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rainybubbles · 2 months

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10 A.M- Ghost x plus size reader

-Summary : Every day on leave Ghost watches his neighbor at 10AM during his smoke break. Will it lead to more ? (yes, especially with Johnny involed.)

-(Sorry in advance, English is not my first language, so sorry if it's bad or OOC. And I've posted it on ao3 months ago, so it's normal if you feel like a déjà vu)

-10 am. The ballet was starting.

-A foot missing a step, a groan of pain, clothes thrown on the ground, and an apple bitten into hastily. Breakfast was beginning, and the curtain rose, giving Simon the perfect view of his neighbor's daily spectacle across the landing.

-Eyes so sunken they rivaled his own, hands with nails cut short—Simon wondered why so short, perhaps their job? A habit? And their body, all curves.

-That's what had caught his attention in the hallway the first time.

-Such a ominous building welcoming such a pure ray of sunshine like them, Simon couldn't help but bask in their warmth from the shadows.

-A glint in a corridor had eventually become a routine. When Simon smoked on his balcony, they would open their curtains, and slowly, without knowing it, their routines became intertwined at certain hours of the day, briefly filling Simon's respites with a bit of humanity.

-"What are ye lookin’ at?"

-"Nothing that concerns you, Johnny."

-"L.T, come on." Johnny, curious, stepped onto the balcony, but they were already gone.

-"I’ve put up with you enough, stop pokin’ your nose in."

-"Ye volunteered when Price asked who could help me with my cast during our leave. Because Gaz was with his fiancée and Price with his sister. That's friendship."

-"Pity," Ghost corrected him.

-"It still means I make ye feel things, L.T."

-"Yes, and it's exasperation."

-"Seriously, what were ye starin’ at? I mean, apart from the poor garden, there's nothin’."

-Simon ignored him. One word and he knew what Johnny would say.

-"Talk to them. You have nothing to lose."

-Worse, the Scotsman might set up a situation where he'd end up stuck in an elevator with them. The explosives expert knew much more about physics and math than he let on.

-"By th’ way, have ye ever had someone in yer life, L.T.?"

-“…”

-"I see, we're playin’ neither yes nor no?"

-"We're playin’ 'no personal questions.'"

-"I'll tak’ that as a yes. Ah wonder whit yer type is? Redhead? Blonde? Brunette? Tall? Short? Or maybe brown, green, blue, gray eyes?"

-"People who don't ask questions."

-"Damn, rejected like that."

-"That's enough, Johnny."

-"Okay, I… would ye introduce me if ye ever had someone in yer life, no?"

-"No."

-"What?! Come on, I'm adorable!"

-"And invasive."

-"I left a sock lyin’ around one time." Soap remembered the incident.

-"In a frying pan."

-"It was an accident."

-Ghost sighed. His gaze shifted to the window; damn, he wished he could catch a glimpse of them for a moment, to gain some strength. As if his prayer had been heard, the window opened, their head appeared, watering their plants.

-"I see, so it wasn't just a cigarette," Johnny said with a smug smile.

-Unfortunately, that also meant they'd just watered trouble for Ghost.

-"Johnny."

-"I'm just saying they’re beautiful, that's all."

-"Not a word."

-"So… the curves?"

-"Johnny," Simon repeated, annoyed.

-"Okay, not a word."

-A silence fell, but Simon couldn't stand Soap's trembling leg.

-"One question." He eventually gave in.

-"How long?"

-"None."

-"What?"

-"We're not dating."

-"So a crush, huh?"

-"We're not in high school anymore."

-"But ye have a crush on yer neighbor like a teenager."

-"Johnny," Simon warned him.

-Soap backed off before grinning smugly.

-"I get it, I'd be the same if they were my neighbor, they seem cute," he added

-"Johnny, damn it," Ghost sighed, his cheeks slightly tinged with red.

-Soap laughed.

-"It's cute. I guess ye won't talk tae them?"

-"No. Not with our profession, not with my personality. they deserve better."

-"Even fur one night?"

-"I don't want a one-night stand, not with them."

-"I see, condemned to yearn, a wee bit sad."

-Simon didn't reply; it was his routine. Observe, analyze, and act. His strategy had been clear from the start: do nothing.

-So he finished his cigarette, hoping it would be 10 am again soon to relive this peaceful anticipation. The sun set, and it all began again.

-5 am, wake up. 6 am, jogging. 7 am, back, ready to take a shower and face Johnny.

-"Oh, sorry."

-But sometimes routines break. Simon watched his neighbor, struggling to move a too-heavy piece of furniture up the stairs.

-"Can I help you?"

-"I… I don't want to bother you, especially since you just came back from exercising—"

-"It's nothing."

-He carried what looked like a wardrobe to their landing.

-"Thanks again. I… I don't know if you knew, but we're neighbors. My name's y/n, I moved in there after Matilda. I know they wasn't… well-liked?"

-"We could say that."

-"No need to downplay it; I know they threw tomatoes at all the doors, ripped up their garbage on all the landings, and dismantled a door by mistake."

-"Hm."

-"I mean, at 80, it's impressive," y/n laughed.

-"For sure," he chuckled.

-"So, you're Smith, right?"

-Oh yes, the fake name on his mailbox.

-"Yeah."

-"Well, thank you, Mr. Smith. Honestly, I don't know how I would've managed without you. I told my roommate that having such a big wardrobe was pointless, but they never listens to me."

-"Roommate?"

-"Yeah, she lives with me. their name's Léa, maybe you've met her? Tall, blonde."

-"Hm."

-"She always wakes up late, and I wake up early, so we kind of live in the dark in the apartment, like real vampires. Perhaps you know her ?"

-"Thank you, Léa," Simon thought. Without her, he'd never catch sight of y/n on their balcony.

-"No, I don't think so."

-"I see. Do you have a roommate too?"

-"At the moment, yes, but it's temporary."

-"Oh, I see, a friend crashing. Happens."

-"Actually, he takes care o’ me," a voice said.

-If Simon could slow down his reaction, he'd be sure to see panic. Johnny, smiling, approached and introduced himself.

-"John, nice tae meet ye. This big guy keeps an ee on me, wi’ ma broken arm."

-"Oh, I see, that's not easy. Nice to meet you."

-"Ye ken, I was plannin’ tae make some muffins; I thought if ye like them, we could maybe give ye some since this guy doesnae like sweet stuff."

-"Johnny."

-"What, you don't like them?" y/n asked, surprised.

-"I… it's not my thing, that's all."

-"I see," y/n smiled. "Why not, okay, well, I mean don't poison us, but okay."

-"I'm no’ sure that would convince anyone no’ tae poison ye," John replied.

-"Maybe, but does it work on you?"

-"Aye," Johnny laughed.

-y/n thanked them and closed their door. Soap, with a victorious smile, looked at Simon.

-"Don't start."

-"We're makin’ progress, L.T, recon mission wit’ introduction."

-"This isn't a mission."

-"Of course, it is. Gaz agrees wi’ me."

-"Gaz knows?!"

-"It's the 21st century, L.T, phones are magical."

-"No."

-"By the way, if they ask for yer number, ye'll have to give them one that's not disposable…"

-"There won't be a number."

-"I bet there will be; they seem nice."

-"They thanked me for a favor; it's just politeness."

-"If ye say so."

-"Nothing's going to happen, Johnny."

-"We'll see."

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

-"I was thinking we should exchange numbers! It's always handy, for dog sitting, plant watering, breakdowns, broken showers, or anything else."

-Soap looked at him triumphantly. Certainly, it wasn't y/n asking, but Léa, after accepting their muffins and inviting them inside. But Soap saw the papers with the two different numbers, indicating that y/n's was included.

-"For sure, but isn't a roommate kind o’ a hassle? I mean, I remember wi’ other folk’s boyfriends an’ girlfriends, it can get awkward," Soap asked.

-"For that, there would have to be some," Simon replied.

-"What dae ye mean?" "Well, I'm not interested, and y/n… they…"

-Léa seemed hesitant.

-"New acquaintances aren't really their thing, with social anxiety, you know."

-Simon raised an eyebrow. they had seemed so calm. He was also accustomed to social avoidance, so y/n's reaction to him surprised him, unless they had grown accustomed to his presence before. But that would mean he was a familiar face to them. Which would imply…

-That at 10 am, he wasn't the only one watching.

-A warm feeling filled his heart.

-"Why are ye smiling?" Soap murmured as they returned to his apartment. "It's bad news if they's as bad as you at talking, you'll be together when Price runs out of beanies to wear."

-"Hm, if you say so."

-"L.T, tell me, I ken ye ken something."

-"Soap, it's none of your business."

-"The code name, really?"

- "Johnny."

- "Simon."

-Neither broke eye contact; Johnny eventually sighed and raised his only free hand in surrender. Ghost nodded.

-He looked forward to the next 10 am.

________________________________

-At 10 am, with a cigarette in his mouth, they were there. their eyes on their hands. He smiled. Target acquired. How could he have missed it?

-Using his hands, he executed a slight sign of recognition. they jumped, surprised he had noticed them; he smirked. they responded with a hand waving back. He signaled for them to open the window.

-"Nice view?" he asked.

-"On such a shabby garden, no," they replied, ignoring his implication.

-"I meant the neighborhood.”

-"Well, not everyone can have a balcony."

-"Or a pretty neighbor."

-"I—"

-"Have a good day, y/n." He went back inside.

-Nothing will happen, my ass, Soap muttered as he watched him.

_______________________________

-Slowly, it became his game. Spotting y/n, signaling to them, and lightly flirting.

-It was nothing. Just a game of cat and mouse, that's all. It wouldn't lead to anything, he kept telling himself. But every day he waited for them.

-Praying that Price wouldn't call him. But apparently this time his thoughts weren't heard; Soap was sent to the base under someone else's watch, and Price called him for a mission. 10 a.m. should wait.

____________________

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Tired. Covered in mud, smelling of powder. Simon was back after three months, his eyes empty, his face covered, only his eyes remained. y/n stood in the hall, in pajamas, letters in hand, probably looking for their mail at... 1 a.m.? Who would do that?

-"y/n.”

-“ Everything alright? You're soaked. You know if you have a dryer problem, we have one."

-"Everything's fine."

-"I see. I... I got worried because I didn't see you around, I wondered if something happened to you."

-His cowardly heart quickened at this concern.

-"It was nothing, just work."

-"I see, you travel a lot then."

-"Yeah, you could say that."

-"Must be tiring, never... feeling at home, right?"

-Simon couldn't get a word in. He had never thought about it, in his childhood home, his sanctuary, he had never thought about it as his home, so as he grew up, he had no attachment to a place.

-"Not really."

-"Not a homebody?"

-"Yeah, but just a bit."

-"I... sorry, I'm asking questions while you're exhausted, I'm really sorry."

-"No need to apologize, such a pretty face coming home erases all fatigue."

-they frowned their eyebrows..

-"Do you mean that or is it for Léa?"

-Simon was surprised by the sharper tone.

-"Léa?"

-"If you want to get closer to Léa, please don't use me. I... honestly, all this flirting is confusing, if it's her, then don't use me."

-"I don't want Léa."

-"Oh." y/n paused, “then why?"

-"I don't know, why do people flirt, y/n?"

-"You."

-"Me."

-"So all this time..."

-"I'm eagerly waiting for 10 a.m., y/n."

-"I-, I'm sorry, I just thought you really liked Léa, I let my insecurities take over without even thinking about that, and I apologize for that."

-"No worries, now everything is clear. Goodnight y/n and see you tomorrow morning."

-"See you tomorrow morning, Mr. Smith."

-"Simon."

-"Hm?"

-"Call me Simon."

-Maybe Soap was right; he knew from the beginning that this wouldn't just be a flirt.

______________________________

-At 10 a.m., Simon noticed a blanket on his balcony. Hand-knitted with a post-it.

-"I'm not there today, but you seemed cold in the morning, so welcome back and have a good day."

-Slowly, he took the soft fabric. Draping it over his shoulders, he closed his eyes, letting the nicotine escape from his mouth.

-He knew he shouldn't. A part of him screamed not to trust, to flee. But he was so tired. He, too, wanted to go home and have that smile.

-Suddenly, the blanket felt too cold, the nicotine too bitter, and the balcony too narrow.

-What was he doing dreaming of a normal life?

-Simon was officially dead, flesh living for a task force. He shouldn't even think of the hope of surviving long. He had given up on that. Slowly, he placed the blanket back on the balcony. The window was closing. He decided that maybe the 10 a.m. breaks weren't a good idea.

___________________________

-"You ken, it's no’ Pokémon, L.T."

-"Johnny," Ghost calibrated his rifle as the car swerved through the bends.

-"What's he talking about?" Gaz, in uniform beside them, ready for the mission, asked.

-"Our dear L.T. fled like a Pokémon facin’ its neighbor."

-"My life is none of your business."

-"Ye're missin’ something extraordinary, obviously. They just told ye it's mutual, an’ there ye are, runnin’ away. Imagine what ye’re sayin’ tae them."

-"It's better for them."

-"Coward."

-Simon looked away. It was better this way. Proof was, he was off again to risk his life for two months. No one wanted a life like this.

-y/n didn't know about Ghost, didn't know about the PTSD, about Tommy, about Joseph. He was just the slightly mysterious neighbor from the balcony.

-"They know nothing, it's better this way."

-"Maybe he's right, Soap. Some people aren't meant to be with soldiers," Gaz tried to reason.

-"He's just using runnin’ away as a defense mechanism, Gaz."

-Simon ignored the rest. The voices were blurring. He had to stay away from y/n; their warmth could burn him if he got too close.

_______________________

-Dead.

-He held the dead girl's body in his arms.

-Riddled with bullets, their poor little hands weakly holding onto Ghost's uniform in a last hope for life.

-The blood on his hands wouldn't go away. He washed, scrubbed, scraped, over and over.

-The blood remained on his hands.

-He had to save them.

-He had failed.

-The mission was a success.

-But everyone was dead.

-The coldness of the body wouldn't go away.

-The shower didn't help; no matter how hard he scrubbed, increasing the heat, nothing could rid him of the horror.

-His breathing wouldn't calm, his vision darkening, his legs trembling.

-He knew what was happening.

-Slowly he sat on the floor, the sound of water deafening, his ears ringing, the hot and cold alternating in his body, sweat increasing. A panic attack.

-"One, two, three." He repeated. Trying to calm himself, he began counting again. One, two, three.

-But the numbers tangled, and the memories seemed so real. The girl's body seemed to be at his feet. He knew it was impossible; he was in a shower, in a terrible apartment, not on the battlefield. But nothing could be done about it.

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Everything shattered. His bubble burst, and suddenly reality hit him. Getting up, staggering, he grabbed a towel and walked to his front door out of habit.

-"Yes?" he managed to say, his hoarse voice scratching his throat.

-"I'm sorry to interrupt, but our shower exploded, and I was wondering if you knew about it or if you could let me borrow yours because I... I'm a bit covered in ink."

-He opened his door completely, and...

-y/n, hands covered in blue ink, even their nose staring at him wide-eyed. Remembering his attire consisting only of a towel, he closed the door.

-"I'll get dressed and be right there."

-"Yes, I- sorry again, I didn't know you were in the shower."

-He didn't reply. Damn it, he had promised not to let their into his life.

-Putting on a hoodie and sweatpants, he opened his door.

-"On the left at the back." He indicated in a slightly dry tone. His thoughts still roughed up after his panic attack.

-Noticing that y/n wasn't moving, he frowned.

-"I wanted to know if I offended you? I don't know if I'm imagining something, but it looks like you're avoiding me?"

-Not as discreet as he thought.

-"I was busy."

-"I see. If I offended you anyway, I apologize."

-"It's not your fault, y/n."

-"Oh."

-"Just... shitty job."

-"PTSD?"

-Simon stopped.

-"The walls are thin, you can hear the girl from the fifth floor sneezing, so you can imagine that your screams at night..." She added.

-"I see."

-"My father had it too, if you ever need help, well not psychological help, that's more for a therapist, but support, I can." y/n said anxiously.

-He blew air out of his nose.

-"Military father?"

-"Cop," they replied.

-Simon noticed the underlying tension.

-"Not on good terms?"

-"Few people get along with their father, right?"

-"Some do."

-"Do you?"

-"No."

-They smiled.

-"To rotten fathers, then.

-“To rotten fathers. Now I suppose you should hurry if you don't want the ink to dry on your hands."*

- "Oh shit, yeah."

-Y/n rushed into the shower. When they returned a few moments later, Simon watched them.

-"Any reason for this ink explosion?"

-"It's ridiculous,”they said, but Simon motioned for them to sit down.

-"Go ahead."

- "I like... tattooing. I don't have the talent, but I like to try tattooing fake skins in my spare time, but my blue ink exploded so I tried to use the shower but it looks like we have a plumbing problem."

-"Tattooing?"

-"Yeah, but it's nothing crazy, just a hobby."

-He nodded.

-"Well, I'll get going." they murmured.

-Ghost wanted to hold their back. His hand reaching out reflexively, he thought better of it.

_______________________________

-"So?"

-"So what? Didn't you listen to Price during the briefing?" Ghost replied to Soap.

-"Ah’m nae talkin’ about that, but the GIL mission."

-"Gil?"

-"Ghost in love."

-"I'm not in love."

-"Hmm, so nae progress wi’ the neighbor?"

-"Soap."

-The Scot stopped. Feeling the blue-eyed gaze not leaving him for a moment, Ghost sighed.

-"We talked again."

-"Ah!"

-“Shower problem, they needed one."

-"Is that it?"

-"We're neighbors."

-"That's disappointin’."

-"Thanks, Johnny." Ghost replied sarcastically.

-Simon spared the details. It wasn't just a shower, but a shower during the two weeks of leave he had had.

-With the plumber unable to find the problem, y/n and Léa had somewhat cohabited with Simon for that brief moment. Maybe... he had shared more teas with y/n than he admitted.

-Even if he wanted to flee, to shut himself off, to reject y/n, he crawled for a crumb of their attention.

_____________

-Returning from his mission, Simon walked through the hall when he heard it. Cries echoing in the corridor.

-His landing.

-Knowing that Madeline, the other neighbor on the landing, couldn't cry due to death, it was either Léa or y/n.

-Approaching, he noticed a silhouette sitting on the doormat. y/n. they seemed to be trying to pick up debris from the floor, their hands bleeding.

-Worried at the sight of the red liquid, he walked towards them without thinking, examining their wounds. Pieces of metal and glass were in their hand.

-"Simon," they managed to articulate between sobs.

-"What happened?"

-"It's stupid, honestly, I'm ridiculous crying over this, but... a box fell and broke my tattoo machine. I know I could buy a new one, but that... it broke me?"

-Ghost was relieved it wasn't anything serious. He nodded.

-"It's not a big deal, it's your passion."

-"I know, but an artist doesn't cry when they run out of lead with their pencil."

-"Well, then they should invest in tons of tissues," Simon joked.

-They laughed through the tears.

-"It's just... everything, I guess. I'm tired, I have a shitty job, I thought I'd finally make it with my fake skins, and now my machine breaks like a sign."

-"Not a sign," Simon said. "Don't give up. Now let me look at this; we'd want to avoid infection and stitches."

-They nodded and followed Simon into his apartment. Ghost's expert hands treating theirs.

-"The tattoo," Simon began. "It's not just a passion, is it?"

-"I... it was my dream for a while."

-"'Was'?"

-"My parents wanted something safe, I didn't know anatomy, people drew better than me. At 13, I was the artist of the class, the little prodigy, at 18 I was just an artist like everyone else. I had nothing... extraordinary, so I gave up."

-Simon nodded.

-"I don't think so," he finally added, finishing their bandage.

-"What?"

-"That you gave up. You may think so, but practicing so hard, continuing to do it every day, it seems like you've always held on."

-"I... never saw it like that."

-"Plus, who wouldn't dream of being tattooed by an angel?"

-"Simon!"

-He smiled.

-"I missed... our exchanges," they whispered.

-He stopped.

-"Me too."

-"Okay, so are we starting fresh? No more running away?"

-"I can't promise that."

-"Oh."

-"I was talking about constant exchange, I've been... an asshole thinking I was doing the right thing, but it seems obvious that no matter my efforts, our paths intersect."

-"So you'll stop running?" y/n asked, their eyes meeting his.

-"For now," Simon finally said.

-"I see, cool," y/n said.

-"Cool," he repeated, squeezing their hand.

-They got up and left. Simon let his eyes wander over their curves.

-Fuck.

_____________

- "Not a word, Johnny," Ghost said, putting his things down.

-"I didnae say anythin’!" the Scotsman complained, entering the briefing room.

-"I know what you were going to ask, and no."

-"So it's progressin’."

-"Johnny."

-"Okay. Just... ye're allowed tae be happy, L.T."

-"Hm."

-Simon avoided his gaze, his attention on Price. The captain questioned Simon with his eyes, Simon indicated with the same look that he would explain later.

________________

-“Ten o'clock breaks are nicer on a balcony."

-"Really? I thought you preferred waking up in the dark and stumbling around looking for your window," Ghost joked.

-y/n laughed. "Mean. It's cool to see the other side," they said, blowing on the tea Ghost had made.

-Sitting across from him, Simon could get used to it. A morning shared together, a breakfast enjoyed. The sun bathing their face, their hair tousled from waking up...

-"Hm, better than spying?"

-"You're the one who was stalking me."

-"You were doing the same."

-"But I wasn't looking at the other with a murderous look, I thought you hated me at first."

-"Really?"

-"Yes. I mean, I'm not the sexiest view in the world, so I thought you hated seeing me when you smoked. I even tried to shift my hours so you wouldn't see me."

-He laughed. "You're the sexiest view there is, y/n."

-"Wrong, there's Megan thee Stallion."

-"Hm, second view then."

-His phone beeped. Simon sighed.

-"Is it work?"

-"Yes."

-"You're leaving?"

-"In two days."

-"I guess you can't tell me where."

-"No."

-"Or how long."

-"Hm."

-"So, two months."

-"What?"

-"Well, if you can't say anything, I can imagine it, right? Like your mask, I never knew why, so I imagined you had vampire teeth."

-"Vampire teeth?" Simon mocked.

-"You never went out except at night, you came back late, your blinds were always closed, and your pale skin, what else could I think?"

-"Ill?"

-"..."

-"Hypochondriac? Scars?"

-"Okay, my theory was dumb, no need to twist the knife, Simon."

-He snorted.

-"You're beautiful without it," y/n finally added.

-"I know."

-"Fuck you, Simon, I'm trying to flirt."

-"Hm, 'trying' is the right word."

-"Simon."

-"Fine, 'thank you, y/n', is that better?"

-"Yes."

-Simon winked at them, y/n rolled their eyes.

-"By the way, I have a package arriving on Friday," Simon said.

-"And?"

-"It's for you."

-"A gift? But I didn't do anything."

-"That's the point of a gift, y/n. Plus, I know your birthday is coming soon."

-"Léa?"

-"Your ID."

-"How did you get it?"

-"I needed to check who you were," Simon lied.

-"...Léa," he eventually admitted.

-"I thought so."

-"Happy early birthday."

-"Thank you, Simon."

-And there, Simon wanted to engrave this image of their smile.

__________________

-Alone, lost in the forest, waiting for the target, Simon wondered what y/n was doing. Was they sleeping? Had they opened their gift? Did they like it?

-His thoughts stopped, focused on the mission, with a new desire. The desire to go home.

-To go home. To y/n.

_________________

-"Simon!"

-Tired, jet lag leaving his body heavy, but his eyes squinted at the sight of them.

-"y/n."

-"I..."

-They seemed hesitant to hug him, not quite sure what to do. Simon wanted it.

-"Oh damn, hugging y/n, melting into their warmth, leaving his hands on their curves, their thighs so soft, their hair."

-"Hug okay?" they asked.

-"More than okay."

-"Sure? I know it's not your thing, so it's not obligatory."

-"y/n, I'm sure."

-they nodded and hugged him. their scent filling his nostrils, Simon let go of his bag, letting his arms wrap around them. An embrace comforting him, finally stopping this fatigue. Ghost could leave to let Simon come home.

-"Welcome back," y/n murmured into the embrace.

-"I'm back," he whispered back.

-"I missed you. I... thank you for your gift. I... you're crazy to have spent so much, a machine of this quality..."

-"I intend to let my second sleeve be done by you."

-y/n backed away, surprised.

-"Simon, you don't even know my tattoo style."

-"And?"

-"Imagine if I'm into kawaii? Or a cute colorful Hello Kitty watercolor?"

-"Then I'll have a magnificent Hello Kitty," Simon replied.

-they laughed.

-"That would suit you well."

-"Without a doubt."

-"I might do that when I get my certification."

-"Wait, certification?"

-"I passed the hygiene certification. It's time I stop putting myself down. If I'm a failed artist, well, at least I'll be an artist."

-Simon smiled.

-"I'll be your first fan."

-"Léa is already there."

-"I already have to fight for you, damn."

-"I'm popular, you'll have to get used to it."

-He smiled.

-"Well, I'll let you go home. Good night, I suppose." y/n smiled and went home.

-He nodded and went into his apartment. However, he stopped.

-"y/n?"

-"Hm?"

-The words didn't come. Ask them to stay for what? Tea? Talk? He felt so pathetic.

-But y/n seemed to read him and took his hand, leading him into his apartment. Guiding him to his bed, they lay down beside him. Their bodies still clothed under the sheets drew closer.

-"I didn't imagine the first time in your bed like this."

-"Really?"

-"Hm, yes. I imagined a bit more warmth."

-"The heating is there."

-"Oh, shut up, Simon, you know that's not what I meant," y/n said, laughing.

-He nodded. His hands finding their place on y/n's body, embracing them.

-"My thighs aren't stress balls, Simon."

-"No, they're perfection incarnate. So soft, trembling, they're perfect."

-"It's fat."

-"Exactly."

-y/n chuckled and relaxed into his arms.

-"Does this mean something, us?" they murmured.

-"Yes."

-Not another question, and Simon fell into a deep sleep.

-Waking up, y/n in his arms, Simon decided he didn't want to wake up without their anymore. Enjoying the brief moments of peace, he let his thumbs trace circles on their back.

-"Hey," they murmured.

-"Hey."

-"Did you sleep well?"

-"Yes."

-"Simon, you have to let me go if we're going to get up."

-"Why get up?"

-"To eat?"

-His stomach answered for him. Simon sighed and got up.

______________________________

-"L.T., how dare ye?"

-"Soap."

-"Why?!"

-"Why what?" Simon asked, irritated, looking up from his reports.

-"Ye slept wi’ them!"

-"How do you know that?"

-"Ye smell good."

-Simon frowned.

-"So, I don't smell good usually?"

-"Na, ye smell like aftershave, but now it's soft."

-"Yes, I slept with them. Need details?"

-"AYE!"

-"Well, you won't get any. It was platonic, nothing sexual."

-"...so a nap."

-"Yes, McTavish, a nap."

-"...damn it, L.T., that's disappointin’."

-"I don't care."

-"Invite me tae the weddin’ in a century then."

-"You won't be invited."

-"You love me too much for that, L.T.!"

-"In your dreams, McTavish."

______________________

-"So, a lovebird in your life?"

-"Not you too, Cap."

-"I'm just curious, Simon. I know how closed off you are."

-"They're the one, sir."

-"Nice?"

-"They understand PTSD and all that shit."

-"Hm, so one to keep."

-"To marry."

-"Good luck, Simon."

-"Thanks, Cap."

----

-"Simon?"

-Blood. y/n, dead. Simon standing over their body.

-Gasping, he stood at his door, needing to know, to touch them, to prove they were alive.

-He hugged their, checking their pulse. It wasn't an illusion; they were there.

-"Simon, five things you see," y/n murmured, understanding he was there without being there.

-"You, my hands, your doormat, your coat, and your slippers," Simon eventually articulated.

-"Four things you touch."

-"y/n."

-"Simon, focus."

-"Your hair, your neck, your hips, your shoulders, your cheek."

-"Three things you hear."

-"Your pulse, my pulse, your voice."

-"Two things you smell."

-"My sweat, your perfume."

-"One thing you taste."

-"My blood."

-y/n nodded, and Simon opened his mouth, his teeth so tight he had bitten his tongue. His breath, still shaky, was calming.

-"I'm there," y/n murmured, not moving from his embrace.

-"Do you want to talk about it?" they asked.

-"No."

-"Let's sit on my couch, better than standing at the entrance of the apartment, okay?"

-Simon didn't let go of them for a moment.

-Hours passed, nothing could calm his paranoia.

-"You haven't shaved," y/n murmured.

-Simon couldn't articulate, he just nodded.

-"Can I do it for you? I know under your mask, it must feel better when you're clean-shaven."

-He nodded again. Slowly they guided him into their tiny bathroom, shaving him precisely, calmly, in a soothing silence. His eyes never leaving their face, Simon wanted to scream, cry, shake them, show them he was broken, reject them, make them run away but...

--they were there. Not forcing him to talk, letting him slowly come back down, anchoring him to reality.

-"You know, sunscreen and moisturizer would help your skin a lot," they murmured as they applied the lotions to his face slowly.

-"Especially with your chalky complexion," they added, chuckling.

-That sound, so soft, calmed his heart.

-"Okay," he managed to say.

-"I'll buy you some."

-"...Thank you."

-"Thank you for everything, for the crisis, for the beard, for the lotions, for not asking questions, for welcoming me into your life."

-"You're welcome," they replied, understanding the implication.

__________________________

-"I got rejected," y/n murmured.

-It was 10 a.m., they were on their balcony, the rain falling, they were sheltered.

-"None?"

-"No tattoo parlor accepted me for apprenticeship. Maybe I'm not good enough."

-"Or they're just blind."

-"Simon."

-"You'll make it, y/n," Simon murmured, taking their hand.

-"Maybe, but I... don't feel legitimate to continue."

-"Van Gogh was considered worthless all his life."

-"I hope to have recognition before death, Si'," y/n said, laughing.

-"And there it is, the smile suits you better."

-"Thank you, Si'."

-"Always there."

-they nodded.

___________________________

-"Si'."

-Late at night, in front of a cheap show, they were on their couch.

-"Hm?"

-"Are you... attracted to me?"

-"y/n."

-"I don't want big words, it's just... I don't want to be with someone who loves my personality and accepts my body out of pity. Not feeling desired, I know what that's like, feeling like a second option too, and I've never... addressed the subject with you. Being with a fat person is something different, the looks of others... it's something. And I don't want to be a secret or a shame."

-Simon observed them.

-"So I've been shitty."

-"What?"

-"Because every step, every breath, every part of you ignites a burning desire in me, y/n. I've been shitty at showing it if you think for a moment that every inch of you, every roll, every stretch mark isn't something I love about you."

-their breath caught for a moment.

-"I want to touch you, taste you, let your plump thighs around my head as I kiss you, I want to feel that belly with every bounce when we make love, I want to kiss this body."

-"I- I just wanted a yes, Simon," y/n replied, their voice rising in pitch, their gaze shifting away from the sudden warmth in the room.

-"Well, you have it," Simon added, a predatory look in his eyes.

-"Yes."

-The silence stretched.

-"Aren't you going to do anything, y/n?"

-y/n leaned in.

-"Yes."

-they kissed him.

_____________________

-"L.T., thanks again for coming."

-"No one wanted to miss this, McTavish," Price added.

-"A Scottish Hello Kitty tattoo, that's not to be missed, that's for sure," Gaz said as he entered the small salon.

-The place was peaceful, comfortable. A young woman greeted them and guided them to the artist's station.

-The men settled. Soap in the chair, the others on the chairs to support him.

-"Hello everyone."

-Price and Gaz greeted the tattoo artist, but Soap spoke up.

-"YOU BASTARD! YE DIDN'T TELL ME!"

-"Soap, what's-" Price began.

-"I don't need help, Johnny, I told you."

-"Ye didnae tell me, it's horrible, I was waitin’ and ye two, ye... how long?" he asked y/n.

-"Six months."

-"SIX MONTHS?!"

-"Wait, you're..."

-"y/n, meet Gaz Kyle Garrick and John Price. This is y/n, my lover."

-"Pleased to meet you," Price said, shaking their hand. "I'm surprised this big guy managed to find someone as lovely as you."

-"Thank you."

-"Six months," Soap repeated.

-"I wanted to tell you, but we wanted to take our time and with all my paperwork to find an apprenticeship and a place, I didn't realize how time passed," y/n admitted.

-"Wait, ye’re an apprentice?" Soap asked, terrified.

-"Yes, but don't worry, I'm not doing your tattoo today. I'm just preparing the equipment," y/n joked.

-"Oh, nae that I dinnae trust ye but-"

-"Don't worry."

-At 10 a.m., lost in a tattoo parlor watching Johnny get a Scottish Hello Kitty, y/n by his side, and Gaz and Price smiling.

-Ghost had finally found a new meaning to home, and he wouldn't leave it for anything in the world.

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x plus size reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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ravenna-reid · 2 months

Text

Black Vixen & Ballet

Jason Todd x Ex-Ballerina Vigilante Reader

Another ballet show held in the heart of Gotham City. The opulent building was filled with the rich and conceited with their glistening jewels, glasses of alcohol and expensive clothing. You stood on the balcony that looked over the entrance and small bar that sat outside the theatre, silently judging and observing them all. Soon, all of the aristocrats that were here drinking and gossiping would file into the theatre and watch the Swan Lake, and pretend that they weren't some of the worst and most corrupt people in Gotham.

Hair cascading down your back and your fitted, satin dress the colour of the midnight sky trailing behind you, you simply held onto your untouched wine glass and watched. Someone's hand suddenly slipped between yours and your glass, smoothly taking it from your hold. Turning to see who was asking for your attention, you just managed to hide your surprised expression. That cologne, those eyes, you recognised it all instantly.

"Mm," He hummed, looking down at your nails as he took a sip from your glass. Claws is what the thugs on the streets were calling them, and it made you laugh. Black, slick and sharp, they were both pretty and lethal. Just like you. "I'd notice those nails anywhere."

His eyes flickered up to look at you, his dark raven hair hanging before them, still a little damp from his shower. He wore an impeccable suit, but it did little to hide how muscular he was.

"You're not still holding a grudge against me, are you?" You asked softly, a smirk on your lips as you took your glass back.

He cocked his head to the side, a disapproving glint passing through those ocean blue eyes.

"You scared me, what was I to do?" You reasoned, pretending to be upset and wearing your best, fake saddened expression. Jason moved behind you until he was at your other side, looking down at the bustling audience below.

"So is that what you do?" He began, "Hit first and ask questions later?"

"I guess I've been hanging around you for too long." You smiled, and he failed to suppress his own smile. Your eyes trailed down his tie to where his stomach was, and you could imagine the claw marks you had accidentally left behind.

"I did apologise." You replied, voice smooth like wine. It did something to Jason. Made him both love sick and feral. Weak at the knees and desperate.

Yes, you had apologised. You remembered that night and how he hesitantly closed the space between the both of you. How you had held your hand over the scratch marks to try and ease the pain. The look in his eyes and the thrumming in your chest. The cool breeze. The dark alley way with its broken streetlights. You had quietly explained to him what you were doing, and he gave you a curt warning to stay safe. Then he had pulled his hood back over his head and disappeared as quickly as he came.

Glasses clinking and fake laughter rippled through out the warmly lit room. He leant down on the railing and you couldn't help but take note of how close the two of you were. Just centimetres away from arms brushing against each other. So close yet so far away.

"Reminiscing?" He asked looking over at you, voice like whiskey on ice. You forgot that he knew you were once the foremost ballerina in Gotham. The night that changed it all being the night you performed as the Black Swan. Strong, elegant, skilled and striking. You were a dazzling star. Your hair was in a slicked back bun, make-up beautiful and fierce, adorned in black lace. He once mentioned how he had been there that night, much to your surprise, leaving out that he'd been forced to go by Bruce and Dick for socialising reasons. He thought you were the most stunning girl he'd seen, but soon realised you were too good for him.

You hummed in response, and he wondered how you went from an esteemed Ballerina to a feared Vigilante. From the Black Swan to being called the Black Vixen. You suddenly turned, leaning your back on the cool, gilded railing and turning to him. He watched as your silky hair moved against your shoulder. He swallowed hard, the intense fluttering continuing in his chest.

"If you're here for Dickinson..." you began, gliding closer towards him so no one else could hear you, "You better be smart about it. His thugs are everywhere."

His head instinctively moved closer to yours. How did you know about Dickinson? How did you know that was Jason's latest target? "What do you know?"

"Not enough." Your perfume flooded his senses, his eyes trailing from the end of your black dress back up to your eyes.

"You're here on a mission?"

Turning from him, you shrugged.

"Are you armed?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

Without meaning to, he grabbed hold of your arm. His grip gentle yet demanding. "Listen, you can't mess with these guys-"

You fiercely turned to face him again. "Don't you think I know that?"

You were both back in that alley way, looking at each other like you'd die for each other. So much longing. So much yearning.

"Jason!" Your eyes turned to another boy, hair dark and eyes bright like his, as he made his way over. Jason. It was nice to finally put a name to the face. The boy gave you a large smile before focusing on Jason with a sly smirk. "Well, who is this?"

Jason let go of your arm as he turned to his brother and cursed his timing under his breath. "She's a...a friend. She used to be a ballerina." Jason turned back to face you, but found an empty space instead.

"Huh," Dick chuckled. "Looks like she needed an excuse to quickly ditch you. Glad I could help her out." His laugh rang in Jason's ears, his arm falling around Jason's shoulders in a joking manner.

Jason shot his brother a cold look before searching the area for you. But you were no where to be found.

"Black Vixen...what are you up to?"

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood imagine #red hood x fem!reader #dc comics #dcu #dc universe #dick grayson #nightwing

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waxingrunes · 5 months

Note

I understand if you’re too busy to answer this or don’t want to, but i was wondering if you wouldn’t mind telling us some of your non-explicit headcanons or just some traits you think wolfstar have in general? Your explicit ones are sososo hot but today I'm feeling low and need some comforting. Yiur blog is just a safe space for me but I totally understand if not! I love your work <3 all my love x

There are so many nondescript hc’s I have that this has the potential to turn into a formal essay with cited sources, so I’ll go for more of a generalised dump of info I have for each in a hope that it lifts some of your fog Anon. Maybe bullet pointed because it’ll be easier to read than my usual untidy form of communication. Hope you feel lighter soon.

Sirius

• will lick a yoghurt pot if there’s no clean spoons. There’s the option to go for fruit instead, but he wants the yoghurt and by god he will get his yoghurt

• is a fucking terrible driver, gives Remus and any passenger white knuckles due to speed issues and not using a lower gear when taking corners

• is however, in complete control when on a motorcycle; very hot, very controlled and will take his passenger’s safety very seriously

• professionally trained in ballroom and ballet, the latter which he is sometimes mocked in jest for, even by Remus, until he one time caught him stretching elegantly on the floor one morning with his upper body laid flat between long, toned, wide spread legs, ‘morning moony’, a healthy blush on his cheeks

• private crier, doesn’t cry easily

• goes quiet when angry as an initial defence but it doesn’t take long for him to start dropping breadcrumbs of sarcastic comments; can also be snobby and bratty, perhaps sometimes will get nasty and direct (bringing up things he shouldn’t to score points in the heat of the moment)

• suffers immeasurable guilt (helped by the point above) but is always masking a weighted feeling of guilt no matter what he’s doing, so much so it’s manifested into quite a serious anxiety problem in the wrong crowds

• he fidgets a lot, not in a chaotic way, just always has to have his fingers busy with something

• likes the smell of gasoline

• once had to talk himself down from throwing a child in a dustbin

• loves the colour red; blood red and cherry red to be precise but secretly loves dark blue even more because it’s what looks most handsome on Remus despite him not wearing it often

• sighs a lot

• pretended he couldn’t speak English to get away with jumping a queue

• hates the smell and taste of liquorice (unless heavily strawberry/cherry/raspberry flavoured)

• on one particular messy night out he got so impatient waiting at the bar, he reached over and grabbed a discarded bottle of alcohol the server had left open and swigged it

• digs his nails into his skin when anxious and is often reminded to relax the tension in his joints

• stargazes often

• once linked his pinky finger with Remus and asked him to pinky promise not to tell anyone what he was about to tell him, since which a tradition of trust was born where Remus will offer his pinky or the last two fingers for Sirius to hold or squeeze when he’s feeling unsure in public, or in any situation where verbal reassurance isn’t appropriate

• gets a weird thrill at the sound of cork popping from a bottle

Remus

• collects beer mats and keeps them in a drawer, thinks about making them into a display

• got tired of kids playing ball against the wall of his place (after repeat offences and him asking very nicely for them to stop) one day so went out, retrieved the ball and threw it so hard against of the cars it set the alarm off

• owner of said car came running out the house and Remus blamed it on the children. Never had the same issue again

• has a wildly sweet tooth and will always drop one or two packets of sugar into any warm beverage

• stares into space and gets involuntarily caught on someone’s face one too many times which makes them uncomfortable from the ‘Death Stare’ phenomenon when in reality, he’s lost in lala land

• can cook, is actually a proficient cook, but will not cook for anyone but Sirius, James or Lily

• will crack his knuckles, wrists and neck absentmindedly, all of which makes his company squirm because it’s often very loud and ‘pop-py’ but Sirius fucking loves it

• stays very calm during an argument but can shout louder than most and when he does, ears ring from the silence that follows

• prefers tea over coffee

• will eat liquorice any time he wants to piss Sirius off

• cries more than Sirius, but still a private crier

• always has to be the old boot in Monopoly

• loves words that are vowel heavy or double voweled because those are the ones where the scraps of Sirius’ lost French accent surface the most

• has a gentle touch, is aware of his size and nature of his lycanthropy, therefore always somewhat reserved

• loves socks, has a collection of ‘dad socks’

• has the messiest writing out of all the Marauders but loves handwritten things, owns three very different fountain pens for very different purposes

• is polite, but as he’s aged doesn’t tend to ‘fake smile’ a lot, feeling no need to fill uncomfortable silences for the sake of others

• has a chair he favours and often dozes off in it. Most of the time waking up to Sirius on top of him

#ask #wolfstar #might tag this properly #remus lupin #sirius black #remus #sirius

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elryuse · 16 days

Note

yandere ceo minji x secretary y/n ft. hanni???

A CEO Stole my Boyfriend

YANDERE CEO MINJI X MALE READER X HANNI

The jasmine first appeared subtly, a fleeting whiff that brushed past my nose as Y/n leaned in for a kiss. It was a foreign scent, not the familiar citrus and vanilla of my own perfume, but a heady, floral aroma that lingered long after he pulled away.

"What's that smell?" I asked, wrinkling my nose playfully.

Y/n, usually unflappable, stumbled over his words. "Uh, I, uh... must've walked by a new air freshener at the office."

His cheeks flushed a tell-tale pink, and a tiny seed of doubt sprouted in my gut. It was a flimsy excuse, but I chose to believe him. After all, Minji, our CEO, was notorious for pushing her employees to handle her eccentric demands. Extra-long hours and experimental air fresheners seemed par for the course.

But the scent persisted, clinging to Y/n's clothes like a secret memory. It coincided with the creeping changes in his behavior. Long hours at the office morphed into disappearing weekends, punctuated by terse phone calls and hurried excuses. The man known for his boundless energy and infectious smile seemed perpetually drained, a dark circle blossoming under his usually bright eyes.

"Work stress, huh?" I said one evening, trying to sound casual as I traced a finger along his furrowed brow.

Y/n flinched, his smile strained. "Yeah, just a rough patch. Minji's got us all jumping through hoops lately."

"Well, tell her to take it easy on you," I said, my voice tight with a growing unease I couldn't quite place. "You deserve a break."

He offered a weak smile. "I will. Maybe we can finally take that Napa Valley trip after all."

The anticipation crackled between us, a promise whispered under stolen kisses and shared dreams. Then, the announcement. Minji, her perfectly manicured nails tapping a staccato rhythm on the conference table, declared a "critical business trip" to LA. Y/n was needed, she proclaimed, urgency lacing her voice.

The air in the room went cold. "But what about our trip?" I blurted out, unable to contain the tremor in my voice.

Minji's eyes, usually calculating, flickered with something akin to amusement. "Oh, the Napa trip? I'm sure you two can reschedule. This, however," she said, her gaze lingering possessively on Y/n, "can't wait."

That night, as Y/n packed a meager overnight bag, the jasmine scent overwhelmed me. It clung to his clothes, a tangible reminder of the secret life he seemed to be leading. My voice, usually brimming with love, faltered as I asked, "Something's wrong, Y/n. Tell me."

He met my gaze, the usual warmth replaced by a flicker of panic. "It's just work, Hanni. Nothing to worry about."

"Is it, though?" I pressed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Because lately, it feels like there's a whole lot you're not telling me."

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his already ruffled hair. "It's complicated, okay? Just trust me, this trip is important."

But trust, that fragile thread that bound us together, began to fray at the edges. The following weeks were an agonizing ballet of deceit. Calls became scarce, filled with awkward silences and fabricated stories about "unexpected board meetings" that stretched late into the night. The Napa Valley trip became a painful memory, a cruel promise unfulfilled.

One evening, as Y/n hurried off to another "late-night meeting," my suspicions reached a boiling point. "Where are you really going, Y/n?" I demanded, my voice laced with a newfound steel.

He hesitated, the jasmine scent swirling around him like a poisonous fog. "It's... work, Hanni. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," I said, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt.

Just then, Minji's voice, dripping with saccharine sweetness, echoed from the doorway. "Don't worry, Hanni. Y/n's just helping me with a little... late-night brainstorming session." Her eyes, cold and calculating, met mine for a fleeting moment before flickering back to Y/n. "We wouldn't want the company to suffer because of a little weekend getaway, would we now, darling?"

Y/n flinched at the pet name, a flicker of something akin to disgust crossing his face before it was quickly masked by forced compliance. "Of course not, Minji," he mumbled, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

Minji's smile widened, the tips of her perfectly manicured nails glinting under the harsh office lights. It was a smile that promised both reward and punishment, depending on who she was addressing. Her gaze, previously cold, softened slightly as it landed on Y/n. "Excellent. Now, shall we get going, darling?" she purred, her voice dripping with a possessiveness that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Y/n offered a weak nod and mumbled a goodbye as he scurried past me, the jasmine scent clinging to him like a shroud. The air grew thick with a suffocating silence as the door clicked shut behind him. Minji's smile, once playful, morphed into a predatory smirk as she turned her icy gaze towards me.

"So," she drawled, her voice taking on a mocking tone, "worried your little weekend getaway plans got foiled?"

My throat tightened, the words catching in my chest. Fear, cold and primal, coiled in my stomach. Minji wasn't just our CEO; she was a force of nature, a hurricane with a designer wardrobe. Witnessing her manipulate Y/n with such ease sent shivers down my spine.

"It's not a 'little' getaway," I managed to force out, my voice barely above a whisper.

Minji scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. "Oh please, darling. Don't tell me you and Y/n actually have anything exciting planned. Movie night and takeout for the hundredth time? Sounds thrilling." Her words were laced with a cruel amusement, each syllable designed to tear down the fragile image of our relationship.

Tears pricked at my eyes, blurring the already distorted image of Minji reflected in the glass wall behind her. Maybe she was right. Our relationship, while comfortable, lacked the spark she seemed to be dangling in front of Y/n. But to expose our vulnerabilities in front of this woman, this predator, felt like signing a death warrant.

Before I could muster a retort, Minji glided closer, her smile morphing into something sinister. Her perfectly manicured nails tapped a haunting rhythm on the glass wall beside me. "You see, Hanni," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, "Y/n craves excitement. He craves a challenge. Does takeout and Netflix offer that?"

I flinched at the venom in her voice, the way she spoke of Y/n as if he were a prize she'd already claimed. "We have a connection you wouldn't understand," I choked out, a desperate attempt to reclaim some semblance of power.

Minji threw her head back and laughed, a cold, hollow sound that echoed in the empty office. "Oh, honey," she cooed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "The connection you have is about as exciting as watching paint dry. Trust me, Y/n deserves more. He deserves someone who can match his brilliance, someone who thrives on the same energy he does."

"And who might that be?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The smile on Minji's face widened, revealing a glimpse of something sharp and predatory beneath the veneer. "Why, me, of course," she purred, leaning in so close that I could smell the cloying sweetness of her jasmine perfume. "Y/n and I," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "we understand each other. We push each other. We're a perfect storm, darling. And let me tell you," she added, her eyes glinting with a chilling possessiveness, "he much prefers the view from here."

A strangled sob escaped my lips, tears streaming down my face. Her words were a brutal assault, stripping away the years of shared laughter, quiet nights in, and whispered dreams. In her warped reality, the comfortable love we shared was nothing compared to the thrilling chaos she offered.

Minji, seemingly satisfied with the devastation she'd wrought, straightened her designer blouse and adjusted her diamond necklace. "Well, this has been delightful," she purred, her voice saccharine once more. "But duty calls. Enjoy your… quiet evening, Hanni."

As she turned to leave, she paused for a moment, her gaze lingering on me with a malicious glint. "Oh, and one more thing," she said, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "Don't even think about trying to get in my way. Y/n belongs to me now."

With that, she swept past me, leaving behind a trail of toxic sweetness and a suffocating silence.I collapsed into the nearest chair, the sobs racking my body morphing into a broken, tearful mess. The woman I loved, the man I thought I knew, both seemed to be slipping through my fingers, stolen by a predator who thrived on manipulation and control. The future I'd envisioned, a future filled with shared dreams and laughter, lay shattered at my feet, replaced by a chilling uncertainty that promised nothing but heartache.

Hours bled into one another, the silence of the apartment deafening. Every creak of the floorboard sent a jolt of fear through me, every rustle of leaves outside my window sounded like approaching footsteps. Finally, the sound of the key turning in the lock shattered the silence.

Y/n stumbled in, his face etched with exhaustion. The jasmine scent, once overwhelming, was now faint, barely clinging to him. Relief, a sweet and unexpected sensation, flooded my chest. But before I could speak, he sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.

"Y/n" I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying.

He looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and weary. "Hey," he croaked, his voice strained. "Sorry I'm late. Minji kept me swamped with work."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "Work, huh?" The word tasted like ash in my mouth.

He sighed, a deep, weary sound. "Look, Hanni, about the trip…"

"Forget the trip," I whispered, cutting him off. "What's going on, Y/n? Who is she?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering around the room before settling on me. "It's complicated," he began, then stopped, running a hand through his already ruffled hair. "She... she needs me, Hanni. For the company, I mean."

The lie, flimsy and transparent, hung heavy in the air. "Needs you how?" I pressed, my voice trembling.

Y/n winced, as if the truth pained him. "Look," he said, his voice low, "there's a big deal in the works, and Minji... she wants a public image boost. Apparently, being seen with a successful, 'happily engaged' partner is part of the strategy."

My stomach lurched. Engaged? The word echoed in the room, a cruel mockery of our crumbling relationship.

"Engaged?" I choked out, the word a foreign sound on my tongue.

"It's fake, Hanni," he said hurriedly, reaching for my hand. "Just a show for a month, to close the deal. Then everything goes back to normal. I promise."

His touch, usually a source of comfort, felt foreign now. Doubt gnawed at me, a persistent, unwelcome guest. "A month?" I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper. "A month of pretending to be in love with her, while I sit here alone, wondering if you'll even come home at night?"

Tears welled up in his eyes, mirroring the ones staining my cheeks. "Hanni, please. You have to trust me. This is about our future, ours. If I lose this deal, we both lose our jobs. You know how ruthless Minji can be."

His words held a chilling truth. Minji wasn't above playing dirty, and the thought of losing everything, our relationship and our careers, sent a fresh wave of terror through me.

Y/n cupped my face, his touch gentle but his eyes filled with a desperation that mirrored my own. "This is just temporary, Hanni. I love you. You know that, don't you?"

I searched his eyes, desperately seeking the truth. "Yes," I whispered, my voice thick with tears. "But what if this 'temporary' situation changes something? What if..."

"There are no ifs, Hanni," he insisted, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hand. "We'll get through this. Together."

His words offered a fragile comfort, a lifeline in a storm of uncertainty. But as I looked into his exhausted eyes, a flicker of doubt remained. Could our love survive a month-long performance of fake love with a manipulative predator? The answer, like the future itself, remained shrouded in a chilling uncertainty.

Tears streamed down my face, blurring the image of Y/n cupping my cheeks. His voice, raw with emotion, echoed in my ears. "This is just temporary, Hanni. I love you. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," I whispered, clinging to his words like a lifeline. The terror of losing him, of losing everything, receded replaced by a fragile trust. "We'll get through this. Together."

He pulled me into a tight embrace, his body trembling against mine. In that moment, our love felt like a shield against the encroaching darkness. But unbeknownst to me, the darkness had already taken root.

Across town, in a luxurious hotel suite overlooking the city, Minji watched the news report with a triumphant smile. Y/n, his face pale and drawn, stood beside her, a hand awkwardly resting on her waist as they announced their "engagement" to the world. The image was perfect – the epitome of power couple success.

But behind the carefully crafted facade, a different story unfolded. Moments before the cameras rolled, Minji's demeanor had shifted from playful CEO to a cold, calculating predator. A glint of madness flickered in her eyes as she brandished a small, silver pistol, the weight of it chilling in Y/n's hand.

"See, darling," she purred, her voice laced with a dangerous sweetness, "sometimes a little incentive goes a long way. After all, I wouldn't want anything to happen to your precious Hanni, would we?"

The world spun around Y/n. The image of Hanni's tear-streaked face, filled with a love that knew nothing of the storm brewing around them, flashed in his mind. The gun felt foreign in his hand, a grotesque symbol of the twisted game he was forced to play.

Terror choked him, a cold, metallic taste in his mouth. He knew then, with a chilling certainty, that Minji wasn't bluffing. This wasn't just about a business deal or a public image boost; this was about possession, about claiming him as her own twisted trophy.

Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring the image of the predator before him. "You can't do this," he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.

Minji's smile widened, devoid of warmth. "Oh, but darling," she cooed, leaning in close, the scent of her jasmine perfume thick and cloying, "I already have."

With a cruel laugh that echoed in the opulent room, Minji shoved the gun back into his hand. "Now come along, fiancé," she purred, her voice dripping with a venomous possessiveness, "the world awaits its new power couple."

Y/n, his heart a lead weight in his chest, allowed himself to be led, a puppet on the strings of a madman's twisted game. As they stepped out into the blinding glare of the cameras, his smile felt like a lie, a mask hiding the terror that gnawed at his soul. He was trapped, a pawn in a deadly game, forced to play along for the sake of the woman he loved, oblivious to the darkness that now hung over their future.

As Y/n and Minji entered the office hand-in-hand, a wave of unexpected chaos greeted them. Gone was the usual quiet hum of productivity; instead, the air crackled with a manic energy. Cheers erupted from cubicles, confetti rained down from the ceiling, and streamers, a tacky explosion of colors, adorned the walls. Managers, usually stoic figures of authority, popped champagne bottles, their faces flushed with something more potent than bubbly.

Hanni, who had been anxiously waiting by the entrance, felt a cold dread seep into her bones. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the cacophony of celebration. She watched, paralyzed by a horrifying realization, as her co-workers, oblivious to the truth, showered congratulations on the "happy couple."

Minji, her smile stretched wide and predatory, reveled in the attention. Y/n, on the other hand, seemed like a ghost amidst the pandemonium. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes filled with a haunted emptiness.

One of the managers, a normally reserved woman named Sarah, approached them, a bottle of champagne clutched in her hand. "Congratulations, you two! We're all so thrilled!" she gushed, spraying them both with a liberal dose of bubbly.

Y/n offered a weak smile, the clinking of the glass against his shaking hand the only sound he managed. Minji, however, took center stage. She draped her arm possessively around Y/n's waist, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

"Thank you, Sarah! We're so happy to share our news with everyone." Her gaze, sharp and calculating, flickered towards Hanni who stood frozen by the door. A cruel smile played on her lips as she leaned in close to Y/n, her voice barely a whisper.

"Now," she purred, her eyes gleaming with malicious intent, "how about you seal the deal with a kiss for your fiancee?"

Y/n flinched, his body recoiling at the touch of her lips. But trapped in his web of lies, he had no choice. He turned towards Hanni, his eyes filled with a silent apology, and leaned in. The kiss, devoid of any passion, was a grotesque parody of intimacy played out for a cheering audience.

Hanni's world shattered. The man she loved, the future they had planned, all felt like a cruel illusion. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the scene before her. The cheers, the congratulations, the celebratory atmosphere – it all felt like a twisted nightmare.

Through the haze of her heartbreak, she saw Minji's triumphant smirk. It was a victory dance on the ruins of her love, a chilling reminder of the predator who had snatched away her happiness.

Grief and a cold fury warred within her. She wouldn't let Minji win. She had to find a way to expose the truth, to save Y/n from the monster he was now entangled with. But how? In the midst of the celebratory chaos, a desperate plan began to form in her mind. She had to act fast, before it was too late.

Hanni stumbled back as the cheers died down, the taste of champagne metallic on her tongue. The office, once a familiar space, now felt like a gilded cage, the air thick with the stench of Minji's victory. Y/n stood beside her, his face an emotionless mask, a heartbreaking reflection of the love they once shared.

"Congratulations are in order, wouldn't you agree, Hanni?" Minji purred, her voice dripping with false sympathy. Her perfectly manicured nails tapped a cruel rhythm against a champagne flute.

Tears welled up in Hanni's eyes, blurring the image of the celebrating crowd. Defeat was a bitter pill to swallow, but the thought of losing Y/n altogether was an unbearable prospect. She had to play along.

"Y-yes," Hanni stammered, forcing a watery smile. "Congratulations to you both."

Y/n's gaze flickered towards her, a flicker of pain crossing his features before being quickly masked by a practiced smile. "It's for the best, Hanni. You understand, don't you?"

Her heart ached, but a new resolve hardened her voice. "Yes, Y/n," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "If this is what makes you happy, then I… I support you."

A slow smile spread across Minji's face. This was the reaction she'd craved, the sweet surrender of a rival. "Oh, Hanni, darling," she cooed, leaning in close. The jasmine perfume was almost intoxicating, a heady mix of power and danger.

"There's always room for one more in this little game," Minji continued, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Perhaps you could be Our devoted… Pet. A loyal friend, always by Our side, wouldn't that be delightful?"

The suggestion was repugnant, a twisted mockery of their love. But the thought of being near Y/n, even under these humiliating circumstances, was a lifeline in a storm of despair.

Swallowing her pride, Hanni offered a weak nod. "Yes, Minji. I would… I would love to be your P-pet."

A triumphant glint sparked in Minji's eyes. "Excellent!" she declared, clapping her hands together. "Then this calls for a toast! To new beginnings, and a very happy… unconventional family!"

The champagne flute felt heavy in Hanni's hand as she clinked it against Minji's. This wasn't the future she'd envisioned, but it was the only way she could see Y/n again. She had become a pawn in a twisted game, a pet to appease a predator. But within the confines of this gilded cage, a spark of defiance flickered. She would bide her time, gather evidence of Minji's threats and manipulations. One day, she would expose the truth and reclaim her love, even if it meant playing the part of the devoted companion for a while longer. The game had just begun, and Hanni, though forced to her knees, was far from broken.

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mermaidgirl30 · 4 months

Text

✨Dancing With Fire Part 2: Save me ✨

- Summary: You’re starring in the ballet Swan Lake, taking on the lead role in New York. You practice day and night and are always staying after hours. You keep seeing Joel around the theater, the hot maintenance worker you can’t keep your eyes off of. You aren’t the only one though because you think he’s watching you too.

- Tags: No outbreak, protective Joel, angst, fingering, oral, cream pie, abusive dance partner, tension, longing, porn with plot, smut, dom! Joel (reader mid 20’s, Joel in his early 40’s) Joel x you, No use Y/N

- Word Count: 9.2k

- Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Part 1 Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The long days seemed to blur together. You were constantly being worked overtime. Carlotta was insistent that you stay over every day and practice till you got every single move perfect. It was grueling, excessive and honestly a chore. You had absolutely no free time to yourself except some weekends. Not that it mattered. You had no friends in New York, but it’d still be nice to have some room to breathe and relax.

Today was an exceptionally bad day because you had to spend the entire day dancing with Pierre, your awful dance partner. He was tall, had slicked back short blonde hair, beady blue eyes, and had a short temper. A lot of the girls fawned over him, gushing how handsome and nice he was. You wanted to laugh every time you saw it happen because you knew how he really was behind those thin walls.

He was cruel and brutally wicked. A pig at best.

You’d never forget that day where the company threw a celebration party for the cast after auditions. He’d introduced himself and offered you his hand as he congratulated you for getting the lead. He seemed friendly enough until he tried to smother you and demand you let him take you out. You politely declined, not interested in fraternizing with your co-star.

What happened next was something you wanted to forget entirely. When you turned to leave after saying no, he’d grabbed your hips and pulled you to him, securing his hands around your waist. You tried to pull out of his grasp, but he dug his nails into you so hard that you couldn’t. You snapped at him and demanded he get his hands off you, but he wouldn’t listen. He had other intentions. Intentions you didn’t want to revisit.

“Let me make this clear. Refuse me and I will make your time here a living hell,” Pierre had warned, leaning into your ear and whispering so nobody else could hear the conversation around you in the busy foyer, the two of you standing in the corner of the shadows where no one looked over to. You squirmed and stomped on his foot in defense.

He finally let you go, wincing from the pain of your foot. You kicked his shin with your long heel and cursed him for laying a hand on you. He intended to sleep with you, but there was no way in hell you were letting that happen. He even tried again a week after that, but he had failed miserably.

You tried to confront Carlotta about the whole thing, but she had shut you down and said Pierre would never do such a thing, and it had made you want to quit right then and there. But you worked for this your whole life, so you decided against it. You’d just roll with the punches until the last show was over. It was just a few months. Which couldn’t hurt. Right?

“Alright, let’s take it from the top. Pierre, the first dance with the swan. Go on,” Carlotta commanded, pointing to you with cat-like nails to get ready.

As the slow, romantic music filled the auditorium, you took your spot and got into fifth position, placing your arms over your head like the delicate swan queen you were.

Pierre was smirking at you from the other side of the polished stage, his blue eyes narrowing into slits. Before Carlotta spotted him, he put on a huge fake smile and turned his eyes friendly.

What a fake.

You rolled your eyes and then started the routine as he danced over to you, grabbing your hands and twirling you around the stage in a frenzy. You hated every second you had to dance with him, wanting to push him out of your hold and smack him across the face.

You kept your vision on the red velvet walls as he spun you over and over, lifting you over his head and catching you after your big leap, pirouetting from his hold until he joined you again, clashing you to his chest.

“Smile pretty now. Don’t want Carlotta to get on to you,” he smirked, turning you again so you were facing him.

You scowled up at him and glared. “Don’t worry about me.”

When he turned you back around to face Carlotta, you put on a big smile, not showing her just how uncomfortable you truly were. Before you took another step, Pierre stomped on your pointe shoe hard and tripped you, almost falling over before he grabbed you.

“Stop, stop! Start again. None of that,” Carlotta huffed as she put a hand on her forehead like she was in agony.

You turned fast and gritted your teeth at him. “What the hell was that?”

He laughed quietly and smiled down at you. “Just having a little fun,” he teased, taking his hand and fixing a flyaway on the top of your head.

You grabbed his hand and shoved it away from you. “Don’t touch me unless we’re dancing,” you hissed, stomping away from him back into your starting position. You could still hear him quietly laughing as he took his place across the stage, smirking up at you with a dare in his eyes.

Fucking idiot.

You went through the same dance time and time again that day, Pierre always doing something to mess up the routine so you’d have to start from the very top. You were absolutely done with him, wanting to just go home. It was almost 4:00pm, and you still hadn’t had a break. Your body was about done for.

“You two, I want you to go through a few more times. I have a meeting I can’t be late for,” she said hurriedly as she grabbed her stack of folders and pink iPhone.

No.

She was leaving you alone with this thing? Fear crept through your body and slithered down your spine, leaving no room for breathing.

“Wait, Carlotta…”

She cut you off fast. “No buts, you’re staying and that’s final. You two work it out. Today was not your best work. The two of you need some bonding time, so go focus on perfect form and pointed feet,” she said harshly.

Her cell phone started buzzing and she picked it up and answered with a laugh, walking away until her high pitched voice was out of range and she was disappearing through the back doors. Leaving you all alone with Pierre.

You slowly turned and gulped away your fear. Focus. He couldn’t do anything to you. Could he? No. He wouldn’t. Surely not.

As soon as you turned, he was staring down at you with cold calculating eyes, a smirk plastered against his mouth as his sunken cheekbones reflected off the auditorium bright lights.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, princess,” he scoffed.

“Let’s just get this over with,” you insisted, taking a big step away from him.

“Oh come now, you don’t wanna spend a little quality time with me?” he said in a deceiving way, sticking his lower lip out like he was pouting.

“No,” you said back in a hard tone, your eyebrows furrowing at the cruel man that stood before you. “You did this on purpose! You kept messing me up in practice so Carlotta would make us stay longer. You thought that was okay?”

“Of course I did it on purpose,” he laughed.

“You’re making me look bad in front of her! And you’re really fucked up for doing that, you know that?” you bit back bitterly, almost biting down on your tongue.

He was laughing at your words, a wicked cackling sound escaping his throat. He just stood there taunting you, asking you to throw another insult his way. Daring you to keep on.

You rolled your eyes and got into place. “Enough. Let’s just do this already,” you said firmly as you raised your arms into your starting pose.

“Fine by me,” he said as he got into his own position, signaling you to begin.

You started the routine, moving your arms gracefully up and down as you made your way to center stage, putting your pointe shoes to use as you dug your toes into the ground, twirling around as he chased you across the stage. You were the swan that got away, and he was on the hunt for you. Carlotta always said seduce him, make him fall in love with you. That’s the last thing you wanted. It was all for the act, the ballet. That was your mission in this dance routine, and it was your least favorite because of it.

You performed your best, making every turn sharp, pointing your toes with perfect precision, elongating your arms to be as graceful as a flower, lifting your legs as high as they’d go. Making every single move pristine so this would be the only run through you’d have to do tonight.

He was the hunter in this scene, and you were the beautiful, untouchable swan. His mission was to catch you, and yours was to keep away until he could finally reach you. He chased you throughout the dance. With every turn you’d make, he’d try to get closer. Reaching, fighting, trying with all his might to snatch you. He stretched out an arm, but you jumped out of his wavelength. He tried again as you flew across the stage in a graceful run.

But in the end he won. Finally winning you over as you stopped in the middle of the stage motionless as he grabbed your waist and spun you on your toes in place, catching your arms above your head and then stopping your rotations. His arms were still on your waist as you faced him, almost chest to chest with him. Suddenly he turned you and positioned you in a laying back position when the song ended, signaling the end of the routine.

You took a breath before getting up and then attacked instantly. “Why didn’t you just do that in practice today? That was spotless, clean. We could’ve been done a lot earlier if you wouldn’t have kept messing me up,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Remember that night I said I’d make your life a living hell? Well, I wasn’t kidding,” he said with a laugh, his blue eyes piercing into you like a knife, making your insides instantly icy. “I can make it go away, you know. I can stop taunting you every day. All you have to do is change your mind.”

You dropped your arms to your side as they grazed the white tights, trying to make your mind focus on anything but that night. “No,” you said firmly.

“No? You sure about that?” he asked as he grabbed a hold of your wrist and pulled you into his chest, his grip on you not letting up.

You tried to pull away, but he grabbed you tighter, digging his fingers into your skin. Searing it with a tinge of pain. You winced in response. “Let. Go,” you said slowly as you glared up at him, daring him to try anything else.

“I don’t think so,” he said as he pulled you tighter, pain resonating through your wrist.

“I mean it, Pierre. Let go or I’ll scream,” you warned, giving him your best dirty look you could muster.

He narrowed his eyes as he locked his jaw, weighing his options carefully. He dug his fingers in one more time and then released you, letting his fingertips leave marks against your sore wrist.

“Little bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he turned the opposite way, about to head out.

“Prick,” you muttered quietly.

He must’ve heard you because he spun around so fast that you could’ve sworn he got whiplash.

“You better watch it,” he warned, pointing a finger terribly close to your face.

“Or what?” you asked confidently, wanting to fight back.

“Or else I’ll have no choice but to do this,” he said as he took a step towards you and pulled your arm, forcing you up against his chest.

“Let me go,” you demanded as you hit him in the chest, trying your hardest to pull out of his grasp.

“Change your mind then maybe I will,” he smirked, laughing at you while you struggled against him.

“Get the fuck off me,” you shouted as you pushed at his upper body, slipping away from his sharp grasp.

He tried grabbing you again as he caught your wrist, his fingernails digging into you. You spit into his face, and then he did something that shocked your entire system. He slapped you hard across the face as you felt a sudden searing, stinging pain fill your cheek. Then he pushed you down against the hardwood floor as you landed with a hard thud on your hands and knees.

“No more saying no to me, little swan. Have to teach you some manners. Let me show you how it’s done.”

He took a step closer and you cowered over, shutting your eyes so you could block out the ringing noise that was blasting through your eardrums. So close to having a panic attack, not wanting him to lay another hand on you. You shaded your eyes against the shining floor and sank down as far as your body could go.

You waited for the next blow to come, but it never came. Instead, you heard a loud crashing sound behind you, like something had just collided into the wall.

You looked up and glanced behind you, freezing once you saw just what it was. You gasped, too stunned to move.

There he was. Joel.

Joel had Pierre cornered into the red wall, slamming his body hard against it as his hands dug into Pierre’s white shirt. Bunching the material so much that it looked like the shirt would rip at any moment.

“Think you’re such a tough guy, huh? Do ya get off on hitting women for fun you twisted fuck?! Huh? Well, do ya?!” Joel yelled into Pierre’s horrified face, digging his fingers deeper into his shirt, bringing him closer to the bared teeth of his scowl.

Pierre stuttered and couldn’t get a single word out, mumbling nonsense quietly to Joel.

“Answer me!” he growled, his eyes going the darkest shade of brown you’d ever seen them turn. Almost like a dark charcoal color, pupils getting larger by each second that ticked by.

“N-n-nooo,” he stuttered, chattering his teeth together as the whites of his eyes expanded.

Joel shoved his head against the wall, grabbing his blonde locks and pulling hard, making Pierre yelp. “If you ever lay a hand on her again I’ll break your fucking jaw. Do you understand?” he roared. His massive fingers moving up around Pierre’s neck to hold him in place, the veins in his hands growing larger, and his breathing coming out rough and winded.

“Y-yes,” Pierre shrieked.

“Repeat it!” Joel growled, jerking Pierre’s blonde locks so hard that you swore he was about to pull out a fist full of hair or snap his neck all together. You weren’t sure which would come first.

Joel pulled harder, making Pierre scream out in pain. “Alright, alright! I won’t touch her again. Unless we’re performing for the show.” He looked scared as his eyes were bulging out of his skull and his face was scrunched up into absolute terror.

Joel accepted that answer and muttered a groan. His eyes were locked on Pierre, hounding him with those dark brown eyes. He was feral, unhinged, overpowering as he stood there holding Pierre in place, punishing him for putting his hands on you. It was so hot. Making your insides feel all sorts of warmth as you sat there in awe, watching your protector defend you.

It was absolutely exhilarating.

Joel slowly released his hand from his shirt and backed up just the tiniest bit from Pierre, giving him room to breathe. Pierre pressed against his shirt and smoothed it out, fighting to catch his breath as his eyes were wild with fright. He took a step past Joel, but Joel stopped him, putting a strong hand against his bicep as he grasped him firmly, turning him so he could face those burning brown eyes.

“I’ll be keepin’ a close eye on ya. Better learn where your fucking place is before I put you in it,” he warned, turning his mouth into a hard scowl as his forehead hardened into wrinkles. “You do anything to give her a hard time and I will have words with you. Words that lead to fists,” he stated firmly as his right hand clenched into a tight fist.

His jaw flexed as his eyes glanced over Pierre’s timid face, finally releasing his grip and letting him run off the stage in complete fear. Not wanting to stay in Joel’s fuming presence anymore.

You sat on the floor gawking at the tall, broad man in front of you who had just saved you from God knows what. Your breath was coming out shallowly as your eyes were wide, staring at his large biceps that were flexed and pulling at his denim button up. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing those long protruding veins that you couldn’t get enough of.

You watched as his colossal hands went from tight, flexed fists to relaxed fingers against his dark jeans. His jaw went from tensed to tempered as he continued glaring in the direction that Pierre had fled in. A faint smolder setting his features that made you weak in the knees. A vision you wanted to burn into the back of your mind. The man that made you ignite with desire.

Your savior.

Joel finally dropped his tight fisted knuckles and relaxed his glare, turning in your direction. The moment he saw you he dropped his furrowed eyebrows and came to your side, kneeling down to be eye level with you.

“Are you hurt?” he asked with concerned brown eyes as he reached his arms out to place on your shoulders, making you shutter at how warm his hands were on your bare skin.

“No, I-I’m alright,” you responded breathlessly, forgetting about your aching jaw. Too focused on the gorgeous man that was right in front of you, bending at the knee to examine your frail body.

“Here, let’s get you up off this floor so I can take a look at ya.” He held out a hand, and you didn’t hestitate to take it, feeling right at home when his rough fingers met your smooth skin. Sending electricity through your fingertips.

He grabbed a hold of your waist and hoisted you up off the cold floor, bringing you over to sit on a beige upholstered bench behind the stage. He sat down next to you and turned you to face him, his concerned honey eyes looking over your face carefully. He reached out a hand and slowly lifted your chin, gently bringing his fingers to the left cheek that was raw from the hard slap.

He moved ever so gently, sliding his fingers slowly over your jaw. Examining it to make sure there was no damage to the skin. His calloused fingers brushed against your cheek, making a tingle run down your neck, sinking its way to your lower region. You fought back a blush as he continued looking you over thoroughly. He hit a sensitive spot and you winced against his touch. He apologized as he dropped his hand, leaving your cheek cold and untouched.

“I don’t see any bruises, but you might wanna ice that tonight,” he said as he ghosted his fingers over your thigh, barely putting his fingers on you. But it was enough to make you jolt in place.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, noticing your jumpiness. You couldn’t help it though. He made you feel like a complete nervous wreck, never able to fully calm yourself when he was in your presence.

“Yeah, just a little shaken up still,” you stammered out, eyes fixed on the thick fingers that laid against your thigh.

You peered back up into his face as it changed from relaxed to apprehensive as he furrowed his brows. It made your eyes go that much wider, not fully understanding why this man made you feel the things you did when you barely knew him.

“Is that the first time he’s hit you?” he asked with a serious gaze, his jaw clenching into a fist.

“Yeah, that’s the first time,” you sighed, trying not to think about how scared you were in the moment. What you were afraid he would’ve done if Joel wasn’t around. Just to spite you and take what he thought was his to take. It made you sick.

“And it’ll be the last time if I have anything to do with it,” he said with bared teeth, his eyes growing darker the more he talked about it.

You sat there gaping at him, your eyes sinking deep into his as you were swooning at the way he was talking about defending you. Making every single fiber in your body want to melt into his chest, wrap your arms around him so he’d never let go.

You got your wits about you and focused back on the brooding man that sat in front of you, his fingers still laying against your toned thigh.

“Thank you. For saving me,” you said slowly, looking up from underneath your long lashes, your fingers digging into the soft material of the bench nervously.

Joel’s large veins tightened up in his neck as he flexed his jaw again, eyes still alight with anger, but then he slowly relaxed as he gazed into your eyes. Those amber eyes simmering into yours.

“‘Course, darlin’. I wasn’t gonna let him hurt ya,” he said gently as he brought his hand to your cheek, slowly caressing you tenderly. He looked so composed, so soft as he ran slow circles across the skin, easing away your pain.

And fuck, did it feel good.

“You hungry?” he asked as he let his hand fall back to his side.

Your stomach growled at the mention of food. You were more than hungry. You were starving. Ravenous almost. “Starving,” you answered almost too quickly.

“You like Italian?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Do I like Italian? It’s my absolute favorite,” you said excitedly, almost bouncing out of your seat.

Joel noticed the response and laughed casually, his dimples forming over that beautiful mouth of his, making your insides buzz with glee.

“Alright then. C’mon, I’m taking you to eat,” he said as he stood up and held out a hand for you to take.

You glanced at his rough hand for a few seconds, blinking slowly, trying to process that Joel was about to take you to dinner. You finally got up the nerve to reach your hand out, sliding your fingers along the back of his calloused hand until he closed his fingers around you.

It felt so good. So right. Like putting on the perfect fitting glove. A warm, gentle embrace that was only for you.

He started pulling you towards the side door, but you stopped fast. Painfully pulling your hand away from his tight hold. “Just a second. Let me go change real quick,” you said hurriedly as you started to head towards your dressing room.

“Alright. I’ll be here when you’re ready,” he stated.

As you rounded the corner to the back of the stage, you turned your head, stealing one more glance at Joel. Your heart skipped when you saw he was staring back at you. You gave him a quick smile before you ran fast to your dressing room, nearly knocking over the pink wardrobe dresser as you threw off your pointe shoes and leotard, stripping your tights to expose bare skin.

You pulled on a pair of yoga pants and an oversized purple sweater, quickly slipping on the white Converse to finish the job. You swiftly undid your too tight bun and ran a hand through your messy hair, trying to tame the long waves that went down a little past your shoulder blades.

You checked yourself in the mirror one more time before you decided it was good enough. You were ready.

As you made your way out of the dressing room and rounded the corner to the stage, you found Joel with his hands in his pockets, waiting patiently. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you his eyes went wide as his brown eyes trailed down over your waves, past your long legs and then back up into your face. He looked mildly surprised, like this was the first time he was actually seeing you. And that made you shiver with anticipation.

You walked up to him slowly, batting your long eyelashes at him and giving him a gentle smile. Trying your best not to look like the absolute wreck you were and instead trying to look as flirtatious as you could come off as. “Okay, I’m ready,” you beamed, giving him your best smile.

A small smile crept up to his lips as he ran a hand through his tousled curls, making something stir deep inside you. You wanted to know what it felt like to slip your own hand through his hair, wanting so badly to tousle it even more, dig your fingers into his scalp. You wondered if it was just as smooth as you imagined, just as coarse.

He brought you back to reality as his deep voice smothered all your senses. “C’mon then. I’m gonna show ya my favorite restaurant. It’s jus’ bout a ten minute walk from here. Not too far.”

And then he was leading you out of the massive auditorium and out of the theater, stepping into the chilled breezy evening as the wind howled and the orange leaves blew across the busy road.

It didn’t take you long to get to the restaurant. Matter of fact, it took no time at all as Joel was easy with conversations. Something that came naturally to him. You weren’t usually the best talker, but with him it was different. It was simple, just like a walk in the park. It was unforced, carefree, and casual. You never felt like this with anyone else which was strange, but you’d take it. Because every minute you spent with Joel, the more you liked him. The more you wanted to be around him. The more your insides burned for him.

Once you were inside, a waiter led you to a back booth. Joel took one side and you took the other, sitting back into the black cushion as your hands went to the menu the waiter placed out for you. He took your drink orders and left the two of you alone.

As you looked around, you took in the laid-back, quiet ambience of the restaurant. A single white rose adorned each table, the chiffon curtains draped over the lavish tall windows, and soft music played over the speakers faintly. It smelled like garlic bread and serenading pasta in here, making the inside of your mouth water with hunger. The back booth that you sat at was a little private as no one sat around you. The restaurant was quiet, peaceful as the dinner rush had not yet entered. Giving you the perfect opportunity to talk to Joel without the weight of a loud crowd or overstimulating environment.

As you looked over the luxurious menu, you could feel Joel’s eyes on you, suddenly averting your gaze from the jumbled words on the page.

“Know what ya want?” he asked coolly.

You quickly scanned the menu and decided on the first thing that popped out at you. “Think I’m gonna go with the chicken Alfredo pasta.” Your go to always.

“Not a bad choice,” he nodded.

When the waiter came back, Joel ordered for you, telling the waiter you’d have the chicken Alfredo pasta and he’d have the classic Italian spaghetti. The waiter left a basket of fresh garlic bread in the center of the table before heading off and placing your order. It smelled amazing as the warm buttery scent wafted through your senses.

You reached out and grabbed a hot piece and sunk your teeth into it, quickly devouring it as the melty goodness ran down your throat. You held in a moan as the taste hit you hard, pulling at that hunger that had been attached to you all day.

“This is the best bread I’ve ever tasted,” you gushed, taking another bite without wasting time.

“Glad ya like it,” he said with a smile that curved at the corners. One that could make you weak at the knees.

After you finished the first piece and sat in silence for a few moments, Joel spoke again. “So, tell me about yourself. You go to college out here?”

You looked up after wiping your hands on the crimson napkin, dabbing at the corners of your mouth. “I attended Juilliard. Just graduated a couple of years ago.”

“You went for dance I assume?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Mhm. They actually gave me a full ride after I submitted my audition and application to them. Guess they were impressed by me,” you said as you shrugged your shoulders.

Joel let out a low whistle, leaning back in his seat to take a better look at you. “Full ride, huh? Impressive,” he said with awe. “And ‘course they were impressed. I mean, look at ya. The way ya dance says it all. And not to mention you’re easy on the eyes,” he said lowly as his coffee colored eyes flicked over your face, making your cheeks burn as you simmered in his presence.

You pulled back a lock of hair behind your ear and fidgeted in your seat, suddenly a nervous wreck again from the smolder he was giving off. Making your insides complete jelly. “Oh, uhhh, thanks,” you said shyly.

“You always know that’s what ya wanted to do? To dance?” he asked as he leaned his elbows against the table, placing his hands under his chin so he could give you his full attention. You gulped at the sight.

“My parents said I was dancing before I even learned to talk. They put me in some classes after I learned to walk, and I never looked back since. That’s what I love,” you said knowingly.

He gave you a small nod and continued staring at you, making you that much more nervous. Before he could ask you anything else, you threw a question in. Wanting to know about him.

“What about you? You aren’t from around here are you? Not with that southern accent you have. Where are you from?” you asked curiously.

“Austin, Texas,” he said with a thick accent coming off the s.

You nodded in response. You should’ve guessed that. Of course he was. How could you not hear it in that sultry southern accent?

“And what on earth made you move from Texas to New York? That’s quite the change,” you said questionably, observing his stature as he sat up just the tiniest bit straighter before he spoke.

“I found some high paying contract jobs up here and couldn’t pass ‘em up. Money was too good. Thought a change of scenery might do me some good too. Been in Texas all my life, wanted to see what else was out there.”

Made sense. “And now you’re working for the theater?” you asked with raised eyebrows. Questioning his choice in work.

“Stumbled upon them from a client of mine. Said they were lookin’ for someone to help keep the theater in one piece. Always needin’ something fixed. And the pay and benefits were worth it. So now I just do contract work on the side. Keeps me busy, but that’s how I prefer it,” he said straightforward as he took a swig of his water and sat back against the booth seat.

“I see. Well, I’m…” You stopped yourself from what you were about to say, biting your tongue as you felt the tinge of blood run down the back of your throat.

He raised an eyebrow and kinked his neck while his honey eyes bore into you. Making you gulp at the sight. “Well, go on. Finish your sentence,” he urged.

You took a breath and finished what you were holding back. “I’m glad you decided to come to New York.”

“And why’s that?” he asked as he leaned forward, elbows going on the table, and eyes growing darker. Making something stir deep inside you.

You leaned forward as well, digging your fingers into the cushioned material, getting a grip on yourself. “Because I met you…” you whispered bravely, staring up into those dark eyes that turned a bit more primal but yet stayed soft. Triggering heat inside your legs.

The waiter interrupted the tense moment and placed the food on the table, quickly disappearing once again. The suspense ended as you looked down at the glorious plate of food that sat in front of you. Carbs galore. Exactly what you were craving.

You didn’t waste a second as you dug your fork into the creamy noodles, scooping up a large amount and shoving into your mouth. You nearly moaned at the taste as the marinated noodles slid down your throat, the Alfredo sauce setting off all your taste buds into a frenzy. You scooped up more and pushed another fork full into your mouth, almost forgetting Joel was right in front of you.

You nearly coughed up your food as you looked up to see him watching you carefully, an amused look on his face. He wasn’t even touching his food yet. He was just sitting there watching you closely, while a noodle was hanging out of your mouth.

How embarrassing.

You quickly swallowed the noodles and wiped your mouth with your napkin, making sure there was no sauce left on your face. You were mortified at what he just saw. He probably thought you had no table manners. Christ. You did not want to give off a bad impression to him.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away. The food is absolutely sensational,” you stated quickly as your cheeks burned bright red.

He laughed a little at your hurried apology, his eyes glowing brightly as he watched you. “No need to apologize, sunshine. Glad ya like the food.”

There it was. That nickname. Sunshine. The one that pulled at your heartstrings and made you want to shriek with admiration.

God, he got you good.

Something shifted in his eyes as he watched you twirl the spoon in the bowl full of steaming noodles. A concerned, caring look. He leaned forward again and concentrated on your facial features.

“They’re starving you, aren’t they?” he asked with fleeting brown eyes, carefully registering your hesitation to the question.

“What? Well, I wouldn’t quite say it that way…” you said too quietly, digging your fork into a cooked piece of chicken.

“Don’t lie to me, sunshine,” he warned, a serious look glossing over his eyes, causing them to grow darker.

“They…well, they don’t really let me have breaks often when I’m at the theater. And by the time I do get to the break room, someone has already thrown my food out…”

He didn’t like that answer. Not one bit. You saw his jaw clench and his lip twinge, watching as the veins in his neck bulge.

Oh, no. He wasn’t just mad. He was furious.

He leaned all his weight into the table, leaning forward so you could look him straight in the eyes, making it known that he wanted you to pay attention. “From now on you leave your lunches with me. And you will have breaks,” he said with gritted teeth.

You gasped at the force in his voice, the way he was making it known that you would be taken care of. You were swooning then, loving how protective he was being.

“But Carlotta, she doesn’t let me…”

He cut you off quick. “I don’t give a fuck what she says,” he growled, nostrils flaring as his breath came out ragged. “You will eat and you will have breaks. I’ll make damn sure of that,” he promised with a thick, deep tone as his dark eyes penetrated straight through your walls, sending you into a spiral of overdrive. “Okay?”

“Okay…” you whispered. Slowly watching as his brooding eyes turn into softer chestnut colored eyes.

“Alright, well go on and eat. Don’t want your food gettin’ cold on ya.”

He was being so dominant. Dare you say even primal which sent a shot of warmth in between your thighs, making you squeeze your legs shut at the growing arousal that was building.

He was being so vigilant with you, so careful. You just couldn’t wrap your mind that this was actually happening. That he was happening. That he cared that much about what happened to you. This was all you ever wanted. He was what you needed. A protective, overbearing, gallant man. He was exactly what you pictured in your mind over the years. And it was happening.

This was happening.

You went back to eating your pasta, making sure you took slower bites, trying to savour the rich flavor in your watering mouth. You made sure to look up every few seconds to watch Joel down his spaghetti, watch as he twirled the long strings of noodles with his fork, trying not to drool at the way he was wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Gaping at the way he licked his fingers clean from the red sauce. Wishing that those fingers were your own.

You didn’t realize you were staring until he cleared his throat, lurching you out of your mind numbing thoughts of the brooding man that sat in front of you. He smiled gently, the corners of his mouth crinkling up as he focused on you. Only you.

“How old are ya, sweetheart?” he asked with charm in his voice, a lilt that could hum you to sleep.

“25,” you answered as you smoothed a lock of hair behind your ear nervously. “And you? How old are you?” you asked with your ears practically perked up.

“How old do ya think I am?” he asked as he tilted his head in curiosity.

You slowly studied his features, gathering as much information as you could before you guessed a wrong number. You carefully examined him as if you were drinking him in. Taking in his sensuous big lips, going over the slight wrinkles that lined his forehead when he was tense or angry, holding yourself back from running your hands through his thick, tousled dark curls, lingering on the scruff that lined his jaw, noticing the patchy grey areas along his hair. Gazing over his calm, collected composure. Fixing your sight on those warm, inviting deep brown eyes that pulled you in. Nearly losing yourself in the way his bulky arms were clinging against his denim button up.

And then you made your assumption, finally feeling confident enough to guess an age. “38,” you said with finality in your voice.

“Good guess, but you’re wrong. I just turned 40,” he said with a smirk, leaning up against the side of the booth.

“Ahh. I was close enough,” you laughed quietly.

40 huh? The perfect age. Only 15 years older than you. And you were perfectly fine with that. You were always attracted to the older men. The way they were more experienced, knew what they wanted, were more confident, sophisticated, protective, handsome…

“That don’t bother ya now, does it? That I’m a little older?” he asked with concern flashing in his dark eyes.

“Not at all,” you said with a laugh, giving him your best smile.

“Good,” he stated, relaxing his shoulders at the answer.

You twirled your fork around a lone noodle, getting up the courage to ask your next question. You peered back up at him and asked before you lost your nerve. “You’re not seeing anyone…are you?” you asked with a nervous stutter.

“Now if I was seein’ anyone, would I be taking ya to dinner?” he asked with a raised brow, a mischievous look playing at his features. Making you gulp at the way he was looking at you.

Taking you out? Was this a date? Holy…

“Oh, I mean…I wasn’t sure. You’re uhhh…you just seemed like the type of guy to have someone is all,” you shrugged, cursing yourself for being a blubbering mess around him.

He laughed at your response, apparently finding you humorous by the way you were talking. “No, I’m not seein’ anyone. Haven’t had anyone in years,” he replied factually.

“Why not?” you asked timidly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Guess I just didn’t find the right one,” he said matter of factly. But he was looking at you with such intensity that maybe he was insinuating that someone could be you. You gulped at the thought, your eyes going wide as you recomposed yourself.

“And yourself? Seein’ anyone?” he asked with a fixed gaze, twinging his lip as he waited for a response.

“No. Can’t say that I am.” You wanted to tell him that you were seeing someone. And that someone was him.

“A beautiful girl like you isn’t seein’ anyone? I see the way guys look at you. You could have anyone,” he stated, dropping his hand against the table, just slightly brushing against the outside of your hand, sending fire along your skin.

You laughed nervously and shook your head. “Guys don’t look at me like that.”

“Really? Cause I’m lookin’ at ya like that.”

You froze as his eyes flicked down to your lips and back into your eyes, fixing his stare on you. You swallowed trepidatiously and stared back at his burning gaze. Making you want to melt into those simmering eyes. He was the only man that mattered. The only one you wanted attention from. And you had his attention now.

The two of you continued dinner with flirtatious smiles and small talk about mutual hobbies and life in general. You probably stayed there for two hours, just losing yourself in conversation. When the waiter had come back, Joel paid for the check like the gentleman he was. You offered him some money to pay for your portion, but he declined. Saying a lady should never pay for her own meal.

He walked you back to your apartment which was only a couple of blocks from the theater. Joel walked on the outskirts of the curb, making sure you weren’t the closest one to the crowded street. He gently put his hand on the small of your back which sent goosebumps down the whole proximity of your arms, guiding you along back to your place.

The casual conversation continued as you carelessly let yourself relax around him. Fawning over how easy it was to talk to him. He told you about some of his goals in life, what he wanted to accomplish in the next five years and even told you about his daughter. Sarah was her name and she had just turned 18, just starting her first semester at Harvard which was impressive in itself. You should’ve known he was a parent. The way he was so overprotective should’ve said it all. Maybe you’d meet her one day. Assuming this was going in the way you wanted it to.

You finally made it to the dark blue front door of your apartment, stopping just before putting your hand on the handle and turning around to face Joel. “Thank you for today. Not just for the food. But also for defending me back at the theater.”

Joel looked carefully at you, a slight twinge in his upper lip as he moved a lock of hair behind your ear delicately. You leaned into his touch as his fingers trailed along your cheek, keeping his eyes fixed on you.

“It was nothing I wouldn’t do anything,” he said nonchalantly stepping even closer to you, crowding your space. You concentrated on keeping your breathing normal as your pulse picked up, alarming you of why he might be coming closer.

Was he going to kiss you?

He flicked his eyes over you languidly, stopping just short of where your lips curled up in a smile.

Oh my God, just do it already. Please. You were begging.

You bit your lip discreetly to stop the nerves that were racing through you. You counted to three in your head, trying to stop the pounding thoughts that were swirling through your head. Come on, Joel. Do it.

He looked like he was about to lean in, but instead he trailed his eyes back up to yours and gave you a tight smile. “Go get some rest, sunshine. I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He grazed his fingers underneath your chin and then turned to head back to his place. Leaving you with disappointment written all over your face.

You leaned your head back against the door and groaned. So close. He was so close. But that wasn’t enough. Not even close. You sighed and turned to unlock your door, stepping into the empty apartment that felt somewhat hollow now. You threw your keys against the kitchen counter and decided to get ready for bed. Pushing away the disappointment that was eating you alive.

That night you tossed and turned against your sheets, trying to get him out of your head, but it was no use. He was stuck like glue, a sticky substance that you couldn’t ever get rid of. When you finally got to sleep hours later, you dreamed of dark eyes and calloused hands encompassing you slowly.

The next day at the theater was different. Pierre didn’t do anything to make you mess up in practice. You got through every dance with him unscathed. You guessed Joel really got under his skin. Carlotta still made you run through the routines more than once, but it was tolerable. As long as Pierre wasn’t making you suffer, it’d be fine.

After getting done with one of your routines, you made your way to the side of the stage behind the crimson curtain so you could wait for your next dance. Taking a small rest between dances since you were not in this particular one.

As you rounded the corner, you came to a halt. There he was. The man with the tousled salt and pepper hair and broad shoulders stood feet from you. He was busy fixing up a broken board on one of the props for the show, using his rough hands to manhandle the jagged edges. Flexing his thick fingers around the wood, making his veins fully display across his massive arms.

You were biting your lip while you watched, pretending that it was your hips he was holding down and not the broken prop. He looked up from what he was working on and found your eyes, smiling gently with that sideways smirk you couldn’t get enough of.

He dropped what he was doing and put his full attention on you, taking a few steps in your direction. “Hi, sunshine,” he said in a low voice, making your insides quake against the sound.

“Hi,” you whispered, suddenly more nervous that you had ever been around him.

He trailed his eyes over your body, going from your tight swan bodice, down to your flowing, short see through skirt and over your white stockings that clung to your toned legs, ending at the polished, shiny ballet pointe shoes.

“You look nice today. That one of your costumes for the show?” he asked as he peered back up at you, taking another step towards you.

“Thanks, it’s part of Act 1, one of my main pieces,” you said nervously as you brushed back a flyaway strand of hair.

“Sure looks good on ya. Brings out the color of your eyes.”

Brings out of the color of your eyes? Okay, Cassanova. Keep talking.

“You think so?”

“Mhm,” he groaned with a low hum coming from his throat, making your toes curl in your tight shoes.

“What else?” you asked curiously.

“What else what?” he asked questioning you with the cock of his thick eyebrow.

“What else do you like about the dress?” you asked quietly, mustering up every ounce of courage you had.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, looking over you once more. Those dark eyes eating you alive.

“I like the way it matches your complexion, how it fits you perfectly.” He took another step closer, causing you to take a step back in response.

“What else?” you asked, pushing the limits as far as you could.

This time he took two steps, his eyes growing darker. That honey color turning into black colored coffee. “The way it hugs your curves in jus’ the right places. How the sheer skirt falls short against your thighs.”

He reached out a hand and trailed his fingers lightly over your hip, down to the top of your thigh. Making you gasp as he backed you up against a post, covered up by the crimson side curtain.

He took one step closer, and his tan work boots were toe to toe with your pointe shoes. He couldn’t get any closer. Not really. Not unless he leaned into you.

Please, you practically begged. Touch me.

“Anything else?” you asked in a trance like state, voice barely audible over the music that was playing on the stage.

He reached a hand up and brushed his fingers over your jaw, trailing it down to your chin, lifting your head where it was level with his mouth, making you inaudibly gasp at how close you were.

He smirked down at you, a smoldering, devilish smirk that could make you fall to your knees. It was that powerful. He was that powerful. He ran a calloused finger against your skin, torturing you with how intense he was looking at you. Making you want to pull his mouth to yours with how big and soft they looked.

“I like how the back of it laces up, how easy it’d be to slide on and off. How absolutely gorgeous you are right now…”

Oh.

He placed a hand on your hip, flexing his fingers against the smooth material. You could feel the burn of his calloused fingers through your dress, straight over your skin that was alight with arousal.

His other hand lifted your chin higher as he leaned in and ghosted his lips over yours, not quite touching but barely grazing the surface. Able to feel just how soft they really were.

“How easy I could do this,” he whispered as he moved his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. So close. Almost fully contacting his lips. The tension was everywhere, encasing the air around you in a thick pool of arousal, fueling that chemistry, lighting a fire deep in your core.

“This what you want?” he asked with a low, raspy breath. That bedrooom voice returning in full force.

“Mhmm,” you moaned out, about to completely lose yourself in a pool of desire.

“Thought so,” he laughed, ghosting over you again, getting a hint of coffee breath from his mouth. Something you wanted to taste, drink down as you swallowed him whole.

“Joel…” you begged, grabbing a fistful of his plaid shirt, digging your fingers into him. Telling him exactly what you wanted.

“Sunshine,” he answered back with that low drawl, sending a wave of slick down your center.

He pulled your chin up again, this time not letting it fall. His pupils were blown out as his dark eyes stared at you, his eyes slowly going down to your lips, that primal desire flooding his features. Making you fucking feral for his touch. He trailed his thumb over your lower lip slowly, seductively. Teasing you in the best possible way.

He gazed into your eyes, so deep that you swore he could’ve seen right through you. Could’ve reached into your soul and taken every bit of you in that moment. And then he was moving his thumb down, leaving room for his own lips.

He flicked his eyes up to yours, asking you for approval before he put his lips on yours. You slowly nodded, giving him your full permission. A smoldering smirk ghosted over his mouth, and then he was leaning in, pulling at your hips and sinking you against his chest.

Before he could brush his lips against yours, you heard Carlotta scream in the auditorium. “Where is my swan? Get out here, you’re up! Hurry up now. We don’t have all day,” she yelled as her authoritative voice carried through the balcony, forcing Joel to stop in his tracks.

Damn it.

You internally groaned at how close Joel was, how close you were to getting exactly what you wanted. Until Carlotta ruined that moment completely.

“White swan!” she yelled again, this time her voice was more annoyed.

“Better go out there,” Joel whispered in a raspy voice. “They’re waiting,” he said quietly, still hooked around your hips, eyes devouring you.

You gulped and locked eyes with him. “You have to let me go first,” you said slowly, your breath coming out in waves.

“Oh. Right,” he said, fingers still digging into your side.

“Can someone please go find my swan? Time is being wasted!” she screamed at one of the other dancers, hearing their feet echo against the hard floor. Making you jump at the sound.

Joel slowly dropped his hand from you and took a step back, giving you room to breathe freely. Eyes still burning into you. Tempting you to go dance in the flames. You slowly backed up, drawing closer to the side opening to the stage, almost stepping into the light.

“Go knock ‘em dead, sunshine,” Joel whispered, making the floor feel like quicksand, threatening to take you under at any second.

You were still breathing heavy, eyes never leaving his, fingers flexing so hard against your skin you swore you were about to start feeling warm blood.

Once you stepped into the light Carlotta ripped into you. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting!” She continued letting you have it, but you couldn’t hear her. Drowning out the distant screams to focus on the brooding man that stood feet away from you, still fixating his stare on you.

You turned and quickly apologized to Carlotta, getting into position to start your routine. Before the music started up, you turned your head slightly and peered up behind your long lashes, finding his gaze again.

And then the burn simmered over you. Scorching you alive.

There was nowhere to run or hide. Nowhere where you could kill the heat. It was too late. You were already consumed by the flames, doomed to incinerate to liquid. Branded by the man made of fire.

Part 3

#joel miller #joel x you #joel tlou #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel x reader #joel x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #protective joel #pedro pascal #soft joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot

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callofdooty69 · 3 months

Text

this + price and ballerina!reader ?!? HELLO?!?!

cw: mentions of child neglect (minor), profanity, injury, bullying, f!reader, use of y/n

****

growing up, your parents weren’t around very often. working constantly and out of the house was frustrating enough, let alone being left discarded to the side while all of the other kids got to get their nails painted with their moms and go to the daddy-daughter dances. you were raised through money and a bitchy babysitter. they always “made it up to you” with random expensive gifts, half of which you didn't even relate to. the minute you asked to join your friend in lessons, they signed you up as soon as they could, as long as it meant not bothering them.

you loved it, spending almost all of your free time training and practicing for upcoming concerts and lessons. it was your life, your dream. you loved it as much as it seemed to love you. however, it took a turn.

when you were fifteen, you broke your foot. it was horrible, it got to the point where you were kicked off of your team because you couldn’t perform and “weren’t meeting the standards like the rest of the class”

you were miserable. ballet was the only thing you could use to cope, to be happy, and now it was taken away from you and ripped away from your hands in the blink of an eye.

you missed being on stage and practicing. after a seven grueling months, you were finally cleared to practice again. feeling ecstatic, the first thing you did when you got home was put on your ballet slippers and trained. you were incredibly nervous, worried you would damage your foot again. but by going slow and not straining yourself, you got back into your normal routine again.

you were yourself.

your parents signed up for a different ballet studio, one that you admired and hoped of joining. they accepted you practically on the spot, seeing as you were one of the best at your old studio. you had dedication, you were committed to it.

during college, you weren’t able to practice as much because of your studies. any minute you had free that didn’t require you to spend time reviewing notes, you went to the local ballet theatre that was free use from 5:00 - 9:00 pm. the stress seamed to float out of your body when you practiced, following the beats of the music and going out into the cool breeze after sweating.

you were now in your early thirties, earning a major in dance studies and living in a new city. you were the happiest you ever had been, loving the freedom you had. your new studio was lovely, filled with supportive teachers and peers, people that were in love with dance just as much as you were.

the next two weeks were the hardest you had experienced. the biggest concert you’ve ever been in was coming up and you had to train almost 24/7. the worst part was the ridicule you faced from you peers, the people you thought were friends.

after the list for the final cast of “swan lake” came out, you looked for your name, only to reveal you were the understudy for the lead role. you were frustrated with yourself, but you had been an understudy before and still worked just as hard. everyone in the class knew your potential, and once they got the news that you were the understudy, the backhanded compliments came from left and right. it was embarrassing, but you tried your hardest not to let it get to you. you needed to focus, and this was the best opportunity for you to do so.

to prove them wrong.

you spent the entire day before the concert date training, barely giving yourself any breaks. from 6:00 am to midnight, it was all you did. the studio was surprisingly empty, everyone else probably practicing at home. the one time you gave yourself a break was for food, walking to a local coffee shop and ordering tea and some small pastries. that was when you saw him.

hearing all of the commotion from outside and everyone in the café running to the road, you looked through the window, facing into one of the clear spots, and seeing military men in uniform walking down main street. you knew one of the local bases in your city recently went on deployment and, apparently, they were finally back.

you met a few of them, a scottish man and a british brute talking to you in a bar a few months ago. you didn’t think much of it, just a simple conversation for an hour or so before they had to leave. you also knew after every deployment, there would be a huge load of women swooning over them in the street as they walked by. it was slightly agitating, watching everyone gush over, very obviously, exhausted men that didn’t even look their way.

you went back to eating and enjoying your book, hearing the familiar jingling of the bells on the café’s door. you didn’t look up, figuring one of the workers was back after watching the “parade” to finish their shift. up until the person walked in, you were the only one left in the shop for a solid ten minutes.

you heard them shuffling their shoes on the large rug in front of the door, most likely scuffing off the rain pellets that they walked on. no one thought twice about walking out with an umbrella, taking the risk of catching a cold. you saw the thunder rolling in, expecting a large storm over the night.

you lost track of time, looking at your watch and seeing that it was 1:19 pm. ‘shit!’ you whispered, rushing to put everything back in your bag and sat up. seeing that all of the workers were still outside, you reached behind the counter to grab a to-go box and cup for your tea and the pastries you had leftover.

looking around to see who entered the shop earlier, you saw a tall man, probably around 6’2” ish, with a hat in his hand, a uniform on, panting from the cold and probably from running to get somewhere warm, combing through his wet hair from the rain.

‘christ almighty, he’s hot’

as if he sensed you staring, he looked your way and flashed a smile, one that could literally blind someone with how beautiful it was. your eyes widened, feeling your face flush with embarrassment and forcing a small smile and nod. you speed-walked past him to get out the door, fleeing the scene of one of the most humiliating moments of your life. when you got outside, you watched the rain drop onto the concrete as you walked back to the studio.

you felt like you were missing something, something important. you paused and stood to the left of the sidewalk as to let others pass you by. searching for what it could be, you looked through your bag. everything was there, your phone, keys, wallet, book…

“fuck!”

you ran back to the café, hoping and praying to any gods who were listening that no one stole them after you left. feeling the hard rain drops against your skin and hair didn’t make things any better, your glasses getting wet from bolting down the street. you luckily didn’t get too far away, swinging the door open only to be met by a wall.

except it wasn’t a wall. no, no NO

you took a step back, your breathing heavy from the running. looking upwards, you saw the same man from before, holding your ballet slippers. ‘so they weren’t stolen’

“lookin’ for these?” he said, drawing your attention back into reality after staring at his handsome face for what felt like an eternity.

you looked down and smiled to yourself as you sighed. “oh my god, thank you, i was so worried they were stolen!” you laughed. he chuckled alongside you and flashed that same gorgeous smile from earlier.

“‘s no worries, saw ‘em on the floor by the table after you left ‘nd was gonna try and find you to give ‘em back”

“yeah, i think they might have slipped out of my bag before i left.”

he paused for a moment and you swore he was staring directly into your soul. “i’m john,” he stated, reaching out a hand. “y/n” you responded as you shook his hand.

“‘s a pleasure to meet you” you could feel your face heating up again, telling yourself it was just from the freezing weather outside. “likewise”

you both stood there a moment, staring at him until you felt the need to look down at the marble floor in the front of the door. “can i walk you back? don’t want ya’ gettin’ trampled out there.” he said.

you nodded, laughing as he held the door for you. ‘hot AND a gentleman?? jesus’

the walk was silent, the rain only slowing to a light drizzle compared to before. the cloudy skies were still above you, hinting at another storm approaching soon. though the atmosphere reached a comfortable silence, you let your curiosity wander as you struck a conversation. “so… do you live in the area? you look familiar.”

he looked at you, smiling when he responded. “sort of… i’m captain of the military task force just on the outskirts of the city. we don’t stay here long, goin’ on deployment a few days after we get back from our last one. we’re stayin’ for a few months or so this time, unless plans get interrupted.”

“that’s great! i’ve probably seen you at these rally-things or whatever. how long have you been in the military? if you don’t mind me asking.”

“i don’t mind at all, been stuck with the fellas back there for ‘bout ten years give or take.”

“oh, so you must’ve joined pretty young. i mean, you don’t look a day over thirty.” you chuckled.

he joined with you, seeming amused at your remark. “as much as i’m flattered, i’d have to say you’re wrong. joined when i was 23 and have been around a few bases. i’m 40 now.”

‘fourty?? four oh??? this guys lying.’

“please, you’re really forty? god what does that make me.”

“well, i know you’re not supposed to ask a lady’s age, but how old are you?”

you looked up at him and smiled, “i’m 33, turning 34 next monday.”

“well, now you’re just a liar.”

“how am i a liar!? you don’t look even close to fourty compared to me.”

“i guess that makes us both guilty now, hmm.”

before you knew it, you were already outside the studio. you didn’t want to leave, you barely knew him and he snuck his way into your heart. he held the door again, gesturing for you to go in first and you both wiped your shoes on the tattered mat inside. you turned the lights on, unlocking the room you were practicing in. “welcome to my humble abode.” you said.

"what, you live here?"

"basically. don't really go to my apartment much anymore. i mean, anything i need i can get right here."

"fair enough" he smirked.

there was a moment of silence, standing close enough that you could see how dark his eyelashes were, how the light shined in his eyes and made the most beautiful amber color. the tension in the room could be cut by a knife.

“can i ask you something?” he whispered.

“anything”

“i know we just met… but, are you free anytime soon? i’d like to get to know you more.”

your eyes widened, a dark blush sweeping across your face. “i’d really like that,” you responded.

“great. what about tomorrow?”

you mentally kicked yourself in the ass. “shit, i have my concert tomorrow. maybe you could come and we could get drinks after or something?”

he smiled, “that would be lovely. swan lake, right? i saw on the board out front.”

“oh yeah, i know i’m just an understudy but if all goes well we can celebrate together…?”

“an understudy is still part of the production, the most important part even. i would love to see it, even if you aren’t on stage.”

your face was now a bright red. “that means a lot. god, this is so weird no one has ever gone to see me before.”

“really? maybe you’ll have something to look forward to then.”

you laughed and looked down at your shoes. you didn’t get very far before he put his finger on the underside of your chin, raising your face up to look at him. “i’ll be there.” he smiled. “i should probably get goin’ now, gotta make sure the lads don’t kill each othe-”

you pecked him on the cheek, standing on the tops of your toes before he could get any farther with his sentence. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

he was the one blushing now. “it’s a date”

****

arghargharghargh

idk if i like this but i definitely wanna continue this one because i have some ideas planned for it 😈

also i know he’s definitely not forty but just stick with me it makes sense in the storyline trust 😭🤞

feel free to send any requests to my inbox or comments, likes and reblogs are much appreciated lovelies ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

- 𝓀.𝒿

#writeblr #call of duty #fanfic #ao3 #cod #cod fanfic #fic writing #john price #captain price #we're past the point of conversation #call of dooty #im cryin #cod x reader #x reader #price x reader #price x y/n #ballerina!reader #x you #x y/n

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thinkingotherwise · 9 days

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Hello🤸‍♀️, I hope you are well.Could I request Sakura, Kiryu and Suou (individual) madly in love with a reader who is super talented in dancing, gymnastics and is super strong?

The reader is preferably female, 1'56 tall, who dances ballet but her body is not thin but rather more vuluptuous or curvy. Her left eye is somewhat strange since her pupil has a not very defined star. Since she was little, she has had incredible strength by nature (her way of fighting is mostly with her legs on tiptoe), she uses very well-groomed nail designs with complicated but well-groomed designs. and she has a funny personality, kind even if her words don't say it, playful and with peculiar tastes for many things, but very loyal to those she trusts.I'm sorry if this request is too long or if you don't make requests with that many characters, it's okay to reject it, but if not I would love to see more of your writing.

Got a little sick, but I'm better now. Hope everyone is doing great.

I read the request and immediately my thoughts went to the reader being someone like Katelyn Ohashi. She is so passionate, joyful, and talented.

Haruka Sakura, Mitsuki Kiryu, Hayato Suou x fem! Dancer/Gymnast! reader

You could say that Haruka knew you were strong since the beginning of your relationship. He knew that dancing and gymnastics were very demanding and helped your lower body become more powerful.

Haruka Sakura

The thing Haruka loved the most about you was you being so passionate about your hobbies and so merry whenever you let yourself go.

However, when he first saw your raw strength, you already dated but were still in this early stage. Somehow you found yourself in the gym together and he spent every minute nearby, keeping a watchful eye on your figure, and trying to show everyone else that you were his. And when you, after Haruka's persistence, did some kicking practice on the punching bag, he was shocked and awed. Noticing the power in your kicks and the strength in your legs made him blush. You were just perfect. At that moment he was falling even more in love with you if that was possible.

As time passed throughout your relationship, he asked you to help him with his gymnastic skills that he sometimes used during fights. But truthfully it was just a pretext to see you more often and spend even more time together, while also supporting your passions and letting you train yourself.

Observing you for so much time he noticed everything about you. The star in one of your eyes was something he started thinking of as fate, because your uniqueness of eyes matches his. And because of that, he loved staring at your eyes, even though he easily got flustered. He did it stealthily. His eyes full of love for you and all your passions.

Haruka like no one else understands your drive for dancing and gymnastics and loves it when you talk about it. He lets you talk his ear off because he feels like he can encourage you to continue moving further and pushing your limits, just like you support his passion for fighting and being the best fighter.

And what would be a better way to show his support than going to your practice from time to time and watching you from the sidelines as you have so much fun doing something you love?

Haruka entered the room when you were mid-practice and sat on the bench on the sidelines. His eyes moved to you and never left from the moment he came into the room.

You, at the same time, were so into your routine, that you didn't notice anyone joining your little session. Moving around the place with focus but also joy evident on your face.

Haruka was amazed, at how something so hard and dangerous to perform seemed so easy when you did it. All these complicated figures and poses.

"Woah.." He muttered to himself again and again through the routine.

As you finished, your eyes from focused turned soft and joyful and a distinct sound of clapping echoed in your ears.

"Oh, when did you get in Haru?" Your gaze followed your flustered boyfriend sitting quietly and watching.

Haruka was far from passing by, he actually came here right after his patrol knowing well enough you'd be here. He just needed his daily dose of you and your smiles, although he wouldn't confess to it even if someone asked him. Well, maybe if it would be you, maybe then.

While being in the same room as you and seeing you training it was certain that he got red in the face. Honestly, it's all because of your curves and how good you look in your sportswear.

"A few minutes ago, just passed by and thought you'd be here." He said casually but there was nothing casual or random in this.

After a few seconds, he hesitantly stood up and walked towards you. You tried to teach him some of the steps of your choreography but they seemed to cause him some issues. Still, he spent the rest of your practice trying his hardest and your heart filled with love when he showed so much appreciation to your interests.

"Oh, so you were watching me all this time?" Your eyebrows furrowed and you jutted your hip out making your curves even more visible and also his face redder.

"Didn't want to disturb you."

"Well, you can always join me." You replied to his mutter and he jumped in his seat.

Mitsuki Kiryu

Mitsuki loved the fact he could be part of your hobbies, even if it meant him helping you choose outfits, or giving you his own.

Not only clothes you wore were making him crazy for you, but it was also the colourful nails and how it seemed you didn't break them even when you trained so hard every day. He honestly loved it when he could go with you to the nail salon and help you pick out the patterns and colours on your nails, sometimes even having his nails done as well and most certainly matching yours in one way or another.

Having Mitsuki as your boyfriend you were used to him gushing over your clothes, nails, and makeup. He would be the one who appreciated your style the most.

He adored watching you wear his cardigans and sweaters seeing as they hug you in all the right places on your shapely body. Especially when all you had under them were your leotards and/or other tight clothes. Mitsuki would even go as far as always carrying backup clothing whenever visiting you hoping you'd wear it.

Your sweet boyfriend loved showing up with matching things and letting everyone around know you were his just as much as he was yours. He would even show up during your competitions or training with clothes matching your sportswear and cheering you on. He was so head over heels for you.

Mitsuki loved having accessories in his hair and because of your star-shaped pupil, he started buying himself some matching pins that he could place in his hair. As soon as he saw something star-shaped he thought of you and your pretty eyes, and would usually message you sending a photo. You also loved the thought and bought him even more accessories sharing them with him.

Mitsuki took you on a lot of dates and after one of them when you were walking back you found yourself walking through the park.

"Would you like something to drink?" Your boyfriend asked as he motioned towards the nearby alley and vending machine.

"Actually yes, can you get me my favorite?" You asked and he nodded.

He kissed your cheek and quickly ran up to the vending machine picking up your drinks. During that, you found some bench and as you were walking towards it a random guy, you didn't know came to you. He eyed you up and down before standing in front of you and smirking.

"Hi there doll."

"Ugh.. sorry but I'm not interested." You said awkwardly trying to turn away from him but he grabbed your wrist keeping you in your place.

"Oh come on surely you can find some time for me." He continued pestering you and you once again tried being nice.

"No thank you, I've got a boyfriend."

He smirked at that making a show of looking around and then leaning closer to you.

"Can't see him here."

You stepped back and frowned at him.

"Come on it will be fun, I bet I could be better than this dumb boyfriend of yours." He cut in before you could say anything gripping your hand tighter and pulling you towards him.

"Leave me alone." You said between gritted teeth trying to keep calm and not the irritation you felt get the best of you.

"You should be thankful someone like me even talk to a bitc-"

You felt your your anger bubbling inside and before he could finish you harshly jerked your hand away from his grip. Taking a quick step back you sent an annoyed, strong kick in his belly making him gasp and stumble back into the tree.

Hearing the annoyance in your voice Mitsuki stepped closer to the man and nudged him with his foot. The man groaned in response but when he saw the look on your boyfriend's face he quickly gathered himself and ran away.

Mitsuki seeing that someone was so close to you ran from the vending machine with your drinks in hand. He was angry, how could some dumb guy come so near you? But the moment he saw you kicking the idiot back and him falling into the tree a smile grew on his face.

"Did this brat disturb you?" His voice grew more annoyed as he handed you your drink.

"Yes, he was quite annoying."

Mitsuki sighed deeply and moved towards you embracing you tightly.

"Sorry it took so long and I didn't see him earlier." He moved his free hand over your back in a comforting manner trying to calm you down.

"'s alright." You mumbled in his chest letting his warm envelope you and drain your anger.

"But that was something else, I wasn't aware your kicks could be so powerful." His voice became more joyful and a chuckle left his lips.

"You really beat him up quite well."

Even though he knew you were strong, Mitsuki was really impressed when you kicked the man so hard that he flew into the tree. You were really something else and that's why he loved you.

Hayato Suou

Being able to show you how much you mean to him in front of others, and letting him shower you with words of admiration is what Hayato loved the most.

Sometimes the cookies would be star-shaped and when he would see them at the bakery he would send you a pic saying he misses you, or that he saw it and bought it just because it reminds him of you, and that in itself is an invitation to come and spend some time with him and that if you didn't want the whole thing you could even have a small bite. He tried to make you as comfortable and confident with your body as he could. Because he loved everything about you.

You frequented tea times shared with Hayato, that he insisted on having, because he would always prepare some special blends depending on how you felt. You also didn't mind as you loved it when he shared his tea with you talking about the new types and their benefits.

With that, he would always prepare some small snacks that he encouraged you to taste. If you were denying it, he would make sure you knew he loved all of your cute curves.

Hayato was very open about showing off the relationship the two of you have, calling you his star and it was both because of your eye but also because you're literally the star for him when it comes to dancing, ballet, and gymnastics.

The two of you sometimes trained together, as Hayato was doing martial arts. Both of you sometimes warmed up and stretched before he would start training while you did your routine. His eyes would frequently search you as he was impressed with the strength you possess in your legs and how flexible you could be.

And once when he saw you beating the shit out of your pointy shoes he teased saying he wouldn't want to anger you if that was how you treat your shoes.

So whenever you two are out he would see someone he knew he loved showing you off. Praising your skills and talking about how good you look when having fun during your routines. He wasn't afraid to say with a straight face how much you mean to him.

It also showed when he was cheering for you before, during, and after your competitions or shows. Hayato was your biggest fan and he did everything he could to show it.

For the first few times, he would bring you some flowers, a bouquet, a single rose. It was different each time. Your room quickly became full of his gifts and as much as you loved it, you worried he spent too much money on you so you told him about your concerns. He understood you and told you he'd try to keep it less expensive.

"What is that?" You questioned after yet another show you took part in.

Hayato stood in front of you with a little smirk holding what seemed like a bouquet of flowers but it was paper-made. The colourful papers were expertly folded and matched each other in every aspect.

"A little present for you, it was less expensive just like you wanted." He said clearly pleased with the reaction you showed.

Were you surprised? Yes. Awed? Yes. Did you like it? Yes, yes, yes.

You grabbed the bouquet from his hands and brought it closer to your face, observing each flower carefully.

"So I guess you still like it?" He asked and you nodded your head fervently a big smile blooming on your face.

"Of course I do, thank you."

You quickly hugged him and he embraced you, thankful you appreciated his gift.

You didn't need to know it but he spent a few days learning how to fold paper flowers making sure they would look perfect. And spending those hours was so worth it, if it meant he could see you smile so joyfully.

"Did it take you long to make it?" You asked suddenly aware that origami sometimes could be time-consuming and the flowers in your bouquet didn't look all that easy to make.

"Not really, only like 2 hours." He said it so nonchalantly you had to look at him.

"But it was clearly worth it, seeing as it made you this happy." His eyes met yours and he gave a quick peck on your forehead before smashing your body into a hug once again.

Tags: @misticbullet

#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker #haruka sakura x reader #mitsuki kiryu x reader #hayato suou x reader

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