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ltash · 5 months ago

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Pretty Little Teacher

Simon Ghost Riley x female reader

Warning: 18 plus, dubcon and noncon theme, dark themed, dark ghost, s*x and erotica, forced sex.

He loves me like a monster, all teeth and talk and hiding in the dark. That's my speciality, Men with strong bodies and fragile hearts, and if you hold them too tightly they will crumble beneath you like an avalanche that is waiting."

●●○~ Lindsey Hobart ~○●●

Ghost sat in his dimly lit room, the blue glow from the laptop screen casting sharp shadows across his masked features. Laswell's voice echoed in his ears, calm yet commanding.

"You have to go undercover to gather some intel," she instructed, her face a picture of seriousness on the screen. Ghost's fists clenched, his eyes narrowing as deep creases appeared at the corners. He remained silent, absorbing the gravity of the assignment.

"You'll be posing as a high school student. We have made all the arrangements. The principal and teachers are informed. We need important intel about a person working there. I'm sending you a report. Read it," Laswell said, her tone leaving no room for discussion. She hung up the video call before Ghost could utter a word.

"Fuck!" Ghost cursed, his frustration evident. "Now I have to become a fucking high schooler," he spat, the absurdity of the situation gnawing at him.

As a highly trained SAS soldier and an elite killing machine, Ghost was used to the most dangerous and covert missions. But this? This was entirely different. How the hell was he supposed to blend in as a high schooler with his massive height and muscular build? He would look like a fish out of water, a grown man playing dress-up.

He opened the report Laswell had sent, scanning through the details of his new identity and the target he needed to surveil. The mission was critical, he reminded himself. He had faced worse odds and more dangerous situations. But even as he reassured himself, the thought of navigating the social labyrinth of a high school filled him with a unique dread.

"Guess it's time to go back to school," he muttered under his breath, already strategizing how he would tackle this bizarre new mission.

Ghost scanned the report, eyes moving quickly over the lines of text. Someone from the office staff was involved in terrorist activity, and the school's security was compromised. The specifics were still murky, but the mission was clear: infiltrate, gather intel, and neutralize the threat.

As he read, his phone buzzed with an incoming message. It was Soap.

"Hey, high schooler! Need help picking out your backpack?" Soap's message read, followed by a string of laughing emojis.

Ghost growled in irritation. Soap had been making fun of him since he got the assignment. In truth, Ghost thought Soap was the one who was fit for this job. With his leaner build and younger appearance, Soap would blend in effortlessly. But orders were orders.

"You're just jealous you can't relive your glory days," Ghost shot back, though he knew Soap would get a kick out of his reply.

He closed the report and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. This mission was unlike any he had faced before. It required a different kind of camouflage, a different kind of patience. He was about to step into a world of teenage drama, cliques, and homework. But he would adapt, as he always did. He had no choice.

Monday morning arrived too quickly. Ghost stood in his small apartment, the usual grey hoodie and sweatpants hanging off his frame. Soap had helped him gather the essential school supplies: notebooks, pens, and a new backpack that didn't look out of place for a high schooler. He slung the backpack over his shoulder and slipped on his skull-printed balaclava. His identity had to be hidden at all costs.

He climbed into his Range Rover and drove to the school, parking a distance away to avoid drawing attention. With a deep sigh, he exited the vehicle and made his way to the school entrance.

The moment he stepped into the corridor, the contrast of his presence was stark. Teenagers milled about, chatting and laughing, but Ghost felt like a fish out of water. His height and build made him stand out like a sore thumb, despite the hoodie and balaclava doing their best to conceal his identity.

He pushed forward, reminding himself of the mission's importance. He needed to find his way to the office, get his bearings, and begin gathering intel. The corridor seemed endless, each step echoing with the sounds of lockers slamming and indistinct chatter.

"Fucking Hell," he muttered under his breath, trying to blend in as much as a heavily-built, masked adult could in a sea of high schoolers.

Ghost made his way to the last classroom on the K-12 hallway, assigned as a senior posing as an 18-year-old. Despite being 29 with a muscular build, he hoped to blend in with the 12th graders.

He opened the door and walked in, immediately feeling the curious eyes of his new classmates on him. Ignoring the stares, he scanned the room for any signs of the person he was here to investigate. The teacher, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile, looked up from her desk.

"You must be the new student," she said, motioning him to an empty seat near the back. "Welcome."

Ghost nodded and made his way to the seat, keeping his head down. He dropped his backpack on the floor and settled in, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. The other students eventually lost interest, returning to their conversations and distractions.

As the teacher began the lesson, Ghost's mind raced. He knew he had to keep a low profile while also staying alert for any signs of suspicious activity. His eyes roved over the room, memorizing faces and noting behaviors. The target could be anyone-an unsuspecting office staff member, a seemingly innocent teacher, or even a fellow student.

The day had been a tedious blur for Ghost, each monotonous class blending into the next. Used to the adrenaline of combat and the precision of sniper shots, he found the slow pace of high school unbearable. But all that changed when you entered the room.

Your presence was electrifying, a stark contrast to the dull atmosphere. The click of your red Louboutin pumps echoed in the silent classroom as you made your way to the front. Your black dress pants, stylishly slit, and button-up shirt under a sleek black blazer highlighted your figure. Long, blonde hair cascaded down your back, framing your big blue eyes and perfectly pink lips.

Ghost felt a surge of desire course through him, his mind racing with thoughts he knew he shouldn't entertain. He imagined gripping your tiny waist, pulling you close, feeling your petite frame against his as he lost himself in you. The urge to take you, to dominate you, was almost overwhelming.

"Hey! Newbie, are you listening?" Your voice cut through his fantasies, pulling him back to reality.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his husky British accent barely masking his distraction.

"Your name?" you asked, standing near his desk, your eyes meeting his.

"Simon," he answered, using his real name to avoid any potential mistakes.

"Well, Simon, try to pay attention," you said with a faint smile before returning to the front of the class.

As you began the lesson, Ghost forced himself to focus, but it was a losing battle. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, and the way your presence stirred something primal within him. He needed to remember his mission, but in that moment, all he could think about was how desperately he wanted you.

The period ended, and Ghost watched you leave the classroom, struggling to control his thoughts. You stood out among the middle-aged teachers, looking so young, no older than 25. How could someone like you be teaching 12th graders? The question burned in his mind, but it was more than just curiosity; he was captivated by you.

He barely remembered the rest of the day, his mind fixated on you. As soon as he could, he retreated to his apartment. The urge to release the tension was overwhelming. Stripping off his clothes, he stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over his muscular frame. His cock was already hard, fueled by the image of your lips wrapped around him.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hand wrapping around his shaft. He imagined you on your knees, your pink, plump lips taking the full length of his cock in, your big blue eyes looking up at him with a mix of innocence and desire. His strokes quickened, his other hand gripping the air as he fantasized about it tangled in your long, blonde hair.

His body tensed, muscles straining as he neared the edge. The thought of you sucking him off, your pretty little mouth taking him deeper, his cum all over your face pushed him over. He climaxed hard, a guttural groan escaping him as he came, the pearly liquid mixing with the warm water and flowing down his thick thighs.

Leaning against the shower wall, he panted heavily, trying to catch his breath. The intensity of his release did little to quell the longing he felt. As the water washed away the evidence of his fantasy, he knew he was in trouble. This mission was supposed to be about gathering intel, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you. He needed to stay focused, but the image of your gorgeous face and enticing body lingered in his mind, a distraction he couldn't afford yet couldn't resist.

The next day, Ghost found himself eagerly anticipating school, though for entirely different reasons than his usual missions. From the moment he had first seen you, you became his muse, eclipsing the seriousness of his undercover assignment. Dressed in blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and a sleek black leather jacket that concealed his tattoo sleeve, he waited through all six periods just for a glimpse of you.

When you finally entered the classroom, the atmosphere seemed to shift. Students greeted you warmly, but Ghost's attention was solely on you. You wore high heels that accentuated your figure, a casual T-shirt, and form-fitting pencil jeans that emphasized your curves. It was undeniable-you were the most stunning woman he had ever encountered.

As you distributed MCQ papers among the students, you approached Ghost's desk. Your curiosity got the better of you as you inquired about his mask. "Why are you wearing a mask?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine curiosity.

"I get sunburn," he replied smoothly, trying to maintain his cover.

You chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill down Ghost's spine. "Weirdo," you whispered teasingly, but your words were loud enough for him to hear. The image of dominating you right there, bending you over the desk, fucking you from behind and hearing you begging to stop, flashed vividly in his mind, your body arched in his hands, pussy clenched around his length as he rails his full length till the hilt into you, ruin your pretty little cunt for everyone while you screaming out his name.

"Concentrate on your paper, weirdo," you mocked again as you moved away.

His jaw clenched with frustration, anger simmering beneath the surface. Despite the rush of desire coursing through him, he remained stoic and silent, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He knew indulging in these fantasies could compromise his mission, yet resisting the pull of attraction toward you seemed almost impossible. Ghost was torn between duty and desire, unsure how much longer he could keep his composure around you.

He had finished his paper along with the other students as the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. One by one, they handed their work to you, you seated at your desk. Ghost lingered, the last student to leave, quietly closing the door behind him. Remaining seated, he watched you intently.

Stealth was his forte, and he approached you silently. You were small compared to him, your back elegantly arched as you organized the papers into a neat pile. Standing right behind you, he suppressed the urge to touch you. Suddenly, you moved back, inadvertently brushing against the bulge in his pants. A squeak escaped your lips as you jumped, startled like a bunny, and turned around.

Leaning heavily against the table, you panted, eyeing the behemoth of a man standing before you at his full height for the first time. A shiver ran down your spine from the sensation of his arousal against you. He stood there with a menacing look in his eyes, extending his paper to you. With shaky hands, you took it, feeling a jolt as his gloved hand brushed against you.

Without a word, he turned and left the classroom.

Throughout the drive to his apartment, he couldn't shake the image of you, how your inadvertent touch had stirred a primal urge within him. How you bumped into his erect cock ready to sprung out. The urgency of his mission weighed heavily on his mind, but thoughts of you kept intruding.

Later that day, consumed by desire, he found himself jerking off imagining you once more. He couldn't help but picture your round ass, the sensation of you against him, his cock stretching your gummy walls as he fucks you doggy style, the fantasies growing more vivid with each passing moment. It was a distraction he couldn't afford, yet couldn't ignore.

The next day, he arrived at the school as usual, anticipation swirling within him. Your period had become his favorite, and he waited patiently until you appeared, as usual, with an air of cautious awareness. As the lesson progressed, you couldn't help but notice his chocolate brown eyes fixed on you through his balaclava.

He was no ordinary teenager - tall, dark, and undeniably handsome even with a balaclava on his face, with a presence that set him apart. You felt the weight of his gaze, the tilt of his head to the side like a predator sizing up its prey. Despite the distraction, you continued with your class routine, distributing checked papers to the students, your focus unwavering on your mission.

His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, as if he had something more than mere curiosity driving his attention. You knew you couldn't afford to be distracted, not with what was at stake.

As you hurriedly left the classroom, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor, you reached for your cellphone and stepped into the quiet solitude of the bathroom. With a hushed voice, you spoke into the receiver, "Yes! Tomorrow is the day. We will hunt another doe tomorrow."

Across the line, a voice crackled with excitement, "Perfect. After school, then?"

"Yes," you affirmed, nodding to yourself. "After school." With that, you hung up, slipping the phone back into your pocket.

Unbeknownst to you, Ghost known as Simon, the new student who had been quietly observing the dynamics of his new environment, had overheard your conversation.

From the first day of his undercover assignment, Ghost had sensed something amiss. How could a 25-year-old teacher be instructing seniors when others with more experience were available? It gnawed at him, a puzzle piece that refused to fit neatly into place. As he stood in the hallway, a vicious smirk spread across his face.

"So you are the one," he whispered to himself, the realization sinking in. "And now, there's nobody that can save you from me. Not even yourself." His mission had taken a dark turn. You are the one involved in human trafficking.

Tomorrow was the day Ghost knew he had to act swiftly. He slipped on his skull mask, adjusted his gear-blue jeans, black hoodie, and vest. His Beretta rested against his chest while his sniper rifle was ready on the passenger seat of his car.

He parked in the nearly deserted school lot, waiting patiently. It was nearly two hours past school hours when he spotted you approaching from the back of the building. You met with another person near a car.

"The girl is in the bathroom, I've hidden her there. Wait here, let me take her out," you said.

Without hesitation, Ghost aimed his sniper rifle at the man's head and took the shot. Skull fragments and brain matter scattered as the bullet found its mark. A scream tore from your lips as chaos erupted.

Ghost calmly placed the sniper rifle on the seat and stepped out of his car. You saw him approaching and instinctively ran. Darkness was descending, the winter chill settling in.

You ran for your life, heart pounding with fear, but Ghost closed the distance quickly. Desperation set in as you realized you had no weapon. You took out a pocket knife and attempted to attack, but Ghost deftly seized your wrist, disarming you.

You screamed and struggled, but he immobilized you, securing your wrists with a zip tie. With a forceful push, he slammed your back against a car, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs.

Fear and confusion engulfed you as Ghost stood before you, his identity finally revealed, and his intentions chillingly clear.

"Let me go," you tried to scream as he pinned you against the car, looming over you. His 6'4" frame towered over you, casting a dark shadow. The edge of his knife pressed against your throat qnd his hand on your chest kept you pinned against the car.

"Just got you. Now I can't let you go, won't let you go," he whispered in your ear with his husky voice. "How can I waste this pretty little cunt of yours, princess?"

You whimpered and squirmed, fear coursing through your veins. His hand traveled to your neck, his grip so firm that you could barely breathe. You struggled to breath. Your vision blurred as darkness enveloped you, and you melted into his arms like putty.

You went limp in his arms like a rag doll, a pretty little thing for him to play with. He strapped you into the passenger in his car seat and drove off, his mind racing with twisted excitement.

He stroked your hairs with his fingers while he drove. He just had got his little plaything.

Upon reaching his apartment, he carried you inside, laying you gently on the soft sheets of his bed. Even in your unconscious state, you looked so beautiful and irresistible. His excitement grew, his cock twitched from the anticipation building as he stood over you, lost in the dark allure of the moment.

You whimpered as you slowly opened your eyes. Ghost was perched on a couch in front of you. Sitting up slowly, you noticed your hands were still tied in your lap. Your tiny body shivered at the sight of him as he rose to his full height. The room seemed small, his eyes behind the skull mask full of menace, looking straight through you. Your lips quivered with fear as he approached.

"Wakey, wakey, Princess," he taunted, stepping out of the shadows. His blue jeans were tight around his thick thighs, and his black hoodie strained to contain his muscular physique. The skull mask shone dimly in the light. The tattoo peeked through the space between his sleeve and his gloved hand.

You gulped, "Who are you?" you asked in a small voice.

"Ghost. Heard the name before?" He tilted his head to the side, and realization hit you hard-it was Simon.

"What do you want?" you barely whispered.

"You," was his only reply as he stepped closer.

A whimper escaped your lips as you pulled yourself to the other side of the bed and stood up.

"Don't make this hard for yourself, Princess."

Panting, you frantically ran towards the door, but his hands were around your waist in no time. He slammed you against the wall, the impact sending pain throbbing through your back.

His hand smacked the wall beside your head. The barrel of his gun made contact with your chin.

"Look at me!" he shouted, his voice an order. You squeaked in response, your eyes meeting his.

"Good girl," he praised, his hot breath fanning against your face. "I'm a lieutenant, not your average student, and you have to comply-or else." The barrel of his Beretta poked under your ribs. "Choices have consequences," he said softly this time.

"I've been thinking about your body since the day I saw you." He stroked the soft skin of your chest with his gun, trailing it down the valley between your breasts. Your skin quivered under the touch of the cold metal.

"So irresistible, Princess." His husky voice sent shivers down your spine.

You gasped as he snapped your ziptie with a strength so brute it took only a second to come off. Your buttoned blouse came next as he snapped it apart. All the buttons came crashing down on thefloor. Your pearly necklace was snatched from your neck. The pearls came rolling down on the floor.

You gasped as he snapped your bra from the front. Your perky breasts liberated from the confines of the lacy material.

He pulled his mask upto his nose and his lips grazed your neck as his thumb met your nipples squeezing your breasts so hard it was almost painful. A painful moan mixed with pleasure escaped through your lips.

He held you close by your waist and he chuckled as your small waist fitted so easily in both his hands all while kissing your neck while his hands played with the soft skin of your back.

"So soft like plush in my hands." He said as he rubbed your nipples with his rough thumb. A sexy hiss escaped your lips as you threw your head back biting your lips.

"You gave in so easily princess." He whispered. His sexy voice made you moan.

He tossed you over the bed, with a squeak you fell, soft sheets cushioning your back as you landed with a gasp.

His eyes, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own, locked onto yours. "Been waiting to bend you over that goddamn desk in that class and fuck your needy little cunt, princess," he confessed, his voice low and husky with desire.

As he removed his hoodie, revealing a canvas of scars that gleamed against his muscular frame, you couldn't help but gasp. Each scar told a story of battles fought and survived, adding to the allure of his rugged demeanor. His predatory approach, intensified by the skull mask he wore, sent a thrill through your veins. He moved closer with a confident stride, his presence filling the room with a primal intensity that both thrilled and unnerved you.

You gasped as he closed the distance. His hands reached for the strap of your jeans, deftly unbuttoning them with a deliberate touch. With a smooth motion, he slid the denim down your legs, revealing your bare skin in the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. You laid exposed before him, feeling both vulnerable and empowered by his gaze.

You knew you were powerless infront of him and he will have his way with you one way or another. Wetness had already pooled between your legs and you were trying hard to hide it by closing them.

He traced the barrel of his gun along the soft skin of your inner thighs. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt the cold metal against your sensitive skin.

"Open your legs Princess." He ordered slowly parting your thighs.

"So sensitive, aye?" he said with a mocking tone.

You hissed at the sensation. He slowly pressed the barrel against your clothed folds, eliciting a moan from your lips.

"Please! I beg you, don't do this," you pleaded, my voice trembling.

"Look at you! A wet, hot mess for me," he sneered.

He knelt before you, his hands reaching for your panties. With one tug, he tore the strap, leaving you completely exposed.

"You should thank me, princess, that I'm gentle with you. I'm not very gentle with women. They run from me after what I do to them," he laughed.

Your breath hitched in your throat. "Oh my god," you moaned.

He opened your legs slowly, his fingers parting your folds as he gently touched your swollen clit. Your body quivered with the sensation.

"So soft, so sensitive," he said, as he slid his rough fingers inside you.

A slow scream escaped your lips as your pussy clenched around his fingers. Your back arched, moans spilling from your mouth. He watched your face contort with pleasure as he leaned down, his tongue making circles around the buds of your nipples.

You clutched the sheets, your eyes shut tight as his fingers curled up, hitting just the right spot.

"You sound so pretty, love," he teased, his tongue continuing to play with your nipple. The sensation was heavenly, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

He adjusted himself between your thighs, kissing your entire body as he moved down toward your stomach and then your most sensitive part.

He gently kissed the inside of your thighs before his tongue met your folds. Screams of pleasure spilled from your pretty mouth as he nipped and sucked at your already swollen bud.

"Oh, fuck!" you moaned.

He kept teasing your folds with his tongue, sucking your wetness as he held your hips tightly in place.

He kept torturing you with his tongue until you couldn't take it anymore.

"I-I can't take it anymore," you begged.

"Ssh!" he whispered, placing a finger on your lips. "You're going to take it, just a little longer."

Your body trembled as he continued his relentless assault with his tongue, the pleasure overwhelming. He moved his finger from your lips to your clit, rubbing it in slow, torturous circles while his tongue continued its work.

"Please," you whimpered, your voice cracking with desperation.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Beg me," he commanded softly.

"Please, please, I need more," you cried out, your body aching for release.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips. "Good girl," he said, his voice low and husky. He increased the pressure of his tongue and finger, driving you closer to the edge. "Now, let go for me."

With his words, you felt the dam break, and waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Your back arched, and a guttural moan escaped your lips as you finally reached your climax. He continued his movements, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from your trembling body.

As you lay there, breathless and spent, he gently kissed your inner thighs before moving up to your face.

You were still high when he unzipped his pants.

"Been waiting for this ever since I laid my eyes on you," he said, taking his cock and positioning himself on top of you.

You looked at him with dazed eyes.

"Like what you see, princess?" he asked with a smirk.

"I-I can't do this," you pleaded.

"You can do this, and you will," he replied firmly.

He pressed his cock against your entrance, bending you down. Without warning, he pushed his entire length inside, pinning your wrists against the bed. You screamed as your walls wrapped around him, your body struggling to adjust to his size while he fucked you deeply, not giving you any time to acclimate.

You were completely at his mercy, a plaything for his desires.

"Fuck! Princess, you feel so tight around me," he growled, thrusting in deeply.

You were breathless, disoriented by the intensity of it all. He drove into you with unrelenting force, hitting inside you to the extreme. Your back arched under him as waves of pain and pleasure coursed through you. His cock was so big it made an impression inside your belly where it hit.

"How does it feel, me ruining your pretty pussy, love?" he growled, sitting back on his knees and gripping your waist tightly.

Your eyes rolled back as he railed into you with brute force, the sensations overwhelming and consuming.

Whimpers escaped your lips as his hips thrusted against your pelvis. Skin to skin, the intense connection between you sparked a fire that threatened to consume you both. You hid your face in the soft pillow, the tears mingling with your whimpers, your cries echoing in the room like a haunting melody.

He chuckled at the sight before him, the raw vulnerability and passion in your every movement only adding to the intoxicating air surrounding them. "Look at you, eh," he murmured, his voice a low growl filled with satisfaction. "Taking me so well."

With a sudden move, he lifted you up by your waist, your heart racing a mile a minute, your vision blurred with the overwhelming sensation of being completely lost in him. "Oh my god, I am gonna die," you whined, the words a mix of fear and ecstasy that only served to fuel the flames of desire burning between you both.

But he just chuckled, his hold on you firm and reassuring. "Not on my watch, luv," he whispered, his voice a comforting anchor in the whirlwind of emotions and pleasure that threatened to consume you.

He pulled out abruptly, spinning you around and delivering a stinging slap to your ass.

You clutched the sheets as he seized your hips, pulling you towards him and plunging deep inside once more. A primal groan escaped his lips as he grabbed your hair, tilting your head back and driving himself deeper with each thrust.

Your impassioned cries only fueled his intensity. With a firm grip on your waist, he pounded into you relentlessly, embodying the raw, primal desire of a man possessed. Your body arched and trembled on the bed as he pinned you down by your head, pressing your face into the bed.

"I can't do this anymore," you begged him.

He pulled you up onto your knees, his free hand gently gripping your neck while his other arm rested between the valley of your breasts. His hold on your neck was firm but not painful, asserting his control. With a strong grip on your waist, he thrust deep into you.

You leaned against his chest, your face turning towards him as you neared your release. He captured your lips in a hungry kiss, swallowing your moans.

His cock twitched and pulsed as he reached his climax. His movements grew erratic as he poured himself into you, filling you with his essence.

Exhausted, you collapsed onto the bed, eyes shutting tight as the waves of ecstasy washed over you.

He settled beside you, carefully tucking you under the sheets while you lay on your stomach, peacefully asleep.

"Sleep well, princess," he murmured, his fingers gently caressing your hair.

The next morning, you woke to find him already seated on the couch, wearing the same skull-printed balaclava, his eyes still filled with menace. Your whole body ached and marked with hickeys. Last nights encounter spiralled in your mind.

"Good morning, princess. I hope you're feeling well," he greeted you, tossing an oversized t-shirt in your direction.

Confusion and fear gripped you. "Who are you? Why did you do this to me? What were you even doing in my class?"

"I'm Lieutenant Simon Riley, also known as Ghost," he replied coolly. "I was in your class because we've been keeping an eye on you. Now, get dressed. You have visitors."

You rose silently and headed to the bathroom to change. As you finished, there came a knock at the door.

He opened it, and police officers entered the room.

"She's all yours," he stated with a smirk beneath his balaclava.

"You'll regret this! I'll make you pay for this!" you screamed as they cuffed you and led you away.

"Fuck you!" You screamed.

He chuckled darkly, watching as you were taken into custody.

"I just did." He winked as you were taken away.

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ponycurtiis · 3 months ago

Text

I offer you ideas for a ballet Outsiders AU that I’m calling “Keeping you on your toes”

(also fair warning, this is based on some ballet stuff but I’m aware some stuff is unrealistic, I have done ballet and this is just for fun!)

Essentially the story is focused on Paul and Darry, but the gang will probably still be important! Everyone does ballet at a particular studio, but the socs and greasers have different ones.

Darry and Paul are in the same academy and do the same productions, but Darry usually gets the lead roles due to his technical abilities and how the crowd just seems to love his skill under the spotlight.

Paul is more focused on perfecting his every move and conveying his feelings through his dance, and only gets gentler roles because of this.

One day Paul gets an offer from Bob, whose family runs the socs’ theater, that he could finally get the lead roles he always wanted if he sabotaged Darry’s performance and joined them.

Or in short: Fluff turns into overwhelming guilt for someone who always feels that they’re in second place.

Greaser Principal Dancers: Paul (becomes Dallas), Darry, Ponyboy, Scout, Ace, and Angela

Greaser Soloists: Johnny, Soda, Dallas (becomes Tim), Sandy, and Evie

Greaser Corps de Ballet: The rest of the greasers/hoods, including Bryon and Mark!

Soc Principal Dancers: Cherry, Bev, Marcia, Bob, Randy, Melvin (becomes Paul)

Soc Soloists: David, Gregg, Melvin, Cathy, M&M

Soc Corps de Ballet: The rest of the socs!

Here are some character descriptions for the greasers since I don’t feel confident drawing fully fledged designs! (Darry’s and Paul’s will include extra information, but everyone else’s will just include looks/what they wear to practice! I’m still finalizing things!)

Darry: Darry is a principal dancer and is the teacher’s favorite. He is currently 19 years old, and has been doing ballet since he was 6. He has been en pointe when he was 12 years old, and loves the class dearly. He looks the same as he does in the book, with large muscles, being over 6’0, with brown hair in a cowlick and icy blue eyes. In this AU, he also has very tanned skin, freckles, looks a lot younger with softer smile lines, and several bruises and calluses from ballet. He has a wider pointe shoe that he pads with paper towels, and he breaks them in by slamming them in the door. Darry wears his usually attire, but the jeans are swapped out for shorts that are easy to move around in.

Paul: Paul is the other male principal dancer and is the teacher’s last choice when choosing between them. He is currently 19 like Darry, and has also been in ballet since he was 6, and en pointe at 12. Paul has a much lighter tan than Darry, but generally follows his book description. He is a tall, muscular blonde man standing at 6’0, with darker blue eyes. He has similar calluses and bruises to Darry, but he doesn’t take as good care of them as Darry does. His pointe shoes are also wide, but he breaks them in by stepping on them with his heel. He pads them with gel pads that his parents buy for him. Paul typically wears his letterman jacket over a grey sleeveless shirt, and sweatpants.

Ponyboy: Ponyboy is 13 and has been en pointe for 1 year. He has been doing ballet since he was 10, with his best friend, Johnny, who he follows everywhere. He has very tanned skin, dark green eyes, reddish brown hair leaning more towards red, and freckles all over his nose. Pony’s also around 5’8 and has room to grow. He usually wears black tank tops, a purple zip up hoodie, and black leggings.

Sodapop: Sodapop is 15, and has been en pointe for 3 years. Him and Steve joined together at 8 years old since Steve thought ballet was a “girl sport” and was embarrassed. Soda has the same extremely tanned skin with freckles like his brothers, but his hair is a dark blonde that lightens up in the summer. His eyes are a warm brown, and he is around 5’10. He usually wears a white shirt, red flannel, and leggings.

Johnny: Johnny is 15, and joined ballet when he was 12. He has been en pointe for 1 year. He has black hair, black eyes, and very tanned skin, much tanner than the Curtis’. He is very skinny and a little short, standing around 5’4-5’5. His arms are littered with scars, and he doesn’t properly care for his calluses or scratches at all. He usually wears a black t-shirt and athletic shorts he got from Dally.

Dallas/Dally: Dally is 16, and joined ballet when he was 13, the same time as Pony and Johnny. He’s been en pointe for 1 year as well, and could not care less about it. He has pale white skin, icy blue eyes, and very white, barely light blonde hair (including his eyelashes). He’s 6’4 and lanky, and he’s Johnny’s older brother. He wears a white tank top, black sweatpants, and a silver dogtag.

Two-bit: Two-bit is 17, and joined ballet when he was 7. He’s been en pointe for 3 years, and doesn’t give a whole lot of effort. He enjoys roles like the Rat King, and doesn’t take anything too seriously until it’s important. He has very light skin, dark red hair, freckles all over his body, and dark grey eyes. He wears a Mickey tank top and skinny pajama pants.

Steve: Steve is 16, and him and Soda joined when they were 8. He has also been en pointe for 3 years, and gets made fun of for it. He has tan skin, moles under his eye and mouth, and a gap tooth. He also has extremely curly black hair and light green eyes. He usually wears a random graphic t-shirt and basketball shorts.

Some Dancer inspirations:

Darry - Mikhail Baryshnikov in Le Corsaire

Paul - William Bracewell as The Nutcracker Prince

Bob - Mikhail Loubukhin in Romeo and Juliet (Dance of Knights)

Pony - Xavier Parish as Principe Desire im Sleeping Beauty

Johnny- Steve McRae as Prince Sigfried in Swan Lake.

If you guys have anything to share about your favs or any ideas for them in this AU, please share them! I’d love to see it!

I’ll be tagging anything related to this au as #The Outsiders KYOYT !

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iceandironbars · 7 months ago

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WinterBones Snippets #3

Sad WinterBones for sad trasheads, short lil ficlets diving deep into the can of worms that is Bucky Barnes' brain ✨

'I dunno. I'm just... Not happy. Don't think I will be anytime soon.' He says to the light grey boring ass carpet, sitting opposite of his therapist's desk with his arms crossed.

'Well, what is it you think would make you happy?' She asks with a lifted eyebrow.

His brows knit together tightly, thinking, trying to come up with something that might resemble the truth without giving reason for concern. Sam told him being honest in therapy was essential for making progress. But he just can't-

'Maybe... Purpose or somethin.' He tries, looking up at her carefully.

'Purpose is a big word, with even more meaning. What could that purpose be now that you're free?' She questions him with a curious look, writing something on her notepad.

He swallows and wishes he hadn't said anything. He definitely can't be honest about that.

Almost a minute passes-

'47 seconds' the Soldier adds in his head. 'The asset is to answer immediately-'

No. He shakes his head lightly when his therapist clears her throat and pulls him out of his head.

'You go on missions with Sam occasionally, isn't that something you could label under purpose? Saving people?'

She is trying to help him and he has tried to see it like that before but...

'All that ever feels like is making up for the crimes I've committed in the past. It's not... I mean-' he stutters, kneading his hands in frustration and anxiety.

'Maybe something you do for yourself? A hobby? Maybe you could find some volunteer work around the city or join a club of sorts?'

He groans and has to physically stifle the urge to roll his eyes. Something for himself... She wouldn't understand that such a thing will never again feel like purpose to him.

Running a hand through his now short hair he sighs heavily and leans back, slouching in defeat.

'I wouldn't even know what to do.'

'Is there something you like doing?'

'The asset is to maintain his equipment and weapons to perfection. Clean, sharpen, polish-'

NO.

He grinds his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut.

'Командир would not hesitate to give me a task, a purposeful task, a mission. I could serve-'

James stands up and starts pacing around, trying to shut the dark corner of his brain up. He can't have those thoughts anymore, it's not allowed. It's not good.

'James. I can see something bothers you. May I ask what's on your mind?' His therapist asks with a calm voice, putting her notepad onto her desk.

'I... No. It's not good.'

'Who says your thoughts are not good?'

'You. You wouldn't approve of them.'

'Would you let me be the judge of that myself?'

'I KNOW you wouldn't. You're not the first shrink I've had to talk to.' His pacing becomes more agitated, he's walking in circles, thinking in circles.

'Okay... Is there anything you need right now?'

Need...

Командир.

I need my Commander.

I need- Maintenance required.

Malfunction.

'I- I wanna leave.' He almost whispers through gritted teeth. His therapist just nods, the disappointment clear on her face.

Every step to his apartment feels like a

Malfunction

Every though he has, every feeling-

MalfunctionMalfunctionMalfunctio-

When his apartment door closes behind him he collapses onto his knees and violent sobs bubble up his throat. He punches the ground, the wooden floor boards creaking and bending.

'Командир... Fuck- please...'

His sobs turn into loud cries, then into screams he muffles with his hoodie.

The hoodie no one may ever know where he got it, who it belonged to.

What... Who would make him happy, he thinks bitterly, is long dead.

Gone forever.

★ Tag list ★

If you wanna be added to the tag list for future writings, leave a comment 🖤

@winternightsstar

@sukaibg

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #brock rumlow #winterbones #mcu #marvel #hydra trash party #hydra #crossbones

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gyuzoh · 7 months ago

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“풀어 POUR UP” KIM MINGYU—°

summary: bartender kim mingyu, who you have the undeniable hots for— denies your advances due to your promiscuous reputation as seoul’s newest and upcoming hottest female dj.

therefore you make it a mission to prove your god-sculpted eye candy, wrong.

playlist: pour up (dean), you know (jay park, okasian), 2nd thots (jay park), freak like me (camo), btbt (b.i)

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, drugs and sex.

previous or next

chapter three.

you wake up to the sound of a running shower, the air smelling of a husky cologne. as you sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, they scan the unfamiliar room. it belonged to a guy for sure.

looking down at the dark grey bed sheets, you notice you’re wearing a hoodie that you don’t own, and possibly wouldn’t ever be able to afford. dior.

last nights memories were failing to come to mind in this moment, and the thought of you in an unknown man’s room made your head hurt.

you glance down and notice the dress you had worn to the party last night was scattered on the ground of the bedroom, along with your heels, leaving you essentially half naked under this hoodie you’re now clad in.

thoughts were racking your brain, making up possible scenarios as to why you’ve awoken alone in a strangers queen sized bed, did you sleep with him? how much did you actually drink last night to not be able to remember it?

you felt scared at the endless possibilities, not knowing what happened or who with, your heart fell to your stomach. shit, fuck, fuck.

you ruffle your hair in frustration, unsure of who to expect to walk out that bathroom only a few meters away from you. you’d never had a one night stand before, are you supposed to stay? do you leave secretly when they’re unknowing?

before you could make the decision of leaving, the door to the bathroom opens, and the first thing you notice as the man emerges from the room is the incredibly large chest and sculpted bicep muscles to match. “oh, you’re awake.”

you glance up from the wet body, eyes widening at the realisation of who’s house you were at. kim mingyu.

at this point, your mouth was agape from the shock of the situation. you were basically half naked in the room of the man you were practically a dog for. yet you felt safe.

“did we sleep together?” the question blurted from your lips before you even had time to think about what you wanted to say, to which mingyu responded with a hum of agreement.

he walks towards the closet which stood opposite of the bed, the water droplets dripping off his back made you gulp. this man was gorgeous.

“well i mean, you didn’t let me sleep on the couch.” the disappointment was real, though you were also glad you had some sort of self respect.

mingyu grabs a white tee from the closet and throws it over his head, now covering his godly body, the towel that was around his shoulders now drying his hair.

he notices how your eyes were scanning his body, and he lets out a little chuckle at your obviousness, which made your cheeks turn a light shade of pink at the embarrassment of being caught.

“how are you feeling?” he asks you, sitting on the edge of the bed making it dip from his weight.

“i’m feeling okay, but i don’t remember anything past the halfway of my set.”

mingyu nods his head in understanding, unsure of whether to tell you about what happened last night, ultimately deciding it was better to tell you than to leave you in the dark.

“someone put something in one of your drinks,” he begins, twirling his thumbs and observing your bare face that he struggled to wipe with the makeup wipes he bought after he laid you down in his bed.

your mouth opens and lets out a quiet ‘ahh’, nodding your head and looking down. how stupid could you be to be accepting drinks from intoxicated strangers, the thought of not making it home safe, or to even be alive made you shiver.

“i took you here after seeing you fighting with your ex boyfriend, he said he didn’t do it, but you can never be too safe.”

you shake your head no, taehyung was a douche bag for sure, but he’d never put your safety on the line. you were somewhat thankful that man had morals. “thank you, for taking me here.”

mingyu smiles, “no problem,” getting up from the bed and walking out the room to get you a glass of water. but you still had one question for the man.

“why am i not in my own clothes?” he stops at the door and looks back at you, stifling laughter that was music to your ears.

“you kept complaining and asked me to change you.” he leaves.

once hearing those words, scenes started flashing in your head— the way you whined until the male unlaced your dress, his hands grazing your bare back and waist, looping the hoodie you currently wore over your head.

you groan in embarrassment, cheeks tinging pink again as you put your head in your hands. this man has seen your body that not even your ex boyfriend had been able to.

then it hits you, this man took you to his home, dressed you, taken off your makeup, slept in the same bed as you, all the while he had a girlfriend. somi.

the guilt was evident, sure you disliked the woman but you’d never homewreck a relationship, not after knowing the pain of being cheated on.

mingyu comes back into the bedroom, handing you a small glass of water and beckons you to drink it. you drink the clear liquid and hand it back to him once you’re done.

his large hands place the cup on the bedside table and he hands you your now charged phone, which was left with a few dozen calls from your little brother, messages reading concern of where you were and why you weren’t home.

“i should probably, uh, head home,” you say quietly, messaging heeseung that you’d be home within the hour and that you’re safe.

mingyu hums in response and starts to pick up your clothing on the ground and placing it in a paper bag for you to take home, then grabbing a pair of grey sweats from his closet, chucking it toward you. “it’s cold out today, wear these pants.”

you slowly get out of his warm bed, slipping on the sweats he handed to you, with hopes he doesn’t see anything you didn’t want him to.

though he had basically seen all of you last night due to your intoxicated, clingy state.

“i’ll take you home.”

the ride home was comfortable, music playing as you guys shared small talk. you’ve arrived at your apartment, mingyu walking you to the door as he carried your bag and clothes in his hand.

your hand reaches out to unlock the door, but it opens up wide before you could even jingle your keys. “where the hell have you been?”

you finally remember how you had told your worried sibling that you’d be home by 3am, and how you’d definitely be safe.

heeseung stands before you, his hair a mess due to waiting for you the entire afternoon.

“i was out-“ heeseung cuts you off before you could finish your sentence, pulling you into a hug and releasing a quick sigh of relief.

mingyu stands there watching the two of you, but he wasn’t exactly as relieved as heeseung was. not with knowing the events that took place last night, if you were his girlfriend, you’d never been allowed to go to a party unaccompanied.

“you just let your girlfriend go to a party all alone? do you even know what happened? do you even care she’s come home in another man’s clothes?”

both you and your brother pull apart from eachother, the dots slowly, but finally connecting for the two of you. so that’s what he meant by boyfriend.

“this is my sister, you idiot.”

mingyu’s eyes widen, looking at the two of you properly for the first time since he had met youse that night two weeks ago.

you nudge heeseung, scolding him for being rude to an elder.

mingyu finally notices the resemblance between you and heeseung, the high nose bridges and the plump lips you had both received from your mother. “did something happen last night? are you okay?”

you shake your head no and smile at heeseung, not wanting him to know you’d been almost admitted to the ER if not for mingyu. and more or less, taehyung.

pushing heeseung inside, you take ahold of your things from mingyu, grabbing your phone and opening instagram— handing the phone to mingyu in attempt to get his username.

he raises an eyebrow and gives you a slight smirk, his hand reaching out to grab your phone. “just so i can return your hoodie.” excuses blurted out of your mouth, anyone would know you just really wanted his instagram.

“you can just keep it, no?”

achieving mingyu’s instagram was finally a success, as well as somewhat proving to him you weren’t just some cougar. on top of that, you got a free, expensive hoodie that smelled of his cologne, leaving you kicking your feet in the air.

you’re laid on the bed of your room, finally opening messages from worried friends, noticing a few texts from wonwoo, a ‘call me when you see this’, catching your eye. so you do just that.

the dial tone rings once, and his deep voice answers almost immediately, worry evident in his tone, “hey, how are you? did mingyu get you home safe?”

you were being bombarded with questions from the concerned male, which made you smile.

“hey wonwoo, i’m feeling good, i’m sorry if i worried you or soonyoung last night, i don’t really remember anything.” wonwoo tells you not to worry, and that he’s just glad you’re home safe.

the two of you exchange a few more words, laughing at the small talk. “i feel bad you went through that, can i take you out for dinner to make it up to you atleast? i’m the one who invited you in the first place”

wonwoo was too sweet of a person to you, and it made your heart clench. you respond to him with a hum of agreement, “yeah, i’m free whenever you’re free.” how could you deny a free dinner?

“sweet, i’ll pick you up friday evening?”

mingyu sat engulfed in his own thoughts on the ride home, drowning in embarrassment. that was her damn brother, mingyu. he was so caught up in listening to those rumours of you, he couldn’t even notice the obvious.

mingyu arrives back at his shared apartment, as he’s about to unlock the front door, he’s stopped by arms snaking around his waist, the strong scent of perfume overtaking his nose.

somi stood behind him, head leaning against his toned back. “i missed you.”

the male sighs at the girl wrapped around his body, hesitant to reciprocate after the events of last night.

he had known somi was overprotective of him, but the disappointment he had felt in her with the nonchalance to you being in a dire situation, had him feeling uneasy around somi.

last night had opened mingyu’s eyes, it felt as if though the woman standing right there wasn’t the same sweet, innocent somi he had developed feelings for years ago. though, that may be his own fault.

somi could feel mingyu wasn’t feeling up to her shenanigans, though her predictions of why weren’t exactly on point. “did you sleep with her too?”

mingyu shakes his head no and removes her hold from him, turning to face her with a solemn expression.

“no, we didn’t sleep together,” he explains, “but i don’t know why it matters to you whether i did or not.”

the female sighs, “because you like me.” her reasoning made mingyu seethe with frustration, a hand reaches up to his face as he pinches his forehead. sigh escaping from his thin lips, biting them.

“because i like you? are you okay in the head?” at this point mingyu has had enough, he was tired of playing games with somi, always running to her when she called at late hours of the night, intimacy together only when it suits her own personal needs.

he was tired of being treated like a second choice.

“what’s wrong with that reasoning? am i wrong?” somi exclaims with her hands thrown in the air.

“you think that just because i liked you, it gives you reason you use me as you see fit? you think i’m not going to get tired of the way you act? of you?”

somi never would’ve expected those harsh words out of mingyu’s mouth, tired? of somi? there’s no way that’s possible— not to her. she wasn’t half wrong though, deep down mingyu knew he only half heartedly meant what he said. “can you just leave? i don’t want to see your face right now.”

taglist: @mochami-mochi @gyuwoosbabie @minmangyu

#kim mingyu #mingyu #jeon wonwoo #seventeen #wonwoo

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emma-m-black · 2 months ago

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Soul Mate Magic - Chapter Nine

Rupert Giles x OC (FanFiction) - MATURE 18+

A new magical transfer comes to Sunnydale High, and ends up discovering a magical connection with our favorite Watcher.

OC is 19+ (Not a Minor), Age Gap, Slow Burn-ish (with a little preview thrown in there during the Bandy Candy Episode).

This will be a multi chapter story I don't know how spicy it will get yet, but I'll rate it Mature just to be safe.

Author Master List

Read: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight,

p.s. So I just finished writing and editing Chapter 13 & 14 and I love them so much, I cannot wait to post them! It is taking everything in me to not just go on a posting spree just to get there lol.

Chapter Nine:

It was only three days into the holiday break, and Rose felt as though she were teetering on the brink of madness. The book Anya had instructed her to fetch lay on the hardwood desk in the corner of Rose’s dimly lit bedroom. Its ominous presence seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a constant reminder of the unsettling information the ex-demon had relayed.

Rose had hardly slept over the past two nights. Every time she closed her eyes, images of Giles and the strange bond between their magic danced in her mind, blending into a whirlpool of anxiety and confusion. She grappled with the disconcerting thought: was she obsessing over Giles because of a supernatural compulsion, or was she merely succumbing to her own paranoia? The uncertainty gnawed at her, making sleep elusive. The bond she feared might be pulling them together seemed to mock her indecision, and the more she pondered, the more elusive clarity became.

She knew she couldn’t decipher the cryptic text on her own. Giles was essential to understanding whether Anya’s claims had any validity. Fortunately, the holiday season provided her with a perfect escape. Her Aunt Selena’s endless stream of Christmas parties offered the perfect cover. With the constant social bustle, Rose could slip away without raising suspicion. The demand for her aunt’s fortune-telling services was at its peak, leaving Rose with an opportunity to sneak out unnoticed. Regardless, she hadn’t seen her Aunt in the past few weeks. Rose couldn’t remember when she last saw her Aunt, between her classes and homework and Selena being gone to the shop.

Now, sitting in her car, Rose’s gaze was fixed on the imposing complex where Giles lived. The book rested on the passenger seat, its cover a silent testament to the weight of her dilemma. She had no means to call him and inquire whether her visit would be welcome. What if he had gone out? What if he had company? The nagging doubts began to erode her resolve. Her mind raced with the possibilities of making a fool of herself, and she began to second-guess her decision. Was this venture a colossal mistake?

A sharp knock on the car window jolted her from her thoughts. “FUCK!” Rose gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. She clutched the steering wheel with white-knuckled desperation, her breath hitching as adrenaline surged through her veins. Slowly, she turned her head, half-expecting to see an intimidating stranger—but instead, Giles’s familiar face appeared outside the glass.

The sight of him, dressed in a dark grey hoodie and sweatpants, struck Rose as unexpectedly mundane. He must have been out for a run. The ordinary appearance of Giles contrasted sharply with the extraordinary nature of their predicament, adding a surreal quality to the moment.

Giles took a step back, allowing her the space to open the door and exit the vehicle. Rose gathered herself, gripping the book tightly as she approached him.

“Rose?” Giles’s voice was tinged with surprise and curiosity.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice betraying her nervousness. “I didn’t know how to reach you, but I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?” Giles inquired, a note of concern in his tone.

“About what’s happening with us—our magic. I might have a book that can help, but I can’t read it to verify what I’ve been told.” Rose extended the book toward him. Giles took it, examining the cover with a thoughtful frown.

“Come in,” he said, gesturing toward the building. “I’ll make tea.”

“Any chance you have some really strong coffee?” Rose asked, her voice tinged with fatigue. “I haven’t… I haven’t been sleeping well the last few nights. I’m basically running on extreme guilt and caffeine.”

Giles’s smile was tinged with sadness as he nodded, leading her into the complex. The tension between them was palpable, and every step toward his front door felt like traversing a tightrope of unspoken emotions. As Giles unlocked the door and ushered her inside, Rose’s heart raced with a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

Once inside, Giles quietly closed the door behind them, the soft click resonating in the otherwise silent house. He set the book down on his desk with a deliberate slowness, his hands lingering on the leather cover for a moment longer than necessary. Without meeting Rose’s eyes, he turned toward the kitchen, leaving her standing in the living area, awkward and exposed.

Rose wrapped her arms around herself as though to shield against the chill of uncertainty that settled between them. She watched him move, each step a quiet echo, and felt the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air. Her heart beat faster, the distance between them suddenly feeling like a chasm.

“It was in my aunt’s shop,” she began, her voice trembling as if the words themselves were fragile. “By chance, someone pointed it out to me and read a passage, but I can’t confirm what she told me. I was hoping you could help translate.”

Giles busied himself with the coffeemaker, his back to her as he grabbed the canteen of coffee grounds. Rose’s focus stayed locked on him. She found herself drawn to the broad set of his shoulders, the way his hands moved—steady and capable, even when his mind must be reeling. There was a comfort in the familiar sight of him, but that same comfort was now tinged with a dangerous, electric charge.

“I’m not well-versed in Old Croatian,” he said, his tone more measured than his earlier actions, “but I do have many volumes that can aid in translation.”

Rose nodded, though he couldn’t see her, her thoughts racing faster than she could gather them. “She… she said something about a magical bond. Something ancient. I didn’t really understand at first, but then she showed me the text.” She hesitated, her throat tightening. “She said we might be magical soul mates.”

At those words, Giles’s hands stilled. The coffeemaker whirred softly, but everything else in the room seemed to freeze. Slowly, he turned, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. His face was a mixture of shock and something else—something deeper that Rose couldn’t quite name. His gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest moment before he caught himself, quickly refocusing on her eyes.

“It’s… not what it sounds like,” she added quickly, her cheeks flushing. “But it means our magic is connected. And if we—if we fully connect…” She swallowed hard. “Things could get dangerous.”

Giles inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he crossed the room toward her. He stopped just short of touching her, their proximity enough to make her pulse race but far enough to keep the tension taut. His hand hovered near hers, almost as if he wanted to reach out but held back at the last second.

“How dangerous?” he asked quietly, his concern palpable, his voice lower than usual.

“Anya said… if we connect and then get separated, it could—” Her voice faltered. His closeness was overwhelming, the warmth of him drawing her in. “It could kill us.”

The air between them grew thicker, charged with the weight of what they weren’t saying. Her gaze dropped to his hand, so close to hers that she could almost feel the heat radiating from his skin. If she just shifted slightly, her fingers could graze his. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of fear and something far more dangerous.

They stood like that, unmoving, the tension coiling tighter with every second. Rose’s lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, she watched as Giles’s hand twitched, his fingers curling ever so slightly toward her. It was nothing more than a whisper of movement, but it sent a thrill through her, the kind that left her breathless.

“But it can’t be true,” she forced herself to say, her voice quieter now. “That’s why I need your help to verify what this book says.”

Giles nodded, though the intensity in his eyes hadn’t lessened. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but then he closed it again, rubbing the back of his neck instead. It was an old, familiar gesture of his, one that made Rose ache with the knowledge of how well she knew him—too well, perhaps.

“What did she mean by ‘connect’?” Giles asked, his voice a rasp, and this time when he spoke, he didn’t move away. If anything, he seemed to lean in just the tiniest bit, enough to make Rose’s breath catch.

She felt a blush creep up her neck. “I think you know what I mean, Rupert.” The sound of his name on her lips sent a spark through the air between them, something raw and unspoken hanging in the space left by her words.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, the words barely audible as he turned away, breaking the moment. His hand brushed her arm lightly as he moved past her, a fleeting touch that burned like fire. Rose flinched, but not from pain—something else entirely, something that made her long for more. She bit her lip, her body still humming from the contact.

“It could always be worse, I suppose,” Rose added, her voice shaking, “The last pair she met, were burned at the stake.”

Giles gave a strained chuckle, his attempt at humor doing little to break the tension that pulsed between them. “Perhaps I should have made the coffee stronger,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, his voice tight. “Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“No rush, take your time,” Rose replied, attempting a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her voice wavered, betraying the anxiety gnawing at her insides.

“Cream is in the fridge and sugar on the counter, cups—”

“I know where the cups are,” Rose interrupted, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. The laughter felt hollow, more a release of nervous energy than genuine amusement.

Giles gave her a brief, uncertain look before he turned to head upstairs. The echo of his footsteps faded, leaving Rose alone in the quiet, the tension between them lingering like the weight of unspoken fears. The stillness was thick, oppressive, and Rose exhaled slowly, trying to steady her shaking hands.

The scent of brewing coffee filled the room, offering a small comfort against the rising tide of her thoughts. She clung to the mundane task of preparing her drink, but her mind was elsewhere—spiraling with dread. What if they found proof? What if the bond was as dangerous as Anya suggested? Her chest tightened as panic took hold, her breath catching in her throat.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for a mug. She poured the dark liquid with more force than intended, the coffee splashing onto the counter. She cursed under her breath, quickly wiping it away. The bitterness of the coffee matched the turmoil roiling inside her, and as she took a sip, the flavor did little to settle her nerves.

The quiet of Giles’s home surrounded her, normally a refuge, but now it felt alien, as though it belonged to a different life. The warmth of old leather and books, once comforting, felt distant. She tried to focus on the simple task of drinking her coffee, but every second seemed to stretch into an eternity as her anxiety churned.

Footsteps creaked down the stairs, drawing her attention. Giles returned, now dressed in casual jeans and a dark grey sweater, his arms laden with books. The tension etched into his features mirrored her own.

“Sorry about the wait,” he said softly, his voice a little lighter than before. “I brought a few texts that might help with the translation.”

Rose offered a tight-lipped smile. “It’s all good.”

He set the books down on the coffee table and gestured toward the couch. “Shall we begin?”

Nodding, Rose followed him. She settled into the cushions, feeling the awkwardness close in around them again like a fog. Giles handed her a thick, ancient-looking book, and as their hands brushed during the exchange, an unexpected spark shot through her, making her heart skip. She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to focus on the text, but the warmth of his fingers lingered.

“So… who was it that told you about this book?” Giles asked, breaking the silence as he sat beside her.

“An ex-demon,” Rose replied after a pause, glancing up to meet his gaze, their proximity unsettling in a way that made her hyper-aware of every slight movement.

He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Oh? Hang around with a lot of those, do you?”

The teasing lilt in his voice caught her off guard, and despite everything, a small, genuine smile formed on her lips. “More than you might think,” she said, feeling the faintest ease in the tension. But her heart beat faster when his knee bumped against hers—casual, unintentional, but enough to send a wave of heat through her. She shifted slightly but stayed where she was.

Giles chuckled softly, and for the first time that day, the air between them felt a little lighter. They turned their attention back to the text, falling into a rhythm as they worked through the material, side by side but lost in their own thoughts.

At one point, Rose reached for the notebook at the same time as Giles did. Their fingers brushed once again, and this time, the touch felt heavier, more deliberate. They both withdrew quickly, Giles mumbling an awkward apology under his breath, and Rose nodding, her throat suddenly dry.

Hours passed unnoticed; the room growing dim as the daylight outside faded. The coffee pot, once full of warmth and promise, sat cold and empty on the counter. The scent of the coffee had long since dissipated, leaving behind only the quiet of their study.

Rose found herself glancing at Giles from time to time, watching the way his brow furrowed in concentration. His glasses slipped down his nose as he read, and he absently pushed them back into place with a familiar gesture. There was a calmness about him now that hadn’t been there before, as if the act of working through the problem together had given him focus.

She, too, had relaxed into the couch, her legs tucked beneath her. Despite the weight of the ancient book in her lap, her mind began to wander, slipping from the details of the text to the man beside her. There was something almost intimate about this—sitting here, the silence between them more comfortable than it had any right to be. It was as though the very air between them had shifted, no longer fraught with fear, but something else entirely—something unspoken, yet palpable.

Eventually, Giles closed the book in his hands with a soft thud. His eyes, tired but contemplative, met Rose’s. “I don’t think I’ve ever read anything quite so…” He trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Depressing,” Rose finished for him, her smile more resigned this time.

“I was going to say disheartening, but yes, depressing fits,” he replied with a sigh, leaning back against the couch and removing his glasses. As he did, his arm brushed hers—whether by accident or on purpose, Rose wasn’t sure—but the brief contact sent a shiver down her spine. He didn’t seem to notice, though, too absorbed in the weight of their situation.

Rose let out a frustrated breath, slapping her book shut. “I don’t understand. If this bond is some kind of magical match, why does it come at such a steep price? Why is it all or nothing?” Her voice was rising, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “Magic isn’t supposed to work like this. There’s always balance.”

“It does seem rather strange,” Giles agreed quietly. He set his glasses on the table and leaned forward, his hands clasped as he stared at the books in front of them. “Perhaps this is the price we pay to wield such powerful magic.”

Rose shook her head, chewing on her lip. “But… what does ‘apart’ mean? How far is too far? There’s no clarity. It feels like something you’d say to scare children into behaving.”

Giles’s eyes darkened with thought. “You did mention that a pair had been burned at the stake.”

“Yeah, but that could have been just because they had magic?” Rose’s voice was filled with disbelief. “We need more information.”

“Unless…” Giles hesitated, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Unless it’s not a bond. But a curse.”

The word hit Rose like a slap, cold and sharp. A curse. Her heart began to pound. If it was a curse, it could be broken. But the thought brought little comfort. A curse carried its own dangers, its own consequences. Rose’s breath quickened, and she met Giles’s eyes, searching for answers, for reassurance.

Giles reached out, placing his hand over hers on the closed book. His touch was gentle, but the warmth of his palm against her skin sent a jolt through her, grounding her in the moment. For a brief second, she couldn’t think—only feel. His thumb brushed her knuckles as if by accident, but the sensation lingered, igniting something she hadn’t anticipated.

His gaze was steady, but there was sadness there, a resignation that mirrored her own. Giles didn’t pull his hand away, his skin resting lightly on hers, as though he was offering her silent comfort—both of them grasping at the same fragile thread of hope.

“We’ll figure this out,” Giles said softly, his voice filled with quiet determination. His hand remained on hers for a moment longer, a tether keeping them connected in the uncertainty that surrounded them. The world around them seemed to narrow, shrinking down to just the two of them and the warmth where their hands touched.

Rose’s breath hitched. She could feel the tension crackling in the space between them, something unspoken but potent swirling in the air. The exhaustion and fear that had weighed on her began to fade, replaced by an electric awareness of him—of the way his thumb brushed against her skin, the way his breathing seemed to have slowed.

She looked up, her eyes meeting his, and for a moment, time stilled. Giles was closer than she realized, their faces only inches apart. The weight of everything they hadn’t said—everything they hadn’t dared acknowledge—hung heavy in the silence. His eyes flicked down to her lips for just a heartbeat, and her breath caught in her throat. She felt herself lean in, just a fraction, pulled toward him by something she couldn’t control.

Giles’s gaze darkened, his hand shifting ever so slightly as though he might close the remaining distance between them. Rose could almost feel the ghost of his breath on her skin, the tantalizing thought of his lips just a breath away—

And then the knock came.

The sound shattered the fragile moment, sending them both flinching apart as though waking from a dream. Giles pulled his hand back, clearing his throat, while Rose sat frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. The spell between them was broken, but the lingering heat of it remained, burning under her skin.

Chapter Ten

#buffy the vampire slayer fanfic #Rupert Giles #Rupert Giles x OC #Rupert Giles/OC #Rupert Giles FanFiction #Rupert Giles FanFic #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffyverse

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