordcount: 4.9k | Part 2 | Other Works

Chapter Warnings: MDNI18+ NSFW Content below the cut. Smoking & Alcohol Consumption, Violence, Murder, Use of weapons, Oral (m receiving), Unprotected PinV.

Uhtred along with his wife, Gisela, and his most trusted men had been invited to a Jazz night Ragnar was hosting at his club The Dunholm so they could discuss a strategy at handling Erik and Sigefrid. The two brothers had recently hit all the businesses under Uhtred’s protection and stolen a large sum of money that belonged to him. Ragnar had offered the assistance of Runa, Cnut’s younger sister, who had proven herself capable of handling the type of interrogation needed to get the information they required.

Friday night Aethelwold had reluctantly told Runa who had paid off his debt to Ragnar in exchange for the information on Uhtred, she had returned the stolen bearer bonds and bullion on Sunday with the invitation to see Ragnar tonight. The live band filled the club decorated with gold gilded mirrors and taxidermy animal heads with vibrant melodies and velvet tones that already had couples dancing.

Dimly lit crystal chandeliers hung at different heights bathing the large ballroom in a low golden light, small round tables decorated with flickering candles were placed about in the space between the bar and the private booths with influential people from all over the city sitting at them and standing at the bar, the scent of cigars and cigarette smoke over powered the different smells and tones of aftershaves and perfumes.

Finan and Sihtric lingered at the bar with their drinks alongside Osferth and Clapa while their boss and his wife joined Ragnar and Brida at a booth. Sihtric was doing his regular scope when he caught sight of Runa making her way down the wide stair case from the balcony. Her copper waves spilled over her left shoulder catching the ambient light igniting a fiery glow, the emerald green strapless column dress she wore clung to her waist like a second skin and highlighted her toned frame.

Her eyes almost mimicking that of the deep oceans met his gaze in her descent and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips making Sihtric clear his throat feeling a bite of heat hit his cheeks. He thought she looked like a rare gem amongst the sea of muted tones the other guests wore and he knew he wasn’t the only one thinking this when he heard a low whistle escape Finan.

Osferth shifted nervously and looked into his glass as she approached, his memory filled with what he witnessed on Friday night.

ᛉ ᛉ ᛉ

Osferth had found himself sitting in his little Morris Minor with Sihtric and Finan, they had told him it would draw less attention than the Jaguar he drove Uhtred about in and they sat waiting outside of a posh hotel for Aethelwold’s replacement driver to arrive after the sudden disappearance of his regular Tilberht.

“What will she do to him?” Osferth asked tapping his thumb off the steering wheel

“Don’t know, don’t really care, I just need to know who’s door I’m knocking on.” Finan answered running his thumb along his bottom lip staring out the passenger seat window

“Kill him?”

“I don’t think she’ll go that far.” Sihtric offered, Runa hadn’t given him the impression she was a killer after their brief introduction on Wednesday but he was curious as to why her brother had been so apprehensive about her doing this job, was it just the protective nature of family or something more.

“And she’ll do it herself? Hurt him, I mean.” Osferth knew Brida could be aggressive but he hadn’t met many other women in the business who dealt with anything physical, they usually left that to the men.

“Osferth, I don’t know what she does but she gets people to talk to her and stops people from talking to anyone else so she must be doing something to them.” Finan answered rubbing at his beard now

“Pays them?” He pondered further about the methods of this unknown woman he’d heard about

“Bribery isn’t Ragnar’s style” Sihtric sighed at Osferth’s almost constant questioning and peeled off his black blazer

“Tell you what wee man, I’ll let you come into the warehouse with us so you can see it with your own two eyes” The irishman tapped his younger companions chest never peeling his eyes away from the direction he was looking

“Really?” Even though it was dark in the car it was easy to tell his blue eyes had lit up, he’d been itching to get away from the role of designated driver for some time now

“If that’s what you want, it’s about time we started sho- hold up.” Finan stopped short seeing two headlights belonging to the car they had been waiting for. He gave his usual shoulder squeeze to Osferth and got out of the vehicle swiftly making his way to the now parked Rover and the two remaining men watched on as Finan proceeded to greet the driver through his open window then deliver a very hard hit before dragging out the now unconscious man placing him in the boot and got into the drivers seat himself.

“He makes it look easy” Osferth whispered to himself almost in admiration getting a soft snort from Sihtric. Aethelwold appeared stumbling slightly out of the hotel bar’s door heading towards the car taking no notice of his surroundings ignoring his driver completely. They pulled off following behind Finan and when they got closer to the docks at a stop light Sihtric jumped from their car into the back seat next to Aethelwold who only chuckled cockily realising he wasn’t being taken home.

“Well isn’t this sobering.” Aethelwold uttered sarcastically at no one in particular looking around the abandoned building with its exposed bulbs harshly lighting the space from his position tied to a chair next to a lone table with a closed briefcase sitting on its surface.

“Why am I here? This must be-“ He began to spout

“Shut your mouth.” Finan spat, he grew more and more tired of Aethelwold every time he had to see him

Sihtric also took in his surroundings, the area hadn’t been abandoned for too long but decay was already visible from being so close to the water front. Some of the windows had been smashed in with bricks that lay strewn across the warehouse floor, and the odd bit of graffiti from kids that managed to find a way inside decorated a few of the walls.

Osferth stood further behind Finan and Sihtric trying to avoid making eye contact with Rollo who looked confused to see him as part of the group when the sound of heels clicking on the exposed concrete could be heard echoing off the walls. Runa strode towards them, her long black overcoat unbuttoned exposing the fitted white shirt she wore with no tie or cravat tucked into her wide legged grey trousers. Her long copper waves worn loose framed a heart shaped face adorned with freckles, her bottom lip was fuller than the top with a subtle cupids bow and almond shaped blue eyes.

Halfway into the room she began to drag a discarded chair by its back rest with her, the scraping noise similar to that of chalk on a board making Aethelwold scrunch up his face in disgust. She spun the chair around and took a seat an arms length away from the man she came to question pulling a silver cigarette case out of her jacket pocket along with an engraved zippo as she crossed one leg over the other.

“This can’t be that important if he’s sent a woman to do his dirty work.” Aethelwold jabbed earning a slap to the back of his head from Finan.

Runa smirked balancing a cigarette between her lips and lighting it up regarding the man opposite her for a moment before standing to shrug off her coat and put it on the table next to the briefcase. Sihtric observed how the fitted white cotton shirt hugged her toned waist and could see the slight shift of muscles moving in her arms, back and shoulders, she looked stronger than he had first imagined. She flicked the small amount of ash from her smoke nodding to Rollo for him to open the case.

“Where did you get the bearer bonds from?” She spoke calmly and Osferth found himself to be watching the danish redhead just as closely as Sihtric and Finan were.

“Why does that matter? I paid Ragnar.”

Runa laid out a set of pliers and hammer with a heavy clunk followed by a blow torch and Aethelwold cleared his throat shuffling in his seat

“You won’t hurt me, I know your rules.”

“Who paid your debt?” She followed up looking over the black revolver she now held in her hand, Sihtric studied the small thin tattoos that decorated Runa’s fingers and discovered they were runic symbols, there was also bruising to her knuckles on her right hand.

“Alfred.” She laughed at his answer flicking her next batch of ash into his hair standing close and staring down at him. Finan focused in on the way she wet her bottom lip before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“Who did you sell information to?” Osferth began to feel nervous at the scene playing out in front of him, guns weren’t something they used often as part of Uhtred’s crew since the last turf war before he joined and Runa looked very comfortable holding the weapon at her side like she did this on a regular basis

“I sold nothing.” Aethelwold insisted staring straight ahead avoiding her eyes

“It was pretty dumb of you to pay off Ragnar with Uhtred’s money.”

“It isn’t Uhtred’s, it’s mine. I had a big win.” Aethelwold’s story changed once more

“No you didn’t, you gave information to a shark. Give me the name.” Finan and Sihtric exchanged a small frown, no loan sharks would touch Aethelwold because of his family connections and he was unreliable for repayment even with their high interest rates and easy use of violence, but it would make sense if he had sold information to another crime boss in return for clearing his debt instead.

“There is no shark, I didn’t get a loan.” Runa rolled her eyes and pressed the last of her lit cigarette into Aethelwold’s exposed neck getting a shriek out of him. Finan’s brow quirked at her action and also noticed the bruising to her hand.

“You’re boring me weasel. Rollo.” She jerked her head towards a door behind Osferth and Rollo disappeared through it re-emerging moments later with another man in tow, he had a cloth hood covering his head and his hands were bound behind his back.

Runa shoved the man to his knees on the cold floor next to Aethelwold and removed the hood revealing Tilberht, his mouth was gagged with a dirty piece of fabric and his face was bloody and bruised. Sihtric quickly analysed Rollo’s hands to see they were clear of any marks confirming that Runa may in fact inflict pain on others herself when she was doing this.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, I already know what you did, what information you gave and what was taken, but I need a name.” She spoke giving Tilberht’s shoulder a hard squeeze and he cried out in pain

“I did nothing.” She sighed at Aethelwold’s answer, she was hoping seeing his man in this state would of been enough but it was becoming clearer he only cared about his own self preservation.

She sat back down in the chair opposite him and gave a quick look to Sihtric then Finan with a barely visible shake of the gun in her hand as a silent warning for what was to come, it was the first time she’d made eye contact with either of them since she had arrived and as quickly as she looked she turned away again.

Without taking her eyes off Aethelwold she pointed the revolver at his man and pulled the trigger. Rollo smirked at the way Tilberht fell back instantly with a heavy thud, Finan glanced to his youngest companion over his shoulder to see Osferth pale faced and wide eyed, Sihtric had kept his gaze on Runa the entire time. She hadn’t flinched or blinked as she fired the gun and neither had he.

“You won’t hurt me, you can’t.” Aethelwold quaked with his chest heaving

“It’s me sat here and not Ragnar, or Uhtred because I don’t give a fuck about the rules Aethelwold. People have been hurt and killed because of what you did, so give me the name, or I’m going to shoot you in the balls and leave you here to bleed out.” Runa’s voice was still the same steady calm tone it had been from the moment she arrived, to drive home her point she yanked his chair closer with a surprising ease and held the barrel of the hot gun to Aethelwold’s crotch making him squirm.

“They are two brothers. Erik and Sigefrid. They agreed to buy me out if I gave them information on Uhtred and the businesses under his protection.” He instantly spilled looking down at the revolver

“Was that difficult? That’s all I wanted. Now, tell anyone about me or what happened here and you’ll be seeing me again very soon, understand?” She questioned leaning forward staring into his eyes making sure he heard her

“Yes, yes I understand.” He nodded frantically and she pulled back the gun handing it over to Rollo

“Excellent. You can let him go now boys.” Runa sat back in the chair, her ocean blue eyes sweeping over Sihtric who was still watching her standing with his hands in his black trouser pockets and she lingered for a moment on his shirt with the top two buttons undone. Finan hoisting up Aethelwold stole away her gaze and she gave the irishman a nod as he passed being closely followed by Osferth.

“She shot him in the head Sihtric” Osferth gaped still feeling the shock from what he had witnessed as Finan put Aethelwold into his rover making sure he drove straight home and no where else.

“Yes, that probably wasn’t the right time to have you join us.” He replied lighting a hand rolled cigarette and spinning his lighter between the pads of his thumb and middle finger

“Runa’s got some balls on her, did you see it? Not even a flinch.” Finan morbidly marvelled re-joining the small group, and Sihtric nodded agreeing with him.

“Did you not tell him there’s a man in his boot?” Osferth asked realising the original driver hadn’t been released from his small temporary prison yet

“Nah, it’ll be something fun for him to find later. Give me your keys, I’ll drive.” Finan saw the small shake in Osferth’s hand and thought it was best he wasn’t in control of a car right now.

ᛉ ᛉ ᛉ

“Runa” Sihtric greeted her warmly leaning one elbow back against the bar

She liked hearing the way he rolled the R of her name greeting him with a smile and let her eyes wander over his appearance. The well tailored black suit fit his body snuggly, his tie clip decorated with Thor’s hammer keeping the sleek black fabric in place against his white shirt, the shaved sides of his hair seemed to be fresher than what she had seen on Friday making the tattoo on his head look more vibrant.

“Boys.” She glanced over Finan, the cut of his suit was eerily similar but in a deep navy blue, Uhtred likely had them all visit the same tailor to ensure it matched his vision of the groups future.

“You look lovely” Finan complimented her with emphasis on the lovely, his eyes skimmed over her exposed collarbones admiring the pendant of two ravens that sat nestled in the hollow of her throat.

“So do you, but you are a little wonky” She breathed a laugh coming to stand between the two men and reached out straightening Finan’s clipless tie.

“Can I tempt you for a dance?” Finan asked flashing a cheeky smile leaning into her ever so slightly

“This tempo is a little fast for..” She trailed off gesturing to her dress that ended mid calf apparently restricting her from being able to participate in any high energy dancing

“And if they slow it down at any point, would you say no?” Her smile turned coy giving her attention to the bar tender who had a whiskey ready for her.

“Sister, Ragnar wishes to speak with you. You too.” Cnut gave a flat empty smile to Sihtric with a jerk of his head towards the booth Ragnar sat at with Uhtred as he approached the group.

Sihtric offered his arm to walk Runa across the room and she accepted it keeping her eyes ahead, her thoughts wondering if both men were being gentleman out of politeness or for ulterior motives but either way, she had no complaints, they both piqued her interest. She slid in besides Brida and Sihtric opted to sit on the opposite side next to Uhtred.

“You will both go to this hotel and casino, The Beamfleot, the brothers own across town and do some watching, I want to know what else goes on there.” Uhtred stated taking a sip from a champagne flute with his arm tucked around Gisela’s shoulders keeping her close to his side.

“Why not just one of us?” Runa queried confused at the joint job. She usually worked with Rollo or Jackdaw, not men from outside their firm.

“I can’t send you alone, and one unknown man is suspicious. A young couple looking to do a little gambling on a night away is easy to ignore.” Ragnar commented with a quirk of his brows tapping a finger lightly on the table

“Ragnar, I don’t spy.” Runa’s approach was what some would call less subtle, or loud.

“I know, he will spy.” Her cousin pointed the tapping finger to Sihtric who only nodded

“I can’t send Gisela or Eadith, they aren’t to be involved in schemes.” Uhtred declared, he liked to keep them away from the unsavoury side of his work

“When?” Sihtric asked plainly, it didn’t bother him this was something he did on a regular basis for his boss

“Friday.” Brida smiled stroking the tips of Runa’s hair as a silent message that she will do this job with no arguments, it was a small gesture that the two women had come to use over time to speak without speaking.

As the night wore on the upbeat tones of the piano harmonising with the double bass and drums joined with the colourful sounds of a saxophone eased off into the blues. The delicate strumming of an electric guitar melting each note into the next flowed like liquid silk, the rhythm of a bass guitar adding extra depth creating a steady pulse was joined by the piano guiding the melody along with muted drum beats.

Finan sidled up to Runa who had been perched on a stool at the bar with his mouth quirked up to one side offering her his hand, wetting her bottom lip she playfully rolled her eyes and stubbed out her cigarette before placing her hand into his and let him lead the way to the dancefloor. Runa let out a small hum as Finan placed his hand on her waist holding her closer than necessary and she gripped his shoulder letting him guide her through the slow steps and gentle twirls of their dance.

Ragnar let out a low chuckle eyeing Cnut at their booth watching his sister clearly enjoying the attention of the older irishman who currently held her own.

“Do we need to put a stop to that cousin?”

“No, she’ll eat any man alive. Even your little spy Uhtred.” Cnut laughed lightly looking over to the younger man leaning back against the bar sipping on his whiskey with a cigarette in hand also watching the pair on the dancefloor

“Sihtric? I don’t think he’s interested.”

“You are blind.” Gisela jested sipping from her glass of champagne “Come.” She added standing holding her hand out to her husband requesting a dance herself.

Runa slipped her hand further across Finan’s shoulder bringing herself even closer into his space holding the gaze of his deep brown eyes, his eyes flickered to her lips then back up splaying his hand across her back.

“Don’t do it.” She smiled drumming her fingers over the top of his hand recognising the look in his eyes

“Why not?” He replied with his own searching her eyes admiring how they sparkled like the sun shimmering off the seas waves under the lights of the chandeliers

“You know better irishman.” Runa was in no rush to be seen intimate with a man publicly, it made others who could be watching think you had a potential weakness that can be squeezed

“I think you just like to keep your options open.” He hadn’t missed the way her and Sihtric would linger on each other, or how she caught the attention of most men in the vicinity.

“Like that’s a crime? You men do it all the time.” She wasn’t wrong, Finan had his own little situation with Eadith he was also trying to navigate. Leaning closer brushing his lips on the edge of her cheekbone next to her ear he took a risk

“Well, if not here then let me take you home” He spoke lowly guiding them through another slow spin

“You have to earn a whole night with me.” She breathed a laugh at his confidence and decided to test how far he was willing to go

“And how do I do that?”

“Meet me upstairs in two minutes.” He pulled his head back a little wrinkling his brows together at her words

“What, are you scared?” Runa cooed tracing circles onto the back of his shoulder with a finger and bit her bottom lip

“Of you? A little.” He confessed with a small nod, it was rare to meet a woman who used violence over manipulation to get what she wanted and he admired it with a rightful caution

“Two minutes, I won’t offer again.” She declared and her eyes told him she meant it.

Sihtric watched Runa back away from Finan with a smile playing on her lips as she ascended the stairs and disappeared out of view towards the back of the balcony. As his sight drifted towards his boss still dancing with Gisela he caught Finan climbing the stairs out the corner of his eye making his top lip pull up briefly and he swallowed the surprising ball of jealousy that had grown in the pit of his stomach.

Finan spotted the movement of Runa’s emerald dress through a crack in the barely open door leading to Ragnar’s office as he got to the top of the stairs and walked towards it casually to avoid anyone paying attention to him, the night was late enough now for other patrons to be in a heady state of tipsy or drunk allowing him to slip past them easily and he gently closed the office door behind him.

Runa rested on the arm of the sofa swilling a whiskey glass and held it out for him to finish off as he came to stand in front of her, swallowing the last of the warm liquid he placed the crystal down on a side table without taking his eyes off her and she stood pulling him closer by the end of his tie. Finan’s lips crashed onto hers with his hands instantly gripping at her hips, the kiss was heated as they each battled for power over the other and he felt as though he was drowning in her taste of lingering tobacco and woody spice from the whiskey.

Without breaking away Runa unfasted his jacket buttons slipping her hands under the garment sliding it off his shoulders, dragging a hand up her side locating the zip to her dress he pulled it down along with the fabric freeing her breasts and kneaded at one earning a soft moan in response as she keened into his touch. Runa worked at undoing his trousers turning them around at the same time, gliding his trousers and boxers down to his thighs in one swift movement she gave his bottom lip a small bite and pushed him down to sit.

Finan watched her tug her dress up past her knees and settle on them between his legs trailing hot open mouthed kisses up the inside of his exposed thigh, taking his throbbing cock in her hand she swiped her thumb over the leaking tip and stroked him languidly. He exhaled slowly as she leant forward and experimentally circled her tongue around the head of his cock a few times before swiping her flattened tongue from base to tip up the entire side of his length and he groaned getting a smirk from her.

With her mouth watering she slowly sank down onto his cock breathing deeply through her nose taking him as deep as she can, Finan couldn’t help the light huff of a laugh that escaped as he budged against the back of her throat with no gag and moved to grip the side of her neck and jaw pulling her up and back down again. Her eye’s fluttered closed with a soft hum that vibrated through him as he continued to guide her movements, with baited breath he pulled her off with a pop and wiped the saliva from her swollen lips with his thumb getting lost in her lust blown eyes, the deep blue colour of her iris almost gone completely.

“álainn” Beautiful. Finan mumbled pulling her to his mouth for a searing kiss as she shifted further up onto her knees dragging her dress further up and past her hips exposing that she had been wearing no underwear to climb into his lap. He hooked his arms around her waist as she glided the entrance of her wet pussy over the head of his cock resting her hands on his shoulders and sank down onto him with no warning gasping at the delicious stretch.

Finan groaned burying his face into her neck digging his fingers into the soft skin of her half exposed back, she grinded down onto him again and again with the lewd noises of their entanglement sounding out into room. Remembering her comment of needing to earn an entire night he shifted forwards and flipped them to the side laying her beneath him on the cool leather, hovering over her resting his weight on the arm of the sofa she moaned at the feeling of him fucking into her, his pelvis brushing against her clit just right.

Knotting her hands into his shirt she held it up to watch his cock sinking into her, feeling the primal need of his release creeping up on him faster than he expected he took hold of her jaw in his other hand pouring his need into her mouth in a sloppy kiss slamming his hips into hers in harsh deep thrusts and her hands gripped him tighter feeling herself begin to clench around him. Her climax hit with a strained moan against his mouth and he soon followed with his own release filling her with his hot cum before collapsing on top of her.

After catching her breath she tapped his side with a light laugh signalling him to move, pulling away he sat back at the end of the sofa and watched as she stood pulling her dress back down over her hips and zipping up the side. Runa fixed her hair walking over to the large mahogany desk and took a cigarette from the holder Ragnar kept there.

“That word you said?” She spoke out not facing him lighting her smoke with a match and shook out the flame.

“Huh?” Finan stood pulling up his trousers tucking his shirt back in

“álainn. What does it mean?” She turned to watch him running her tongue along her lip as he straightened his tie and picked up his jacket from the floor.

“Oh uh” He was shocked she not only remembered the word but also its pronunciation, truthfully it had just slipped out in the moment but it wasn’t a lie.

The door suddenly opened revealing Uhtred and he looked between the pair taking in their slightly dishevelled appearance with a furrowed brow.

“We’re leaving in five.” Uhtred stated before retreating leaving the door wide open

“Yes boss.” Finan looked back to Runa taking another drag, he rubbed his hand through his beard and decided to take another risk “Let me take you out, properly.”

“No.” She declined flatly

“No? Was I that bad?” He asked with a chuckle

“No!” She laughed flicking her ash into the ceramic ash tray on the desk “I don’t date, Finan.”

“Why not?” He queried with a shake of his head

“I don’t have the time for something as childish as love.” She responded putting her cigarette back to her lips

“Oh, well I was asking you to go on a date, not to fall in love with me” He said playfully with raised brows

“People date with the intention of falling in love, or to get laid and we just did that so there’s no need for a date.” She responded nonchalantly with a small shrug of her shoulders

“Can’t argue with that logic, can I now.” Finan figured, he hadn’t expected her to be so against the idea of relationships or dating seeing as her brother was married with children, Ragnar was with Brida, and she saw Uhtred and Gisela.

“Your boss is waiting for you, on you go” Runa smiled knowing the cogs in his head were turning trying to figure her out.

End Notes: oh she a bad bitch.

Taglist: @arcielee (If you want to be on here let me know xo)

#the last kingdom fanfic #finan x oc #sihtric x oc #finan fanfic #sihtric fanfic #tlk fanfic #tlk

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zarvasace · 1 year

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Bubbly Water

2.5k worth of LU fluff. Disability AU and blatant Four favoritism. Sorry. Gen in every sense of the term. :) AO3 link here! (this is really not that good but. I had fun. So whatever.)

"Wars, where are we going?" Twilight asks, craning his neck to keep Wild and Wind within his sight as they all do their best to weave through the dense crowds of Warriors's Castletown. They can't go very fast, but they have a wedge formation, so there's room for Four to roll without hitting people and for Hyrule to walk alongside him.

Since Warriors walks at the head of the wedge, he can't exactly turn around to sign. Four sees his hand wave in a sort-of acknowledgement, but Twilight's question goes unanswered for now. Four isn't too worried about it, he knows that Warriors knows that they're all tired from three solid weeks running around the Great Sea. They'd run into monsters no matter where they went, and had only managed to spare two days saying hello to Wind's grandmother on Outset. Four is a little irritated with the day. He just wants to flop face-down on a bed and not move until morning, honestly.

It seems that Warriors is leading them to the hospitality district. Four remembers the tall, bright blue-painted inn they'd stayed in last time. The stairs hadn't been fun to navigate, but like always, they managed.

Warriors walks right past the inn and towards a nicer building, made with light-colored stone and lit up with colored glass in the lanterns, visible even in the bright overcast afternoon. The colors are cool, making the place look like it wavers underwater, an illusion only enhanced by the shells and pearls painted on the outside. The ocean theme is a little old, after three weeks of sailing and hearing waves, so there must be some good reason Warriors brought them here. It doesn't really look like an inn, and it's definitely not a tavern.

The lobby is nice, with marble or marble-patterned tile stretching from the front entrance to a counter, with doorways and stairs on either side. Four feels bad about the grime his wheels are undoubtedly smearing across the light floor. At least his aren't the only marks.

Warriors straightens his scarf, runs a hand through his hair, and puts on a smile. Backed by Time, he heads up for the counter. Warriors is lucky, sometimes. He's a celebrity in his world, though not always immediately recognizable to his people, and many of them have learned bits and pieces of sign because he uses it. The girl at the counter evidently knows enough to book them with whatever service they offer here.

Wind clearly wants to go explore, but Wild has his arm, and Twilight has Wild's belt. They make a very interesting chain as they all head into the arch Warriors directs them to.

The smell of flowers, citrus, and vanilla fills Four's nose as he pushes his way under the arch. There are a few doors out this way, spaced evenly with little shells glued to them in the shape of numbers. Four makes a noise of comprehension—it's a bathhouse. He hasn't been to many of these, and none since his accident. Hyrule looks more suspicious than usual. It doesn't explain why Wild, of all people, looks excited, though. Four has never seen a bathhouse or anything remotely similar in Wild's world, but to be fair, there's enough space there to hide an entire fortress or three. Sky has an absolutely delighted smile on his face, and Warriors's own smile is a little smug in light of that.

"Ooh," Wind says as he heads into the door Warriors opens up, and his voice bounces off of the tile. "It's so steamy in here!"

'Natural hot springs under the city,' Warriors explains, holding the door open with his shoulder. Sky repeats the words out loud, mostly for Hyrule's benefit. 'We can use any of the soaps over there, just don't go too crazy with them.'

The room is beautiful. This is no second-rate bathhouse. The ocean theme continues in here, with decorative nets hanging from the wooden rafters and more pearls painted in swirling designs along the plaster walls. In the center of the room is the bath, sunk into the ground and lined with a mosaic of sea turtles. The water ripples ever so slightly, under the influence of what Four assumes is a vent to circulate the water. It does, indeed, steam.

Wild makes a beeline for the floor-to-ceiling shelving that Warriors indicates and starts picking up each bar and jar to sniff and prod. Twilight pulls off his furs almost immediately, setting them on top of one of the counters along the other side. Sky follows suit, removing his weapons and cape. Wind plops down on the side of the bath and pulls his shoe off of his foot, then dangles it in the water as he wrangles with the laces holding on his other leg. Legend mutters to Hyrule, explaining what a bathhouse is, while Time runs a hand along the murals.

Four rolls in, and Warriors lets the door drop shut behind him. "How deep is it?" he asks softly, under the sounds of the others getting undressed and talking.

'There are steps,' Warriors assures him, understanding the concern, and Four nods as he watches Warriors turn the lock.

He knows that if he really wanted to, he could stay out, or use one of the many buckets instead of actually getting in. His chair is magical enough that water won't bother it, which had been a very good thing the last three weeks. The portal to Wind's world had dumped them a few yards offshore, and Four had gone entirely under before he knew what was happening. Luckily, Legend had reacted quickly enough and had enough swimming strength to get them both up above the surface before he sucked in any salty water.

Needless to say, Four isn't exactly overeager to go underwater again. Swimming takes up a lot of energy, and he can't do it for more than a few seconds at a time, since he mostly relies on his arms.

He gets a little closer to the water to look inside. True to Warriors's words, the bath gets deeper in stages, with wide steps that descend down a foot or so at a time. Gauging depth through the water isn't an exact science, but it looks like the center of the bath is about four feet deep. Even if he could stand, it would be a bit of an issue, but he can probably stick to one of the steps and be fine.

Besides, it looks warm. Four's a bit achy, and his hair has been salt-crusted for such a long time. A nice, warm bath really does sound just about perfect.

Sky, in his loose, embroidered undershirt and no shoes, walks around the edge of the bath, dropping in handfuls of white powder that sud up the water at the edges. "Nobody drink the water," he says, and his voice echoes, too.

Wind's eyes go wide. "Is that soap?"

"Bubbles!" Twilight says, grinning like an idiot. He turns red when the others turn to look at him. "What? Nobody else had bubble baths growing up?"

Wild shrugs. He's holding a bar of soap in each hand and weighing them. "I don't know."

"I did," Four says with a smile of his own. "Been a while, though."

"Bubbles?" Hyrule asks suspiciously. "Like…"

"Not the enemy kind," Wind interrupts. He shucks off his tunic and shirt and throws them to the side, where they're likely to get soaked in the water on the floor. Twilight rolls his eyes and picks them up to set them on the countertop.

Wind continues, heedless of the rescue of his clothing. "Come sit! They're a fun texture." He stirs the water with his foot a bit and scoops up a handful of the resulting bubbles to squish between his hands.

On the other side of the bath, Twilight, Sky, and Time get into the water. They're all delighted by the bubbles, and only Time tries to hide it. Legend complains a bit, but sits on one of the steps near Hyrule and Wind playing with the bubbles. Warriors and Wild hold a quiet discussion about the different soaps and what they're made out of.

Four watches the puddles of water grow from the edges of the bath, splashed by Twilight and Sky and Wind. He rolls over the countertop and reaches down to pull off his boots, then his socks. He's so caught up in his thoughts of how to wash his hair that Time's voice startles him.

"Are you getting in?"

After Four's heart calms back down, he looks up at Time and nods. "I'm planning on it. Maybe a little worried about slipping, though."

"Want some help?" Time asks. Time is probably the only one who can ask Four that question with any kind of regularity and not annoy him.

Four considers the myriad of ways he could slip on the tile, then nods. He stands for a few seconds to get his tunic and leggings off, then grabs his brush from his pack and lets Time pick him up—one arm behind his back, one under his knees, and both of Four's arms around his neck. He feels his face turn red, but tries to fight it down. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. He's just glad he's the smallest, so when people do have to pick him up, he doesn't present too big of a problem.

Time gets into the water slowly, making sure not to slip or fall. Some water droplets from Twilight and Sky's bubble fight fly their direction, and Four shields his face with a laugh. The water is delightfully warm, and the heat soaks deep into his skin. He can feel the dirt leaving him. It's nice.

Perhaps sensing his contentment, Time doesn't put him down immediately. He stands in the deepest part of the bath, with the waterline nearly over his chest. The warm water covers most of Four, too, though it seems like Time is careful to keep his shoulders above water. Bubbles float past him, sent over by Legend agitating the surface of the water with his hands.

Four smiles a little and lets go of Time to pull some of the white suds a bit closer. He looks up to see Legend watching him. Legend's eyebrow moves upward, seeing the mischief that must be in his eyes, and Four answers with a wider smile. Legend just makes more bubbles and pushes them Four's way. The water ripples as Sky goes under the water, pushed by Twilight.

Once he's gathered enough bubbles, Four scoops as many as he can into his free hand, then slaps them on Time's face. He's nice and keeps to the lower half of it.

Time jolts, his arms slipping a little as he splutters. His eye is wide as he looks down at Four, shocked and betrayed.

Four can't help the laugh that breaks out of him at that expression. He's joined by Twilight and Legend, who'd seen the whole thing. Twilight's laugh cuts off after a second as Sky dunks him back.

"Four?!" Time says. He spits out bubbles, and Four's laughter redoubles.

Wind almost manages to catch Legend's face with a handful of bubbles, too, but Legend pushes him away with a shout, a spot of white just on the end of his nose. Wind and Hyrule's giggles add to the cacophony.

"Don't even think about it," Twilight says to Wild, who gets in by them, though the intimidating tone is dampened somewhat by his smile.

"I wasn't!" Wild protests. "Much. Here, this one is for you." He hands Twilight a bar of milky green soap, and gives a pale blue one to Sky. "I chose the scent, Wars chose the type."

Twilight takes the soap with a scrunched nose. "Type?"

Wild shrugs and slips through the water to offer Hyrule another bar of soap. Warriors finally gets in, stretching and sighing at the heat, and answers Twilight's questions about types of soap.

Time continues to spit suds out as he takes Four to the side of the bath. One of the steps is at the perfect depth for Four to sit, and Time is only a little salty when he lets Four get down. He wipes the bubbles from his face.

"Bleh. Those do not taste as good as they smell."

"It's just soap," Four says with a gremlin smile, curling his fingers around the edge of the step as he sits there. He's a bit slow to react when Time scoops up an unfair amount of water to dump on his head.

Four shouts in protest. Sopping wet hair falls into his eyes, and drips some bubbles into his mouth. It's his turn to spit out soap. "Oh, you are asking for it."

They play for a while, letting out some of the stress of the last few weeks. The water doesn't get any colder, though Wars shows them a spout on the wall where they can get cold water into buckets. That sets off another round of dunking and splashing. Nobody's immune to getting ganged up on and dunked. Hyrule is very good at it, somehow.

It seems that Wild chose different soaps for all of them, and he makes sure everyone appreciates the scents he chose. Four does appreciate the minty, deep smell of his own. Sky takes a break from the tussling to sit by Four, and tells him that the light scent of his own Wild-chosen soap is apparently named "spring breeze."

Somehow, Legend wrestles Wild into sitting still so he can work at his hair. Four has to wince at the way the water around Wild gets gray from the dirt and salt. He intends to do his own hair by himself, but can't say no when Wind asks quietly if he can help.

When everyone has been scrubbed and washed and tired out, they sit at the edges of the bath and wait for the bubbles to dissipate. The conversation turns to where they'll stay that night, though it's just a little before dinnertime now. Wild suggests a cafe he'd eaten at on a previous visit to this town, and Sky starts to fall asleep in the heat. Warriors says he has a place in mind, one away from crowds where he thinks he can get a ground floor room. Four doesn't have a lot to add to the conversation, but he enjoys listening and adding thoughts and snide comments every so often. He doesn’t say anything when he notices Legend inspecting the soaps, getting teary-eyed at one of them, and tucking it away for later.

Maybe tomorrow they'll all fall in the mud, or get covered in monster blood again, but for now, Four enjoys the feeling of being clean and tired and safe. He kicks his feet out in the water. His toes poke out, and he smiles.

They call it an evening when Wind drops off to sleep and falls in. The towels provided on the shelves are fluffy and just warm enough. Four changes his mind about the day—it’s nice. He likes it. He would like to spend the rest of it eating and reading past his bedtime.

#my writing #disability au #linked universe #lu fic #lu four #he's the biggest player in this #by virtue of being pov #but all of them are there #it's fluff okay #so much fluff #why?#who knows #i like writing

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weeeeeekly · 3 months

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frankenstein’s monster – lee isa x afab!reader

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info ➜ part one because i want the first part out for valentine’s day but i still have more to write. based off lisa frakenstein & marry shelley’s frankenstein horror novel, movies, & the countless adaptations, so graphic descriptions of killing & gore. zombie!isa, assigned female at birth (afab) reader, halloween enthusiast!reader. this fic is very self-indulgent & gay. we're pretending that homophobia doesn't exist. probably contains minor errors.

wc: 3.1k

WARNINGS !!! this is a safe for work (SFW) fic, but my blog is not safe for work (NSFW) so please no minors (mdni).

author’s note !!! happy valentine’s day!!! where are all my gay girls that love stayc & horror. i just saw lisa frankenstein on friday & i just saw it again, so please bear with me for getting a new obsession. it’s what mary shelley would want. i love weird girl romance!!

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You were driving toward your new home. An old farmhouse your aunt owned for what felt like forever. You had been tasked with house and pet sitting as your aunt was out of the country for a wedding. You always loved visiting her house as it gave you a break from the busy-ish life of living near a city, but not directly in the heart. And she was your favorite aunt in the entire world, so it was no brainer when you agreed. At least you would have something to do for Hallo-weekend.

The last time you were here was the summer before you started college and a few summers have passed since then. The vegetation was still as flush and lively as you last remembered, and the long stretch of dirt road covered by rows of oak trees was your favorite. It looked prettier during the daytime, but the drive from your apartment to your aunt’s house was a few hours since it was in the country.

There was a pesky rouge eyelash that was on your lens that was bothering you as drove. It wasn’t the brightest idea, but this was a private road in the middle of nowhere so there wouldn’t be any people walking. You kept your eyes in the road as you used your free hand that wasn’t on the wheel to take off your glasses to clean them.

Your path was lit by your car’s high beam lights, and you took a second to focus your eyes and attention to cleaning your glasses. The second you looked back up, a fuzzy silhouette of some kind of… animal scared you as you did a hard break in an effort to not hit it. Your heart beat furiously in your chest as the thing ran away and you put your glasses back on. It was too dark to see it properly as it fled off into the rest of the forest.

Probably one of the deer your aunt complained about eating her rose plants.

You ignored your heart slowly settling back to normal pace as you went back to your journey. You allowed yourself to sit in silence for the remainder of the drive since it would only be a few more minutes until you reached your destination. You could go without music for a little bit.

The aging farmhouse was a comforting sight to behold, a dusty rose wooden house with white accents, long sprawling lush, green grass, acres of mismatched fences from quick repairs overtime, and a matching barn behind the house that held the other animals. The nearest neighbor is a quick five-minute drive away or one could take the shortcut through the supposedly haunted cemetery that was hidden behind the town center where the old town used to be.

You never understood why your aunt, parents, and everyone else feared the cemetery. It was just sad how rundown it was and just allowing the memories of everyone laid to rest there to be forgotten. It was quite peaceful to just sit there in the morning during the summer, especially when you were trying to avoid doing chores or forced family time.

You had a favorite grave. It was a very elaborate headstone with a cement face model of the girl buried. The headstone was ancient, so some of the stone was hard to read all you could make out for the name was the letters A, S, and I spaced out to spell a longer name that you couldn’t do a proper stone rubbing, died in 1837, and unmarried. You rolled your eyes the first time you read that since it was the only other piece of information on the headstone and felt disrespectful to reduce her to just her marital status, but it was the 1800s, so you just had to accept history.

You made sure to always be respectful when visiting the cemetery, you would never want to disrupt the peace. You usually just sit on a sprawled-out towel blanket and read aloud a book to the girl. You know that she couldn’t hear you because she was… you know, dead, but it just felt right to do so.

You couldn’t go visit her since it was too late in the night and looked like it was about to storm anyway. You just quickly unpacked the car for the overnight and duffel bag for your weekend stay. The night was loud from the annoying ass cicadas. You just wanted to hurry inside to save your eardrums.

The house was imposing at night with the lights off, but the second you turned the light switch on, it just looked like the 80s threw up on the décor. All the furniture was new when your aunt was born 37 years ago and stayed untouched with a few additions like the smart tv in the living room/kitchen.

The weight of driving for so long was beginning to take its toll on you, so you were struggling to stay awake as you laid on the couch after your hot shower some random video about movie monsters.

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When you wake up a few hours later, it’s storming outside. The sky was light gray, but it was pouring down. You let out a sigh as you stretch and fix yourself a quick breakfast. Thankfully, by the time you’re done eating – the rain stopped. You take the opportunity to do chores for your aunt’s animals in the barn and visit the cemetery before the rain starts up again.

You borrow your aunt’s rain boots and make sure to wear old clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty, leftovers from previous visits. The shortcut was muddy, but nothing that wasn’t difficult to walk over. The forest looks extra beautiful after rain with the trees looking shiny with dewdrops, the light mist of fog, and the sunlight peeking through the clouds. And it smelled like the candle-ized version after it rains.

The grassy, unkempt area was the same as ever as you reach your favorite spot. Her grave was damp from the rain, but still looked clean despite you not visiting for years. You smile as you greet her.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m finally back. I hope you’ve been well. Sorry for not visiting for a while I was busy with school.”

You brush off some stray twigs on the statue and frown as you fix the heart locket you tied around the head years ago when you first discovered the area. It was kind of sad and kind of weird that 13-year-old you decided that you would be the sole groundskeeper. The positive aspect was that you were getting outside and receiving vitamin D.

A raindrop falls from the sky and makes it look like the statue is crying, “Oh, I wish I knew you, but you don’t have to cry about it.”

You let out another sigh as the rain starts to pick up again, so you decide it’s best to head back to your aunt’s place. You walk down the shortcut without looking back due to your time crunch to beat what’s looking like a nasty storm.

The clouds slowly grow a dark gray like the charcoal you use for stone rubbing or your facemasks. You were due for one since this semester has been hard on your sleep schedule and acne was appearing again. Which was extremely annoying since you just got your skin to be clear and a consistent skincare routine since your classes the semester before were easy.

Well, you can’t change the past you from not making your schedule under the assumption that you would be okay with a 9 AM class if you liked the content.

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After settling into the guest room that was unofficially your room, you lay on the bed with your noise cancelling headphones as your face mask dries. The storm was getting louder by the second and you just wanted to get some sleep. You had just done your everything shower, so you were content in your oversized sleep shirt and satin sheets you brought from home. You were definitely going to have good dreams.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep either during the podcast episode about internet drama or the video about your favorite horror video game’s lore. The window shows the beautiful yellow-orange morning in contrast to the disaster of torn up grass, tree branches everywhere, and your aunt’s goats having a fucking buffet.

Wait. Your aunt’s goats eating on plants. The goats that are supposed to be locked in their pin inside the barn.

You scramble out of bed while putting on your glasses and rain jacket. You struggle trying to round up the loose goats and give up as they’re just as stubborn as ignoring you as you are trying to bring them to the barn.

At least they were eating so that was a morning chore you wouldn’t have to do.

The front door to the barn was smashed in and most of the animals inside escaped to the free roam the farm. God, the tornado that rolled in last night was shaping up to be a fucking nightmare, at least that’s what the news channel the old radio in the barn was able to pick up was telling you.

“A local farmer said, and I quote, ‘There was a green lightning bolt that scared off all my chickens.’ Experts are unable to confirm if this is a possibility at this time –”

“Green lightning would be something.” You say as you shove hay into bins for the goats’ dinner in hopes that they’ll wander back into the barn. You wonder how you’ll break to your aunt in text since the time difference was 14 hours. You hope she had insurance.

One of the chickens runs past you, scaring you and causes you to drop the shovel you were holding. Your head flicks into the direction of what sounds like a human-like groan. You can make out some kind of figure in the shadow of the corner of the barn.

“Ah shit.” You sprint out of the barn as whatever the fuck chases after you. You would close the barndoor shut but of course the goddamn tornado had to put a tree through it. The staggered stomps behind you clue you in that thing after you is injured which works in your favor since your adrenaline made you a track star right now.

Taking the shortcut to the cemetery in an attempt to lose your creepy follower, you avoid branches and rocks in your way, so you don’t trip and die like the people in your favorite cheesy horror movies do. You’re better than that. If you’re going out, you’ll be the one to do it and some rando.

When you reach your alleged safety spot, you hop over a hole in the ground as you hear a thump and a delayed groan.

“Serves you right!” Peering down into the hole, your eyes widen as your jaw drops, the sight that greets you is what looks like a girl around your age except her skin is a ghastly gray, dressed in an outdated dress, and covered in dirt.

You continue to stare in shock as the girl tries to stand up but fails to. You watch in horror as it slowly dawns on you that the girl’s left hand is completely missing. Like the-bone-is-showing-and-no-way-it-just-happened-kind-of-missing. Your eyes slowly move to the headstone and your blood turns cold as you realize that the open grave is the one you frequent to. The model statue, the same one that shockingly resembles the girl, is ruined from a lightning strike.

“Are you, like, okay?”

The girl stops struggling for a second to blankly stare at you.

“Okay, so I’ll take that as a ‘no’. Anyway… is that you?” You point to the model statue as the girl lets out a grunt in response and to your shock and surprise, a slow repeated motion of nodding.

“Holy shit. I’m not sure how this is even possible. You’re supposed to be dead and buried.”

The dead girl goes back to trying to climb up the 6-foot hole. You contemplate how you were going to help her out – if you should just hold her only hand and hope her arm doesn’t pop out or if you could throw a rope down and hope for the best. Your thoughts cease as the girl stands on the same level as you.

“How did you get out?”

The girl ignores you as she starts hobbling towards you with her only hand extending towards you. Her cold, dead hand holds your left hand as she leans her head down. You let out a nervous laugh as you slowly move your hand back.

“We just met face to face, so it’s a little too early for that. I don’t know your name. What’s your name?”

The girl moved her hand toward her choker-covered neck and as you step closer you realize that her neck has been sliced through.

“Oh, that’s not good, but it’s okay that you can’t talk.” You look towards the headstone, “Since only 3 letters are readable maybe we can make a nickname out of that? Asi? Isa? I like Isa.”

Newly nicknamed Isa moves her mouth in what looks like an attempt to smile which you take as a beaming acceptance.

“Okay! Nice to meet you, Isa. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

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If you had told your 13-year-old self that you would be helping a corpse into your aunt’s guest shower after she came back to life from a lightning strike, they would have asked what scary movie you stole that from.

After showing Isa the controls to work the shower, you laid out two towels on the bathroom counter and cleaned the mud tracks she left behind. The whole situation was pretty hilarious, at least you had someone your age to hang out with for Halloween in a town mainly occupied by retirees or new families with small children.

You’re interrupted scrubbing out a particularly stubborn patch of mud out of the staircase carpet when the doorbell rings. Your head whips towards the front door as the shower shuts off. Heading over to the door to greet the mystery guest, you put on a grin and open the door.

The face that greets you is one of your aunt’s neighbors that you remember liking, but not enough to remember their name. Your grin becomes genuine as the older lady kindly greets you and goes into a spiel of how she remembers you used to be this tall! You just nod at her story time as the shower turns on again.

“Oh, do you have someone over?”

“Yeah, just a friend.” You pray to every higher power up above to not let Isa walk over to you and the noise by the door. You don’t know how you were going to explain this away.

“You must be busy! I’ll leave you two alone so you can go back to your Halloween movies and such.”

You quickly wave her off and shut the door, wishing her a happy Halloween. You get a slight fright when you turn around and Isa is standing right behind you still looking a ghastly gray in contrast to the hot pink towel combo you left behind but now clean from all the dirt and bugs.

“Oh my god, you scared me! Let’s go back upstairs to get you some clothes.” You help Isa back up the stairs making sure to have her lean on your shoulder to help her balance. You go as slow as she needs to be safe which you don’t mind doing. It’s not like you were in a hurry since your schedule was to do light chores in the barn, waste your life away watching movies, and then maybe going to the grocery store to be candy for Halloween tonight. Which reminds you…

“I should dress you up as a zombie for Halloween which is the truth but not to make anyone want to chase us down with pitchforks and fire.”

Isa grunts as you reach the top stair and go around the corner to your room with some of the clothes you’ve left over the years.

“Sorry for the mess.” You make sure to help her step over your duffel bag by the door and the scattered mess of your makeup by the floor length mirror. You wanted to do an intricate makeup look for Halloween to get use of makeup you’ve had a for a while and to get your money’s worth. You still weren’t sure what you were going to dress up as maybe an iconic horror movie icon or something from your childhood and do fun, glitzy makeup or a basic supernatural creature.

You could just tear up some old clothes for Isa and add some fake blood to her costume. It had been fate that she came back from the dead on Halloween Eve.

You guide Isa to sit on the edge of your bed and open your walk-in closet, "For right now, I'll give you some pjs to wear while I make your zombie costume."

You offer a pair of pjs you wouldn't mind missing and give her space to change. Once she's done you can't help but stare in awe of how cute she looks. Isa almost looks like she could have been born in the same time as you which just shows how much of a timeless beauty she is.

You get a bright idea as you open your backpack, "Do you want to try 21st-century candy?"

#stayc x reader #stayc x fem reader #isa x reader #lee chaeyoung #stayc fanfic

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verdanteslounge · 7 months

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Chapter 2

Phoenix slipped into the car, the gun’s muzzle still fixated on her. A part of her wished this person would just shoot the gun, so she didn’t have to sit still and wait at another abandoned building.

“Lock the car,” the man commanded, his steely eyes piercing through the person at his side. The driver, visibly trembling, gripped the steering wheel like he was holding onto a lifeboat in an ocean full of sharks.

“H-huh?”

“Are you deaf? I said lock the car!!” The gun clicked, turning menacingly towards the driver. His frantic hand fumbled over the buttons, accidentally lowering the windows, causing a sharp breeze and droplets of rain to intrude before finally locking the car.

The aggressor’s eyes bore into the driver, dictating every twist and turn on the road. The driver followed, terrified to make even the slightest mistake.

Phoenix observed from the back, her breath caught in her throat. Her face remained still, but her body grew colder, her fingers felt like they would freeze over and break.

This driver was recently hired to replace her family’s older, more reliable driver. In his first week of working, he was already deceived by someone with bad intentions, and now he was teetering on the edge of collapse from having a gun pointed at his temple.

It didn’t seem like he was used to this world, yet he still accepted to work for her family. These kidnappers would not dare kill her so they could use her as a bargaining chip, but what about the driver? How many people have worked for them from desperation only to have their lives be treated as expendable?

As if he could read her thoughts, the driver stole glances at Phoenix through the rearview mirror. The aggressor noticed and pressed the gun harder against his temple, his skin now touching the cold metal.

“Any funny business and you’re dead.”

The driver’s breath hitched. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Phoenix decided to sit still until the car stopped at the aggressor’s destination.

Minutes later, heavy rain continued to crash against the windows, mixed with blaring sounds of honking from multiple cars. The car stopped at a green light at an intersection.

“What are you doing? GO!!”

Surprisingly, the driver didn’t budge.

His voice trembled as he said, “you want to drive up the mountain…”

“What, you’re scared?” He scoffed, “everyone’s always scared driving up some mountain. But guess what? I don’t give a shit!” He pushed the nozzle of the gun against the driver’s head, swinging it to one side. The driver glanced up at Phoenix before turning to the road that led up the mountain.

The car raced up the dimly lit, narrow road. The wind shook violently, causing the car to wobble against its attack. Phoenix’s heart shuddered. The path winded, and running through each curve was like walking on a tightrope.

The driver's hand tightened on the steering wheel, afraid that one mistake would send them to the depths of hell.

“Say, if you wanted to, you could kill everyone in this car right now.” Phoenix glared at the man, desperately wanting to pierce through that hollow skull with his own bullet.

He didn’t give any fucks and continued to blab on, “but you won’t ‘cause you’re a sissy HAHA.”

The asshole used his gun to move the driver’s head sideways like a pendulum. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have been following my orders like a dog.”

The car shook violently, zooming towards the next curve. The driver braked at the last minute, the wheels turned and screeched.

Time slowed down.

Then suddenly, a white car flashed to the side.

The slippery rain and downhill slope amplified the speed of the car. Blaring horns and screeching tires blasted from all sides.

The world twisted and spun. Impact jolted through the vehicle and threw their bodies on all sides. Metal crashed and glass shattered, mixing with the howling wind and heavy rainfall.

Time froze and reality crumbled, leaving behind a deafening void.

In a realm bathed in eternal dawn, a delicate white butterfly threaded through the water, manifesting a small ripple in the tranquil pond.

Birds chirped in a sweet symphony, and the gentle breeze flowed in harmony, breathing more life to its surroundings. Soft, warm orbs danced in the air, illuminating and enveloping the world in a dreamlike glow.

At the center of this otherworldly ambience was a gazebo carved with intricate and beautiful patterns, the sanctuary consisted of a white, circular canopy bed that made one feel like they were sleeping on clouds.

On that bed laid two people, one of whom had been confined in this place’s perpetual dawn for a long, long time.

The woman’s slender hands caressed the other’s slumbering face. Her wavy hair flowed with the wind, glowing with its sunlight hue along with the fireflies in the domain.

This was a realm created through her dream, yet she could almost feel the warmth of this person on her lap. For the first time, she wasn’t with an image created by her own mind, but another soul with its own memories, and it was someone she had always wanted to see.

Warmth filled her chest as she recalled the memories of her distant past.

Chapter 3

#yuri #baihe #gl isekai #gl #mafia #isekai #lgbtqia

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august-thistles-journal · 1 year

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The Morality of Vengance

“-Right but I don’t think people have a moral duty to stop someone’s death,”

“Seriously? Even as humans who share a lived experience? If a human and a dog were about to die, I’d definitely feel obligated to at least call out to save the human over the dog,”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes- of course, like, we have a responsibility to save humans over animals, but only in specific cases,”

I adjust my seatbelt.

It is dark outside.

“How do you mean? Because I think, as humans, you have a responsibility to like, call out if someone is… I don’t know, about to be hit by a truck or something,”

His grip shifts on the steering wheel. “Okay but what if that person is Hitler?”

I groan. “Why does it always have to be Hitler?”

“It's Hitler.” He looks at me with a playful smile.

“Okay… well, even then. I think if you’re a passive bystander, watching on as Hitler is unknowingly about to be struck by a truck, you still have an obligation as a fellow human to yell out a warning,”

“Really? You’d save Hitler?” he accuses

“I mean do I know it’s Hitler? Has he committed all those crimes against humanity yet? Or is this just before he’s been rejected by the art school?”

“Ahhh…” He thinks for a second, “You either know he’s going to commit the crimes, or he already has. Either way, he is or he is going to be the embodiment of evil. You’d still yell out to save him?”

“I mean, it depends. I’m not jumping in front of the truck to save him. I’m not even pulling him out of the way. If I was able to yell out though, I think I would have to,”

“Why though? It's Hitler!”

My gaze rests against the glass on the passenger seat window. The world skims past.

“I guess… I guess it's selfish. Actually. I wouldn’t want to be a passive observer of someone's death. If I could have done something- even something as small as yelling out a warning… I think I would. Probably -likely- even without meaning to,”

“Wow. I totally disagree.” He huffs a sigh.

I know.

“I know,”

“I think that certain people have reneged on their humanity and if they were facing death I would no longer feel responsible to save them from it,” He continues.

“So you think people can commit certain actions that remove their right to life?”

There is a grey mist in the air. It hums across the darkened earth, hugging at the edges of the car as we plunge into the night.

“No.” He says it indignantly.

“That's what you‘re saying though, aren't you.” It’s a statement. Not a question.

“No. I'm saying if someone is horrible and has killed other people I don't think I have a responsibility to save them,”

“So you’d just be a passive observer and watch them die?”

“Why wouldn't you?”

His face is lit up an unearthly blue by the light of the radio. There is no music playing.

“No. That's cowardly,”

He scoffs. “So you wouldn't kill Hitler,”

“I wouldn’t be quiet if a truck was going to hit him, no. BUT if I wanted Hitler dead, and I do of course, or would- want him dead, that is, I think you have more of a responsibility to take him out with your own hands,”

“What!” The exclamation rattles the air.

I shrug. “Yeah- if you are okay with killing someone, it should be a decision made that you actively contribute to. You shouldn’t be able to passively let it happen. You should always make that decision, then see it through,”

“Wait wait wait- you think it’s a moral responsibility as a fellow human to yell out to save someone, even if they’re the devil incarnate, BUT if you choose that they need to die, because they’re the devil incarnate, you have to actually actively kill them. And that makes it okay?”

Yes.

“Yes.”

“Woooow,” He begins tapping a pattern with his pointer finger on the steering wheel.

“Listen- you can’t be passive about these things. You have to take action. I have more respect for the person who will use their own fists to crush Hitler’s windpipe than the person watching on as he get squished by a truck by accident,”

“So you think murder is more morally justifiable than manslaughter?”

“Are we still talking about Hitler?”

He pauses.

“Kind of. Maybe. If it works for arguments’ sake,”

“... I think that murder, when it is an act of rageful vengeance, for a crime unpunished and done unto you or someone you love or a collection of people… that kind of murder should be okay. Or at least, murder that acts as equalising retribution.”

“But no silent observation as a piano falling from the second floor is about to squash a known predator,”

“Nope.”

My fists are clenched. I am unsure why.

“Wow. So, by your logic- it would be more acceptable to you if the person pushing the piano out of the second floor was aiming for the predator… than the onlooker who doesn't warn the predator as its falling- The one who just lets it hit the pedo is the one who’s flaking on their humanist responsibilities,”

“Yeah. I guess I think it can be morally-just to kill someone in vengeance, but only if you do so actively. Passiveness is a weakness. And death is final. You don’t want to be weakly, passively appeasing of someones’ death. If you are going to see someone die, you have to take an active role in it,”

“Huh.”

“M’hmmm, as long as it’s vengeful, justified retribution, of course. I’m not out here arguing to legalise murder,”

The car is silent for a while.

Reds, Greens, Oranges glitter across the windshield. The A/C hums. The air is cold.

“Remind me never to piss you off,”

I smile.

The night is silent.

#writing #creative writing #prose #poetry #rage #vengance #morality #discussion

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raybyanothername · 1 year

Text

When people die they don't always move on. Sometimes, they linger. They watch over their resting place, or keep an eye on loved ones. But sometimes... they're forced to stay.

Sarah and Sloan made a promise to always be there for one another. Sloan's death won't change that. Sarah won't let it.

-.-.-

Sloan's Rosary was my very first novel. This book was originally self-published back in 2018. Besides from a bit of light editing for typos back in 2019 and 2020, I haven't changed it at all. Still very much love it and want people to enjoy it as much as I do. It's no longer available for purchase, however. So!

Starting December 2nd, I'll be posting one chapter every week on Fridays. The chapter will be exclusive on my patreon for one week before going public. Each chapter will then be posted to both Tumblr and A03 as well.

Chapter 1 will be posted to all three to start (under the cut). Chapter 2 will go up on patreon at 8am, Dec 2nd, and go public on the 9th. There's 19 chapters, so the last chapter will be up (and public) on April 7th.

Without further ado...

-.-.-

Sloan's Rosary

Chapter One

We called the intersection ‘Doom and Gloom.” The streets were always busy, what with the highway being just a few blocks down. Every single building was the same shade of grey, made out of cinder block and concrete from a 90s rebuild.

A bunch of college apartment complexes lined Doom St and a bunch of fast food joints and expensive clothing boutiques ran along Gloom Ave. Perfect for your average college undergrads! We lived a few blocks away, in a two bedrooms house we’d started renting three years ago when we stopped being undergrads.

I was sitting in the passenger seat. We’d bought the old Cadillac our freshman year with money we’d been saving since before either of us got a license. Whatever color it had been before, it wasn’t anymore. The outside was a solid shade of rust that clashed horrendously with the worn blue interior. Sloan loved that. Me? All I cared about was that the radio worked. Most of the time.

Sloan shrieked in the driver’s seat as we came to a stop in the left turn lane. I was folded over the center console fiddling with the tuning dial. Sloan turned to me, “Only three more weeks!”

Her grin spread from cheek to cheek, making her already prominent cheek bones particularly pointy. For once her skin was devoid of make-up so I could see the splattered freckles and the scar on the bridge of her nose.

“Come on, Sarah!” Sloan drummed her hands on the steering wheel in excitement,” Think about it! In less than a month we’ll be sipping our brandy on another continent.”

“I have never known you to sip any form of alcohol, let alone brandy,” I pointed out with a laugh as I sat back in my seat. I had successfully managed to unscramble the radio in time for Miranda Lamberts voice to start wailing out of the speakers. Fastest Girl in Town. Sloan’s theme song if ever she had one.

I bobbed my head along to the music, ignoring the wisps of blond hair that tried to attack my glasses with each move. My focus was on the start of the trickling rain outside. The dark clouds blocked the evening light and the world was a wash of colors from all the neon lights.

“I can see you tossing back bourbons,” I smirked as I turned to look at her again. Sloan’s eyes drifted over to me, narrowing slightly as I added, “Maybe.”

She flicked her head back dramatically, “We should hit Paris first.” Her hands squeezed the steering wheel, “I heard from a semi-reliable source – not me – that the nightlife there is great.”

The glow of the red light bounced off the hood of our car and through our dash. It lit up her face and her arms, dying her skin almost the same color as her bright hair. Her bangs were long over her eyebrows. Framing her square eyes and long lashes.

“The Louvre has always interested me,” I stretched my arms in front of me. I smiled at the way the rain struck against out windshield in a slow tantrum. It made the rosary hanging from the rear view jingle.

The tanned, muscled skin of Sloan’s arms flexed as she squeezed and unsqueezed the wheel. Impatient as always to be moving. To go fast. To get somewhere.

“And Madame Beaubien always thought I’d find inspiration in the catacombs,” I added with a teasing grin. Sloan’s eyes brightened – the green in her brown eyes catching the street lights.

“Don’t live too much, Sarah,” Sloan leaned over, tilting her head to smirk at me from below, “You might frighten the ghosts.” I laughed along with her, smacking her arm playfully as she leaned back in her seat.

The cross-street’s light went red.

“Seriously!” Sloan caught my eyes with hers, “You’ve got to have a little fun while we’re in Europe.” She shook her head at me, “You can’t spend your life locked away writing.”

The headlights from the car were like the sun first thing in the morning. They washed out my vision. I squinted against the glare. It was a truck. Wide. One Ton. White, with a silver grill.

Later, I found out the driver was female too. Only a few years older than us, with a husband. She was arguing with him when it happened. She lost control because she was distracted and going way too fast.

I didn’t know any of that when the truck slammed into us, halfway in our lane and head on. And it didn’t seem fast.

Everything seemed to move in slow-motion. The truck came closer, inch by inch. The sound of the engine rough and loud against the white noise of the rain. I saw the hood of our car crushing closer to us, folding like an accordion, and the windshield cracking like lightning in the sky.

I opened my mouth in what had to be a scream and turned away from the sight. I focused on Sloan. She focused on me.

It was the first time I’d ever seen her afraid.

Sloan was never afraid. Not of anything. She’d drive ninety miles an hour, take a sharp turn at sixty, and giggle the whole time. She rode horses bare-back when we were eight and broke her training wheels off her bike a year before that. Reckless. Fast. She owned those adjectives.

I watched her head slam back against the headrest before hitting the top of the car with an echoing crack. Blood dripped down her face from the wound. Mixing and sticking to her hair. I could see more on her hands, seeping up from where her arms were crushed between the steering wheel and her body.

Her mouth flung open. The noises around me muffled as her voice rushed into my ears. Her scream was mangled, sobbing as blood wept from her mouth, through her teeth, coating her lips before dripping down her chin.

I flinched away. I cried out as my body jostled back. My legs were pinned by the dashboard.

The windshield gave a final crack and a large shard broke off. A sharp pain spread through my forearm as it tore through my skin and dug into the bone. The blood drizzled out from the gash as I stared at the rust-red lines that painted themselves across my skin.

A sob escaped my throat as I closed my eyes, trying to block out the pain.

“Sarah,” Sloan’s whisper forced my eyes open and I turned once more to look at her. Her eyes stared at me. Her gaze shook. Tears were trailing down her cheeks to mingle with the blood. The red streaks fled thinly down her throat. I tried to move my hand closer to hold hers, to touch her.

The airbags deployed. I gasped against the pressure on my chest. My eyes focused on the movement just in front of me. There, dangling from the rear view mirror. Sloan’s rosary. IT was spinning. Droplets of blood dripping helplessly onto the dash. One by one.

Each splash I matched with a sob. The air felt thin and my lungs burned.

The world buzzed by me. Colors meshing together like a vibrant fog. My head fell back against the headrest. My face pressed into the rough blue fabric. My glasses had jumped ship with the airbags. As I stared out the side window the only thing in focus was the rain rushing down the glass.

I swallowed as a screeching noise invaded the thumping in my head. Dark blurs edged my vision. I cringed as my body shook, shooting pain up from my legs. My chest ached.

“Miss?” the voice was a grumble laced with concern. A blur grew. Slowly, it sharpened into the face of an elderly Hispanic man, “Help is on the way.” Other blurs shifted behind him.

I took big breaths. Slow. My eyes drifted open and closed. I shifted.

“Sloan.’’ My back and shoulders arched off the seat. The man’s eyes went wide. “Sloan, first.”

“Don’t move,” his hands came up to wave me down, “You could hurt yourself worse.” His brow furrowed, “Just stay calm.”

I shook my head. Gasping out as I turned my head away from him. Sloan was beside me, hunched over the steering wheel. The airbag deflated beneath her.

“Sloan!” I raised my left hand up, arching over the console and earning a yelp from the man outside the car. “Please,” I whispered as my body collided with hers.

There was a warmth on my face as I pressed my cheek to hers. It dripped slowly onto my neck. I pressed closer, ignoring the throbbing in my right arm as the glass tore against my skin.

Sloan didn’t budge. There was no flinch. No groan.

My hand shook as I placed it against her side between us, “You’ll be ok, Sloan.” I could hear the sirens in the background. Flashes of red and blue joined the monochromatic blurs around me.

Faces swam in front of me, through the haze and the shattered windshield. The pattering of rain rang in my ears like little bells.

I took a deep breath. The colors swam around me before my vision darkened, “You’ll be ok.”

I felt the jostling, could hear the clipped voices. But everything was dark.

-.-.-

A light drifted above me. A little ball. A dot. It pushed against the dark. A cold feeling spread throughout my body. I opened my eyes.

I was in a hospital. Too white walls and the smell of bleach. The pounding ache in my head screamed painkillers. As did the fuzziness of, well, everything.

My parents were standing a few feet away. I could pick out my dad’s shoulders in any crowd, fuzziness be damned. And the hint of lilacs in my nose meant mom. I smiled. I liked lilacs.

Saddie was next to me. Sharp jaw resting in his palm as he slept propped up in the chair. My fingers twitched as I tried to move my left hand.

“Say,” my voice cracked around Saddie’s name. His eyes flew open – bloodshot, dark circles. I gasped out, “Sloan?”

The room erupted into chaos around me. Yelling. Feet moving. Saddie’s eyes stayed with me. The brown irises that were usually streaked with tones and colors were hard – a solid ball of rock.

His hand took mine. His palm was warm. I shivered and closed my eyes. Pressing my lids together. Light danced behind them, bright and blinding.

-.-.-

When I came too next my parents were beside my bed. My dad took my brother’s seat and my mom was perched on the edge of the bed. They were silent. Eyes downcast. Faces withdrawn. Not a single eye would meet mine.

I noticed another of my brothers, Drew, a priest, standing with his mentor at the foot my bed. Their heads were bowed together, their mouths moving in small motions. Whispering. Praying.

I closed my eyes, turning away from the world as I let the tears drop silently. I couldn’t feel the pain my body was in through all the pain meds, but there was no way it could compare to the splitting pain I felt inside.

The throbbing in my head felt like someone had sliced open my cranium and torn pieces of me away. My heart wished it felt that good. It was a pure, dull ache of loneliness and misery that told me Sloan was gone.

I could feel my mom’s long fingers start stroking the top of my hand as I sobbed into my pillow.

-.-.-

It was an echo. A wave rippling out from a sudden, sharp new stab through my head. It forced my eyes open. The hospital room was empty. I sat up and nearly screamed at the sight before me.

Sloan.

Her nose resembled a smashed strawberry and blood was smeared outward across her face. Dark bruises ringed her eyes, accompanied by red lines from the bright red blood dripping from her eyelashes. Her long hair was splattered around her body – slashes of red that kept spreading lower to mingle with the dark stains spreading out over her clothes.

I tried to crawl backwards in my bed, but all I managed to do was jostle splinted legs. I shuttered. I could taste the salt of tears on my lips and hear rain slamming against the window.

“You promised, Sarah,” Sloan’s voice cracked as tears trailed down her blood-stained face, “You promised we’d never be separated! That we’d always stay together!” Her body shook as she sobbed, “Remember?!”

I did. I remembered saying those words as I dragged Sloan to school, six-years old and smiling at my new best friend.

“You promised!” Sloan screamed. The rosary in her hand bounced off her body as she lurched forward. The blood that had been splattered on them was gone now. They were a shining beacon surrounded by the horror that was Sloan’s battered and pasty body.

I reached a hand towards her, “I remember, Sloan! I remember!”

The tips of my fingers slipped through her arm. She rippled away from my touch. Her skin like the surface of a lake. Her body faded from my view as the cold in the tips of my fingers climbed up my arm.

-.-.-

The next time my eyes opened it was to a wet stain on my pillow and a weight in my right hand. I peeled open the fingers of the hand on my injured arm. The bandages were stiff, encompassing my arm from elbow to wrist and then tied around my thumb.

Resting against those stark, hospital white wraps was a red-speckled white rosary. A gold cross with S.A. engraved in the center dangled from the last pearl. It wasn’t the stark white beacon – it was stained. The red marbled over the white that had lost all its shine.

When I started sobbing I woke my mom, sleeping in the nearby chair. I felt her arms wrap around my shoulder. The scent of lilac curling around me like a blanket. Her fingers combed through my matted hair.

She tried to sooth me, used the calm voice that she usually reserved for her patients. I held on to her. Clung to her. Afraid she might slip away, fade away like Sloan.

“She’s not gone.” My voice was pained –a rough screech in my ears. A week had gone by without me knowing. My throat was scratchy. But my tone was steady, “She wouldn’t leave me.”

I felt my mother tense. Her soothing words and fingers paused.

“I’ve got you, Sarah,” her hand started again, “You’re going to be fine.”

-.-.-

The rain bullied the glass on my window for weeks. I couldn’t sleep. The sound was a haunting reminder. My mind relived the night over and over, again and again. Each time I closed my eyes I saw Sloan’s head swing back, saw her smile torn from her.

Insomnia wreaked havoc on my recovery and I refused to sleep. They tried drugs, but I awoke within an hour every time, screaming. The nurses whispered that I was having a psychotic break. I’m not sure they were wrong.

They watched me carefully when my parents went home for Sloan’s memorial. She was cremated, against tradition. But she wouldn’t have wanted to be buried. She’d hated the idea of it. Had since her parents’ funeral when we were kids. She didn’t want to be trapped in a box, worm food for the rest of eternity.

Abe had her remains spread under a tree planted just outside the Catholic part of the cemetery. Father Abbott knew Sloan well enough to know that she would never have met the standards to be lain to rest on consecrated ground.

I spent that day in the hospital. Typing on a laptop my brother Saddie had snuck in for me under the eyes of three nurses at the station outside my door and our mother. It was the only thing that kept my mind from falling into the dark thoughts that plagued me when I slept. I could write for hours at night. Never needing to risk closing my eyes.

Distraction is a far better comfort than anything else in my opinion. No matter what others might say.

It wasn’t just the crash that haunted me. The memory of that dream, of my best friend covered in blood and crying in pain. I couldn’t get it out of my head. Memories from the accident, of our childhood arguments and teenage rows. They swam together in my head. I wanted to forget, to box the thoughts into a red papered present and tie a white ribbon around it, label it Timbuktu, and send it off.

The rosary never left me. I found myself thumbing through the beads and not saying any prayers. Sloan had taught me to clear my head like that when we were in grade school, to ease my migraines.

I kept it wrapped around my wrist as I typed. First on my left hand, hunting and pecking, and then later on my right hand, ignoring the aching of my muscles as I typed at my full speed of 70 wpm.

“You should slow down.”

I heard her humming, like she did when I wrote in our living room. Chastising me. I never admitted it aloud. The only reason the nurses hadn’t called for a psychiatrist by then was Father Abbott’s daily visits.

I didn’t want to talk though. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to work. To get my mind completely off the memories that were consuming me.

I needed out of the hospital. I needed out of my life. I needed out of Texas.

A crack of thunder sounded in the sky as the rain pushed on. It made me jump a little and I searched the room for a person before I noticed the dark clouds outside.

I started to laugh at myself as I sunk slowly down into my bed. A nurse peeked into my room, eyebrow raised in surprise at the sound.

I probably sounded hysterical, laughing loudly as I lay nearly motionless in a hospital bed. My eyes were on the window, on the water sliding down the glass. The only thing I could see through the haze of fog was Sloan.

Smiling at me. Laughing at me. A glow in the dark window pane. Her smile. Her bright eyes. Her wide nose. The freckles that covered her face. The pale strip of scared skin on the bridge of her nose. All of it was staring back at me.

“Don’t be such a scaredy-cat, Sarah,” she whispered in her quirky Texan drawl like she did when we shared secrets. “I’ll always look after you.”

“Sarah?” the nurse stepped into the room, “Are you alright sweetheart?”

I shook my head as she checked my vitals, “No.” I looked at her, still smiling, “No. I don’t think I ever will be.” She stood up straight before ducking back out of the room.

They finally called that psychiatrist.

#ray writes #original fiction #horror #ghost story #horror stories #ghost stories #sloan's rosary

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

She’s An Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer discovers that Reader has a rather promiscuous personality behind closed doors, and he can’t help but give into her. Category: SMUT (18+), (there’s a lil fluff at the end, but it’s mostly filth lol) Warnings: Language, heavy flirting and sexual tension, female/male-receiving oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, innocence kink (kinda?), breeding kink, dirty talk Word Count: 10.8k

***EDITED: 7/23/2021***

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, guys! This is my entry for @willowrose99 ‘s 1-Year Writing Challenge Celebration! My prompts were: Only Angel by Harry Styles (fun fact, this is my favorite Harry song! And the notes/texts that Reader sends to Spencer are lines from the song), stealing clothes, and the dialogue “You know, I kinda like it when you call me -pet name-” I hope you all enjoy it! I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!!!

Also! Little fun fact: sex and metaphors/references to religion is like... my favorite thing in the whole world, so I made a tiny playlist for you to give a listen if you’re interested! If you have song recs so I can add them, please let me know! I’m always on the lookout for new stuff :) Enjoy!!

***

He didn't think much of it the first day she started working at the BAU. If anything, Spencer was glad that they had an intern— someone who could share some of their responsibilities without completely changing the dynamic of the work. She even became part of their family, going out with them after cases, attending every workplace gathering, whether it be a wedding for a co-worker they didn't see often, one of Rossi's dinner parties, or Henry's birthday party.

It wasn't until they were setting up for the BAU office Halloween party that he noticed something was... different.

Y/N and Spencer were put on decorating duty while everyone else brought food and music, and whatever else. They stopped by extra early to set up, meaning they would be there together, alone, for at least two hours before anyone showed up.

Normally that wouldn't have been anything to worry about, but Y/N showed up in costume, and it completely threw him for a loop.

Now, he wasn't one to really care whether or not people used Halloween as an outlet to dress like sexy nurses or cheerleaders or whatever else. Sure, he'd rather go with something on the scary side, something with a creepy mask or intricate makeup, but in the end the holiday was everyone's to enjoy how they wanted to. And one way or the other, he never saw anyone in a sexy Halloween costume and found himself tempted by them in the slightest. In fact, it was rare that he ever saw anyone in one at all.

So, when Y/N slowed up to the office wearing a very skin-tight, tiny schoolgirl costume, and his heart leapt out of his chest, mouth going dry and blood running hot at the sight of her?

He was a goner.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him, dropping the large bag she was carrying to run over and give him a hug, which he shakily returned, trying to snap out of his daze. Suddenly he felt a little underdressed, not wearing his costume yet, and truthfully, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wear one at all now, fearful that she'd think it was too immature.

Even more frightening than the holiday itself was the fact that Spencer found himself caring about what Y/N would think of his costume when a minute ago it hadn't even crossed his mind.

He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly before she released him from her hug, hoping to expel his fear and remember that she was his friend and she'd never actually say anything bad about his costume. Not that that'd even mattered in the first place. It shouldn't have mattered, right?

God, pull yourself together! She's just a pretty girl dressed in a suggestive costume, it's nothing you haven't seen before...

Though, he wasn't even sure he could call her a pretty girl right then.

Because when she pulled away from him, talking about some of the decorations she brought, he had ample opportunity to get a good look at her costume up close. And she wasn't pretty. She was downright sexy, all legs protruding underneath a short plaid skirt and adorning shiny black heels, curly hair tumbling down her shoulders in pigtails. Her shirt was so low, most of the buttons undone to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. She wore a pair of glasses that sat cutely on the tip of her nose and minimal makeup, the only noticeable thing being bright red lip color.

That wasn't what was different, though.

Sure, she'd never worn anything that scandalous around work or even on nights out, but it wasn't the fact that she'd done so now that felt strange. No, it was the way she looked up at him, her head hung low and her eyes looking up through eyelashes. When she got excited to tell him something, she pitched her voice higher. And often times, she'd put herself in compromising positions, and it seemed like it was on purpose.

At one point she stood right in front of him trying to hang a streamer on a beam she was most certainly not tall enough to reach. Her arms stretched high, all fabric on her body rising up and exposing more skin. Spencer quickly tried to avoid any problems, offering to help so she wouldn't hurt herself, first of all, but also so that he wouldn't find himself staring too long when he shouldn't have been staring at all.

The whole time they were decorating, she found excuses to drop things and pick them up, to stumble and hold onto his arm for steadiness, to accidentally brush past him... And that's what was so different about her.

He didn't want to assume she'd been drinking before coming to the office, and if he'd known any better he wouldn't have assumed it in the first place. But that was the one and only thing that crossed his mind that could have been the answer to her strange behavior, despite the lack of alcohol on her breath. (The only reason he knew her breath didn't smell of alcohol was because at one point, she hugged him again and pulled back to look in his eyes, brushing stray curls from his face and telling him they did a good job finishing up the room they'd been working on.)

Now they were in the conference room, and Spencer was hanging streamers as Y/N sat in one of the chairs, wheeled back to the middle of the room so she could observe everything. Well... observe Spencer was more correct. At least that's what he figured, anyway. It was like he could feel her eyes burning into the back of him. Or maybe he was just still unable to get over the fact that she and her stupidly hot costume had had that big of an effect on him.

He stood down from the chair and asked Y/N to hand him more tape, refusing to look at her.

"Spence, are you alright?" she asked sweetly, rolling her chair over to the table so she could reach the tape. The innocent concern in her voice had that same suspicious tone to it that wouldn't leave him alone, like it was nagging him and calling to him... begging to confront her.

He flicked his gaze down to meet hers for the briefest of seconds before looking back at the table. "N—Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" She picked up the tape and toyed with it between her fingers, which were manicured a light pink color. He couldn't help but stare at them. "You seem a little... on edge."

With a swallow, an attempt to bring moisture back to his throat, Spencer shook his head. "I'm... No, I'm sure. Everything's fine."

Y/N sighed. "Well, I've been working with you profilers for some time now, and... I think I can tell when you're lying. Was it... something I did?"

There she went again, her voice high and soft. Innocent. Like she was in character.

Spencer looked at her face again, and then immediately he regretted it. She was half pouting at him, doe-eyed and head tilted to expose her neck. He swallowed again, trying to figure her out while also figuring out what to say.

"No," is what he settled on, audibly nervous.

She could tell, too, because he thought he saw her smirk for just a split second. But then it was gone, replaced once again by her pout. "Oh... Good. Because I thought for a second that you didn't like my costume."

She obviously had to be up to something, right? Was she... flirting with him? And more importantly, did he want her to flirt with him? He'd never really thought about Y/N in that context before, but she was single, beautiful, and... well, truthfully that's all he really knew about her. They'd been friends for about a year now, and he couldn't put together one single thought about her other than the stuttering, muddled confusion over the fact that she was in a sexy Halloween costume and most likely openly flirting with him.

What was that Emily said once about his IQ dropping in the presence of a pretty woman?

Y/N had rendered him utterly thoughtless.

And speechless, too, apparently, because he stood there, staring at her without saying a single word.

"Spencer," she called out softly, almost like a lullaby. Her chair rolled back, away from the table to give him a better view of her legs as she un-crossed them and very slightly opened her knees. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

As if he wasn't already practically burning inside-out since the moment she arrived at the office, now his blood ran hot, and he was suddenly very uncomfortably warm. "U—Um, y—yes, you're... You're beautiful, y—your costume... It's nice, it looks nice on you."

Her pout slowly turned into a smile as she patted her knees. "Thank you... I wore it just for you, you know."

Is this some sort of bizarre dream? he wondered, his knees almost buckling at her words, their tone, and the meaning of it all.

"Y—You did?" he whispered brokenly.

"Mnmm," she drawled as her fingers toyed with themselves. "You teach, right?"

"Sometimes."

Y/N hummed and nodded, her legs still closed enough that he couldn't see anything... extra promiscuous. "You know, I bet you have quite a few students who find you attractive... Tell me, do any of them dress like this?"

She leaned back in the chair and started to run her hands slowly up the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. "Do they ever... Sit in the front row and... spread their legs just enough for you to see the pretty panties they picked out... just for you..."

By now her hands were resting on the inside of her thighs, her legs spread in exactly the way she'd described. He couldn't help himself. There she was, offering herself to him, and in his line of vision was the faintest glimpse of baby pink fabric that matched the color of her fingernails.

He didn't even know how to verbally respond. By now he was sure his face was beet red, and his palms were sweating so badly and struggling to keep him upright as he leaned forward on the table. Ah, the table— the only thing separating him from her, a fact which he wasn't quite sure if he was thankful for or not.

The spell she had around her broke when her phone rang. And just like that, it was like she was... herself again. At least, the 'herself' Spencer had always known. She sat up and walked over to the other side of the room to grab her phone from her bag, reading the screen as he struggled to catch his breath.

"It's Penelope. She has a costume emergency I have to help with. Are you good putting the rest of these up?"

"U—Um, yeah. Yeah, go."

Y/N smiled and grabbed her bag, thanking him as she walked past and left him behind.

He heard her call back as her figure was etching itself into his brain, ready to remain there until the end of time. "Can't wait to see your costume!"

***

Luke and Tara were having a conversation that he was supposed to be paying attention to, but Spencer's mind was still occupied by Y/N and her... outward display of sensuality.

Her voice was echoing in his brain, replaying over and over how she'd dressed up for him. And the longer he tried to wrap his brain around everything, the more he wound up confused. Where had her forwardness even come from? Had she been actively interested in him this whole time and he just hadn't seen it until now? A possibility, but why had she chosen to go to that extreme rather than just tell him the truth? Maybe she'd just found being overtly sexual an easier tactic than others?

Or maybe, in the end, she was just messing with him. Even though Derek had moved away, it was entirely possible that he'd somehow concocted one of his ridiculous pranks and roped Y/N into helping him since he wasn't around to do it himself. A smart move, though it was highly unlikely.

Spencer just didn't know what to do. Depending on how the rest of the night went, he was probably just going to have to muster up the courage to ask her what her intentions were. And depending on what she says, he was going to have to figure out what he wanted from their relationship... Did she want just sex? Did he want just sex? Did she want to go out with him? Is that something he would want as well?

He was just about to mull it over when Penelope's boisterous laugh sounded from the other side of the room. Spencer looked up, eager to see if Y/N was with her, since she'd been called away on a costume emergency. Penelope was dressed as a devil, red sparkly horns on her red-streaked, curled hair. She was dressed head-to-toe in a red dress and shoes that felt very much like her, with feathers and sequins, and her makeup was also red and black and absolutely glittery.

And sure enough, behind her stood the woman who'd been occupying Spencer's mind for the past hour and a half. Though, she wasn't dressed as a schoolgirl anymore.

He found himself swearing under his breath as he took her in, shimmering where she stood, dressed in all white.

She was an angel.

An actual angel. Her hair fell loose around her, accessorized with a headband with a golden halo attached to it. Her dress was still pretty form-fitting, though nowhere near as scandalous as her previous outfit. It was long and flowed out at the bottom until it hit the floor, a ring of gold at the hem. The sleeves were also long and bell-bottomed, accented with gold at the end.

And from where Spencer stood, even that far away, he noticed the glitter that surrounded her eyes, gold to compliment the color on her dress. Her lips were still bright red, and her glasses were gone. And the wings... As small as they were—most likely to keep from taking up too much space—they stood out in any crowd, purely white and outlined in gold, just like the rest of her outfit.

Why had she changed? Did... she actually change at all? Had he truly only imagined their encounter hours ago?

"Any... specific angels crossing your mind?" Spencer heard Luke say, punctuated with a pat on the shoulder.

He blinked and looked at him. "What?"

"Y/N... She makes a pretty good angel, eh?"

"Uh, yeah, I—I guess so."

Luke and Tara laughed, obviously amused by all of this. But they hadn't seen her earlier. They hadn't been there to witness her seducing him and acting like she'd done it a million times over. They didn't know what she was doing to him, inhabiting every corner of his brain and driving him mad trying to figure it all out.

But it wasn't uncommon for his friends to tease him about the female attention he got sometimes. And when it was obvious that he was flustered, they kept the friendly teasing going. And every time, he settled on leaving it alone, because he knew it would pass and he wouldn't have to worry about it again, at least until the next woman hit on him in public.

And Y/N? She worked with them. As long as she was in his head, he was afraid he'd never stop being flustered in her presence.

So he had to know. He had to talk to her and see what was going on, no matter how awkward it might get.

For now though, it was Halloween, and he was going to spend the night with his friends while doing the very rare amount of drinking and the more frequent amount of laughter.

The night didn't come without a few looks in Y/N's direction, though. She never came up to him directly, though a few times he'd catch her looking at him. And each time, she'd wave and continue on her merry way, laughing with Emily or doing some silly dance with Penelope in their coupling costumes.

Honestly, if earlier hadn't happened, he would have thought nothing of it. She was being completely normal. Happy, friendly... Simply Y/N, as he'd known her for the past year and a half.

He just finished saying goodbye to JJ, who was leaving early to go trick-or-treating with her kids, when she finally approached him. At the sight of her getting closer, her otherworldliness making his blood go warm again, he tried to compose himself. After all, there was no way she'd do anything sensual in public like this, right?

"I didn't get a chance to compliment you on your costume yet," she said brightly, her voice not carrying that higher tone from before. "You make a very believable zombie."

He looked down at his tattered clothes, a small laugh escaping him. "Thank you... It's no high-level makeup job, but I tried my best."

When he looked back up to her, the shimmer of her makeup basked her in a glow that made it incredibly hard to breathe. She really was pretty. Still sexy, of course, but in an understated way this time.

And he couldn't help but bring up the difference. "You... changed."

Something sparkled in her eyes then, giving them a devious glint that inherently contradicted her costume, and the mere implications of that made him tremble, especially as she said, "Mhm... I figured the schoolgirl costume was a little too inappropriate for the workplace. And besides... I did say I wore it just... for you..."

So he hadn't imagined the whole thing... On the one hand he was relieved to know he wasn't freaking out over something that hadn't actually happened. But... on the other, what did that leave him with?

It left him with a woman who was standing in front of him, dressed like an angel while giving him all sorts of devilish feelings.

Once again she'd rendered him speechless, though now his thoughts were filled with images of those pretty, glimmering eyes above him, watching as he worshipped her between her legs... Of her hands twisted in his hair as he showed her just how much he wanted her, to show her how beautiful she was.

Those thoughts were interrupted when she got closer, toying with a stray curl that stuck out from his head. She twirled it around her finger and looked up at him, doe-eyed again as she purred, "Happy Halloween, Doctor Reid."

She was gone too quickly, whisked away by the throes of an office holiday party that, one way or another, served as the beginning to a long, tempestuous affair.

***

In the weeks that followed, Spencer went about his days as normally as he could, focusing on work, and getting ready for another month of teaching, where he'd be away from his friends and, therefore, also away from Y/N.

It's not that he necessarily wanted to be away from her... Yet, after constant flirting with no direction other than his dreams filling with filthy images of the two of them together and no actual outlet for it, he figured a break would do him some good. Of course, he wasn't sure what would await him when he came back—if she'd forget about all of it and give up or if she'd come at him stronger than before.

It was his final day before leave, and so naturally, Y/N had to make it hard on him. He was sure that's what she was doing.

Since it was getting colder, she strayed away from skirts, though occasionally she would show up to work in a longer dress or a shirt that hugged her in all the right places, especially on the days that he would be working with her more. She had the BAU's schedules on hand always, so she had to be using that as a way to get to him.

On those days, she often used her higher pitch when she spoke to him, and her eyes were always adventurous— they wandered over every part of his body and sometimes quickly blinked away when he caught her, accompanying an embarrassed smile. (Though, Spencer was convinced she really was absolutely not embarrassed.)

Other times she pulled the "Oops, I dropped something," trick, and "You know, it's almost Winter but it's still so warm in here, don't you think?" followed by a stretch of her body as she slowly put her hair up or dragged it over her shoulder.

His plan was to wait until he got back from leave, assess their situation from there after he'd cleared his head for a while, and then talk to her about what the hell was going on. Though the thought of confronting her scared him a little, he knew he couldn't let this go on any longer without some sort of conversation about what was next... What it all meant. It would drive him crazy otherwise.

With all the sensual, suggestive looks and actions she was throwing at him, though, it was a wonder he hadn't gotten to that point already.

As if she'd figured this out—because of course she would have found a way to get into his brain and know what he was thinking and feeling before he could even do so himself—Y/N stood by a storage closet with a clipboard. She pretended to write things down, when in reality she was looking up at him every so often, biting her lip and crossing her legs where she stood. She looked utterly desperate for something, almost like it was painful for her to be deprived of whatever it was she was looking for.

Spencer had a sneaking suspicion he knew what that was. And the thought sent a wave of electricity through his veins. All day she'd been going extra hard in attempts to catch his attention, and since it was his final day before leaving for a month, he knew that had to be the reason why.

If catching his attention was her goal, she'd definitely succeeded.

Across the room, and across a small sea of co-workers who were head-down, going through paperwork, he caught her eye and waited, his fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out to her. She tilted her head to the side and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, staring back at him like she was in a daydream.

And sure enough, she was standing underneath a light, one singular beam that sat atop her head like a halo and bathed her in a soft glow.

Even without the costume, she was an angel... For a moment Spencer wondered if maybe she'd planed on it all from the start— making her move by dressing like an angel on Halloween for one night and then finding any way on purpose to replicate that presence without actually dressing up again. Was it a way to mess with his head, to make him believe that she was calling to him? That she would... save him somehow?

He had to know what she was doing.

So he gave in and stood up, his eyes keeping contact with hers as he got closer and closer. Before he could get to her, though, she winked and then turned around, entering the storage closet and disappearing before his eyes. Still, he followed her, desperately hoping that's what she wanted.

And with a silent prayer that felt ironic as he thought it, Spencer opened the door and entered the adventure that awaited him. Whether it would be heavenly or otherwise he wasn't sure, but either way he was ready to confront it.

Y/N had turned on a desk lamp, its orange glow the only source of light in an otherwise pitch-black space. She leaned back against a table, still standing with her legs crossed over each other, hands bracing themselves on the tabletop. "How's it going, Doctor Reid?"

"What are you doing?" he asked, almost immediately after she greeted him. Now that he was alone with her, away from unassuming eyes, he exhaled and visibly showed his confusion through pleading eyes. "Please, I need to know what you're doing..."

He barely saw the contours of her face through dim lighting as she smiled. "What do you mean?"

"Y/N... Don't do that." He took a step closer, even though the quick beating of his heart signaled that it might have been a dangerous move. "Tell me..."

"Isn't it obvious?" she cooed, her hands coming out to toy with the hem of her frilly skirt.

As he looked down at it, he had to wonder if there really was a God out there, some higher being that sent this angel down to destroy him. How else did it stand to happen that even though it was nearing the end of November, the one day it was warm enough for Y/N not to freeze while wearing a skirt was the final day he had before leaving for a whole moth?—Before it was inevitably snowy and she wouldn't have the luxury to tease him with her skin?

She must have caught his lingering gaze on her legs, because she laughed softly, spreading them to stand a bit further apart while her fingers very lightly pushed the fabric of her skirt up. "I've been trying to get your attention ever since I got here... But you never seemed to notice. So I figured... Why not be a little more... forthcoming..."

"Y—You could have... said something," he whispered, forcing himself to look at her face. But as he was learning, he couldn't look at any part of her without his whole body going up in flames.

By now she was walking closer to him, small, languid steps that perfectly showcased how her body could move. "Well... Truth is, I was scared... Every time I tried to talk to you, I got really nervous..." Her voice was demure, apologetic almost... Embarrassed. But it had to have just been part of the allure, right? Part of her show? "You're just so... intimidating."

Spencer swallowed, a small laugh coming from him as he tried not to collapse at her closeness. "I'm... I'm really not..."

But she laughed, finally close enough to reach out and grab his tie, which is what she did. She held the fabric in her hands for a few seconds before letting it drop, bringing her pointer finger to gently trace patterns on his chest. "Not in a mean way, silly... You're... incredibly smart, and you're good at your job... You're always so nice to everyone... And I bet you really know how to make a girl feel good..."

He found himself trembling under her touch again as she brought her hand down to meet his. She leaned up to nudge his chin with her nose as she moved his hand to the inside of her thigh. It was only the slightest of touches, nothing rushed or passionate about it. In fact, Y/N seemed more taken with the idea of using her touch to draw everything out— to make him pine for it, lose all semblance of sanity until he finally gave in and did whatever he wanted to her.

"Don't you wanna know what it feels like to touch me?" she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. Meanwhile her hand guided his own farther up her skirt, until he felt her skin getting warmer and warmer with each millimeter. His throat was dry, breath shaky as he fluttered his eyes closed and embraced the moment, embraced the guidance... "To feel how wet you make me?"

His heart practically leapt out of his chest once his hand was finally met with said wetness. Her panties were damp and oh so warm, and he couldn't stop the whine that left his throat as she pressed his fingers hard into her against the fabric. Her fingers covered his like a glove, guiding them in small circles over her clothed clit as she sighed into his neck.

"You feel that?" she asked, nuzzling into his skin. "That's what you do to me, Doctor. From the moment I saw you, I knew you'd ruin me..."

He breathed a laugh then, finding it utterly ironic how that's how she felt. She could have just been toying with him, but there was enough longing and desperation in her voice to let him know she really meant it. She'd been waiting for him to come along and whisk her away...

So that's what he was going to do.

Spencer removed his hand from her then, walking them over to the table and pulling her right to him by gripping the waistband of her panties and keeping her still. The gasp she let out fueled him in a way that would have wrecked him if the job hadn't already been done. As he looked down at her, her body was basked in the soft orange luminescence of the desk lamp, a sight that aesthetically added to his desire and farther fueled the heat that had been accumulating in his veins, waiting to be released.

"Is that what you want, angel?" he breathed, the words even taking him by surprise. His sexual experience was far from non-existent, but it was limited enough that he'd never acted this feral before. Never had a partner ever had this strong of a hold on him, so tight that he found it a struggle to breathe. Add on the fact that he wanted to embrace that struggle if it meant being this way with her, and you had a man who was completely unraveling under the allure of one single woman until she ultimately brought forth his demise. "You want me to ruin you?"

Though he was giving in, like he assumed she wanted in the first place, Y/N hummed, tilting her head again and blinking up at him. "You know, I kinda like it when you call me angel..."

Spencer gripped the fabric tighter, and she whined. "Is it what you want?" In other words, Do you want this?

Y/N nodded, and then he crashed his lips with hers as he tugged at her panties and let them drop to the floor in a pool around her feet. She flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself into him more, allowing his tongue to part her lips and explore her with liveliness. She was more than welcome to embracing it, verbally giving him praises in the form of whimpers and physical ones in the form of her hips rolling forward to get more friction.

As one of his hands found purchase under one of her thighs, he thought back to Halloween night, and how he'd imagined his head between her legs. The memory had his entire body tensing with pleasure, and without a second thought, he pulled away and dropped to his knees, looking up at her with what he hoped was the purest form of desire.

He looked up at her, admiring the way her face looked in the dim light, as he lifted one of her legs and placed it on his shoulder. Still keeping eye contact, he tilted his head and kissed the inside of her leg. But eventually he let his focus lean to immersing himself in her pleasure, tearing his eyes away from hers and completely shifting his head to face her leg. His lips trailed upwards, taking his time to remember the taste and the feel of her soft skin.

The higher he got, the heavier her breathing became, and it wasn't long before he fully had his head under her skirt. She tried to move the fabric so she could see him, but he gripped her wrists and pinned them at her sides, eliciting a laugh from her that quickly turned into a whimper once he brushed his nose over where she ached for him.

Without being able to stop himself, Spencer inhaled, breathing her in and letting out a shaky breath as he inched closer and involuntarily closed his eyes, completely wrapped up in her like he'd never felt before. He was intoxicated by her, even more so when his mouth finally made contact with her dripping cunt.

Feeling her shudder above him was almost as heavenly as the way she tasted, sweet and bitter and oh so delectable. He'd never craved anything more than her in that moment, his tongue lapping her up and making a point to taste all of her. He explored and worshipped and praised her just how he'd imagined he would, though now that it was actually happening and he'd really had a taste of her, he wasn't sure he could ever go back.

Not that he wanted to. Especially as she whined and rolled her hips against his face, seeking more pleasure as she tried to be quiet in the closet.

Spencer, though he knew the importance of keeping it quiet right then, couldn't say he was the same way. Since his head was hiked up her skirt, and his sounds were muffled by her skin, he was as loud as he wanted to be, groaning into her and mumbling praises in between while catching his breath. He reveled in the feeling of her wetness coating the lower half of his face and the sounds that both pairs of her lips were providing. It truly was better than any symphony or choir he'd ever heard, and if he could spend the rest of his life down there, worshipping at her altar and giving her everything she desired, he would have.

But they were at work, and if they were gone too long, it would get suspicious.

So, as much as he wanted to draw out her pleasure—and by association, his own—he focused on getting her to her peak, flicking his tongue out over her clit and letting her hips rock forward to get her exactly where she wanted to be.

He knew she was about to come when she stopped whining and whimpering altogether, the leg she had draped over his shoulder curling and tightening around him to keep herself steady.

His tongue was relentless, keeping at what it was doing while Spencer imagined what her face must have looked like. Were her eyes rolling to the back of her head or were they squeezed tight? And her mouth— was it hanging open? Was her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she attempted to keep herself from yelling out? And as her hands struggled in his grasp, trying to escape most likely in favor of gripping his hair, he imagined them tied up above her head, attached to his bedframe as he took his time, drawing out every little sound she could have possibly made until she was just as unraveled as he was.

And then her grip loosened all around him, a whiny sigh escaping from her mouth, and Spencer reluctantly drew himself away from her. He dropped her leg from his shoulder and licked at his lips, tasting as much of her as he could before he had to return to work. And then, when he was moving to remove his head from under her skirt, he caught sight of her panties on the ground, picking them up and sliding the garment lightly up along her leg as he stood.

The only thing was, he wasn't putting them back on her.

No, they hung loose between his fingers as they tickled the inside of her legs, and when he finally stood tall enough to tower over her again, he got as close as he could to her, bringing the fabric up between her legs, right where he'd just been, and pressed them firmly to her sensitive pussy.

"Time to clean you up, angel," he whispered, swiping his hand forward and doing exactly that. Y/N whined against his mouth, faintly tasting herself on his lips as he cleaned her.

He kissed her then, gently, removing his hand from under her skirt and depositing the damp fabric right into his pocket.

If Spencer hadn't known already that he was done for, he would have figured it out right then, when he pulled back far enough to see the high, blissed out look in her pretty eyes. She blinked at him and sighed, telling him one final thing before she pushed past him and walked out into the office with no underwear and half-wobbly legs.

"I miss you already, Doctor..."

***

He missed her, too.

The month-long leave was supposed to assist in letting him clear his head, but the longer he was away from her, the more it drove him mad. Occasionally he'd still taste the sweet tanginess of her on his tongue, and no amount of coffee could rinse it out. Sometimes he'd be grading papers and daydream about hearing her whimper out his name as he took care of her.

It didn't help that she also sent him texts, little things that would have sounded innocent to anyone else but had a way more promiscuous meaning to the both of them. They mostly involved the discussion of angels, of course, as she left him with a quote or a song lyric, and other days with a fact about a specific angel.

Today, the morning before classes started, she sent him, She's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see... Spencer didn't know what it meant, what it was referencing, but it was innocent enough that he didn't think anything of it until lunch rolled around and he checked his phone to see another text.

...When it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets.

He couldn't stop thinking about it. All day, even as he was trying to distract himself by lecturing, all he could see in his mind was Y/N. Sometimes with her angel costume on, but mostly with nothing on, her body fitting into his like a puzzle piece as she sighed out his name like a prayer.

And to think, he had one more week until he would see her again.

But then he was looking through his students' quizzes, small sheets of paper with some terminology and matching definitions they needed to pair together. Since there were only about five minutes left until the class was over, he let his students spend the rest of the time how they chose, not really in the mood to burn himself out speaking when he knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped and said something about Y/N that he shouldn't.

The next quiz he grabbed was folded in half, unusual, but he opened it and was looking to go about his merry way regardless. But then he saw a post-it note right in the middle of the paper, reading She's an angel, my only angel, and punctuated with a pair of red lips.

The first thing he did was drop the pen that was in his hand. Not like he did it on purpose, though, he was pretty sure all joint and muscle function was lost upon reading the handwriting he knew so well, and a reference that only she could make.

And then he looked up, eyes scanning the sea of students to find her. She had to have been there, right? A few of the students found it odd that he was just looking through all of them, but all he was worried about was finding her.

And there she was.

Y/N had tucked herself all the way in the back, her eyes locked directly onto him. She winked then, when she knew she had his attention, and all Spencer could think about was how it must have been another dream. Her texts from earlier had gotten to him more than usual, and because of it, he was seeing her everywhere, seeing what he wanted to see.

Even though he wanted to keep looking at her, to try and figure out if she was really there or if she was just a figment of his devilish mind, he didn't want anyone to catch him. To anyone else it would look like he might have been staring at another student, and with the lust he knew was definitely swimming in them, the last thing he wanted to do was get in trouble like that.

So, to his dismay and reluctance, he slipped the note into the drawer beside him and quietly finished grading, even though he was longing to see how else he could let Y/N destroy him.

Even as the bell rang and everyone filtered out, Spencer kept his head low, refusing to look up until everyone was gone and only one person remained.

The quieter it got, the harder he could feel his heart beating. And then the only thing that cut through the silence was that unmistakable, angelic high pitch that would surely never fail to bring him to his knees.

"Did you get my note, Doctor?"

Only then did he allow himself to look up, and when he did, seeing her closer to him than she'd been in almost a month now, it was like the stars aligned. "Yes," he whispered, getting out of his seat and walking around the desk to be as close to her as possible.

She laughed and met him in the middle, nearly trapping him between herself and the desk. Her hands reached out to grab at his suit jacket and he wished that she'd touch him somewhere else. Anywhere else, just to feel the soft warmth of her skin.

"And my texts?" she cooed, taking another step and actually trapping him between her body and his desk.

"Y—Yeah, I got them."

"Oh, good. I've been thinking a lot about how you left me..." She slid her hands then, under his jacket and across his stomach until they reached his waist. "The second I got in my car to go home, you were already on your way here... And I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing with my panties..."

They were currently back in his hotel room, in the drawer and laying atop of his own clothes, a vision that had him reeling, wondering if she was wearing any now. So he asked. "Are... Um..."

Well, he tried to ask, anyway.

Y/N caught on, though, beaming at him as her hands removed herself from him and slipped up her skirt. "You wanna see the pair I'm wearing now?"

"Y/N... There's... Someone could come in, I..."

She clucked her tongue. "Oh, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble, don't worry. I'll just... Give you a quick peek."

She didn't wait for him to respond, lifting the hem of the skirt and stepping back so he could see the front of her underwear, which were white and printed with black cursive lettering.

Angel.

As soon as he exhaled, loud and obviously very turned on at the sight in front of him, she dropped the skirt and smiled. "You like them? I needed to buy a new pair since you felt the need to steal my others..."

Spencer really didn't know what to say. All he knew was that his body was on fire, and the tightening of his pants was extremely dangerous since he had another class in a half hour and there wasn't enough time to take care of it unless they did something right now. And even then, they were in a public area with hardly anywhere to go. His best bet would be to go to the bathroom and be as inconspicuous as possible to take care of it himself. Or, Y/N needed to leave immediately so he could settle down and just let it go away on its own.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have a hard time denying her of anything.

Which was why he didn't stop her when she sunk to her knees.

As she undid his belt, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, she spoke to him. "Honestly, I had every intention to just make out with you a little, just enough to satiate myself until I can see you again next week, but... Well, I'm wearing lipstick, and I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

He'd made out with a woman before, who'd worn lipstick, and surprisingly it was pretty easy to remove, so he knew she had to have been lying as some part of a bigger scheme, but... he couldn't quite figure out what that was. Obviously she had plans to take care of his erection for him, so why make up the story?

But then she kept talking, only slightly pulling down his pants and palming him through his underwear. "And then I thought about how pretty you'd look covered in lipstick kisses, and, well... It's always good to start somewhere, don't you think?"

Oh...

His stomach did flips when she traced his dick through the fabric covering it, gently with her middle finger. And then, looking into his eyes from below, she pulled it out and slowly stroked it with her hand, a low hum coming from her throat. "Mmm, I can't wait to mark up this pretty cock..."

That's when he lost all semblance of control, a strained groan falling from his lips, coming from the great depths of his chest, just from her words alone. And she took that moment to lean forward and press the gentlest of kisses to the base of his dick. She held her lips there for a second or wo before removing them and moving just a little higher, her eyes never leaving his face.

Her kisses trailed higher and higher, centimeter by centimeter until she reached his tip, where she ever so slightly flicked her tongue over the slit at the top, tasting his precum. And then gave him one final kiss—one final red mark.

The temptation to grab her hair and hold her there while he fucked her throat was strong, but as he looked down at her, she was examining her handiwork with a seductive hunger that made him realize that no matter how strong his urges got, she would always be the one in charge. Even if she acted all innocent and submissive, she was the one who held the key to his sexual desires, and therefore she was the only one who had the ability to unlock them.

So, he contained himself as she looked up at him, winked, and quickly tucked his hard dick back into the confines of his pants.

And when she stood up, she leaned up to his cheek and pressed another kiss there, leaving behind a red mark and all all his sanity with it, quickly turning away before he could catch her.

"See you later, Doctor," she called over her shoulder before she disappeared out the door.

Spencer let out a long, unsteady breath, debating on whether or not he should take care of his situation in the bathroom or right there in the classroom, behind his desk and into the trash can underneath it while he still had ample time to do so.

He sat in the chair about a minute later, his hand moving furiously under the desk as he breathed out hushed whispers of her name.

***

No matter how badly he wanted more alcohol in his system, he wasn't going to allow it. After one drink he was already starting to feel the affects, veins buzzing right along with the low hum of the music from inside. The single streetlight above him provided only the dimmest of lights as he took deep breaths in and out, focusing on the bitter cold from the December air and the soft pelting of snowflakes upon the skin of his cheeks.

Y/N's touch still burned him, right along his inner thigh where her hand had firmly rested while they and the rest of their friends ate dinner at the bar. All night so far, she'd been teasing him to no end, whether it was a brush of her hand against his crotch or a tiny kiss on the shoulder when no one was looking.

How no one had figured them out yet was a mystery.

Spencer rubbed his hands together, trying to keep them warm when he felt it. She was behind him.

"You've been out here for a while, Spence, is everything okay?" Even when she wasn't speaking to him in her angelic higher pitch, he still felt like succumbing to the sound her voice regardless.

He turned around to face her, and sighed. It figured that even surrounded by a street that was covered in brown-tainted snow, she wouldn't have let it taint her beauty. He was convinced that no matter where she was or what she looked like, she'd always be perfect— capable of knocking the breath out of him every time he looked at her. "Honestly, you've been driving me crazy."

"Oh," she said, her eyes slightly shifting to the ground. "Maybe I... did take it too far, I... I'm sorry." The slight tinge of embarrassment and maybe regret that filtered through her voice nearly ran him to the ground— How could she ever believe that he would feel overwhelmed by her? Sure, to some extent, he was extremely overwhelmed by her, but it was never a negative thing.

"Oh, angel, that's not what I meant," he explained softly, taking a few steps towards her.

She lifted her head, eyes doe-eyed and sparkling, though not as they usually were. This time they were swimming in a softness that made him yearn for her even more. "What?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm absolutely mesmerized by you... Y/N..." Spencer brought a hand to lightly caress her face, and when she leaned into his touch it made him so warm he thought it would melt all of the snow. "I can't get you out of my head, and I... I don't know if I ever want to. I mean that."

"Y—You're not... weirded out or anything?" she asked softly. "That I just... sprung all my feelings and my lust out onto you all at once? B—Because I know it was sudden, and I came on really strong so fast, I just... I thought you liked it, and so I just kept going, but really I should have stopped and... I don't know, asked if you were okay with it..."

He'd seen this softness in her before— When she watched over JJ's kids in the office sometimes, and when she helped Penelope set the table for their 'family dinners'. Every time, on the rare occasion that she actually went on cases with them, when she helped JJ comfort the families who'd lost their loved ones, he saw it. And even through all the lust, that sweetness in her soul was what truly made her an angel. Even though the lust is all he'd been swimming in since Halloween, deep down he really knew that it was only a small part of who she really was.

So, he said to her, "Y/N, I'm enchanted by all of you. I don't... I don't know what happened to make you want to come on strong to me, but... I'm glad you did. Believe me when I say, there is nothing about you that would scare me away."

He didn't know how she was feeling, but she practically visibly melted at his words, right in front of him. "You really mean that?"

With a smile, Spencer stepped even closer and brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. "Of course I mean it, my angel."

She laughed then, her hands wrapping themselves over his waist. "Your angel, huh?"

"Mhm... If you'd like to be..."

Y/N leaned up and pressed her lips to his in answer, firmly and with all the sweetness she had nestled inside her soul.

But the longer they stood there outside the bar, kisses growing warmer and hungrier with each passing second, Spencer realized that he didn't want her sweetness any longer, not tonight anyway. He cradled her face in his hands, feeling the fire in his veins come alive when she whined into his mouth and willed herself closer.

Before he could say fuck it and decide to take her right there outside, he pulled away, still needing her but not entirely willing to get themselves caught for public indecency.

Y/N spoke before he got a chance to, her higher pitch coming back and almost bringing him to his knees.

"What do you say you take your angel home and show her a good time?"

***

She didn't even get a chance to close the door to his apartment before he was on her, his hands tugging at her coat to get it off.

It was a frenzy, at least while they were stripping. Jackets and boots and scarves were strewn across the entryway and leading into the living room, until each of them only had two layers: their regular clothes and what they wore underneath. And that's when they finally allowed themselves the luxury of wrapping their limbs around each other.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed ahold of her ass to keep her steady. For added support, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him the whole way to his bedroom, but not without a few stumbles. Either way, they were so quite literally wrapped up in each other that the imperfections didn't matter.

Like she could ever come with imperfections... Spencer thought as he set her down, immediately bringing his hands to the back of her dress.

Meanwhile she unbuttoned his shirt, fumbling around so much that he thought she might choose to rip it open, and selfishly he wished she would have. But she got it open without tearing any buttons, and the fabric slid easily off his shoulders at the same time her dress slid off her own.

He was going to kiss her again, but once he caught a glimpse of what she'd been hiding under her dress, there was nothing he could physically do but rake his eyes over her figure and pray for forgiveness for all the devilish things he wanted to do to her.

It was a white set, all lace that was detailed to look like feathers as it hugged every curve of her body perfectly. She wore a set of garters that attached to the panties, which he was pretty sure were crotch-less and outlined in a pretty gold shimmer.

"I knew you'd like it," Y/N drawled sweetly. The pure innocence that dripped from her tongue would have thoroughly wrecked him had her appearance already not taken care of that. And she seemed to understand how immobile he'd become at the sight of her, because she moved of her own accord, gliding over to him and reaching her hand out to undo his belt. "I'm gonna take your silence as a good sign..."

"You're stunning," he breathed, just barely, and she gave him a smile through softly biting her bottom lip.

"You're too good to me..." Her hands pushed down his loosened slacks and waited until they fell to the floor. And then she hooked her fingers under the waistband of his underwear and leaned into his neck. "And I think your kindness deserves a reward..."

Her lips gently pressed to his neck before she dropped to her knees once again, and as she descended, her hands and his underwear did the same, leaving him completely bare and open for her to do whatever she wanted. No matter how badly he longed to throw her on the bed and get to showing her just how much she'd inhabited his every fiber of being, he didn't dare stop her as her tongue darted out and licked a featherlight line along the length of his hard cock.

He let out a sigh and twitched at her touch, a feat that must have pleased her, because she smiled and hummed happily as she repeated her action. Only, this time her tongue was more firm on him— not teasing anymore, but it brought him to damnation all the same.

And then she fully wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, slowly gliding herself down until he hit the back of her throat.

The sound he made was inhuman.

She wasted no time then, bobbing her head at a steady rhythm and moaning around him as she did so. It didn't take long for saliva to start gathering above her chin and dripping down onto the exposed area of her breasts, just above her bra. Occasionally she would hold him at the back of her throat and choke as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and the sight of his little angel happily crying with his dick in her mouth sent Spencer into a tailspin.

But as tempting as it was to paint the back of her throat white, he knew he'd prefer to take that action to a more interesting place. So he pulled away from her and breathed out, "Please, not yet..."

He looked down at her as she smiled, wetness coating her skin in the form of tears on cheeks and saliva on breasts. Her hands rested at the tops of her thighs, even as she stood up and blinked a final stream of tears down her left cheek. "Why, is there somewhere else you'd rather fill me up?"

"Please," was all he said, his breathing labored as he imagined what she would feel like.

Thankfully she seemed to take mercy on him— Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed, where she laid him down at the headboard and straddled his thighs. "As much as I love spreading my legs for you, I think I'd much rather take a ride..."

"Anything you want," he told her, his eyes traveling up the length of her body as she got comfortable. She was, in fact, wearing crotch-less panties, and the feeling that coursed through him at the sight of her glistening pussy in decent lighting (AKA when he wasn't under her skirt in a storage closet) sent him straight to Hell all over again.

He sighed out as she played with herself, gliding her fingers delicately along the planes of her body, from her thighs to her clit, and eventually she gripped his dick to line it up, lifting her hips above him.

"Are you ready?" she asked gently, rolling her hips to slick him up with her arousal.

"Always ready for you, angel..."

The pet name sprung her into action. She sunk down slowly onto him, and he willed his eyes to stay open so he could watch as her mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back into her head as she moaned out deliciously. He let out a groan himself, the feeling of her tightly wrapping around him like velvet almost too much to handle.

"Ohhh, you fill me up so good," Y/N sighed, gently grinding her hips in slow circles as she finally had all of him inside her. "Just like I knew you would..."

Everything she was doing, between the gradual increase of the speed at which her hips rolled and the way she looked down at him with pure desire, had Spencer wondering what he'd ever done without her. What had he known before knowing the feeling of her nails gently digging into the skin of his stomach as she rode him, before knowing the sound of his name falling from her lips in a whisper? It couldn't have been anything good, because as far as he was concerned, she was as good as it would ever get.

But at some point it felt like he needed to take more. She was giving him her body, offering it to him like the most precious gift she had to offer, and yet he wanted to tear into it and leave nothing behind except her voice, calling out his name into the heavens above. He longed to give her something in return, something that would leave her just as ruined as she'd left him.

And, as always, she could tell.

Y/N laughed seductively as she leaned down, her hips still rocking into his. Her lips pressed a gentle kiss to his before she spoke. "Everything alright, baby?"

All he could do was let out a broken moan as she clenched around him on every upstroke.

"Aww... You want more? Huh, you wanna lay me down and give it to me good? Show your little angel what it feels like to be fucked so good she can't even speak?"

"Don't... tempt me," he was finally able to choke out, and she laughed.

"Aww, come on... Show me what you got..."

Spencer wasn't sure when he actually did it, but one second she was nipping at his bottom lip, challenging him to take control, and the next he was on top of her, her legs spread as wide as they could possibly get as he rocked his hips into her at a deep, bruising force.

She laughed amusedly through whimpers of pleasure, her hands spreading out at her sides like wings as he gave her everything he had. Looking down at her, head thrown back and hair fanned around her head like some sort of angelic crown, he soaked it all in and wondered if this was what Heaven was— the feeling of her succumbing to his lust, the sight of her lost in the throes of weeks of pent-up sexual tension that never entirely got released, the sound of her near-incoherently whining at how good he was...

If it wasn't Heaven, it was surely something pretty damn close.

He was almost there, tension stretching out inside the pit of his stomach, when Y/N grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her lower belly. He felt himself slamming into her at full force every time, the small bump against his hand bringing him further along the road of release.

"You feel that?" she whined, keeping his hand there. "You know what that means, don't you?"

It could have meant a lot of things, but his brain was too far gone, lost in in the fog of pleasure to even begin to think about what it was. But then she answered for him, and it was just about the hottest thing he'd ever heard come from her mouth.

"It means I'm all yours... to do whatever you want with... to fill me up with your cum as much as you want... maybe turn your little angel into a mommy..."

With a loud, guttural groan, Spencer held himself still, deep inside her, and gave her every last drop, his hand remained pressed firmly to her stomach. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel his cum spilling out and filling her to the brim through the barrier. She pulsed and came around him at the same time, warmth spreading between the two of them like a drop of water would soak through fabric, until it completely enveloped them like a heavy blanket.

And then they'd given everything, their bodies clinging to each other for dear life as they settled into the gentle aftermath of such a heavy feeling of ardor. Their breaths slowed and their lips explored each other tenderly, hands doing the same until, finally, they felt themselves drifting off.

***

Spencer dreamt of Heaven that night, glimpses of a future he'd always longed for with other people, but that he would get to spend with her.

A wedding dress, white, but haloed by a gold fog as the woman wearing it glided along the aisle and made her way to him.

A house, small, but fenced in and just perfect enough for the two of them and the baby that was on the way.

A picnic table, damp, but drying out in the sun as it gradually became littered with plates of birthday cake and a little candle that was shaped into the number 3.

A woman, old, but beaming as she showed a photo album to her multitudes of grandchildren, telling them stories about the wonderful life she lived with her husband who always called her Angel.

And when he woke up, seeing that old woman as she was now, sleeping in his bed as the sun beamed through the curtains and basked her in a heavenly light, he knew what Heaven really was.

It was her.

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

one ✘ two ✘ three

One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company’s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

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mindofharry · 3 years

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In which you’re way too good at riding harry.

request imagine riding harry so good he needs his inhaler. i need holy water.

smut!!! this request has been keeping me up at night. i’m so fucking in love with it. my first time writing sub!harry !!! feedback is welcome as always!! <3

“I’m gonna ride you when we get home” You said placing a hand on Harry, your husbands, thigh. He had been such a good boy during dinner, telling stories to your friends, saying please and thank you to the waiters and eating all his food. You were guessing he wanted something in return for being so good, and you were really weren’t opposed to the idea.

Harry grinned and nodded “Ok, whatever you want princess” He said, trying to keep in how excited he was but harry was practically shaking. You smiled right back, squeezing his thigh before putting it back on the wheel.

Harry is usually always a good boy, he doesn’t like to disappoint you. But sometimes he does love a good spank, the same as you. But today, today he just needed you without any punishments or teasing. It had been a long week at the studio and full of stupid dinners with possible collaborators, and harrys cock was really missing out. He was way too busy this week, and couldn’t play with you and you couldn’t play with him.

But tonight, tonight was just going to be you giving harry everything he wanted and more. Starting off with riding him. Harry absolutely loves when you ride him, he loves how your breasts move and your thighs burn, he loves how your hand move your hair and the way your bite your lip.

He most importantly loves you jumping on his cock.

You married quite young, you were 22 and harry was 23. Harry was doing his solo work and you just wanted to explore the world with harry. So you did just that, you married and went on tour with harry. The sex was fucking incredible, you both did your exploring with sex and are both quite skilled in the exercise. Harry wanted to try some new things out, and you were more than happy to help. You’ve always wanted to be a dominant, just never found the right partner to pursue that dream with.

It started out with small little things, like spankings. And then you both branched out into other things, like pegging and butt plugs. After that, harry decided that he liked it. He liked being bossed around and babied a little. So after a year of marriage, you became harry styles’ dominant and he became your sub.

“Nearly home, baby” You said stopping at a red light. “You excited?” You asked and harry nodded quickly, not able to contain himself any longer. He was itching to take his pants off, they felt too tight. It almost felt a little claustrophobic.

“So hard for you. Can’t wait for you to take my pants off” Harry said and you bit your lip, find it hard to contain yourself too. You could cum at the sight of harry. He was sweaty, his curls clinging to his forehead. His top unbuttoned at the top, his hands resting on his cock. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“I know, just two more minutes” You reassured him, pulling into the neighbourhood. It was a nice house you and harry had committed to. You had a flat in london too, that you had bought during college. You wanted to keep it for obvious reasons, harry could stay there during his visits and it’s nice to just have a place to go to when america gets too much. But this home you and harry had bought, is beautiful. It’s in LA, near jeff and glenne. It’s honestly the perfect family home.

You pull into the driveway, a little faster than usual and immediately unbuckle yourself moving over to peck harrys lips three times. He moaned at the contact, his hand coming to your cheek. He flushed as you pulled back biting his lip.

“Come on, baby boy” You whispered opening up the car door open and walking up to the house.

Harry let out a breathe and grinned as he saw you opening up the front door, he quickly opened the car door closing it and running up after you. Before you fulling opened the door you placed a hand on your very excited husbands chest.

“Now tell me the rules”

The three rules are really important to you. You make sure he knows them each time you guys do this. If he doesn’t remember them, you take him through it step by step. You want him to feel safe and comfortable. And most importantly have fun.

“Say my safe word, red, if i need to stop or feel uncomfortable. We can stop at anytime. And if i’m unhappy to tell you” He listed and you nodded pecking his lips.

“Go on, upstairs. Be naked and laying flat on the bed” You said and harry nodded quickly almost tripping over himself as he rushed up the stairs. You giggled and decided a glass of wine is needed right now.

You open up the fridge and take out the white wine, then turn around opening up the cupboard to take out a wine glass. You were just teasing yourself now, but you knew harry needed a few moments to himself. To decompress for a bit.

There would be no teasing tonight. You’ll ride him until you can’t anymore.

You down the glass of wine and place the glass in the sink. After a couple of seconds you decide you’ll put both of you out of your misery and go upstairs. You can hear harry talking to himself when you reach the top of the stairs. These the moments you absolutely adore about this relationship. The sweet little moments most people wouldn’t pick up on. Harry talking to himself, his little pout, his curls.

You just love harry a lot.

You open the bedroom door, to see harry naked and laying flat on the bed like you told him to. You can see that he’s struggling to keep his hands to himself. His eyes lit up when he sees you. You take him all in. His red cock, leaking with pre cum all ready and the sweat forming on his bare chest.

Harry styles is beautiful.

“You ready? Comfy?” you asked putting your phone and keys on the dresser. Harry nodded, moving his legs up the bed a bit.

“Words, please”

“Yes. comfy, baby” He said quickly and you nodded with a smile. “Good” you replied and unbuttoned your shirt. Harry watched you intensely, his dick twitching as he saw your breasts. No bra? Brave.

“You were such a good boy today” You said and began to pull down your skirt, leaving you just in lace panties. Harry nodded quickly. “You deserve a reward, you were polite, engaged” you said walking over to the side of the bed, placing a hand on harrys, red cock. He whimpered at your touch.

“I think you deserve my pussy”

Harrys eyes widened and he nodded quickly, bucking his hips up. You giggled and leaned to kiss the top of his cock, harry moaned and pushed his hips up more.

You shook your head, pulling away and taking off the last piece of clothing off. You were both naked and ready for each other. Harry looked you up and down biting his lip.

“What did i say? Words”

“Fuck. You’re so wet and beautiful” Harry said holding onto your hips as you began to get comfortable, both of your legs on either side of him. Harry placed his hands on your breasts as you got situated.

“Wet just for you” You said smirking at the way he reacted. More like his cock.

“Want you to be so loud for me, ok?” you asked placing your hands on his chest, kissing his neck. Harry nodded, breathing heavily as you kissed up and down his neck. You nipped at his collarbone leaving marks everywhere.

Your pussy was soaking wet, brushing up against harry’s cock. He was whimpering as you teased him. “Please, baby” harry moaned as you placed your hands on his stomach. You smirked, continuing to edge him.

“Please what, baby boy?”

“Please fuck me”

And you listened, placing his cock in your dripping pussy. Harry moaned loudly, listening to your command. Your hands moved up to his chest, as you began to move your hips. Harrys hands moved to your hips, as his own buck up making you whimper.

“Feel so good, baby. So good” Harry cried out, you moaned as his huge dick spread you out. you began to bounce down, faster and harder. Harry felt euphoric as he watched you move faster your hands coming up your hair, he felt his heart speed up and he began to lose his breath. He almost felt claustrophobic.

Harry is deep, deep inside of you and he just hit that place where you both feel incredibly good. You could feel him all the way up in your stomach he was that deep.

“You’re being so good for me” You said and harry nodded, his mouth forming an O shape. “Fuck” Harry said with furrowed brows, his cheeks red and forehead full of sweat. His curls stuck to his forehead, making him incredibly sexy.

“I’m gonna cum” He said and he started to feel that feeling his chest again.

Harry cleared his throat, and started to cough as he began to cum. You stopped moving placing a hand on his cheek, feeling how hot he was. Harry started to heave and pointed to the dresser.

“Fuck. Inhaler” You murmured, getting off of harry, probably making a mess while doing so. You opened up the top drawer and found the red inhaler pretty quickly, putting it to harry’s lip helping his sit up.

After he calmed down a little you giggled and shook your head.

“Didn’t know i was that good” You teased and harry closed his eyes leaning back into your hold. You knew he was tired and needed you right now. You let him lay down and rest.

While he was doing that you put your shirt and panties back on, and made your way to the bathroom. You grabbed a cloth and wet it a little.

Now this was a story you’d never let him forget. You walked over to the bed and cleaned harry up, then you quickly got him a drink of water.

“Can cuddle now?” He asked after he took a big gulp of water. You nodded a pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Can cuddle now”

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles headcannon #harry styles concepts #harry styles asks #harry styles requests #harry styles x ofc #harry x you #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

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koqabear · 3 years

Text

hit me with your killshot, baby (C.YJ)

Summary:

It was a small, quiet town you had decided to move into. One that you could help with any healing or magical needs. What you didn’t expect, however, was to face a demon too powerful for your own good. The worst part? Seems like he’s gotten attached.

Yeonjun x reader/ demon!yeonjun x witch!reader

Genre: fantasy, enemies to ?? thriller(?), angst if you squint me thinks

Word count: 3.0K

Warnings: general physical fighting/violence, mentions of scars, burns, bones breaking, knives, blood, fire, descriptions of pain (let me know if I should add anything!)

a/n: This might get another part if it gets a good response <3 Writing fantasy is rlly fun for me as well, I’m so glad that this is the story that got me out of my writers block lmao

comments and reblogs are always welcome and much appreciated, hope you guys enjoy! <3

Disclaimer!! Absolutely nothing about this story is accurate or real, anything and everything that mc the witch does is made up!

It was about three in the morning when you got the call.

“Hello?” You said, eyes squinted as you had just been woken up from your sleep. The line remained silent for a moment, leaving you to wonder if this was a scam caller. You spoke again, only to hear hasty footsteps becoming louder, presumably running towards the phone.

“Hello?!” The voice called out, the loud exclamation causing you to jolt awake. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Their exasperated voice rang through your line, and you stood to get properly dressed, already anticipating their request.

“Where do you live?” You asked sharply, grabbing the keys to your car and waiting for their answer. They stuttered out their address, the sounds of the rain coming into your ear. They were now outside.

“Please come quick, this spirit has been bothering me for weeks now, I could have sworn they were harmless-“ they cried into the phone, only to get cut off by your stern command.

“Leave your home. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

They agreed, their voice quiet and shaky, and you hung up, beginning to drive to your new task.

It was no secret your town had a problem with the supernatural. That was the whole reason you lived here.

‘The town witch’ was what they called you. You remember moving to this small town the moment you turned eighteen, the rumors of the paranormal town beckoning you to help. With potions and incantations by your side, you were the best damn thing this place had ever gotten. But that was six years ago, and you were young and naive. The scars and burns that riddled your body only served to prove your progress, marking your place in this town permanently.

You sighed, your grip on your steering wheel weak. You were, after all, the only help these people had. Late night calls like this were beginning to become much too common recently, leading you to wonder if something, or someone, new was beginning to pester this poor town.

You arrived at the house, the thunderstorm only helping to provide a stereotypical atmosphere for you to work in. You got out your car, pulling your coat tightly against your body, the wind around you strong enough to hinder your footsteps.

The two story home before you rattled in protest, the front door swinging open the moment you got close enough. You felt your heart begin to race, beginning to question if this was truly worth it. It seems that whatever had been pestering the homeowner was no small ghost. Walking inside, you were met with the dark and empty home, the hardwood floor beneath you creaking in protest as you carefully walked around, the house seemingly calming the moment you entered.

You breathed in slowly, attempting to steady your mind as you surveyed the house, recalling what the homeowner told you before hanging up. This had been going on for a while, but it seems that it only recently became too much for them. Whatever was in this home really liked the attention.

Before you were able to take another step forward, you were thrown off your feet, slamming into the wall to your left, the many picture frames and decorations falling before you with a loud crash. The door slammed shut, and you covered your head, bracing yourself as you felt the glass shards begin to be directed towards you.

It’s here, and it’s angry.

Just as the chaos around you finally dulled down, you were met with the sight of the trophy shelf in front of you beginning to shake, your eyes widening as you began to run. You muttered a quick incantation to help shield you, the dull sounds of impact that began to pound against your shield only serving to make you run faster.

The hallway in front of you suddenly seemed never-ending, it’s violet wallpaper becoming harder to see the more you ran. Was the house layout always like this? The hallway suddenly ended, leading you to an open room, quickly recognizing it as the living room. The lights suddenly flickered on, disturbing your concentration as you noticed a shadow walk past one of the doorways.

Seemingly knowing you perfectly, the spirit took this small wavering to throw a book in your direction, narrowly missing your face as you ducked to the side, only to get knocked to your knees as you felt a kick to your back, your disturbed concentration causing your spell to be broken.

You turned around in a haste, summoning your shield once more as you unsheathed the knife you had in your coat pockets.

“Show yourself!” You barked out, standing up as you surveyed the room. “I know you’re here.”

Silence.

The howling wind outside stopped, the flickering lights suddenly still at the sound of your voice. You gripped the handle of the knife harder, trying to not let the exhaustion seep into you. The lights began to slowly dim, a lit ember flickering in front of you, only to be followed by many more, swirling into a raging fire directly in front of you. You jumped back at the heat, the familiar sight making you frown in anticipation.

“You look tired,” the voice said, as smooth and elegant as you first remembered it, “Maybe I could fix that.”

Standing in front of you was no other than Yeonjun. Clad in black, his dark eyes stared into yours as he towered over you, his platform boots shining underneath the dull lights, his hair slicked back and pushed away from his face save for a few strands that hung to frame his face.

“Yeonjun.” You said, a feeling of anger stirring inside you the longer you stared at him

“It’s so nice to hear my name come from you again,” he sighed, taking a step toward you, only for you to step back in retaliation.

Yeonjun was none other than the first demon you tried to expel when you first came here. You had fought with every single potion and spell you spent years perfecting, only to leave hospitalized and unsure that he would return. However, as the years passed and no sign of him appeared, you had assumed that you had succeeded in your battle against him, any signs of hauntings or poltergeists disappearing after that day.

“You,” you snapped, everything finally piecing everything together. “You’re behind everything that’s been happening recently, aren’t you?” You took another step back as he began to laugh, throwing his head back as if you had just told him the funniest thing in the world. Slowly, he calmed himself down, his eyes playful as he took his sweet time responding to you.

“Maybe, why?” He said, beginning to walk towards you slowly. You held your ground, concentrating on keeping your shield steady, they grip on your knife tightening. He stopped centimeters away from it, the aura of the shield humming as his clothes grazed the perimeter, shocks emitting on impact.

“I missed you, you know,” He muttered, head leaning towards you teasingly as he stood just far enough to not be blasted away from your shield. “It wasn’t fun hopping from town to town, trying to mess with other witches that resided there. They were just too…”

“Weak.”

You were barely given a moment before the sight of Yeonjun’s bright eyes filled your vision, the feeling of a scorching heat overtaking your senses.

Yeonjun had trapped you in a ring of fire.

A pretty small one, too.

Slightly panicked, you looked around for any place you could escape, the memories of the last time you got so close to Yeonjun warning you to get as far from him as you could, only to find that it was just you and him, trapped in a space that wouldn’t even allow you to shift backwards.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice taunting as he waited for your next move, “Claustrophobic?”

The weapon in your hand began to heat up, your mind working its hardest to form a plan that would work and let you come out alive. You already knew what this fire around you would do; It wasn’t a simple flame, and the scar on your chest that throbbed painfully in this demonic presence was enough proof of that.

The moment you had healed from your first encounter with Yeonjun, you had put all of the knowledge you had acquired from experience and older, more experienced witches into putting a weapon that would help you with violent demonic problems like him. It had taken you weeks of pure isolation and meditation to engrave the correct energy into the weapon, afraid to make any mistake that could lead to something drastic. By the time you were finished putting the last few touches on the weapon, (a protective incation; the words engraving themselves in fine print letter by letter as you poured the last of your energy into it,) you could barely stand, landing yourself at the house of a medic that specialized with witches.

“You’re lucky that you managed to come out of this with just drained energy,” He had told you one day, standing next to your cot and handing you a homemade medicine; its taste was horrendous, but it did the job.

“I’ve dealt with witches, succeeding or not, that had come out in a much worse condition. You’re very powerful, that much I can tell.” He confessed, his face sobering as he remembered why it was that you were there, “Whatever it is that you’re dealing with, I wish you luck.”

And now here you stand, the results of all your hard work and patience vibrating the more you concentrate on defeating the demon in front of you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and hurt me with that,” Yeonjun laughed, watching the way your grip tightened the moment he landed his eyes on it, your knuckles turning white with the force, “You know your little knife can’t hurt me, right?”

While it was true that regular knives were nothing more but toys to him, you knew that what you were holding was not a regular knife.

But he didn’t.

You remained silent as you stared at him, quirking a brow to silently challenge him. He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your demeanor.

“Giving me the silent treatment now?” He said, pausing for a moment before looking back at you, “Fine. You think you can hurt me with that little kitchen knife?” With a single movement of his hands, the fire dwindled, going down until it was no more,

“Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

You suppressed a smile.

Yeonjun was a lot of things. Strong, powerful, smart, hell, he was a bit attractive too.

But above all, he was cocky.

Slowly, and as subtly as you could, you adjusted your stance, your eyes never leaving his, ready to let your shield down to attack him.

“No games?”

His lips quirked up, his hands coming up to his sides to show you his full vulnerability.

“Fair and square. Here, I’ll even let you make the first move.” His pitch black eyes twinkled with his signature playfulness, his thoughts displaying to you loud and clear;

I thought you were smarter than this.

You fought the urge to scoff, and instead surveyed him for a moment, stepping back to give yourself a bit more room. He watched intently, his body language open and relaxed, clearly not threatened by you.

You lunged forward.

Before Yeonjun could move away, you swung your knife towards him, your stomach sinking as you missed your target, his neck, and sliced at his face instead. His head turned to the side, a hiss emitting from him as he turned back to you, the slash on his cheek burning into his skin, going deeper into his face as he began to bleed.

Except that wasn’t blood that came out of his face.

A thin liquid, pure black and mixed with the poison of your blade, trickled down his face. Slowly, he brought up a hand to his cheek, touching tentatively at his wound, observing the black substance that poured out of him, before turning back to you.

“Come on, you little vixen,” he groaned, the nickname that he called you from your first meeting rolling off his tongue smoothly, “Not the face!”

Cocky bastard.

But now that your first move was over, Yeonjun took a minute to crack his neck, the black liquid trailing down to his neck as he slowly rolled his head back, pausing for a second before straightening up, smiling at you sweetly.

“My turn.”

Right as you were going to activate your shield once more, Yeonjun ran to you, landing a solid punch to your stomach, sending you flying to the wall behind you, the wind being knocked out of you on impact as you crumbled to the floor. Looking up, you saw him lunge at you once more, mumbling your incantation for your shield, successfully knocking him back at the last second. Tumbling backward, Yeonjun layed on the floor as you slowly got back up, using the wall behind you as support, the wild and unhinged sound of Yeonjun’s laugh echoing off the walls.

“Oh, my little vixen,” he began, sitting up as he watched you regain your composure. “I missed this. I must admit, you have gotten stronger.” Standing back up slowly, you felt the room slowly heat up. You shifted, knowing what it was that he was about to do next.

“It’s exciting.”

Running towards him, you did your best to avoid the trail of fire that was now after you, ready to swing your knife at him as you got closer. Just as you were close enough to him, you swung towards his neck once more, the predictable movement allowing Yeonjun to step aside, only to get a kick to his chest, successfully knocking him down and allowing you to dive down, the fire that was about to pierce the center of your back flying instead to the wall in front of you, the loud boom barely covering Yeonjun’s scream as you dug your knife into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

You towered over him, straddling his waist and putting as much weight as you could to keep him down. His hands immediately reached up to clasp over yours, attempting to pull the weapon out, only to have you retaliate by digging it into his skin more, his cursing filling up your ears as he struggled against you.

Your jaw clenched and you felt yourself begin to sweat, the same ring of fire from before beginning to enclose around you slowly with no signs of stopping. Your hands began to burn underneath Yeonjun’s touch, obviously his doing as he seemed to concentrate on attempting to scare you off with the same fire that landed you on the brink of death from your first encounter.

But you refused.

You refused to allow the demon to live any longer, to continue to terrorize innocent and defenseless people in your town, or in this world at all. And now that you had him under your grip, your hands struggling to successfully behead him, you weren’t going to let a little bit of pain scare you away.

Your hands began to numb under the heat of his skin, popping noises emitting from under his iron grip. He was attempting to break your hands, to render them useless, but with the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pushed on, biting back your own groans of pain and trying to concentrate on your current task, and nothing else.

“Come on my vixen, give it up,” he said, his voice laced with pain and false confidence that he attempted to use in order to make you believe that he remained unaffected. But as your knife inched towards his neck, piercing through his skin and emitting a loud sizzling sound, you knew that it was all a bluff by the way he winced, a low grunt of pain escaping him.

“I really don’t want to hurt you, you know,” he confessed, the ring of fire snapping angrily at your legs, the heat making you want to faint from overexertion. But you continued to push on, much to Yeonjun’s annoyance. “Fine, you asked for it.”

He screwed his eyes shut, the ring of fire slightly calming down, along with his iron grip on your hands. Just as you were about to take this chance and behead him, you felt something coming.

You turned around.

A ball of pitch black fire, resembling a pure void, flew towards you.

It all happened so fast. Throwing you off of him, Yeonjun staggered away from you, watching silently as the void of black washed over you, your screams of agony causing him to look away, the slightest bit of pity washing over him.

This was it, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t move as this void of fire washed over you, a feeling as though every bone in your body was being broken and you were being turned inside out coarsed through your system, your screams ripping through your throat, the wish for death appearing in your heart.

But right as you felt as though you were going to black out, it stopped.

And Yeonjun stood over you.

He watched as you lay there, completely paralyzed with pain. It took a bit before you began to breathe again, your chest barely rising, the air flowing into you causing you pain. Slowly, you opened your eyes, Yeonjun’s face inches from yours, the dark liquid from his wounds dripping onto you.

“I almost feel sorry,” he whispered, his lips grazing yours. You tried to hold on, to finish your job, but the very effort of having to breathe exhausted you beyond belief. Slowly, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss more of a half hearted apology as he lingered there for a second, his lips still against yours. His mind reeled at the feeling, and he pulled away, a soft smile on his face as he slowly brought his hand down, hesitating before caressing your exhausted face slowly, spreading his own blood on your face.

He grinned.

“I look forward to our next battle.”

And he was gone.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you collapsed.

#txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt ff #txt fanfiction #tomorrow x together #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun imagines #txt reader #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #yeonjun ff #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x y/n #fanfic #reader insert #txt oneshots #yeonjun oneshot

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kpopfanfictrash · 3 years

Text

Raise the Barre (Ch. 7)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: mention of vomit, intense physical training, blood blisters

Word Count: 6,829

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin pulled to a stop at the edge of the curb.

Stepping from the sidewalk, you hastened to the passenger side and opened the door. Your wait had mostly been uneventful, but you hated standing alone in the dark for any longer than necessary. Sliding into the passenger seat, you pulled the door shut and turned sideways to face him.

“Thanks,” you exhaled, seeing him for the first time tonight.

Jimin looked sleepy, as though your call had woken him up – which it probably had, since it was near 1:30 AM. Yesterday when you spoke, Jimin had said he planned on going to bed early. He was dressed in what Noelle would’ve called a groutfit – grey sweats, grey hoodie and silver-framed glasses. You blinked at these, not having realized Jimin wore contacts.

“No problem.” Jimin stifled a yawn. “Seat belt.”

“Huh?”

“Put on your seat belt.” He nodded at the strap by your side.

“Oh – right.” Hastily, you pulled this across your chest. “Thanks.”

Silence fell as you did, the awkwardness increasing with each passing second. Usually, you were better about things like car safety, but everything about this moment felt surreal. Jimin had given you his number barely twenty-four hours prior – you highly doubted this was what he had in mind when he said he’d call.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, unsure what to do.

Jimin’s lips twitched. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

Glancing his way, you found Jimin’s profile dimly lit by the streetlights. He sat spread-legged in the driver’s seat; one hand placed casually on the shift. When he caught you looking, Jimin arched a brow and shifted the car into drive.

Pulling from the curb, he merged into traffic headed away from the club. As the bright lights of Excelsior disappeared into the rearview mirror, the cars on the road became few and far between. You drove in silence, city lights striping Jimin’s profile in black and white.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Is everything okay?” Jimin asked, too casual to be normal.

It took you a moment to answer.

Usually, you would’ve responded yes even if it weren’t the case, since no one truly wanted to hear about your problems. Asking someone how are you? in the city was the same as a nod hello. It wasn’t genuine interest in another person’s well-being.

Tonight though, your usual responses caught in your throat. Tonight, you felt tired, frayed and dangerously thin at the seams.

Everything was not okay, and you weren’t sure how to say otherwise. Your usual walls had been torn, leaving you with this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your fight with Finn had been a big one, even worse than the argument a few weeks ago.

Still, Jimin was a newer friend to you – if you could even call him that. It wasn’t fair to unload all your problems on him. Especially at such a late hour and especially not when he was the one doing you a favor.

“Yeah,” you said at last. “Everything’s fine.”

Jimin paused, as though he knew this to be bullshit.

“Let me rephrase,” he said, shifting in his seat. “Anyone’s ass I should kick?”

You laughed a little, surprised by his threat. “No, no,” you said, shaking your head. “Nothing like that.”

“Good.” Jimin’s smile faded. “So, what happened then? How’d you get stranded?”

He didn’t ask why you called him, but the implication was clear in his voice. Honestly, it was a question you had no good answer to. All you knew was when you were standing on the curb, staring at your phone and wondering who to call, Jimin was one of the first people to pop into your mind.

“I was out with my boyfriend,” you sighed. “I said I’d go to the club with him and his friends, but it got late and we have class tomorrow, so I told Finn I wanted to leave. He… didn’t.” Pausing, you swallowed. “I ended up leaving, but I didn’t realize the trains had stopped running. Uber surcharge was ridiculous, too.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s grip on the wheel tightened.

“Anyways.” You slouched lower in his seat. “You’re the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah. Right.”

Curious, you glanced sideways. Although Jimin was responding in one-word answers, they seemed somehow loaded, as though they contained hidden meaning. Even his profile seemed cautious, full of a tension you couldn’t quite place.

Jimin frowned. “Your boyfriend just… let you leave like that?”

“He didn’t let me,” you said as you straightened. “I can make my own decisions, Park.”

“I know, I just…”

“You just what, Park? Spit it out.”

“I don’t know.” Jimin shrugged. “It just seems kind of cold. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well.” Truth be told, it seemed cold to you, too. “I’m not exactly… thrilled with the situation, either. He turned off his phone,” you muttered, turning to face the window.

In the reflection, you saw Jimin grimace.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“What for?”

“That just sucks, that’s all.”

“Yeah. It does suck.”

Jimin made an indiscernible noise of agreement before lapsing into silence.

It was strange to be in a car with him at this late an hour; oddly intimate for a multitude of reasons you pushed aside.

The last time you’d seen Jimin dressed so casually had been when you walked in on him with Sabrina. It had been nearly a month since then, but you hadn’t heard any gossip of them being together on campus.

Maybe this was something you could’ve asked Jimin, but it wasn’t like you had that type of relationship. Sure, you were ballet partners and sure, you’d been getting along lately, but you didn’t usually interact outside of class. Yet another line you’d crossed by calling Jimin tonight.

Thus far, you’d mostly managed to keep Finn and Russet separate. Noelle had met Finn a couple of times – you’d gone to dinner once and gotten coffee together another time, but otherwise, nothing. Finn wouldn’t have wanted to come to one of your Grace Hall rom-com marathons or take a pilates class on Sunday morning.

Mixing personal life and dance felt strange to you, as though two separate halves of yourself were colliding. It was odd to see Jimin outside of Russet’s walls. He seemed more at ease in his car, like the lines of him had blurred more from dancer to person.

Something about the nighttime made things seem fuzzier. Tired from the day and just beginning to thaw from the cold, you found your lips and mind looser than usual.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Jimin said, interrupting the silence. “But I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.”

With a humorless sort of laugh, you turned to face him. “Yeah, well. I do.”

“Huh.”

Hearing his skepticism, you insisted, “I do!”

“I believe you!” Jimin chuckled. He paused. “Is it new, then? I don’t remember anyone coming to watch your dance competitions in high school.”

Warmth spread through your body, realizing Jimin must’ve kept tabs. He’d watched you at dance competitions. He knew your usual crowd of supporters.

“Finn isn’t new,” you said slowly. “He just didn’t come to a lot of competitions. They got repetitive, you know? Lots of waiting around for three minutes of watching me dance.”

“I guess.” Jimin shrugged. “I used to go to my ex’s tennis tournaments all the time, though. That was the same thing, except no AC.”

“Right,” you laughed. “You’re right, at least our competitions had air conditioning.”

Jimin turned on his blinker to switch lanes. Pulling onto a side street, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Another moment passed, and then –

“We broke up before college.”

Surprised, you glanced in his direction. “Oh. Okay.”

You stared at his profile, wondering if you were supposed to say something more. You could think of many questions to ask, but they didn’t seem appropriate coming from you. You hadn’t realized Jimin was dating someone in high school – although, come to think of it, you did seem to remember a blonde girl cheering for him in the audience at Applause Dance Competition.

“It seemed like time,” Jimin continued quietly. “She went to a school across the country and we just never assumed we’d stay together. That sounds bad,” he said with a half-laugh. “I kind of figured though, if we were meant to be, we’d figure it out. The fact that we didn’t try spoke volumes.”

“That makes sense. Honestly,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if me and Finn had been long distance.”

As soon as the words left your lips, you blinked. The statement hung before you in mid-air, forcing you to consider it for the first time.

This wasn’t something you’d allowed yourself to imagine before; what would’ve happened if you’d gone to a different school. Going to college so close to Finn had just seemed like a sign. You didn’t have the college break-up talk because you’d simply assumed you didn’t need to.

“Yeah.” Jimin sighed. “It’s hard, right? Everything is changing so quickly. You want things to stay the same, but isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Change. Grow. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Everyone keeps telling me change isn’t a bad thing.”

“Sure seems like it, sometimes,” you said softly.

Jimin nodded. After a moment, he reached out for the stereo. A familiar song filled his car and something uncertain unfurled in your stomach. You weren’t sure what you were even talking about anymore – change was a dangerous topic without Finn around.

When the chorus of the song kicked in, you smiled.

“I love this song,” you said, turning to Jimin. “I almost choreographed my solo to it senior year.”

“Really?” Jimin glanced at you in surprise. “Same.”

“No way!” you laughed. “Wow – that would’ve been awkward. Imagine if we’d both had the same solo.”

“It would’ve made us even more competitive.”

“Not possible.”

“You’re probably right.” Jimin smiled. “We were really at each other’s throats for a while, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, we were.”

Settling back in your seat, you couldn’t help but frown.

Something about this statement bothered you, although you couldn’t put a finger on what. Maybe it was what Jimin had said yesterday about your mutual competition pushing each other forward. Maybe it had something to do with that night in Danley Hall, when Jimin stopped by and said he loved watching you dance.

If you really stopped and thought about it, Jimin was the sole constant in your dancing career. Every year, at every dance competition, you’d make sure you were available to watch Jimin’s solo. You told yourself this was because he was your competition but really, you just loved watching him dance.

You could remember the cool air of the theatre as you snuck in, sinking into a plush, velvet chair and hoping you wouldn’t be seen. You’d loved watching Jimin near the front, close enough to see his facial expressions but not close enough to be seen from the stage.

If your solos were close to one another in timing, you tended to watch Jimin from the wings. This had been a different kind of intimacy, hidden behind the first leg while you watched him dance. Lights dim, you recalled Jimin’s silhouette while he would walk to center. The opening notes of his music would sound, and you’d stifle a shiver while you watched him, entranced.

As it turned out, Jimin had been watching your solos as well, but you hadn’t known this for some time. Not until he’d told you the other night.

Suddenly, you turned in your seat. “You know I think you’re talented, right?” you blurted. “There was a reason I was always trying to beat you.”

Jimin’s brows shot up so high, they nearly met his hairline.

“I – uh, no,” he said. “You’ve never said that to me before. In fact, you kind of said the opposite. You told me the only reason I won was because I’m a guy.”

Hearing your words thrown back in your face, heat began to creep up your neck.

“Listen, about that –”

“I’m kidding.” Jimin shot you a smile. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

“I – okay.”

“Look, I know men have an advantage in the dance world.” Returning his gaze to the road, Jimin’s smile disappeared. “I’m not dumb. I know we have higher centers of gravity, and all that. It’s just… you’re also talented, Y/N. People love to watch you dance, myself included. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Staring at him over the console, you felt oddly moved by this speech.

It was strange; many people in your life had called you talented. Your parents, your teachers and Finn, of course. Each of those compliments had meant something to you, but this one felt different. It felt different coming from Jimin – more important, somehow.

Maybe it was because you admired him most of all. The realization didn’t shock you as much as it probably should’ve.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Jimin nodded, continuing to scan the road. His car was clean, you realized as you glanced around. There were no water bottles on the floor, no napkins hastily stuffed into the glove compartment. The only sign of being lived-in was a keychain dangling over the dashboard; a small, plastic photo frame with two people inside.

“My parents,” Jimin explained, noticing where you looked.

“Oh,” you said, bending a bit closer. “They look nice.”

He laughed, unable to help it. “I’ve always thought so. My dad is the one who encouraged me to be a dancer, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Fondly, Jimin smiled. “He’s always loved music. When I was a baby, he loved to hold me and jump around the living room to songs on the radio. My mom has tons of videos of it.”

You smiled at the image. “That sounds adorable.”

“And embarrassing. My dad’s not that great a dancer.”

Without meaning to, you snorted.

Hearing this, Jimin’s smile widened. “When I started memorizing all the dances I saw on TV, my dad convinced my mom to put me in classes. Things kind of spiraled from there.”

“That’s nice,” you said, settling down in his seat. “My parents have always been my biggest supporters, too.”

Jimin nodded, about to respond but then a blast of AC hit you and you shivered. You’d nearly forgotten what you were wearing – or more accurately, what you weren’t wearing. The thin tank top you had on did little to hide the bare skin underneath.

Jimin’s gaze darted sideways. “Are you cold?” he asked, reaching out for the heat. “You can have my hoodie in the backseat, if you want.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay.” Hastily, you untied your cardigan from around your waist. “I have this,” you said, sliding both arms into the sleeves. “Completely forgot about it.”

Silently, Jimin nodded – and then his lips twitched.

“What?” you demanded.

“Nothing!” He shook his head, fighting to keep his face even. “It’s just… you wore a cardigan out to the club?”

Glancing down, you felt your cheeks begin to heat again. “Yes,” you said, somewhat defensive as you looked up. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just, you know.” He paused. “My grandma has that sweater.”

“Well, your grandma sounds like a cool lady.”

“Without a doubt,” Jimin assured. “Not much of a clubber, though.”

Leaning your head to the window, you smiled. “That makes two of us then.”

You knew the city well enough by now to recognize you were only a few blocks from Grace Hall. Somehow, you found yourself not wanting the car ride to end. Talking to Jimin outside of dance practice was nice – even fun, you realized with some surprise.

It was a shame it’d taken you so long to recognize this.

“Seriously, though.” Jimin laughed. “Clubs can be a good time! There’s dancing, there’s music… rumor has it you like dancing.”

“Not that kind of dancing,” you sighed. “That kind of dancing is just a dry version of a lap dance for people who don’t know what to do with their hips.”

Jimin hid behind a smile. “Ouch, on behalf of your boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Straightening, you glanced at him in alarm. “That’s not – I didn’t mean…”

Stricken, you realized the obviousness of what you had said. Forget about your face heating, your entire body felt like an inferno. You had just told Jimin, in so many words, that Finn didn’t know what to do with his hips.

Jimin waved this admission aside. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’ll forget what I heard the instant I get home. Up until tonight, I didn’t know the guy existed, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, settling back in your seat.

Rather than reassure you, this only gave you further pause.

It didn’t seem possible Jimin hadn’t known about Finn. Racking your brains, you tried to think of a time they would’ve crossed paths – only to come up short. Finn hadn’t ever stopped by the studio to pick you up, he hadn’t ever come to mutual hangouts with your Russet friends. Admittedly, Jimin had only recently started attending the same ones as you, but it still seemed unthinkable.

You and Finn had been dating for over two years. Finn’s name should have come up at some point and yet, it hadn’t.

Before you could respond, Jimin pulled to a stop outside your dorm. Glancing over the console, he smiled and again, you were struck by the image.

With his grey sweats, mussed hair and those glasses – you swallowed. It was a side of Jimin you hadn’t seen and something about the visual made your stomach lurch. Before you could launch into full-blown panic, Jimin raised a brow.

“Here you are,” he said with a grandiose wave. “Home sweet home.”

Glancing past him, you took in the steps of Grace Hall.

“Thanks,” you said, pushing open the door. Before exiting the car, you paused and looking over your shoulder. “Seriously, Jimin, thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten home without you.”

In the darkness, you saw his expression soften.

“Anytime,” Jimin said.

You could tell he meant it. There was something to his gaze which made you nod. Jimin wasn’t the type to mince words or say things he didn’t mean. Just like when he said he loved your dancing, you knew Jimin was telling the truth. When he said anytime, he meant it.

Nodding, you resumed exiting the car. Waving goodbye, you stood on the curb until he was out of sight.

Once Jimin disappeared, you sighed and turned towards the building. Grace Hall was silent this late at night – it was nearly 2:00 AM and again, you were thankful Jimin had answered his phone. As you let yourself in and climbed the steps to your room, your thoughts began to race with all the what-ifs.

What-if Jimin hadn’t answered, what-if you’d had to walk home alone, or walk to find a cab. Pressing your eyes shut, you shooed these thoughts away. None of that had actually happened, so it wasn’t worth worrying about.

As soon as you got upstairs, you stepped in the shower – the stickiness of that girl’s drink continued to linger on your skin. After changing into fresh pajamas and brushing your teeth, you wearily climbed into bed. The last thing you did before falling asleep was call Finn again in case he’d returned home.

His phone went straight to voicemail though and, with a sinking stomach, you rolled over in bed and turned off the light.

After sleeping until the last possible moment, you managed to roll yourself out of bed around seven the next morning. This only left fifteen minutes before you needed to leave and even then, you felt like a zombie as you rushed out the door.

Grabbing coffee at the place down the street, you and Noelle entered class with barely ten minutes to spare. Jimin was already present but he was talking to Louis, so you stuck to your side and didn’t interrupt. You wanted to thank him again for his help, but all this flew out the window when a familiar woman followed Mr. Vlad into the classroom.

“Class.” Mr. Vlad set his things down by the window. “You remember Anna Hodelle, I presume – principal dancer at the New York City Ballet. She’s in town for a different master class and has graciously agreed to lead ballet this morning.”

The news was simultaneously exciting and nerve-wracking. Anna had taught a master class several weeks prior which left you sore for days following. Her classes were exciting though, and she was Anna Hodelle, one of the youngest principal dancers for the New York City Ballet in at least forty years – so there was that.

Her introduction didn’t require any response. Scrambling into place at the barre, the class waited while Anna shed her warm-ups and Mr. Vlad left the room. As soon as the music began, you found yourself grateful you hadn’t drunk the night prior.

Similar to her last master class, you found Miss Anna relentless in her pursuit of perfection. Her expectations were high and as a result, everyone gave their best effort – and then some. By the time you broke for water, no less than three students had already run for the bathroom.

It wasn’t pretty, but vomiting was something which happened with dance. Class could be such a grueling workout that occasionally, younger students pushed themselves past their limits. If you ate a big meal before practice, it was increasingly likely you might throw it up after.

You could count on two hands the number of times this had happened to you in high school. There had been some days you practiced so hard, sweat ran down your forehead and blinded your vision. On other days, the floor was so slippery, your bare feet couldn’t grasp the floorboards. Dance, despite being hailed for grace and glamour, tended to be exactly the opposite.

One of your teachers used to say you weren’t using your muscles if they weren’t shaking by the end. Ballerinas were seen as delicate, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Ballet only looked effortless – this was a carefully cultivated image for the audience. At all times, all muscles in a ballerina’s body were engaged, yet even when sweat dripped down her brow, she had to smile.

You’d seen dancers finish their combination, give a sweeping bow, walk gracefully offstage and vomit into the nearest trash can. Everything was for show, everything was for the audience – one of your favorite parts about dance was knowing the brutal behind-the-scenes effort everything took. It made you appreciate the final product all the more.

By the end of class you were exhausted but happy, wiping sweat from your brow while you applauded the teacher. After Anna’s dismissal, you immediately exhaled and trudged towards your bag. Noelle chattered on about a TV show you were watching, reminding you to catch up before Monday.

As you picked up your bag, you felt its front pocket vibrate. Fishing inside for your phone, you pulled this out and felt your eyes widen.

Five missed calls and eight missed texts. Once you opened your phone, you saw they were all from Finn.

Finn: hey [8:18 AM]

Finn: Y/N, I’m so sorry [8:19 AM]

Finn: I don’t know if you’re ignoring me because you’re angry, or if you’re in class right now [8:25 AM]

Finn: you’re probably in class [8:30 AM]

Finn: if you’re not though, please call me back [8:31 AM]

Finn: fuck [9:01 AM]

Finn: I was such an ass last night, Y/N. I’m sorry [9:03 AM]

Finn: … please call me [9:35 AM]

With each text you read, you felt your heart sink. Up until this point, you’d gotten through class by pretending last night hadn’t happened. Now though, you were forced to remember every detail of the night prior.

Finn had left you at the club.

He’d stormed away from your fight, turned off his phone and left you alone. Each time you remembered the night, your fury only grew. This morning when you woke, you’d still been pissed off – even more so, when you turned on your phone and saw zero texts from Finn.

Had your roles been reversed, you never would’ve done the same to him. Sure, it had been a bad fight but who did that? Just took off in the middle of a conversation and shut everything down. The worst part was him turning off his phone. As soon as things didn’t go as planned, Finn simply washed his hands of you.

That was what hurt most of all, the shame burrowing deep into the crevices of your heart.

Beneath everything was a strange twinge of guilt at having called Jimin to pick you up. This was easily brushed aside, though – Finn had left you stranded. If anyone had a right to be mad here, it was you.

“Y/N? You okay?”

Noelle’s voice pulled you from your reverie. Blinking, you lowered your phone and realized you were alone. The rest of the room had cleared out after class – this probably wasn’t the first time Noelle had said your name.

“Shit, sorry!” Hastily, you shoved your phone in your bag. “Yeah… yeah, everything’s fine.”

Noelle gave you a look. “Really?”

After a moment, you sighed. “No,” you said, turning to walk towards the door. “Why pretend? It’s Finn.”

Following you from the classroom, Noelle fell into step alongside you.

“He’s not hurt, is he?” she said carefully.

“Unfortunately, not.”

Noelle snorted. “Okay, so he’s in the doghouse.”

“Yep.”

“Want to talk about it?”

At the top of the stairs, you paused. “Finn and I got in a fight last night,” you admitted. “He wanted to stay at the club, and I wanted to go home – so he told me to leave. I did, but then I realized I had no way to get there.”

Noelle’s mouth dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me? He just… left you there? Wow. The next time I see your ‘boyfriend,’ I’m going to – wait,” she said, pulling up short. “How did you get home, then?”

“I – uh, well… Jimin picked me up.”

Noelle stared at you a moment longer. “Huh. Didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I,” you said, beginning to walk down the stairs. “Finn turned his cell phone off, so I couldn’t get ahold of him and by then, the trains stopped running. Uber was surging and Jimin is the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah, gotcha. That makes sense.” Noelle nodded. “Nice of him to come get you.”

“Yeah, it was nice. Anyways, Finn’s been texting me all morning.”

“Oh!” Noelle groaned. “That was your phone! I kept hearing something vibrating while I was waiting to go across the floor.”

“Yep, that was him,” you said glumly. “Apparently he’s sorry.”

“Of course, he is.”

“He said he was an ass last night.”

“Of course, he did.”

“… I’m still pissed at him.”

“Of course, you are!” Noelle cried, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Listen, tell him you got home alright – not that he deserves that much, mind you – but you need some time to cool off. He can wait until you’re ready to talk, right?”

Nodding, you saw sense in what she was saying. “You’re right.”

Despite Noelle making sense though, part of you didn’t want to wait.

Part of you wanted to call Finn back right now and give him a piece of your mind, but you knew if you did that, things wouldn’t end well. He deserved to be cussed out, but you were completely exhausted. The idea of fighting with your boyfriend left you feeling drained.

Noelle was right – Finn could wait until you were ready to talk, whenever that was.

Pulling out your phone a second time, you texted Finn you were safe and that you’d talk when you were ready. Once he responded okay, you shoved your phone in your pocket.

Noelle looked sympathetically on. “Why don’t we have a girl’s night?” she said, arm back around your shoulder. “We can invite Irene and Ari and just watch dumb movies and eat brownie batter in fancy lingerie. You know, like every guy’s sleepover porn fantasy.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. “Sounds like a plan,” you said with a grin. “God, what would I do without you?”

“Be super bored, probably.”

You snorted, but the thought stuck in your mind as you left the building. It really would be awful without Noelle by your side. Without meaning to, your thoughts strayed to Sabrina. Aside from Katie and Allison, you had no idea who she hung out with.

It had to be lonely for someone like her. Russet was intense enough without a support system. You quickly pushed these feelings aside – even if Sabrina was lonely, she had no one to blame but herself. You’d offered the olive branch enough times by now to know when to stop.

“I guess only one question remains,” you said slowly.

Noelle glanced your way. “Oh, yeah? What?”

“How dumb are the dumb movies we’re watching? Like, From Justin to Kelly dumb – where it’s a guilty pleasure? Or, more like The Kissing Booth dumb – where things are just bad dumb.”

“Why choose?” Noelle shrugged. “Let’s do both!”

“Deal!”

As you climbed the steps to Grace Hall, you continued to ignore Finn’s texts in your bag. He could wait until tomorrow, at least. After what he put you through, a single night of not knowing what you were thinking seemed appropriate.

When you finally gave in and called Finn the next day, you weren’t sure what you were hoping for. Finn had already texted his apology, so at least he knew he’d been in the wrong. As to what degree he was aware, you didn’t know, but you got a fairly good idea once he picked up the phone.

Short answer: very wrong.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Finn blurted, as though afraid you might cut him off. “I was such an ass to you Friday night. I – I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know where to start. I fucked up so bad, Y/N and I’m sorry.”

Silence followed this outburst as you frowned, leaning back on the bed.

Noelle had graciously left the room to study at the coffee shop on the corner. Secretly, you knew this was mostly to flirt with the barista, Namjoon, but you couldn’t begrudge her for that. Namjoon did have the most adorable dimples you’d ever seen.

Focusing your thoughts on Finn, you played with a stray thread of your sheets. “I mean… that’s a good start, I guess,” you muttered. “But what are you really sorry for, Finn?”

His sigh was soft. “Everything.”

“Specifics would be good.”

“I was drunk,” he exhaled. “That’s not an excuse, but… I honestly don’t remember everything that I said to you. I remember the gist of it though, and I know it was terrible. I know you didn’t deserve it.”

You remained silent, even though you agreed with him.

“I wanted to stay out,” he continued. “That doesn’t really matter, though. I was a dick. I was stubborn and angry, and I took that out on you. You’re the last person I would ever want to hurt, and I just… I left you. Something could’ve happened to you. God, if something had happened, Y/N…”

Finn trailed off and you heard his voice crack but forced yourself to stay silent. Hearing him break was hard, but you reminded yourself what you’d felt Friday night – all the anger and terror when he completely disappeared.

This memory hardened you enough not to melt at his apology.

“Yeah, well,” you said tightly. “You’re right – something could’ve happened. The trains weren’t running and Uber was crazy expensive. I couldn’t get back in the club. I ended up waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes before someone came to pick me up.”

“Fuck.” Finn sounded strangled. “Fuck… Y/N, I’m sorry…”

In your mind, you envisioned him shoving a hand through his hair. Finn did that when he was stressed or upset and right now, he sounded a little of both.

“Yeah.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Who picked you up?”

Immediately, you stiffened. “Do you seriously think you deserve an answer to that?”

“No, no, I – you’re right, it doesn’t matter. Thank them for me, okay?”

You remained silent and again, Finn sighed.

“Are you… are we going to be okay?”

It was a loaded question. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the wall. In all honesty, you didn’t know the answer to that.

On the one hand, you loved Finn. That hadn’t changed. On the other hand, it was becoming more and more apparent your problems weren’t going away. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise – but all couples had problems, didn’t they?

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think a break-up should be more obvious than this. A break-up should be something big, something irreversible. You were beginning to wonder though, at what point were problems considered insurmountable. Everything about this seemed grey and right now, you really needed black and white answers.

Both your lives were changing, as Jimin had said. Freshman year was a cacophony of change; in order to succeed, you and Finn needed to learn to grow with each other. Hiccups were to be expected, bumps in the road were to be expected, but if you wanted to stay together, you needed to learn how to fight for this relationship.

“I think so,” you said, opening your eyes. “I think we’ll be okay. I just… Finn, you really hurt me that night.”

“I know.”

“It can’t happen again.”

“It won’t.”

“You know… I want to spend time with you, right?”

“I… do.”

He paused for longer than you would’ve liked, but you brushed past it. “I know you like going to clubs and all that,” you said. “But that’s not really me. Maybe next time we can do something different. Something a little more low-key.”

“Yeah.” Finn chuckled. “That sounds nice, honestly.”

“Good.”

“At least my friends really liked you.”

Taken aback, you snorted. “Oh, come on, Finn. I was barely there.”

“I’m being serious! Ben told me he thinks you’re funny.”

“Ben,” you groaned. “Has all the humor of a wet sock.”

Finn laughed and this time, it sounded like him. His laugh had been watery before, a restrained version but now, his true mirth broke free. As soon as the sound hit your ears, you began to relax. Truthfully, you hadn’t been sure things would be okay until then. Hearing him laugh, you knew Finn meant it. He wanted this, too.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “Ben sucks, but at least he has the taste to know that you don’t. Next time, we’ll do something more fun.”

“Next time,” you agreed.

“Next time.”

Despite your conversation having gone as well as it possibly could’ve, uncertainty continued to linger in the back of your mind.

You spent Sunday evening watching TV, but still slept restlessly before your class the next morning. Mr. Vlad’s ballet was definitely not one you wanted to arrive at ill-rested, but Monday you showed up with bags under your eyes.

You tried to push all negative thoughts from mind while warming up at the barre. By the time class broke for water, you were feeling marginally better. Ballet was soothing that way. The repetitiveness of barre helped to put things in perspective. Your ankle had almost completely healed by this point and now, two weeks after the fall, your technique had finally begun to improve.

No longer were you the last one to catch onto combinations and Mr. Vlad only yelled once about your turnout at barre. This was a marked improvement from the start of the year and although you still were far from the top, you felt relatively good about your standing. You had a feeling once you and Jimin began to practice, the moves would come even easier.

The first combination at center was a slow adagio. It wasn’t particularly difficult aside from a lift in the middle, but despite the familiarity of the moves, Jimin was being oddly hesitant.

Mr. Vlad showed the combination with his dance assistant, Mina. After they demonstrated a particularly difficult lift, they gave everyone time to practice – which, in your and Jimin’s case, turned out to be necessary.

“Ladies, pique to arabesque!” Mr. Vlad called from the front. “Lift your leg higher and – the man lifts! He walks you in a promenade. Then you’re lowered, exhale – and bourrée!”

Brian immediately raised his hand for help, so Mr. Vlad left to assist in his corner. The lift was proving itself to be tricky – it required most of your weight balanced against Jimin’s side while he gripped your thigh, lifting you up.

You and Jimin began to practice, but no matter what you did, nothing seemed to be working. After the fourth failed attempt where Jimin nearly dropped you on your ass, you shakily landed and whirled around.

“Alright,” you said, both hands on your hips. “What’s going on?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how’re you supposed to lift me if you’re barely touching me? Look at Sabrina and Paulo!” you said, gesturing in their direction. “He’s got his whole fucking hand under her leg!”

Jimin’s cheeks turned red. “I – uh, right. Yeah. Let’s try it again.”

Staring at him another moment, you nodded and returned to your spot. Jimin settled into fifth position, jaw clenched and looking as though he were in pain. You stared at him in the mirror, considering calling him out before thinking better of it.

Taking a deep breath, you piqued into arabesque. Leaning your weight to Jimin, he reached again for your thigh – only to falter, leaving you hanging.

“Jimin!” you half-laughed as you slipped down his leg.

“I’m sorry!” Jimin blurted, stepping away. Looking thoroughly distraught, he shoved both hands through his hair. “It’s just… well, I…”

“It’s just what?”

“You have a boyfriend,” he said, a bit pained.

In response to this, both your eyebrows shot up. That had not been the answer you’d expected.

“I… okay?” you said, failing to grasp the point. “So what?”

“So.” Jimin glanced furtively around. “I don’t know, it’s just weird! I don’t want to… overstep my boundaries, or anything.”

“But…” You stared. “I had a boyfriend last week and it wasn’t a problem.”

“Okay, but last week I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Again, you looked at him as though he was crazy.

“This is stupid,” you said, stepping closer. “Ballet is our job, Jimin. It’s the least sexy occupation on the planet. Right now, I’m bleeding from three different blisters inside my pointe shoes. I’m sure my deodorant has long worn off by now. Would you just fucking get over yourself and grab my thigh?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “Well. When you put it like that.”

“I am putting it like that,” you said with a grin. “Now, let’s go again.”

Nodding, Jimin followed when you walked backwards. Taking another deep breath, you piqued to arabesque and this time, Jimin didn’t flinch when your weight transitioned to his. Hand sliding beneath your thigh, he lifted you easily into a promenade.

As soon as you turned your head, you caught Jimin’s gaze and felt – something.

Something other than the white noise of the room. Something other than the thud-thud of your heart, other than the music on the stereo and Mr. Vlad yelling counts from the corner.

Despite what you had just finished saying, something unknown seemed to bloom in your chest. In the middle of the lift – blood blisters and all – you felt an errant spark where Jimin’s front pressed to yours.

You barely had time to recognize this before the moment was gone. Slowing his walk, Jimin set you back down – and you wobbled.

This time it had nothing to do with his technique.

“Ah, shit.” Jimin frowned. “That’s my bad – I can do better! Let’s try it again.”

Nodding, you felt a bit wooden as you followed in his footsteps. When Mr. Vlad started the music, you fought the surging tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm. It had been nothing, you told yourself. Nothing of importance, anyways.

Shoving whatever you’d felt in a box, you pushed this to a corner of your mind and firmly shut the door. Forcing a smile to your lips, you lifted your chin as you began the combination.

It was lucky everyone else found you a talented performer, since beneath all your smiling, all you could think about was what was hidden in the box.

Something unknown, something tentative – and something which could be dangerous, if it ever came to light.

Author’s Note: I was so close to re-writing this chapter with Mr. Vlad picking her up LOL just kidding, but thank you for reading! 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre are posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

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