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eff4freddie · 1 month

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Physical Therapy

Joel Miller x AFAB Reader No Outbreak AU - 4.4k words

For @punkshort's AU August challenge, in celebration of her one year Tumblr anniversary!

A.N: My prompt was 'lifeguard Joel' and I'm nursing a bit of a sore wrist at the moment, hence whatever this is was born. Thanks for the fun prompt! I would very much like Joel to save me from drowning now, please and thank you.

Warnings: None.

It had just started out as a kind of tickling feeling around behind your ear on your left side, and down along the back to the shoulder blade. When you’d first noticed it you’d thought you had a hair stuck under your shirt, and all day you kept reaching up under your bra strap to try and free it. Later, you would rub the skin red trying to lift the phantom follicle from your skin.

Later, it developed into a coldness, punctuated sometimes with ants marching up and down your shoulder blade. Your clavicle ached in cold weather, and you rolled your shoulders of a morning to try and shake the weird sensations from the joint. You were too busy to worry about it, you had too many deadlines, you could just type with your left arm resting on a pad of paper to elevate it. You knew you’d been working too hard on your paper for your next research symposium. As soon as it was over you’d deal with it.

When it started thrumming of a nighttime you’d just take ibuprofen to dull it, numb it off with a heat pack and an occasional glass of whiskey. But when it got too hard to type, when the daggers started shooting down your arm to the point that you could barely get your sleeve over it, when your shoulder was so frozen you couldn’t lift it over your head to brush your hair, you conceded defeat.

Your physiotherapist was lovely, and young, and fit, and you wished you could hate her. She ran marathons on weekends, on purpose and apparently without having first been threatened, and she gave you a bunch of exercises you promised you would do, made you pay $24.95 for a bit of stretchy rubber you could tie to your doorknob and stretch with, a couple of strength building exercises printed out and folded neatly, which you immediately threw on your coffee table and used as a coaster.

You went twice a week after work. She massaged you until you had tears in your eyes, biting back the pain by clamping down on your back teeth. You lied to her that you’d done your stretches, and she let you, because she was a nice person. Your recovery stalled, and you both pretended not to know why.

In the end, you just got fed up with yourself. You’d had to push back your presentation at the symposium, had found it too painful to sit at your desk for the long stretches it would take to be prepared. Your supervisor had insisted you take time off, that your PhD could be extended, and you had balked at the idea and then, eventually, conceded that too. Your stupid frozen shoulder was icing out everything in your life you cared about. You suggested to your physio you might like to swim.

It had been a while since you’d been in a bathing suit. Glad you’d at least thought to shave, you went into the change room dreading coming out again. You’d deliberately gone at 2 PM on a Tuesday afternoon, figuring the only people there would be either 100 years old or ladened with babies, and their bodies wouldn’t be so threatening to yours. You remembered a time when your body had felt strong, when your legs had carried you around European cities, up and down mountains. You wondered where that girl went.

You were a careful person, and you liked rules, so you shuffled as speedily as you could towards the pool, careful not to run. Your brother had slipped once, aged 9 and a half, and knocked out two of his teeth when he went down. Your mother had to wait three months to get them fixed, having to save up the fee, and your brother had whistled slightly on windy mornings. You’d teased him about it, and you felt bad about it now, holding your arm tight to your body so as not to jostle your shoulder.

The water was cool, and you took the stairs one at a time to get yourself into it. You gasped when it reached your belly, reaching down to splash yourself to try and acclimatise. It wasn’t an especially warm day, but the sun was out and it was warm enough on your skin. You sunk down, feeling the water lap at your shoulder. The relief was immediate, the cool spreading over your strangled nerves, and you let out a sigh. You didn’t think you were about to swim any laps, but it was enough to bob around in the shallow end and feel the water carry your weight. Your mind was quiet for the first time in a while. You watched two birds glide on the breeze, ducking down to skim over the surface. You hoped they didn’t shit in it as they passed.

Then, a giggle. A tittering, high-pitched thing that shattered your reverie and made you turn towards it, a scowl on your face as you looked up into the sun. A woman in a high-cut bikini straight out of the 80s was standing at the base of the lifeguard’s chair, looking up at the man sitting atop it. She was practically drooling, flipping her hair and nearly slipping out of her top. You couldn’t make him out, the glare casting him in darkness and too proud to shield your eyes with your hand to get a good look. She had all her weight on one foot so she could thrust her hip out and her chest up. You heard his voice rumble out of his chest, deep and heavy and surprisingly kind. You couldn’t make out the words. You reminded yourself you didn’t care.

Your physio was proud of you, and you wanted to hate her for that, too. You reported your attendance at the pool, lied about doing your exercises, and paid another $24.95 for another rubber band thing after you pretended you’d misplaced the first one. You knew exactly where it was, on the doorknob where you’d tied it the first night and then ignored it. But it was a good, if expensive, excuse.

The next time you went to the pool you chose a time slightly earlier in the day, hoping that the midday sun might tan you a little as you rehabilitated. You bobbed around again in the shallow end, experimentally rolling your shoulders and moving your arms in small semi-circles in front of you. The water carried the weight so you could just focus on moving the joint, and when the ache set in you could just float there, let the water carry you completely as you floated on the surface. With your face to the sky and the sun beating down the whole world turned bright and colourless. It sanded down the sharp edges, turned the detail to pulsing fuzz on your retinas.

80’s Bikini Lady didn’t resurface, but you got out when an entire class of 4th graders arrived for their swimming lessons. As you went for your towel you heard that rumbling voice again, booming out over the top of 20 excited kids, instructing them to quiet down so he could teach them to tread water. You wondered if that was what you were doing now, your research and your thesis gathering metaphoric dust on your laptop. Treading water.

It took you until your fifth visit to try an actual lap. Your shoulder had been feeling lighter, the joint freeing itself under the water just enough that you could bear the weight of the it as you moved. You had been experimenting with little half breaststrokes, just two or three with your head high over the water and only deep enough that you could plant your feet at the first twinge of pain. But you wanted to try something different, today. You wanted to make it down to the other end, even if you had to grip the lane rope and pull yourself there.

You felt eyes on you as you walked to the edge, and you turned quickly to see the lifeguard was at his station. It was early enough in the afternoon that you could see him properly, his aquiline nose, his curls unruly and chocolate brown. He nodded at you, an acknowledgement that he was keeping watch, and you nodded back to him. It was just you and a man in his 60s in the pool today.

You hissed a little as you descended the stairs, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin. Today it was cloudy, and the water was cooler than you had been expecting, and you worried for a moment it would be bad for your shoulder somehow, that your muscles would be less malleable, less cooperative, in the cold. You swallowed, wondering if you really wanted to do this today. Then you remembered your thesis, and the way you had thrown yourself on dancefloors, in spin classes, ridden boys in your dorm room like your hips would never ache. You wanted that girl back. She was at the other end of the pool.

You pushed off, holding your arms straight out in front of you and using your feet against the wall of the pool to propel yourself forward, letting the momentum drift you the first few feet. With a brave breath in you spread your arms wide in a breaststroke, kicking with your legs to keep up some sort of speed. Three strokes, then four, then five and you were nearly a quarter of the way down the pool already. You just had to keep breathing, stick with it, pace yourself out. You cupped the water with your hands, pushing it away from your chest as you moved. There might have been a little twinge, but you banished any worry. You were doing it, if slowly, if gingerly.

You swam over the point where the bottom of the pool fell away, past the point where you could stand. The water felt cooler, the depth of it stealing some of the warmth, and you felt a little warning tingle up your elbow. Your neck pulled a little to the right to try and dodge the pain, and you faltered a little, lost some of your rhythm. In your surprise you’d opened your mouth and taken in a little bit of water, and you spluttered.

Suddenly your arms were out of sequence, and you were struggling to bring them back together in front of you while kicking with your legs. They felt uncooperative, like they were on different strings, and you were finding it hard to keep your neck bent up high enough to keep your face out of the water completely. You jerked to try and regain your momentum, and sent an electric shock through your shoulder, pain spreading out all the way down to your wrist. You gasped, the pain making you pull your arm into your body, trying to cradle it against your chest, and you started floundering, your nose and mouth dropping beneath the surface as you struggled to stay upright. You swatted at the surface of the water with your good arm, panic in your chest, as you tried to figure out if it was better to turn and head back to the shallows or carry on to the other end.

You heard a splash behind you, a huff of air as a body broke the surface and then an arm around your waist.

‘I’ve got you,’ he said, and you leant back into the warm body behind you, trying to suck in air.

‘My shoulder, my arm,’ you cried, keeping it tucked against you as the lifeguard pulled you to where you could stand. You gasped, choking a little on water but mostly just from shock, your face burning red with humiliation and the pain of your throbbing collarbone. ‘I’m sorry,’ you said, suddenly feeling like you wanted to cry, as you caught your breath, the man still holding you gently around the waist and leaning down to study your face.

‘You’re OK, you’re OK,’ he said, his voice like warm honey as it oozed over the panic in your brain. ‘Take a breath, I’ve got you.’

Oh fuck, you were definitely going to cry if he kept being so nice to you. You felt heat in the back of your eyes, bit down on your bottom lip so he couldn’t see it wobbling.

‘I just wanted to swim a lap,’ you said, and you could hear the desperation in it, feeling as small as a child.

‘You injured?’ he asked, and you nodded. He tugged you further towards the shallow end, led you by the good arm over to the steps.

‘My physio said exercise would help it,’ you explained, throwing her soundly under the bus. ‘I just…I thought I was ready.’ You felt the frustration bubbling over. You had a terrible habit of getting teary when you were mad. ‘It’s just been so shit, and I wanted to…I just don’t even know this body anymore, you know?’ you complained, wincing when you realised you’d just trauma dumped on him.

‘Can’t rush these things,’ he said, unfazed. ‘Gotta take it at your own pace.’ Standing up in this part of the pool the water only came to his waist, and he gestured to his belly where a jagged scar punctured his left side.

‘Jesus,’ you said, at the sight of it and also realising for the first time he was shirtless, water running in rivulets down his golden skin. He was so broad it was no wonder he’d managed to get to you in the centre of the pool in all of three strokes. You felt yourself start to tremble, and you weren’t sure it was from shock.

You’d known, of course, that he was handsome. You had eyes, after all. But up close, standing over you, hair slicked back as his brown eyes roamed your face for any sign of distress…up close, he was devastating.

‘Joel,’ he said, holding out his hand, and you took it, awkward and shy. He told you he liked your name when you mumbled it to him, and you realised he was very good at his job. You wondered where you could find an 80s bikini.

‘Thank you, Joel,’ you said, when your heart had finally settled back into its normal rhythm. ‘I’m sorry you had to…’

‘Trust me, pulling beautiful women out of the deep end is not the hard part of my job,’ he said, and then you watched as his eyes widened, like he was only just realising what he’d said, and you felt heat crawl up your cheeks.

You wanted to ask him what the hard part was. You restrained yourself, because you’d been humiliated enough for one day.

You skipped your next session at the pool, instead using the rubber stretchy thing to try and elongate the joint. It didn’t feel as good, and you nearly snapped it into your face more than once, and you definitely didn’t think about Joel’s golden skin glistening in the sunlight the entire time you did it. You didn’t think about his arm banding around you as he pulled you to safety, not even a little bit. The rubber thing was fine. It was going to solve all your problems.

You hated the fucking rubber stretchy thing. For one, it smelled like condoms but in a weirdly stale kind of way, and for two you were fairly sure it was going to rip your door off its hinges in your crappy little apartment, and you really didn’t want to have to call your landlord when that happened. It might mean you’d have to tidy up.

Also, it was late Spring and pretty soon school would be out, and the pool would be heaving, and so you had to get your shoulder back to normal as soon as possible before the place got flooded with kids. The bikini you fished out from behind a bunch of old clothes in the back of your closet was so that you could move your shoulder more freely. You were being pragmatic. You were planning ahead.

It was hotter again, the warmth of summer encroaching, and you were genuinely relieved to see the sparkling, clear water when you arrived on the pool deck. You walked, head held high and chest out just a little, past the lifeguard chair, studiously not looking but also really trying to look. You spent an extra few seconds fishing around in your back for your sunscreen, trying to steady your pulse. When you swivelled around, preparing to smear it over yourself, you glanced over at the chair.

Unless Joel had aged 20 years in the week since you’d been, and gained forty pounds and lost all of his hair, he was not on shift today. You felt yourself deflate, your shoulders slumping, your left collarbone sending out a thrum of pain in warning.

It was probably for the best, of course. You were here to do rehab. This was serious medical stuff.

You didn’t want to hazard another lap, not with Beergut McBaldALot on patrol, so you floated a bit in the shallow end and practiced making circles with your arms. You were stiff, having taken a week off to whip yourself up into a pointless frenzy over the lifeguard. The water eased some of the tension in the muscle, and you once again felt your mind start to still.

You wondered if, on his down time, Joel preferred board shorts or speedos. You couldn’t imagine him in a full banana hammock – you could, but you didn’t want to – but you wondered if he was a Daniel-Crag-In-His-First-Bond-Movie-When-He-Emerges-From-The-Ocean-Booty-Shorts kind of guy. That didn’t feel right either, though. His work uniform was boardies, and you decided that Joel was the type of guy who just wore them on his own time anyway, because they fit and they were on hand. As for what was going on underneath them. Well, that was something else entirely.

As you bobbed in the water you imagined his strong arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest and letting you rest your head on his broad, tanned shoulder. You wondered if you’d be able to feel his heartbeat on your cheek, if that close you could hear his tight little exhales as he glided you through the water, held you up so that you could finally, finally let go. You sighed a little to yourself, drifting in the middle of the pool and hoping no one had any plans to swim any laps. You let your hair trail out behind you as you drifted, imagined the slight pull of the water was his fingers threading through.

You weren’t hungry but you had nothing at home, so you stopped off at the grocery store on the way home, your shoulder feeling better for having had a little bit of movement. Sleepy from the warmth of the sun and your weightlessness, you barely noticed the man standing at the end of the cereal aisle until you were tripping over him, his arm shooting out to catch you before you could really, properly fall.

‘Ooof,’ he exclaimed, and you knew that voice, felt the furious rush of blood to your cheeks as you righted yourself and were met with the same warm, brown eyes.

‘We really must stop meeting like this,’ he said, smiling down at you, and he was just as beautiful on dry land as he was submerged. You felt your hands start to tremble and you worried you’d drop your basket.

‘Joel,’ you said, trying to hide the comingling shame and excitement on your face. ‘You look different when you’re wet.’

Murder you. End it now. It would simply be kinder.

Joel, to his credit, just laughed a little.

‘Hair’s a lot fluffier,’ he said, reaching up to tug at it and making you want to chew on your own fist.

‘There’s that,’ you said, your voice oddly strangled.

‘You breakfast shoppin’ at 4 in the afternoon?’ he asked, gesturing to the cereal box in your hands.

‘Dinner, actually,’ you said, strangely proud at your sheer level of disfunction. ‘Ever since my shoulder, cooking hasn’t really been…’

You trailed off. Your mom had sent over a couple of frozen lasagnes, and you’d worked your way through those in a week. For a while you got dinners delivered but it got expensive, and then worst, it got boring. Before all of this started there were some nights you’d been so engrossed in your thesis you’d forgotten to get dinner at all. You missed those nights, too. To be so distracted.

‘How’s the arm?’ he asked, and you realised you were cradling it again, holding it fast against your side.

‘It’s slow, and I’m trying to be patient,’ you said, honestly, and his brows saddled. He hummed in thought, pouting his lips out a little. You fought every atom in your body not to lean forward and pull them between your teeth.

‘Your physio given you exercises?’ he asked, and you nodded, avoiding his gaze. ‘You doin’ em?’ he asked, and you were suddenly really interested in the nutritional content of your Cheerios. He snickered out a laugh. ‘No one ever does ‘em.’

‘You speaking from experience?’ you asked, and he smiled.

‘I used to…well, not a physio but I did a little personal training, and uh…basically unless I was there barkin’ at ‘em no-one did what they were told.’

Bark at me, you thought. I’ll do anything you say.

You coughed, trying to collect yourself. Fuck, he was beautiful, but you realised what you liked most was just the warmth in his face, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. You trusted him, you realised. You didn’t know him, and you trusted him.

‘I’m pretty sure my physio knows I’m lying to her,’ you confessed, and he smiled.

‘She definitely does,’ he agreed.

‘I’m otherwise a very honest person,’ you added.

‘I have no doubt,’ he said, with a little twinkle in his eye that made you want to gouge the things out so you didn’t have to deal with them torturing you anymore.

Instead, you looked into his basket and saw kale, a bunch of carrots and a carton of eggs. You grimaced.

‘Please tell me you’re not on a cleanse or some shit,’ you said, and he smiled.

‘Nah, you got me just before I headed over to the candy aisle.’

‘You like candy?’ you asked, and he grinned.

‘Got a sweet tooth,’ he confessed.

‘Name your poison.’

‘Reece’s. The umm…the cups.’

‘The cups. A peanut butter man?’

‘Yes ma’am,’ he said, that southern drawl appearing again. You felt it hit you like a bullseye in your core. You wondered what else you could get him to agree to.

‘A man of taste,’ you said. You were flirting over grocery items and you didn’t fucking care. You would banter about the phone book if he kept grinning with his whorish little dimples out. ‘Thank you for helping me out the other day,’ you said, and he shrugged.

‘S’my job,’ he said, and you shook your head at him, swishing your hands in front of you as if you could push his humbleness aside.

‘Yeah, but you chose that job, and I’m glad that you did,’ you said, simply. ‘It’s a generous thing, putting yourself on the line for someone else.’

‘Always been a kind of protector,’ he said, almost to himself.

‘I can see that,’ you replied, honestly, and he turned his gaze to you, considering you for a moment. ‘Although I guess a lot of the time it’s just watching people splash around.’

‘Ain’t hard to watch some people,’ he said, gazing down at you, his jaw muscle twinging a little. You felt your stomach do a silly little flip.

‘No?’ you asked, your throat dry.

‘Mmm-mmm,’ he said, shaking his head but not breaking eye contact. You wanted to grab his broad, golden shoulders and hitch your thighs over them. You wanted to reach up and take his curls in your fingers, pull him onto his knees and his mouth to your nipple, let him nibble where they pebbled. You wanted to drown the gorgeous fucker, just for being so pretty he was setting your brain on fire.

For a second the two of you stared at each other, trying to pretend the sparks weren’t flying.

‘That can’t be dinner,’ he said, after a while, and you realised he was talking again about your cereal.

‘I could get some grown up muesli if that would make you happy,’ you offered.

‘Wouldn’t want you to get malnourished, come by the pool and drown from lack of…vitamins,’ he finished.

‘Lack of vitamins?’ you teased, and he blushed.

‘Can’t have you wastin’ away on me.’

‘So, you’re saying I have to eat the muesli for your benefit?’ you asked, and he shook his head.

‘No breakfast for dinner,’ he said. ‘Maybe I can fix you somethin’.’

Your heart stopped, right there in the grocery store, in your flip flops with your hair still wet from the pool.

‘…’ you said, and he finally broke your gaze, finally allowed you to breathe for a second. He looked thoughtful, maybe even a little sorry.

‘Not professional of me to ask out the patrons,’ he said, after a while.

‘Do you work at the grocery store?’,’ you asked, bolder than you were feeling. He moved closer towards you, just a half-step, so that you could feel his breath ghosting over your face.

‘If I gave you some exercises, would you do ‘em?’ he asked, his voice so low it came straight from the Devil himself. You felt the jolt of want spear between your legs.

‘My physio might get jealous,’ you said, and he grinned.

‘As your lifeguard I feel like it’s my duty to overrule, baby,’ he said. He lifted a hand to your bad shoulder, holding it gently, supporting the joint. You sighed a little, the extra support releasing some of the pressure from the tendon.

‘If you think it’s that serious,’ you whispered, as you leant in towards him, his mouth hovering just out of reach of yours. ‘Life and death.’

‘I’m afraid I might,’ he replied.

His lips tasted like coffee and sunshine. You lifted your arms to rest them on his shoulders. There was not a single twinge.

#shortieswritingchallenge #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #joel miller meetcute #joel miller au

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savingcrxws · 1 year

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EYES ON FIRE | maybe someday

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synopsis. you and carmen just keep bumping into each other.

word count. 4.3k (gah damn)

warnings. language, hardly proofread again i'm sorry its an addiction

authors note. thank u guys so much for the support in these previous chapters! it’s really amazing to me that u guys enjoyed it so much! i would recommend listening to maybe someday by the cure for this chapter!

“Yeah, Sugar. The appointment is booked for Thursday, the reps will probably be coming in at like…three o’clock,” you mutter, flipping through the manila folder absolutely stuffed with documents and sticky notes.

You pursue your lips at all you had to get done within this week alone–sign installation permit, permit to replace the hot water heater, permit to fix the ventilation systems, reapply for occupancy capacity signs because of the restaurants lack of other permits, and holy shit…

You completely forgot to schedule the follow-up appointment with the BACP consultant.

You groan, slamming the thick folder into your forehead, the papers thwacking against your skull. Natalie sounds startled on the other end of the phone, no doubt hearing the sound on her end of the call. She questions if you’re okay, and you only respond with a gentle hum before tossing the folder back down on the office table.

“Hey, Suge, do you think I can call you back later? I need to schedule a follow-up consultation with Raquel before another rep hops on my ass about the boiler replacement.”

“Of course, hun, call me back whenever you can,” Sugar starts and you can hear some papers flicking in her side of the call as well.

You had managed to convince her to work from home more often, worried that all the stress from the demolition inside would affect her pregnancy and her overall wellbeing. After some back and forth, she had begrudgingly agreed to spend two days working on the project from the comfort of her own couch.

And even though she complains still, you know she appreciates she has a little bit more time off of her feet.

“Don’t work yourself too hard, okay, Bug?”

You nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “Same for you, Bear.” Sugar hums once again before you both give your goodbyes and end the call.

You expel all of the air out of your chest in a large puff as you slide down the office chair.

After signing onto Team Bear, your new home-away-from-home had been this tiny office in the back of the restaurant. For the most part, no one came in and disrupted your work, which allowed you to have your head shoved into piles of paperwork, be stuck on phone calls, and be forced to reread legal jargon for hours on end with little interruption.

Well, as little interruption as there could be with the restaurant quite literally falling apart around you.

Thankfully, everyone was very respectful of your work in helping the developing business. You were practically putting every ounce of knowledge that you learned from both college and the real-world experience (including connections within the industry) to help push the restaurant closer to the deadline. All the while still dealing with your other commitments to other businesses that you had prior to signing on to this project.

Staying at The Bear for eight hours a day had its benefits, though.

For example, there was always something entertaining going on in the background. Like last Tuesday, when Fak had decided to send a sledgehammer directly into the only remaining wall of the office–sending bits and pieces of drywall onto your clothes.

Another benefit of being stuck in that office chair is that you had an excuse to ignore everyone around you. And by everyone, you really mean Carmen.

After the awkward office run-in last week, the two of you hardly spoke to each other. Sure, there was the ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that you threw to each other and the words you exchanged when you caught him up on the status of licensing, but you two had yet to have an actual conversation.

It was clear that the both of you were still walking on eggshells around each other—and everyone could see it. But you had an inkling feeling that Carmen had been wanting to say something, judging by the short glances you sometimes catch him throwing in your direction.

Kinda similar to the one that he’s giving you right now.

You feel the heat of his stare on your face before you see it. He’d been staring at you for a couple moments now, long enough for you to no longer consider it an inquisitive glance.

You peek up from the folder and make solid eye contact with Carmen through the hole in the wall. The man flushes almost immediately, the red color sinking past his collar. You purse your lips and give a small nod of acknowledgment and he stutters in his spot.

And then he’s turning away.

Like he wasn’t the one just staring at you a moment ago.

You roll your eyes and turn back to your original position in the seat. Picking the folder up again, you flick to the papers listing the requirements for the next fire suppression test.

“Men,” you mutter, before picking up your phone and making a phone call.

Three days later, the office is completely demolished and your work revolving around The Bear has been moved to a family-owned coffee shop two blocks over.

In the short span of time, all of the walls in the store had been busted down and the restaurant had practically turned into a hazardous wasteland. And since construction was too far out of your pay grade, you decided to leave the heavy lifting up to everyone else.

“Alright, permit done!” You throw your hands up in the air, your theatrics catching the attention of a couple next to you. You could hardly care for the stares, though, you had been working on getting that permit for the past four days straight. Slamming your laptop shut, you pack up your bags and head off to the cash register to buy another coffee before you go.

While you wait for your drink, you decide to scroll aimlessly through your phone to kill some time.

“Oh shit,” you hear a voice utter behind you, and you barely have time to process the word before something ice cold is running down your back. “Fuck, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t even see you—“

You gasp on reflex, taking a step forward and shivering. The person who spilled their drink on you is stuttering out apologies. The liquid seeps into the jacket you were wearing and you pull it off immediately.

“Yo, what the fuck, dude,” you curse, watching the large stain of coffee spread even farther across your jacket. “Watch where the hell you’re walking—”

In the middle of trying to give the perpetrator a piece of your mind, you failed to recognize the familiar sound of the voice that was spewing apology out of apology. But in a second, your eyes met a recognizable set of blue and you halted your words.

In front of you stands Carmen Berzatto. In his signature colored sweater and a half-spilled cup of coffee in his hand.

And he looks petrified.

It seems he didn’t realize just who was the unlucky victim to his americano attack either until you turned around. His mouth agape, he utters out a jumbled apology, glancing back at you, your stained jacket, and the cup in his hand like his brain was still trying to understand what just happened.

“Uh-uh, fuck, sorry, I swear this wasn’t on purpose,” he rambles, placing his cup on the counter behind you and grabbing some napkins right after. He steps back towards you and shoves his hand of napkins to you. “Here, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, taking the napkins from him, noting the slight tremor that persisted in his hands as you did so. Taking in a slow breath, you close your eyes and count to ten before responding. “It’s okay, Carmen. Don’t worry about it.”

And even though you tried to maintain your peace, you can hear the annoyance seeping out of your words. Carmen glances around the counter before looking back at you and your soaked jacket. You know he probably wants to apologize some more, but honestly, one more apology might land him with a punch to the gut.

Just as he opens his mouth, you raise your free hand, silencing him immediately. You shake your head in dismissal before taking the napkins offered to you and blotting the coffee out of the fabric of your jacket. Carmen simply stood in his place, watching you, seeing if he could do anything to redeem himself in this situation.

However, after they called your name for your drink order, you dumped the used napkins in the trash, took your drink and hightailed it out of the café without one more word to the man.

After the coffee shop incident, you swear that you started to see Carmen everywhere.

You needed a quiet place to plan outside of your house so you went to one of the local libraries. Guess who’s walking outside the building?

You need a late night snack and decide to hit up the corner store. Guess who’s in the refrigerated section?

Hell, you decide to stay late at The Bear for some last minute checkups? Guess who forgot to grab a few things before leaving that night?

You swear that before you hopped on The Bear train, you never even saw a glimpse of the man. Sure, you lived relatively near the restaurant, but Chicago is fucking huge, there’s no way you would run into one of the few people that you’re trying to avoid.

Absolutely not, apparently.

Finally finishing up the weekly budget report and estimate for the following weeks till open, you decide to take a step away from work for a second and give your brain some time to breath.

“Hey, Syd, if anyone needs me, I’m outside taking a smoke break, ‘kay,” you yell across the restaurant, receiving a thumbs up from her from the other side of the room. “Be back in 15!”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pack of cigs and a lighter before heading to the back entrance of the restaurant. You place the cigarette between your lips and head to the backdoor. Stepping out and around the alley to the designated smoke corner, you fiddle with the lighter switch, hearing the light sizzle but seeing no flames emerge.

You groan, flicking the lighter again and again and still no lig–

“Umm, uh, you need a light?”

You scream, your heart almost skipping a beat and falling out on the concrete below you. In your alarm, both your cigarette and the lighter drop on to the ground. "Shit," you mutter and throw a glance over at whoever had scared the living shit out of you and, surprise suprise . . .

There was Carmen, standing in the alley a few feet away from the door. One leg was kicked up to rest his foot against the wall behind him and a cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. His eyes trailed across you for a second, then he glanced at the cigarette on the ground before taking another draw from his own and staring out the wall in front of him.

If you had half of the energy, you would tell him off for scaring the shit out of you and book it out of the enclosed space.

Lucky for Carmen, however, you really needed that cigarette.

Reaching back into your bag once more, you pull out another cig and walk slowly over to the man. Your steps gain his attention once again and when your eyes met you gestured to the lighter hanging out of his cooking apron.

He grabs the lighter and hands it to you. As you reach out to grab it, your fingers brush against his knuckles. Some quick thought in the back of your head wishes that that physical interaction lasted a little longer, but you're quick to shoo that away into the deep recesses of your mind.

Lighting your cigarette, you hand the lighter back to him before taking a drag. Blowing the smoke out, you slid down the wall until you could lean back into a squat against it.

The two of you just stand there, in complete silence aside from the occasional cough from an improper pull. This quiet isn't nearly as awkward as the first run-in the two of you had. Maybe it's because of the nicotine or maybe it's because continuously running into Carmen over these past days had subconsciously made you a little more comfortable with his presence.

. . .

Nah, it definitely had to be the nicotine.

You glance up at Carmen, who continues to smoke even though his stick had turned into a bud a while ago. You make note of the new tattoos that run down his arms and hands, eyes stopping at the rose flower tattoo on his left hand.

You remember when he got that one done with you at the parlor for his eighteenth birthday.

Subconsciously, you rub at the matching rose on your thigh before sighing and focusing back on your cigarette. Young, dumb decisions, you think.

Above you, Carmen watches your focus retreat back and purses his lips. In all honesty, Carmen usually never finishes a whole cigarette, but he really needed an excuse to stay out here longer with you.

These past couple of days had been tormenting him just as much as it had been you, albeit for different reasons. Everytime Carmen ran into you, whether it be in that cafe or that random grocery store that one early morning, he was plagued with memories of everything that he had fucked up.

Not just the relationship that he had fucked, but the happiness that he had stolen from the both of you.

And he had so desperately been trying to apologize, but every time you saw his face, you would get that look on your own. That dread, the anxiousness, that annoyance. That anger.

Whenever he saw that expression on your face, he would get too choked up to say anything of significance. A simple 'hey" would be all that would leave his mouth. Either that or he would stutter like he was a fucking kid again and embarrass himself in front of you like he seems to be doing constantly lately.

Carmen sighs, taking a final hit from his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. By all previous experience, Carmen would book it out of the area by now, but something in his gut was telling him to stay this time.

Glancing down at you once more, he sees that you have taken to scrolling through your phone to kill the time. He bites the corner of his lip and decides to sit against the wall like you.

Instinctively, you toss him a questioning glance but when he didn't make any move to speak or gesture towards you, you shook your head and went back to whatever video had popped up on your feed.

Fuck it, he thought.

"I'm sorry."

You halt in the middle of your smoke, nearly coughing on the fumes but managing to swallow it. You look over at Carmen inquisitively, wondering where the hell that apology came from. The dirty blonde was wringing his hands, mouth opening and shutting as if he was trying to get the words out.

"Sorry for the, uh," he mutters, casting a quick glance in your direction to assure himself that you were listening. "Sorry for the, for uh-You know I didn't-I don't know how-"

"Yo, Carmen," you interrupt the world vomit that he was spewing, tossing your cigarette down before snuffing out the light with your shoe. You center your focus back on the man next to you, who seemed to only have you in his attention. "Just say what you want to say. No bullshit."

Your blunt words seem to ground Carmen long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He nods his head rapidly in that way he does when he's clearly overwhelmed before he clears his throat. He takes in a large inhale and clears his throat, ready to speak again.

"I want to apologize. For everything. For how much of an jackoff I was back then, and for how much I am right now," Carmen stars, eyes staring solidly into yours to show just how serious he is. "I didn't deserve you, and you did nothing to deserve the way that we ended."

You feel something burn the back of your throat at the mention of the end of your relationship. The total radio silence from him for the days prior, and just when you had managed to gather the courage to ask the question of just what the hell are we doing, Carmy, you were cast aside like nothing.

He was right, you didn’t deserve that.

Pushing back the feelings bubbling up in your chest, you nod your head to signal that you were listening.

"I-I, it's no excuse, but I was really going through some serious shit. And I really felt that if I cut everyone out of my life, I could actually get a second to breathe you know," Carmen pauses and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. "I-I just know you deserved-you deserve better. But seeing you in this restaurant day-in and day-out, working away to help my sister, my crew--help me? I just felt even more like a piece of shit."

He turns fully towards you now and you can see his eyes turning red from the emotion he was clearly holding behind his words. "You didn't deserve what I did, and you definitely don't deserve to be cleaning up my messes now."

"You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

His last words send a sharp pang into your chest. Here you two sat, sitting next to each other, the distance between you two seemed to be filled with words unsaid. You stare into his eyes a little longer, at a loss for what to say completely.

On one hand, you wanted to reject his apology, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone in this alleyway. He would deserve it after everything.

But he has that familiar kicked puppy-dog look in his eyes and he's chewed his lip red, and he's actually sorry.

You sigh, leaning your head back to rest against the wall behind you. Staring up at the sky, you trace the shapes of the clouds above as you collect your thoughts.

"Yeah," you start, nodding your head to yourself. Carmen tenses up at the ambiguity behind both your words and your tone. He would have to have his own head shoved up his ass if he didn't realize that you had every right to refuse his plea for forgiveness. Frankly, that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.

"Yeah, okay. I can forgive you, Berzatto."

Carmen's heart sinks into his guts, mouth slightly agape in pure shock. "You-you can?"

You give a small smile, turning your head to face the man. "Yeah, Carmen, I accept your apology."

The dirty blonde opens his mouth again but you put a hand up in the space between you, effectively shutting him up for a second.

"But," you trail, "I'm gonna forward you that dry cleaning bill from that cafe, asshat. I've been trying to get that shit out for days now."

Carmen flushes a bright red at the mention of the coffee shop run-in you two had, a broken chuckle leaving his mouth at the obvious teasing tone in your voice. You were joking with him, for the first time in years, you two had managed to glimpse at the level of comfortability that you once shared.

Carmen chuckles again, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well, can I raincheck that until after the restaurant starts making money? I'm kinda flat fucking broke right now."

You giggle at the honesty behind his words. "Yeah, I ran those calculations by the way. Have fun being flat broke for at least three months after The Bear opens."

"Shit," Carmen mutters, a grin still on his face.

"Yeah, shit." You nod in his direction before pushing yourself off your crouched position on the ground. "Anyway, I'm gonna head inside to get back on that shit. Fak's fucking electric guy keeps flaking on us."

Carmen's eyes follow your form as you stand, holding eye contact with you when you glance back down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I should probably meet up with Syd for the chaos menu anyway."

He hurriedly stands up, wiping his hands on his work pants. After he finishes, he looks at you once again, noting the small smile on your face. For a second, he swears his heart skips a beat.

"For the record, Carmy," you play with the nickname on your tongue, having not said it in quite some time. Carmen flushes before nodding for you to continue. The small on your face falls for a second as you look at him. "You pull that shit with me again, I'm sicking the dogs on your ass. Seriously."

Carmen clears his throat, straightening up at the more serious tone of your voice. Although you were not nearly as angry looking at him as before, he knew that you were serious. There were no more apologies after this, no more fuckups.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

He nods. "Yes, chef."

After the conversation outside The Bear, you and Carmen seemed to flow together much easier than before. Granted there was the occasional stray glance casted in your direction from the man, but overall, the two of you were on much more agreeable terms.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice the absence of uncertain tension between the two of you. You explained to Tina, Richie, and Sugar that you two had simply talked it out and were no longer on "spiteful ex" terms.

Richie, being the annoying man that he is, insisted that something else must've happened--to which you responded with a firm shoulder check and yet another middle finger.

Overall, the two of you seemed to only talk about business stuff, which made it easier for conversations to flow. Less personal, more concrete talks.

"Alright, Carmy, we got that certificate of occupancy, right?" You question, running down the legal checklist once again. When you heard no response, you asked again, only to be ignored again. Finally looking up from your screen, you glance up at the man, trying to figure out what could have possibly distracted him this time.

He's glancing, moreso glaring, down at his phone, watching it ring but making no moves to pick it up. He's spaced out almost, like he's lost in his thoughts.

You clear your throat and decide to try his name again. "Carmen!"

He shoots up a little and looks at you, muttering an apology out as he clicks his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. "What were you asking?"

"Umm, I was trying to see if you got that certificate of occupancy from Cicero mailed in," you raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, the one we need to get that other big, shiny certificate that shows that we can legal conduct business in the state of Illinois? That certificate?"

"Uhh, yeah, yeah. Mailed it in the other day, yeah."

You squint at his weird responses before shaking your head and diving back into your work. "Well, on another note, I've been speaking with a liason down at the office and he said we can have our second fire suppression test in two weeks instead of the project four."

Carmen walks up to the foldable chair you were sitting in, peering over your shoulder to look at your screen. He rests his hand against the back of your chair unconsciously and you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You clear your throat and lean forward a little to get some distance between the two of you.

"Who's that going to?" The man points to an email that you are in the middle of drafting. Your eyes follow and land on the email you were writing to one of your school buddies. "Oh that? I'm just messaging one of my old classmates from college about an idea I had about our issues with that retail food license thing."

Carmen humms, peeking down at you as you explained the process you were thinking of going through. Though your eyes were stuck on the screen, clicking through different documents as you continued your explanation, Carmen's eyes were glued to your face.

To him, this all felt like some weird dream that he was having. His former high school sweetheart, sitting in his restaurant, talking all kinds of smart talk that he could barely understand, practically pressed against him. Although he didn't move over to your chair with the intent to press against you, he definitely noticed the proximity that you two shared.

Life had been a whirlwind these past weeks, but he felt that when he was near you that a lot of those anxieties he often has screaming in his head quieted down a little. He tried to chalk it up to the confidence that he had in your skills, but even though you are incredibly talented in your work, he knew that it was something more than that.

Something that he had to swallow down.

"Carmy, you motherfucker, are you even listening to me?" You call out, turning more in your chair and fixing him with an annoyed glare. Carmen swallows before nodding his head. "Ye-yeah, you have a plan to get that retail food license and alcohol seller's license at once right?"

You hum, giving him a once over again before turning in your seat. "Exactly. I think that my buddy Stephen can help us with that fire suppression test, he knows a thing or two--"

Carmen's eyes trace down your eyes, nose, and lips, noting the signature bite marks you left on your bottom one. He runs a tongue across his own before carding a hand through his hair to collect himself.

He was so fucked.

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yoongsisbae · 2 years

Text

King of Corruption | MYG

Sequel to Christmas Mass. Yoongi x reader Demon AU. Dark smut.

The organ player takes his time with you, holding you and caressing your body while you sleep, until you can’t discern your dreams from your reality. A king and a sleeping beauty, his name leaves your lips like a prayer, prostated at his feet in blind reverence…the perfect position for him to corrupt and defile you.

I promised readers a Yoongi version if Christmas Mass hit 1,000 notes, and you did it! Round of applause for you! This story is all your fault :D. Please please please heed the warnings, this is dreadfully filthy u.u.

Trigger warnings: 18+ dark themes, horror, demons, religion, smut, boss x employee, wanna experience the trauma of having an office job? this fic is for you!, power imbalance, Yoongi is literally the worst boss ever lol, yoongi is unhinged (remember that you wanted this sequel :’)) sloth is one of the hardest sins to really articulate - I wanted it to be a bit more than just sleepy/lazy, sleeping beauty syndrome, rough sex, corruption kink, pain kink, sadism, degradation, name calling, possession, reader manipulation, mental torture/mind break, dubcon, dark ending

Word Count: 8.9k

---

It’s quiet.

Apart from the clicking, dozens of busy hands typing away, needing to meet quarterly deadlines by the end of the month, less than a week away.

What day is it? Tuesday? Thursday?

So quiet.

Apart from papers shuffling back and forth and dress shoes thudding on thin office carpet; employees chasing down their supervisors, the gurgling of the water cooler dispensing another cold metallic tasting cup of water.

Click click click.

It’s almost closing time. Yet, you know you’ll be here at least two more hours along with everyone else. Your fingers are cramping, your legs shake up and down as you sit idle. You’re hungry and tired and so sick of these long office hours.

Tap tap tap.

Your office cell buzzes, a message popping up: ‘Come to my office.’

You press your lips together, annoyed.

Tap tap-

Your fingers hover over your keyboard as you finish looking over your current spreadsheet, double checking that the totals match the expense reports on your desk.

Click click click.

Tap tap tap.

Buzz. ‘Now.’

You sigh quietly, standing up.

Walking past rows of cubicles, you trek towards your manager’s private office, knocking softly before entering.

“Sir?”

He calls you closer with a lazy gesture, crossing his arms. He stares at you in silence for far too long, making you fidget uncomfortably on the spot. Lowering your head down you look at the objects on his desk, unable to meet his eyes.

A Newton’s cradle, at a standstill.

An ornate letter opener, shaped like a small needle dagger.

Countless papers, so scattered the desk wood is hardly seen.

“Y/n.”

“Yes, Sir?” You look up obediently.

Yoongi leans back in his office chair, eyes looking through you.

“I need these finished before you leave today.” He gestures down at the stack of reports at the corner of his desk.

Your eyes go wide, there’s at least three more hours of work piled up high. “B-But Sir-”

“Our quarterly deadline is in less than-”

“-a week,” you finish for him, dejected. “These have to be done today?” you ask, “Can’t I, um, come in early in the morning instead-”

Yoongi clears his throat and shakes his head, cracking his pointer finger with his thumb, turning the silver ring around the digit out of habit. “I needed those reports done yesterday.”

“Oh…”

You want to scream.

“...okay.”

“Okay.” He repeats impatiently. “Work on these first, I can’t finish what I have to do until I get those reports back.”

You exhale, reluctantly nodding and reaching for the extra work.

Yoongi slams his pen down, making you jump. “As soon as possible, y/n, okay? Got it?”

You nod quickly, turning on your heel, desperate to hide away from his stern gaze. Yoongi’s presence is intimidating, his curtness makes you feel like a child, dumb and incompetent. ‘Just get it done,’ you think, then you can go home, far away from this hell.

Yoongi watches your retreating figure, sighing, “How tiring…” he mumbles, a sly grin hiding behind his knuckles.

---

Your eyes sting, the blue electronic screen glow under half-dimmed office lights could seem sinister if you weren’t so focused, tiredly saving updated files to the company’s servers. Somehow you are always the last one left at your desk, a “model employee,” by administrative standards of course.

You rub your eyes. Eat, you need to eat, before you pass out.

‘Saving: 78%’ You look around, forgetting there was nobody left around for you to disturb. You look through your purse for some change to buy a snack bar from the company’s vending machine, anything to eat just so you can make it home in one piece.

Under closing lights the bright shine inside the vending machine makes the cheap snacks inside look incredibly appetizing, or perhaps it was because you skipped lunch today...

You rest your head on the glass of the vending machine, watching the agonizingly slow twirl of springs as your snack bar...gets stuck.

No. Not now!

Closing your eyes, you debate on whether to start screaming or crying.

‘Come on!’

Of course only you could be this unlucky. You try to quietly hit your fist on the glass, harder again when nothing moves.

‘FUCK THIS FUCKING SHIT,’ you think, cursing your life.

You shift your weight between legs, thinking, itching to kick the damn thing. No, you shouldn’t make a scene. Biting your tongue, you lean your body against the side of the vending machine, using your shoulder to nudge the large appliance.

‘FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU-’

Someone clears their throat.

You look up and stare into a pair of intense eyes, dark irises silently judging you.

It’s one of the rare times you’ve seen your boss without his coat jacket on, Yoongi’s unkept appearance surprising you. His tie is pulled down, top two buttons unfastened, the gel in the front strands of his hair has lost its hold, causing his bangs to frame his sharp cheekbones. His cheeks are flushed, a sign he has been doing more than just sitting at his desk all day, it makes you wonder what or who...

Yoongi swipes his credit card and hits the same two numbers you had chosen.

He bends down slowly, pulling two bars from the machine. Your lip trembles as you build up enough courage to speak. ‘That’s my bar.’

Just ask for it.

Just say it.

Say something!

“That’s mine,” you summon the courage to speak up.

Yoongi laughs softly. “Yours?” he hums.

He stares at you, and you realize he has no intention of giving you what you want.

You immediately look down out of habit. You would have let it go, scurried away before Yoongi really got annoyed at you, but you only brought enough change for one bar. “Y-Yes.”

“No.”

“It is! I paid for it, it got stuck, the stupid machine-” you trail off, realizing you were speaking your thoughts aloud.

“Nothing here is yours, y/n,” he tuts. His tone catches you off guard, and when you look up his expression is even more surprising. Yoongi is leaning against the machine, smiling at you.

A smile is usually friendly, welcoming.

Not like this.

His crescent eyes don’t twinkle, they gleam with a malice that makes your body stiffen.

He chuckles, staring at your gaping mouth. “This belongs to me. This whole company is mine,” he smiles. “And do you know what else is mine?”

“Huh?” you can only ask dumbly, frozen by his sudden icy demeanor.

You yelp when he grabs the back of your neck so swiftly you trip over yourself trying to pull free.

Yoongi forces you back against the cold vending machine glass.

He whispers his next words so softly in your ear, you wouldn't have believed he was capable of such tenderness in the midst of such aggression. “You belong to me.”

He runs his thumb harshly over your bottom lip smearing your lipstick down your chin, gripping your face in his hands so tightly it stings. You gasp out his name in surprise, jolting when he presses his knee between your legs. “You’re mine,” he whispers.

Your boss holds out one of the small snack bars in your direction. “Y/n?”

You shake out of your stupor, looking at Yoongi as he stares back at you blankly. “Y-Yes Sir?” you ask, realizing he was offering you the extra bar.

He stood three paces away from you, not close at all, but your body felt jittery thinking of his skin against yours, how it would feel if he pushed you against the vending machine and had his way with you.

Your thoughts horrify you. It had felt so real, you were still lingering in your own delusions. Your boss...he’s your boss. Why would you think such horrible things about your boss?!

You grab the bar away from him so quickly he stares down at his open palm.

You keep your head bowed, silencing away those horribly intrusive thoughts burning through your body like a forgotten muscle memory. Yoongi steps closer to you, eyes peering down at the bar held tightly to your chest. “I-I-”

“Y/n, go home.”

---

You put on the television.

It only takes a few minutes before your attention is on your phone instead, checking the latest trends. You scroll quickly, unfocused, so you didn’t have to think of the horribly embarrassing moments you had today.

If your thoughts become too loud, like tonight, you drown them out with music, adding another layer of noise inside your quiet home.

This has become routine.

You spend the night scrolling through images of popular celebrities, cute half naked men and women with soft features and sweet smiles so you wouldn’t think about him...

Your boss.

Min Yoongi.

Yoongi’s intimidating appearance, so unlike the warm and friendly celebrities displayed on your screens. Yoongi’s sharp angry eyes, you wonder what makes him happy. Yoongi’s deep drawling voice, that voice, what would it sound like in your ear? Oh, the way Yoongi runs his tongue over his lips when he concentrates...

You own tongue licks across your teeth thinking about it.

Your boss had a notorious reputation, there’s always been office gossip between chatty women who giggle amongst themselves when he walks by. Stories to explain why his assistants never stay for too long, and rumors of a terrible terrible temper. You’ve never seen it for yourself, but god help you, you can’t help but imagine...

Something must be under that listless facade he always exhibits for him to be so successful...

A fierceness...

You shake your head, sighing. Something is wrong with you, you think, ashamed at yourself. Stop y/n. You’re not brave enough to play with fire like that. You’re his subordinate and you’re fairly certain he finds you annoying, like a pest, and you’re definitely certain he is out of your league.

No, Mr. Min seems like the type who doesn’t bother with relationships anyways, the type to scoff at romantic gestures, probably prefers high class escorts and busy women who would leave him alone to his own devices. Your boss is not a nice man.

But there’s just something about him...that hooks you, in the lungs, in the chest, in the pit of your stomach. You’ve been wholly ensnared by him.

You pull your legs up, burying your face in your knees, hiding away. A silly gesture, you were all alone in your home after all.

You turn up the volume on your television and laughter fills your house. Rehearsed, giddy, raucous laughter. A show you’ve probably already watched before. You can barely crack a smile in response.

You eat a cold meal of leftovers, too lazy to cook for yourself, too hungry to even wait the time it takes until it heats up.

You move from the couch to the bed, and fall asleep quickly, exhausted.

---

You gasp for air, waking up.

Where had you been? Were you drowning? You catch your breath. No. Then why are you wet? Is that sweat?

It’s too dark to see. You try to move, but something heavy holds you down.

“What’s going on?” you murmur.

Something is wrong. Very wrong.

“Go back to sleep,” a deep drawl mumbles.

You know that voice.

Who is it? His name is on the tip of your tongue.

Your limbs feel so heavy, so tired. It can’t be morning yet, it’s too dark for that.

You still have time to sleep more, go back to dreaming, enjoying that pleasant feeling again, so good you can still feel it creeping over your limbs...

...up your body...

...inside you...

It’s a nice feeling, it was a nice dream. It’s where you want to be, where you want to stay. Just until morning, just until you have to go back to reality, back to work, where everything hurts and is exhausting and unpleasant, a deadline on top of a deadline, a bunch of dead ends, finish lines with no rewards.

You rather stay in bed and sleep.

That dream, what was it about? You try to remember, get it back, so you can go back, anywhere but here.

You groan, chest heavy. Just a little bit more time is all you need. Let the sun stay away for a little longer. Let the shadows hide you away. Please.

That dream, you’re almost there, it’s coming back to you like a sweet lovely serenade, sung by lips pressed against your skin.

A rhythm begins inside you that makes your body sink deeper, two fingers pulling out the song inside you, making you ache to hear more.

A deep sigh against your thigh followed by a chuckle makes you whine in tune. You think it almost feels too good to be just in your imagination, right before you fall deeper.

---

“Am I boring you?”

A sharp kick to the back of your chair by your coworker jolts you. “S-Sir? N-No, no– No, Sir.”

Shit, now everyone in the meeting room has their eyes on you. Your boss continues to chastise you. You shrink inward, gripping the ends of your skirt hard enough to wrinkle.

Yoongi asks your thoughts on the presentation so far, already knowing you don’t have an answer. You stutter out the notes you’ve written down, riffling through the papers in front of you and he corrects you, flustering you even more.

You mumble out an apology. You hate being the center of attention, you wish to disappear. Taking your pen and piercing it into the soft part of your throat would be less painful than the embarrassment you’re feeling and when you hear giggles on your left part of you contemplates on actually doing it and ending it all!

God, will this reflect poorly on your performance review?!

You try not to shake as you scribble down what he’s saying, ignoring his eyes fixated right on you. ‘Why me?’ you write in the corner of your notebook, holding off tears of frustration.

Why does Mr. Min always seem to be picking on you?

“Everyone is dismissed,” Yoongi says after the meeting concludes. He calls out to you before you can leave, asking you to see him in his office.

You wince. Of course, you never get a break from working.

You sit on the couch by his desk, waiting. He’s making you wait on him. When you should be eating lunch with everyone else. You swallow down your growing resentment instead.

It’s bitter.

Your leg shakes in boredom, your foot tapping on Yoongi’s office carpet. Time just ticks on by, slower and slower until you can’t take it.

You feel hungry and annoyed and worst of all, you feel deep restlessness, uneasiness working up your limbs and into the pit of your stomach until you wish to scream, run, anything.

How much can you tolerate before you explode? Act out? That’s what Yoongi seems to want to find out.

Your boss walks in, shutting the door to his office behind him.

Instead of sitting at his desk, he sits next to you on his couch, limbs sprawled out as he rests.

“Why did you need– Was there something you needed to discuss with me, Sir?” you ask, trying not to sound impatient.

“Y/n…” The way he drags out your name, deepening his voice, has you holding your breath, waiting for his next words. He runs his hands through his hair, fixing the strands away from his eyes.

“How long have you worked for me?” Yoongi asks, testing you.

“I…” you pause. How long has it been? It must be years now, right? This is your first job, you can’t remember having any other. “A very long time,” you laugh awkwardly, hoping he doesn’t ask you anymore about it. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Yoongi glances at you, fingers tapping on his knee as he stretches his legs. He adjusts his hips, moving closer towards you. “No, well, I think it’s time for a promotion, don’t you?”

“Oh?” You say, surprised. You would have bet Mr. Min would have fired you before ever promoting you.

“From now on you’ll be working directly under me. This department is growing, and I need an assistance manager. You’re a hard worker, your performance accuracy are always high, and I think you’ll be a perfect fit.”

You stay quiet, only nodding in acknowledgement. The idea of seeing more of him was burdensome. But you can’t help but fixate on his compliments, Yoongi called you ‘perfect.’

“How does that sound?”

“Sounds...great.”

He crosses his arms, “Yeah?”

“Yes...”

He glances in your direction frowning, “Really? Because you look like I just told you someone died-”

“No, sir!” you recoil, “I’m sorry Sir, I’m just surprised! I thought you were mad at me,” you say softly, looking down at your knees pressed tightly together.

He reaches out to you, turning your chin to face him. “Y/n, tell me, do you like your job?”

You can’t exactly be honest and tell your boss how much you…

…hate it here.

“Yes, I’m very grateful for the opportunity-”

Yoongi frowns again, his touch becoming rougher. “You can tell me the truth, y/n.”

“Oh...I-l really like my job.”

He laughs.

And then, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back over the couch cushion. It’s quick and unexpected and...just like that time before...

What’s going on?!

“Do you?” he asks, a smug smile on his face. “You like your job?” he laughs.

“Y-Yes!” you defend yourself, pulling desperately at his arm. If you told him the truth, he would fire you. Then what would you do? How will you pay your bills? If you fought back against him, who would believe you? This goddamn job was all you had.

“Oh,” He nods back, voice pitched higher and seeming to mock your own voice. “You like this?” he laughs, dragging your body down, hovering over you.

This is Yoongi? His demeanor shifted so quickly you can barely recognize him as the same man. Your boss was reserved, almost apathetic to things. The man looking down at you seemed unhinged, animated, barely contained.

You didn’t know what this man was capable of. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “What do y-you want me to say?” you whimper, words barely audible.

“Still that quiet little lamb?” He holds you down so tightly your scalp burns and his other hand snakes around your throat threateningly, bending over you until your foreheads touch. “Spineless, dumb girl, this is the best you could want? Is this what you gave up everything for?” he asks, shaking your body.

You don’t understand what he’s saying or why he’s doing this, but something inside you feels ashamed at his words, like you’ve done something horribly wrong and you don’t even realize it, like a child being yelled at for going to a place they shouldn’t without an adult. You shouldn’t be here...

You want to leave!

You cry out, fighting against him. You try to scream, sound muffled by the pressure of his fingers around your neck.

Yoongi sits his full weight on top of you, his designer suit pulling at the itchy fabric of your cheap bargain clothes.

“You so desperately want to feel something, it’s all you can think about, all you can dream about. If you want to feel, I can make you feel. I can make you hurt. And I can make it feel so good. If I took away that numbness inside you, fill you up with my cock instead, wouldn’t that be nice?”

His words don’t make sense. He sounds like an echo of your thoughts being thrown back at you, like a twisted mirror showing your reflection. How could he know?

You stop struggling, surrendering. Yoongi is too strong, too heavy, too much for you. His eyes bore into you, deep dark irises with endless depth. You can’t look away and you start to cry.

This must be what drowning feels like, pain you’re forced to confront, a miserable knowing that you steadily lower into. It’s Yoongi who reaches for you, and it didn’t matter that he was pulling you down deeper, you cling to him for salvation.

“Do you like your job? Y/n?”

You gasp in air, looking at Yoongi’s passive face. Your hands immediately massage your itchy throat as you look around his office, catching your breath.

What the hell.

You feel like you’re losing your mind, grasping at something slipping between your fingers, something you can’t explain.

What the hell was that?

It had felt so real, so palpable, so shocking, like electricity through all your tired joints.

Yoongi clears his throat, tilting his head at you as you try to regain your composure.

“D-Do I like my job? I…yes, it’s fine. I’m fine,” you breathe out. You continue to look around the room and where Yoongi sits next to you. What was that?! Did you really imagine it all?

“Really?” He crosses his arms.

You laugh nervously. “Are you supposed to like your job? Don’t they say you shouldn’t turn what you love into work, you’ll grow to hate it or something like that, I think,” you trail off, unconfident you made any sense to him. “But this is a really good position! Thank you for the, um, promotion.”

“I see...” he says. “You know, this place is not my first choice, but I can appreciate this kind of job, it molds a certain kind of person. Someone disciplined, useful. Humans are natural born workers, did you know that? The very first man and woman had jobs. When God asked Adam and Eve to tend to his Garden. Humankind was created to work, to follow.”

This conversation is so odd. “Yes...”

“So do you think you can do that for me?” he asks, clasping his hands together.

“What, Sir?”

“Follow me.”

“I...”

“You look a bit sick,” he says, touching your forehead, causing you to flinch away.

“Y-Yeah,” you mumble, looking around his office again, worried you weren’t hearing things correctly, worried you were sick in another way, maybe you should talk to someone, go to HR. “I think I, uh, maybe need to take a sick day tomorrow.”

Yoongi frowns. “Take a half day, go home for the rest of today and get better, I need you back here tomorrow,” he commands.

“Okay,” you say shakily. “Yes, Sir.”

---

“Where am I?”

It’s a familiar room you’ve only visited in your dreams. A room with no doors. A realm you know you don’t belong in, but can’t help but come back to again and again. You should be used to the fear creeping over you, but you can’t remember why.

“Stay away.” Your words echo, come out as a weak whisper. “This is a dream, just a dream,” you mutter to yourself, trying to stand, but unable to.

Yoongi walks closer to you, ignoring your pleas.

You boss? His clothes change from the familiar sleek blue suit you remembered him in into black, brown hair to stark silver, deep dark eyes becoming even darker, turning into obsidian orbs.

You shut your eyes tightly. Your limbs feel heavy and slow, unable to move at the speed you wanted, unable to get out, unable to leave. Your body feels fractured from your mind, the physics of your dream always working against you.

“Relax,” His deep voice sends goosebumps over your skin, the pads of his fingers dig into your sole, relaxing the muscles. You open your eyes and see Yoongi back to normal again, strong hands cradling your foot. His touch is so relaxing and pleasurable, and for a moment you forget why you’re so scared, the tension releasing from your stressed body with every deep stroke across your sole and down your calf.

“Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream.” You repeat the words like a mantra when he lets your foot drop, the familiar weight of his body back again.

“Would you like to go back already? We just started.” His skillful hands presses into your skin, up your thigh, closer and closer, kneading the muscle in tantalizing circles, replacing the tension in your body with desire. “Let go and enjoy it, y/n.”

But you can’t, you need to wake up. You shouldn’t escape into your fantasies and shut out the real world every time you become stressed. How many nights has it been? Your twisted day dreams have turned into full fledged nightmares, and now you can’t escape him, this reoccurring torturous cycle every time you close your eyes and think about Yoongi.

‘Wake up, y/n.’ Get out of your head, get out of your house! You can’t keep living like this!

But you know, you’ll be here again, it just feels too good to stop. You don’t want to do anything but sleep and escape. It’s too easy.

And it’s too hard to resist him.

“Yoongi, fuck me. Please.”

Yoongi tuts, hand caressing down your throat and holding you there under him before he finally decides to stand.

“This time, work for it.”

He moves away and it’s cold loneliness without him on top of you, all you want to do is have him there again.

You feel the sudden energy return back to you at his command now that he wasn’t tangled over you. Your growing desire to have him back propels you.

You move yourself in front of him, getting on your knees. Assuming this is what he meant, you begin to unbuckle his belt.

He watches you, looking down at you dutifully fulfilling his orders. The perfect worker you are. Yoongi could get used to this kind of enthusiasm, even if he prefers you docile and completely pliable to his whims.

As you slowly pull out his length from his pants, you look up to make sure he is pleased. You let your lips stretch around him, taking him in your mouth as far as your throat allows.

“Good girl,” he sighs, “So sweet.”

He holds the back of your head, leading you to take him fully until you choke on his cock. Then he steps back, dragging your body forward by the hair, that way he keeps you connected to him, adjoined to him in the most sinful way.

You clumsily crawl forward, following his lead, knees hitting hard floor, a pain that reminds you just how much power he has over you.

Yoongi takes a seat, spreading his legs to make a place for you to kneel between them. He sighs in pleasure. In your dreams, you boss always seems much more at peace, putting pleasure first, and everything else melts away. Your worries, your responsibilities, your duty is only to him, it makes him happy.

You move your mouth, sucking him down over and over again until your jaw aches, until sweat drips down your forehead and your wrists and knees hurt and you’re messy and dripping for him. He helps guide you as you tire, hands still tangled in your hair.

He’s close, you can tell by the swell of his cock, the loud groans that escape his lips.

You taste his release, salty and thick. Your own is still so far away, you whimper around his still hard cock. Yoongi feels your quiver against him, and he gives you an unexpected mercy. He releases his hold on you, leaning back. “Get up and ride me now.”

You nod quickly, standing up. Yoongi lets you straddle him, awe over his muscular body. You don’t waste any time dropping down on his cock.

He watches you rut your hips side to side, up and down on his hard length, your hips moving fluidly against his own, chasing your pleasure. You reach for his hands and he lets you place his large palms over your breasts, watching as you mewl when he kneads and pulls on them. You place a hand across your collar bone and he takes the invitation to rest it higher, fingers squeezing around your throat, taking your air for his.

Oh, you’re good at this. And all Yoongi has to do is sit back and relax, let you take him, his own cocksleeve. A perfect disciple, willing to learn exactly what pleases him.

You close your eyes and listen to his low whisper, moans of encouragement. “You’re so close, don’t give up on me now, fuck yourself on my cock. That’s my girl. Keep going, come for your master.”

You tremble and whimper out his name like a prayer you’ve wished for over and over.

---

You wake up abruptly, falling off your couch, still in your work clothes from the day before.

You can’t believe you slept the whole day away. Maybe you really were sick. Your muscles ache, your head is spinning and you can’t stop thinking...

...about what it would really feel like...

...to have Yoongi’s hands hold down your body.

You clutch your head. ‘It wasn’t real.’

Your alarm hasn’t gone off, the sun is only just rising, you still have time to shower and get ready for work, but all you want to do is take away the frustratingly clawing ache inside of you, a desperate need you’re too embarrassed to acknowledge.

So you run a cold shower before breakfast instead.

You heave out a long drawn out sigh, letting the cool water hit your back, washing away your shamefulness.

You rest your head on cold tile. ‘Don’t think about him.’

No, don’t think about his rough hands on your delicate neck, his crotch pressed over your stomach, or the feeling of his cock getting harder against you.

Fuck, you want to fuck him.

You try to calm your breathing, tilting your head into the water. What are you doing? Your boss wouldn’t do that! He…

You touch your bottom lip…He could, if he wanted to.

Did you want him to?

The answer frightens you. No no, your morbid curiosity was nothing more than just that. You just wanted to feel fire, but you didn’t want to get burned.

So, like always, you resign yourself to this small depraved little fantasy. Behind shower curtains, hiding in the low light of your bath.

You trail your fingers down between your legs, working yourself up before you could think of talking yourself out of it.

It wasn’t really about him right now anyways. You just needed to release. You were so wound up and desperate, right?

You shudder a yes, pressing your fingers deeper into your sex.

You flinch as your back bumps into warmth. ‘This is not real.’

Smooth, wet skin, pressing back against you, fingers gripping your wrist so you don’t stop.

You feel yourself unraveling as lips run along your shoulder, the same lips you couldn’t stop thinking about. You close your eyes, whimpering, scared to look behind you and either confirm your delusions or become utterly lost in them.

You pull your fingers out, circling your clit, thinking of how good it feels to have Yoongi pressed against your back, his cock up between your legs.

The way he would be so merciless when he pushes his cock inside you, pulling your leg up higher to angle himself deeper.

You moan, feeling so full it makes your head spin.

The way his fingers would explore your body, gripping you like he owns you, pinching your nipples, pulling at your hips, pressing down on your tongue.

This fantasy feels so real, all that’s missing is…

“Can’t help yourself, greedy slut, can you? You ever wonder why that is, y/n?”

You cry out, focusing on the piercing drag of his cock against your walls. “Aw does it hurt? I told you, I would hurt you.”

He slams into you over again, water splashing with every impact against your ass. You struggle to stay standing, clinging to tile. “You’ll take it, though, like a good obedient whore.”

He pulls out, turning you around.

It shocks you how real this fantasy of yours looks. It’s dangerous how effective your thoughts work to rile you up, he’s dangerous.

“Lusting after monsters, you haven’t changed one bit, y/n.”

“I want to stop it,” you admit, shaking against him out of fear and pleasure. “I don’t know how,” you whimper, knowing you can only ever really have him like this, a twisted version of your boss you made up for yourself. It’s shameful and sickening.

“Because you’re mine. Look at you,” he tuts, “Your soul weeps for me,” he presses his fingers inside your dripping cunt, “But I want more than that, you understand?”

“What?” you stutter out.

He kisses you roughly, swallowing your whines. You close your eyes, lost to pleasure as his tongue rolls over your neck, sucking. You can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, fingers tangling in his wet hair, succumbing to your delusion.

“Devotion. Your sweet devotion, give me your that, and you won’t need to do anything else ever again.”

---

Tap tap tap.

Click Click Click.

What?

Wait. Wait.

You stand up suddenly, startling those working around you. You look around, scanning the familiar setting over and over again.

Afraid you’ll start a scene you turn your heel and walk quickly to the bathroom.

Only when you’re alone and have caught your breath do you go to the mirror and stare at your reflection.

Your hair is still damp, the collar of your work shirt is wet, fading water droplets across your jacket and skirt.

And your panties feel wet, sticking to your core.

Shit, you think, noticing your smudged makeup. How long have you looked like this? You grab paper towels quickly, rubbing away the lipstick smudged under your lip, trying to gather your thoughts together.

What was happening to you? Why can’t you remember how you got here?

You massage your temples, feeling dizzy. There has to be an explanation, you just have to look for it.

But...

...unfortunately, right now you have work to do.

You sit at your desk, chewing on crackers, contemplating the idea that you might be going completely insane.

Your cell buzzes. ‘Sixth floor meeting room. Now.’

It’s your boss of course. You can’t face him right now. You turn off your cell, nibbling on your nails in your anxiousness.

This isn’t normal, something is very wrong with you. You end up back in the bathroom, trying to retrace your steps, figuring out the minutes that were escaping you. You turn on the faucet, wetting a towel, running the wet paper across your forehead to calm yourself.

You catch your reflection again, except this time, there are two.

Another person, behind you, staring back.

An image of a devil.

A beautiful devil.

Smiling wickedly behind you, an image of a man so haunting you forget how to breathe.

You scream.

Before you can turn around and confront your worst nightmares the bathroom door bursts open, familiar hands wrapping around your wrists and pulling you away.

Yoongi is pissed.

You can tell as he drags you along, not stopping until you are back in his office.

His nails dig into your elbow, pulling you possessively closer to him. “Missing him?!”

You shake your head frantically. Miss who? Not...

Whoever that was...no, you didn’t want to think about it anymore!

You whimper, feeling weak and dizzy.

“Oh poor little y/n,” Yoongi tuts, “you just need some more rest.”

---

“What do you think you’re doing, my friend?” Jimin asks. “You’re not usually this persistent.”

Yoongi yawns, undoing his tie. “I want her longer.”

Jimin laughs, so loud it would have surely woken you up if it weren’t for Yoongi’s effect on your body. “Fine.”

He watches your brow furrow, “I do enjoy watching the fight in her return,” Jimin laughs.

For all the passion Jimin possessed, Jimin was a heartless demon.

Jimin had thoroughly broken you, taken from you until you had nothing left to give and became a boredom to him.

So it was Yoongi’s turn.

“This is a nice little world,” Jimin looks around, flicking the metal name plate in the center of Yoongi’s desk.

“We’re currently not hiring.”

“Oh, don’t be like that!” Jimin whines.

“You can have her back when I’m done.”

Jimin bites his lip in thought. “You’re not lying to me, are you, dear friend?” he asks. “You remember she called out to me first. I can, hmmm, satisfy her the best.”

Jimin’s fingers trail the curves of your body, and even in your slumber your body responds to his touch, writhing in the other demon’s lap. Yoongi holds you loosely, caressing your cheek as you whine softly. Jimin moans at the sight.

Yoongi laughs, “Concerned for her satisfaction, are you?”

Jimin holds up his palms in mock defeat, smirking. “Okay. Then, let me watch.”

---

A soft touch, wet and warm.

You’re too tired to open your eyes, not yet fully awake. Your limbs laid sprawled out, sinking into the thick covers under you, body too sluggish to move. You don’t want to wake up just yet, it feels too good. It feels real good.

You breathe in, turning your head into your pillow, leaning into the softness against your cheek, the warmth rolling over your stomach, the weight on your pelvis. It makes you gasp softly.

Yoongi smiles against your skin, mouth opening to taste you again.

Your body rocks against the soft sheets. You wish to moan, but you can’t. You wish to press your sex closer to the delicious sensation between your legs, but you can’t. If only you could wrap your legs around it, beg for more. But you can only lie sedated in your pleasure, getting wetter and wetter.

---

You wake up restless in your bed, needing to pee. Stumbling through your pitch black room, you search for the light switch, your drowsiness slipping quickly away and being replaced by an anxiousness when you can’t find it.

The darkness frightens you. But even scarier, what could be hiding, terrifies you.

Click.

You decide to keep the lights on when you return.

You lie in bed thinking about him. Min Yoongi, when did he become such an obsession for you?

Maybe you need to find yourself a boyfriend, try dating, you stay home too much. You sigh, realizing how you have spent every other night in bed...fantasizing...instead. You’ve always been alone, but you’re starting to notice the loneliness, and it’s becoming suffocating. You need to go out, appreciate the couple hours of free time in the evening you had after working all day and afternoon. You’re coming to a realization your freedom shouldn't feel so...confining. The four walls of your room feel so close now. When did you become so lazy, so closed off and boring?

The sad realization leaves you even more unwilling to take the risk. Honestly, you should be grateful you have a roof over your head and a meal in your stomach and the luxury of being able to relax at home.

What about your dreams, ambitions?

Shh, you silence that annoying voice inside you. Those aren’t affordable! And take so much more energy than you have right now. But a nicer steak the next time you go shopping, a small joy, could still be an option.

Tomorrow, you’ll buy it tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

Tonight, you’ll take your mind off your troubles.

So you go back to your increasing obsession with your boss.

You breathe in, thinking of the cologne you smelled on him today. Those eyes that narrow when you do something wrong, so sexy, it almost makes you want to make him angry.

You wonder what goes on in his mind when he gets annoyed at you. If he wants to punish you, if he could get away with anything, what kind of punishment would it be? another voice inside you asks.

Bending you over his desk?

Maybe.

Would he find serenity in slaps across your ass? A belt welting your cheeks.

Your previously relaxed limbs seize.

Fuck, it hurts. It hurts so much. There is cold wood against your front and stinging down your back. You can’t help but cry out, leather digging into your wrists.

What?

How?

“Shhhhh. Keep dreaming.”

The leather bands around your wrists hurt. You’re dreaming? Really? But this is too real.

But how else could you explain this situation? Your legs spread open, Yoongi standing in between them as he admires your aching backside.

He runs his fingers over the welts across your ass, making you hiss in pain.

“Let’s keep going, shall we?”

You stay quiet, unable to move, crying out when sharp pain comes back down across your ass.

“Oh, now don’t go regretting this now. You wanted this remember?”

Another slap makes you scream out in pain. You want to wake up now. ‘Wake up!’

“You chose this. You gave away your freedom just like that, dumb girl.”

Another hard smack with his belt has you reeling, legs tightening around Yoongi’s torso as you twist your body in agony. You sob, unable to handle anymore pain.

So Yoongi forces pleasure on you instead with two fingers inserted into your pussy, massaging the throbbing pain away. He slips in and out easily, the wetness that gushed out of you was a shameful reminder that you had been a willing captive. You moan weakly, body tired.

He easily builds up your orgasm, practiced fingers curling into your sex, stroking you inside and out until you’re close to bursting.

Yoongi stops, taking the moment to strike your ass with his messy palm. You shiver and cry out. “P-Please,” you stutter, pulling at your restraints.

Yoongi resumes his ministrations, “Please...Sir,” he reminds you.

“Please, Sir, let me come,” you gasp.

Yoongi turns you around, lifting your restrained hands over your head. He moves so fast you yelp at the sudden movement, only realizing after he lets go that the loud thud you heard was his letter opener sticking into wood and restraining you to his desk.

Your breathe becomes ragged as you lie tied down, body exposed to him. His thumb swipes over your clit, making you cry out his name. He sits, rubbing lazy circles into you, watching your body uncontrollably react. The buildup is achingly slow, steady, reliable, you know your orgasm is approaching and you are ever so close to release, yet Yoongi draws it out, until you feel the pressure in your ears, in you throat, in your feet, in your chest.

If this was another fantasy, it was the best one yet. Yoongi had fire in his eyes, electric movement, a demanding touch. You cum hard, crying out.

It wasn’t over even after your orgasm finished, Yoongi moves in closer, lips kissing your inner thigh. “Stay still, relax,” he smirks when your breath hitches.

You lose your breath all over again when his face rests in between your legs, burying his mouth into your sex. His tongue rolls over your folds, sucks on your abused nub. You clench your jaw and accept his pleasure. Your body pulses over and over again as Yoongi eats you out, your legs and hands going numb, but like Yoongi promised, you felt everything he was giving you, until exhaustion overcame you.

You wake up, still wet. You try not to feel ashamed, but your shame sticks to your core, underwear drenched and stretched as you slept.

Maybe it’s time to look for another job.

“Here’s your reports. And the notes for your next presentation. And-” you hand Yoongi a warm cup of coffee, “-for you. Black, half sugar.”

“Thank you, y/n,” Yoongi grunts, sipping the coffee.

“Thank you, Sir,” you smile, beaming.

Yoongi smiles too. It’s slight, barely there, but you notice the small curl of his lips. “You did well,” he reaches for your waist, pulling you close. “My best girl.”

You smile. “I-” you falter, “Have I…have we always been like this?” you think out loud.

“Does it matter? Doesn’t this feel right?” His hand caresses this inside of your thigh, disappearing under your skirt.

“S-Sir?!”

“Isn’t it nice working for me, why would you want to leave?”

You swallow, trying to sort out your surroundings, the happiness inside you shrinking away.

“Has that always been there?” you ask.

Yoongi glances at the corner of his office, pressing his fingers against your panties, rubbing on your clit through the sheer fabric.

You stare at the relic that didn’t belong there, a golden piano. No, that wasn’t quite right, it was an organ.

Yoongi pulls your gaze back to him, caressing your check. “That poor little mind of yours...” he sighs, tutting. “Why don’t you forget about that and just enjoy yourself? You’re finally starting to be useful to me.”

You can’t help but look for the organ from the corner of your eyes, a cold dripping feeling running down your spine.

Yoongi pulls you into his lap until you’re straddling him, your tight skirt digging into your thighs as you have to widen your legs around him. His mouth latches onto your neck to distract you, licking your clammy skin, sending shivers down you again.

His fingers curl inside your panties, moving the fabric to the side, so he can insert his digits fully. You hold his shoulders for stability, biting down moans.

“This is another dream.”

“Oh have you been dreaming about me?” he smirks.

“No!” you pant, “Yes...I’m dreaming.” His steady pressure moving inside you makes you dizzy, your jaw going slack as you lean into him. You can’t help but widen your legs, giving in to him in your lust. Yoongi takes the opportunity to kiss you, devouring your lips.

A knock on Yoongi’s office door stops his movements.

You stand up quickly, straightening your clothes, looking over at the corner where you could have sworn you had seen the large organ instrument.

“These came in for you, Sir.” A receptionist drops off three packages for him, excusing herself quietly before looking you over, her eyes narrowing at your appearance.

“You can leave now,” he says curtly and she huffs before leaving. He then turns back to you, swiping his fingers across his lips, tongue jutting out to roll over his wet glistening digits.

You pat down your skirt, legs wobbling. This wasn’t a dream?

“Come here.”

“Sir?” You look at the door, closed again, but unlocked.

“Come here, y/n.”

You take one hesitant step closer. Was this really happening? “W-We can’t,” you stutter out. “You can’t-”

“I can do whatever I want,” Yoongi laughs, “I’m the boss, remember? Now, come here.” He moves his chair further away, turning to fully face you, legs spread, a position you’ve only dreamed about.

You wipe the perspiration away from your brow and neck, looking down at his black Oxfords, until you’re finally courageous enough to look Yoongi in the eye, and what a mistake that was.

His eyes held a challenge that you couldn’t back away from. Yoongi was unbuckling his belt, undoing the button of his slacks.

He didn’t say come here this time, his pointer finger only had to draw one small movement to coax you to him.

He pulls you back to his lap easily, lets you clumsily touch him. This was really happening, and your boss seemed to be enjoying himself, acting so much nicer.

The smile he revealed, you believed to show kindness.

You smiled foolishly back, and he patted you head.

You hesitantly moved in for a kiss, pressing your lips softly to him, heart leaping when he opened his mouth for more, tasting his tongue.

The door opens again and you freeze, mortified at your predicament.

“I thought I told you to stay away.”

“You did, but look at her, she’s dripping with lust.”

With your back to the door, you can't see who is behind you, but his smooth sultry voice makes you shudder.

His words feels like daggers, each syllable chiseling away at you, fracturing what was left that held you together, revealing the truth underneath. It hit you like a splash of cold water, like waking up from a dream.

You look down at your hands, grasping tightly onto Yoongi’s shirt. “Father Park?”

“Hmm, not here,” he laughs, hands in his pockets, “Here you can call me Daddy,” he cocks his head, smiling.

Yoongi caresses your check, holding your jaw up when your head lulls to the side. You hear clicking, a belt buckle unfastening.

---

You wake up again in darkness.

That darkness never really left you, did it?

“Why are you doing this to me?” you call out.

The organ player reveals himself. He must have always been there too. “Because this is what you wanted,” he crawls over you, like he’s done countless times before, “what you begged for, prayed for, gave up everything for.”

“No, I didn’t want this,” you stutter out. Who was that woman you became? You barely recognized yourself in her...

Yet there were similarities, you suppose. If you had to recite a list of all your sins, you suppose your lists would look identical. If you had that kind of life, you suppose the path she took would have your footprints as well...

“Am I dead?” you look at your surroundings, soft sheets under you, fabric cascading over your body.

“Dead? No.” Yoongi chuckles. “You exist, y/n. Well, for us, death is just another existence.” Yoongi lies down next to you, arm over your stomach. You should push him away from you, but it’s cold and Yoongi is warmth, a fire lighting up the darkness.

“So I am dead...” you whisper.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Yoongi laughs. Humans can be quite amusing, he thinks. “What if I told you, you’re very much alive. See, the living realm is so much more fun, why would we keep you dead?”

“This place...”

“Welcome home,” Yoongi sighs, head snuggled to your shoulder.

“Is this hell?” you whisper, head heavy and limbs slow.

“No, not yet,” Yoongi smirks, “It’s just a dream. A place we can be alone together.”

“What is Jimin doing to my body?” you ask. You heart pounds, making you dizzy and anxious for the answer.

“Your body? Humans really are funny creatures...What is a body but a vessel to hold what’s really important, your soul, and who owns your soul, y/n?” he asks you. You stay quiet, resisting the answer, the consequence you’ll never escape from. “I will tell you something,” he whispers in your ear, “Your soul is here, with me. I hold it for the time being.” He places his hand over your heart, cupping your breast. “Feels just like it would in the physical world, doesn’t it?” he massages and tugs at the flesh. “Maybe it’s better, if you stay here with me?”

“Stay here, with you?” you repeat, trying to think of anything other than Yoongi’s slow torturous touch. You realize his touch feels familiar, skilled fingers like an old lover’s. You’ve betrayed yourself, over and over again.

You wonder if this is what you’ve become now, traitorous, self-gratifying, weak...did Father Park do this to you? Yoongi? Or was this...ache...void inside you always there, begging to be filled, to be touched?

And Yoongi was so excellent at making you feel whole, feel full of him and nothing else. He hugged you secure like a blanket, hands claiming you, soft and slow, with all the time in the world to make you his.

“If you decide you’d rather, let me have you, instead. Jimin is a master of desire. But we all are very adept at pleasure,” Yoongi smirks. “We can stay here for as long as you like. Your bones can turn to dust, but with me, here, your soul will remain. And you’ll be my Queen.” He kisses you, a slow drag of his lips pressing heavily onto yours making you feel even weaker.

The cascading fabric became tight around you, gold rings fastening it all in place to become a beautiful gown. You noticed Yoongi too wore gold, adorned on a black suit of armor fit for a King.

“Isn’t this what you dream of always?” he asks, a small smile pulling at his lips that made him look unthreatening. You knew better, but those tiny truths were being quieted by your King, who played his role so well, stuck his tongue inside your mouth and muted any lingering objections.

He places his hands on top of yours, stretching your arms upward, holding you in place, tongue taking away your voice. He lies his weight on top of you, kissing too sweetly the stretch of your neck, head nestled in the valley between your breasts, body sinking between your legs, mounting pleasure taking all your doubts away. “You don’t have to worry anymore,” Yoongi lies, “Give up. Give in.”

You try to keep your eyes open.

Yet your eyes flutter shut.

---

“Y/n.”

“Huh?” You turn your head in question.

Yoongi clears his throat, “As I was saying, due to the merger everyone is going to have to buckle down. We have to implement all new procedures, switch operating systems, upgrade the database... Are you listening!”

“Yes? Yes! Yes, Sir.” You sit up straighter, focusing on your boss.

“Expect to be here extra days, at least until everything settles in place.”

“Yes, Sir,” you nod, unsuccessfully trying not to frown.

“Also, since you will be managing twice as many people,” you wince at the thought, “You will have an assistant.”

On cue, there is a knock on Yoongi’s door.

“Hello,” you nod, standing up, forgetting you still had your binder in your lap, and papers scatter all over the floor. Yoongi curses as you quickly pick up your mess.

Your new assistant hands you the last stack of your remaining papers. You thank him, flustered at his kind gesture, your face heating up when you accidently bump his finger with your own.

“Hello,” he grins.

Yoongi lifts you up by the elbow, catching you off guard as you struggle to reorient yourself. “Nice to meet you, um...”

“Park Jimin.” Jimin licks his lips, beaming with excitement. “Hey, boss.”

You watch as the pair clasp hands, exchanging greetings. And a small part of you wonders, how it would feel

if their hands

were touching you instead.

---

So did you catch that y/n was actually reborn, did I fool you? But alas her soul is still theirs u.u

If this reaches 1k then I guess I will write a Mr. Kim version with the Kim trio, cause I’m not making myself suffer like this again for nothing lol :’D

#bts yandere #bts demon au #yandere bts #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #suga smut #suga x reader #bts one shot #bts scenarios #bts fantasy au

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thatdammchickennugget · 6 months

Text

Sweet Escape

pairing -fred weasley x gn!reader

summary - when a disappointing date turns sour, a chance encounter with Fred offers a sweet escape

warnings - sucky date, fluff

wordcount - 1.9k

You stepped into the cozy warmth of Bludger Bites Café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries enveloping you. Hogsmeade was bustling with activity, but tonight, your focus was solely on the date you had eagerly anticipated.

A smile spread across your face as you spotted him, sitting at a corner table.

His name was Marcus, the two of you had been sharing the same charms class this term and a couple days ago, he had surprised you by asking you out.

He looked up as you approached, a charming grin on his face that momentarily eased your nerves. “Hey,” he said, gesturing to the empty chair before returning his attention to whatever he was writing in his notebook. The paper was covered with messy notes, looking suspiciously like arithmancy homework.

As you settled into the chair across from him, you couldn't help but notice the intense concentration etched on his face as he continued scribbling. You cleared your throat softly, hoping to catch his attention. "What are you working on there?"

Marcus glanced up briefly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips before his focus returned to the page. "It's for our arithmancy project," he replied, his voice tinged with pride. "Professor Vector assigned a pretty challenging problem only to the best in the class, and I'm trying to crack it before the deadline."

You nodded, feeling a little awkward just sitting here as he did his schoolwork. "If you want to rain check and do this another time, that's fine by the way. I understand that homework is more important."

He shrugged, "No, don't worry about it."

You tried to fight the frown from taking over your face as he went back to his notes, not even looking up at you. Thankfully, in that moment something else caught your focus as Fred Weasley, with his fiery red hair and mischievous grin, emerged from behind the counter to take your order. You knew Fred worked here on the weekends sometimes, the possibility of seeing your friend here to maybe help take the edge off of your nerves having been one of the reasons you suggested coming here.

"Welcome to Bludger Bites Café! What can I get for you two lovebirds tonight?" Fred quipped, stopping at your table, his eyes twinkling and a lazy smile stretched over his face.

"I'll have a butterbeer, please," Marcus replied, flashing a cocky grin in your direction. “And we’ll need another minute before ordering food.”

"And for you?" Fred turned his attention to you, his smile genuine and inviting.

"Just a hot chocolate, please," you replied, returning his smile gratefully.

"Coming right up! One butterbeer and a hot chocolate," Fred winked, before disappearing behind the counter again.

As Fred went to prepare your drinks, Marcus finally set his homework aside and turned his attention to you. You felt a glimmer of excitement, hoping for a chance to connect beyond the surface level.

"So, how's your week been?" Marcus asked, his tone casual but his eyes still flickering with remnants of his previous intense focus.

"It's been good. Yesterday I finally managed to brew Draught of Everlasting Ember without it exploding in my-" you began, eager to share a funny story from class this week, but Marcus was already speaking again, cutting you off.

"I aced that Transfiguration quiz we had on Tuesday," Marcus boasted, his voice filled with pride. "Professor McGonagall was impressed with my performance, as usual. She even mentioned the possibility of recommending me for an advanced study program next year."

“Oh, that’s amazing-” you tried to say, but Marcus raised his hand to silence you, his attention solely on himself.

"But enough about me," Marcus continued, barely acknowledging your attempt to speak. "Tell me, have you managed to keep up with the reading for Professor Flitwick's class? I know some people struggle with the charms theory, but I find it rather easy."

You felt a surge of frustration bubbling up inside you, the desire to be heard and valued overshadowed by Marcus' relentless self-absorption. But you bit your tongue, as you kept listening to him list his accomplishments of past month

Just as you were beginning to feel disheartened, Fred returned with your drinks, his presence a welcome distraction from Marcus' egoistical ramblings.

"Here you go, one butterbeer and a hot chocolate," Fred announced cheerfully, setting the drinks down on the table.

"Thanks, Fred," you told the redhead and offered him a small smile, Marcus barely sparing him a glance as he took a sip from his drink.

"So, have you decided what you want to eat?" Fred asked the both of you, collecting your menus.

Before you could answer, Marcus was talking again. “I’ll have the Gryffindor Grinder Sub and I’ll take a side of Quaffle Fries with that. She will have the Falmouth Falcons Salad,” he listed off, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair.

You exchanged a helpless glance with Fred before you could stop yourself. “Is that right?” Fred turned the question to you, eyes narrowing slightly to gauge your reaction to your date speaking for you.

"Sure, that sounds good," you said quietly, resigned to going along with his choices.

Fred nodded understandingly before darting back to the counter to place your order, leaving you alone once again with Marcus and his one-sided conversation.

As you sat there, listening to Marcus drone on, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. This wasn't the evening you had envisioned, and Marcus' self-centeredness only served to highlight the stark contrast between him and the charming redhead.

As you sat there, Marcus continued to prattle on about his accomplishments, barely giving you a chance to insert even a word edgewise. You found yourself growing increasingly frustrated, waiting for the evening to finally be over. You caught yourself wondering why you had even agreed to the date in the first place.

Just then, Fred returned with your food, his cheerful demeanor providing a welcome reprieve from Marcus' monologue.

"Here you go, one Gryffindor Grinder and a Falmouth Falcons Salad," Fred said, setting the plates down with a flourish.

"Yeah, thanks," Marcus muttered dismissively, already digging into his food without so much as a glance in Fred's direction.

As Fred turned to leave, he caught snippets of Marcus' conversation, his brow furrowing in concern as he overheard the condescending tone in Marcus' voice.

"…I mean, obviously, some people just don't have the same level of intellect as others," Marcus was saying, his gaze flicking dismissively towards you. “Didn’t McGonagall suggest you find a tutor last term? Yeah, I wouldn’t expect you to understand what I’m talking about.”

Fred couldn't help but feel a surge of indignation on your behalf. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he decided to intervene, determined to lift your spirits and knock your date down a peg or two.

"Ah, mate," Fred chimed in, his tone dripping with mock sincerity as he sauntered back over to your table. "You know, I've always admired your confidence. It takes a special kind of courage to be so boldly oblivious to everyone around you."

Marcus' expression soured at the unexpected jab, but you couldn't help but stifle a giggle at Fred's audacity.

"Excuse me?" Marcus bristled, his tone tinged with annoyance.

Fred shrugged nonchalantly, his grin widening as he leaned in closer. "Just saying, it's impressive how you manage to make arrogance look so effortless. It's almost an art form, really."

You couldn't help but admire Fred's ability to turn the tables on Marcus, his playful banter injecting a much-needed dose of levity into the tense atmosphere.

Marcus opened his mouth to retort, but Fred's comments seemed to catch him off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless.

With a satisfied smirk, Fred sent you a quick wink before turning back to your date. "Well, enjoy your meal. Don't let the Quaffle Fries get cold. And remember, humility is a virtue, not just a word in the dictionary."

As Fred sauntered away, leaving Marcus spluttering in indignation, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards your witty friend. With a subtle nod of appreciation, you thanked him silently for his intervention, knowing that it had lifted your spirits more than you could express.

As you sat there, Marcus continued his tirade, complaining about Fred's audacity and arrogance. But you found yourself tuning him out, your thoughts drifting to the moments that had endeared Fred to you in the first place.

You remembered the countless times he had made you laugh with his witty remarks and mischievous pranks. You recalled the way he always seemed to brighten your day with his infectious enthusiasm and genuine kindness.

And as Marcus' complaints faded into the background, you couldn't help but feel a sense of clarity wash over you. Perhaps this disappointing date had served a purpose after all, helping you to see the stark contrast between Marcus' self-centeredness and Fred's genuine charm.

Eventually, you excused yourself to go to the restroom, needing a moment alone to collect your thoughts. When you returned to the table, Marcus was gone, leaving behind a free dessert with a little note from Fred.

‘Sorry about the interruption. Enjoy the sweet escape. - Fred’

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you read the note, a warmth spreading through your chest at Fred's thoughtful gesture. Quickly finishing up your meal, you made your way outside to wait for Fred to finish his shift.

When Fred finally emerged from the café, he seemed surprised to see you waiting for him. "Hey there," he greeted you with a warm smile. "Didn't expect to see you still here."

You returned his smile, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you in his presence. "I wanted to thank you again for earlier," you said, gratitude evident in your voice.

Fred waved off your thanks with a casual shrug. "Ah, no problem at all. Just doing my job, you know."

But you could see the genuine concern in his eyes, and you knew his kindness went beyond mere obligation.

"I appreciate it nonetheless," you insisted, your heart swelling with fondness for your friend.

As you walked together towards the castle, you found yourself opening up to Fred about the disappointing evening with Marcus. You admitted that you had been so excited about finally going on your first date that you hadn't stopped to consider who it was with.

Fred listened attentively, his expression sympathetic as you recounted your experience. "Well, the bloke was a right git," he remarked with a shake of his head.

You couldn't help but laugh at Fred's choice of words. "Yeah, he wasn't exactly what I was hoping for," you admitted with a rueful smile.

Fred paused for a moment, his gaze searching yours. "Well, you deserve so much better than that," he said earnestly. "Someone who actually listens to you and treats you with the respect you deserve."

"Thank you, Fred," you said softly, feeling a lump form in your throat.

Fred flashed you a grin, his eyes sparkling the same way they did after a successful prank. "Hey, how about we make up for that disaster of a date with a proper one? Just you and me, no interruptions or egotistical wankers."

A surge of excitement bubbled up inside you at the prospect of spending more time with him and you quickly nodded, cursing yourself for not being able to look more casual about this. "I'd like that," you replied, a smile spreading across your face.

Fred Taglist - @urmomsgirlfriend1 @starsval @whoknowsbut @gayforyelena @marauderswhxre @ravenclawprincess33 @Yhiiil @niktwazny303 @themarauderswife7 @moonlightreader649 @iamaslytherin0 @marsbars09 @rinalouu @pinkestfloyd @acourtoflostandwanderingstars @catiwinky @captainstanksblog @istill-dream-ofyou @andrew-and-flower @v-e-r-t21 @poppysrin @frogtape @laniirackssss @bshwrites @@slytherinambitious @notyaslol @c0rnf1akessss

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keqism · 2 years

Text

⎯⎯ 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 ⊰

.࿔ feat. xiao + gn. reader

.࿔ premise. letters from the heart are always written in gold.

.࿔ cw. fluff, college au, meet cute, a single virginity joke

.࿔ notes. utterly in love with xiao, please come scream about him with me

Despite popular belief, the library is never silent.

It's a muted cacophony of rustling pages, the creaking of chairs, and the occasional soggy sneeze from the unfortunate soul who caught the latest virus on campus. But fortunately for you, it's the right amount of noise needed to focus. You're tucked away into the back corner, notebooks hazardously strewn across the table. Your only companion is a lukewarm cup of iced coffee, condensation running down the sides and forming a puddle that threateningly inches toward your papers.

Today, the library is unusually empty; the seats at your table are vacant. It's a blessing to you—fewer eyes to witness your silent paroxysm of stress. With multiple deadlines approaching (underlined in three different colors in your agenda), you can feel the exhaustion catching up to you. It's your fault, really, for procrastinating. But in your book, the early bird doesn't get the worm, and things turn out better with a deadline chasing after you.

Nevertheless, procrastination or not, the stress was taking a toll on your mind, and as you slam your head against the table in frustration, you feel tears well up in your eyes.

Amidst your breakdown, you hear timid footsteps approach your corner and look up, forehead aching from hitting your head against the table. The sight in front of you takes your breath away.

The boy before you is beautiful.

Snowflakes litter his hair like powdered sugar on dark chocolate, dampening the dark strands. Large hands awkwardly grip the straps of his backpack as he lingers in front of you, burrowing his nose into his emerald green scarf as a cold draft comes in from the windows. The only part of his face left unhidden are his eyes: golden, lined with dark lashes and a light dusting of red eyeshadow—golden eyes that now meet your gaze.

You feel your heart skip a beat. And then it skips another beat when he speaks.

"Can I sit here?" he mumbles, gesturing towards the empty seat across from you. You nod, scrambling to gather your haphazard mess of papers and frantically push them onto your side of the table. Something fragrant floods your senses as he sits down; soft notes of vanilla and amber drown out the dusty smell of the library, clearing the fog in your head. Taking a sip from your watered-down coffee, you watch as he pulls his laptop out of his bag, a myriad of colorful neon sticky notes covering its gray exterior. You sneak a brief look at them.

"Email Prof. Zhongli back ASAP"

"Lunch with Kazu and me tomorrow 2PM, don't forget!! — the better friend >:)" (scribbled in glittery purple ink)

"XIAO YOU THIEF DID YOU TAKE MY POETRY BOOK??"

The last note makes you choke on your coffee, an unattractive cough escaping your lips. Golden eyes glance up in surprise, but concern quickly melts into amusement when he sees your shoulders shake with laughter. You awkwardly clear your throat and duck your head behind your laptop screen. But curiosity eats away at you, and when you peer up at him, you see his cheeks flush red and a small smile curve on his lips.

Something in your stomach flutters.

His name is Xiao, you later learn, and you know exactly three things about him.

ONE

An intricate pattern of green decorates his right arm, but it's usually kept hidden in the sleeve of his sweatshirt. You've seen it exactly once, when the air conditioning in the library broke one day. Xiao had grudgingly shed his jacket when the heat got unbearable, leaving him in just a white T-shirt.

You could have sworn that the temperature in the room got hotter when you caught sight of the green ink.

TWO

Every Tuesday, his friends accompany him to the library—not to study, it seems, but to serve as a distraction for both you and Xiao. The one who sits to his left is Venti, and also who you consider the library's worst nightmare. Rather than working, he chooses to talk Xiao's ear off and scroll through his phone. But although he glares at Venti during the entirety of their stay, you can tell that Xiao doesn't really mind his presence.

To his right sits Kazuha, literature major and Xiao’s roommate. Unlike Venti, he's rather quiet, spending his time scribbling in an incredibly worn-down notebook, leaving you wondering what stories he could be weaving within its covers. He's pretty, you think. If you weren't enamored by Xiao, you would have gone after him.

They're an odd mix but it somehow works: Kazuha proofreads everyone's papers (and nearly loses his mind when he sees Xiao's). When Xiao and Kazuha are visibly stressed, it's Venti who pesters them until the tension in their shoulders relaxes. And when Kazuha's just about had it with Venti, Xiao's the one who holds him back until he calms down.

In your opinion, they're quite entertaining to watch, albeit a little distracting.

THREE

Despite his aloof exterior, Xiao is endearingly shy.

You've never had a proper conversation with him; a small nod and a smile are sufficient enough for both of you. But as the months slowly pass by, he comes out of his shell—like a stray cat, you muse.

Behind his stern gaze and intimidating aura, Xiao is sweet and attentive. When you caught a nasty cold during exam season, he made sure to pack a box of tissues just for you. When your stomach makes embarrassing noises in the evenings, he slides a granola bar across the table without a word. And once, when you accidentally fell asleep with your nose buried in a textbook, you woke up hours later to a familiar sweatshirt tucked under your head and a note stuck on your laptop screen that read "good luck on your exams, you can do this".

You tucked the note into your nightstand later that day.

Your friendship isn't one-sided, though. Your fancy highlighters always end up on his side of the table, colorful ink decorating his neat handwriting. When his phone dies (and it often does; it's rather old) and his eyes pleadingly look your way, you're already handing your portable charger to him. Oftentimes, your extra hair tie makes its way from your bag and into his messy hair, holding the strands up into a bun. And on some days, Xiao arrives at the library to find a cup of coffee waiting for him at his seat—iced caramel macchiato with extra vanilla syrup.

Slowly, something more than a friendship blooms—something filled with quick, bashful glances and soft smiles. And although the warm, fluttering feeling in your chest is hard to ignore, the two of you are too shy to address it.

Today is different, though.

He's late—it's a quarter after six when Xiao scurries into the library. And instead of sitting across from you like he usually does, he slumps into the chair next to you.

You watch the flustered boy pull his laptop out, your brows furrowing in confusion when you notice the lack of the usual obnoxiously vibrant sticky notes stuck onto the lid. Instead, there's a single blue square covered in writing.

"You can do it Xiao!!"

"OUR BABY XIAO GREW SOME BALLS"

"RIP to Xiao's virginity!!"

The last note was furiously scribbled out in black ink.

Today feels different because Xiao appears to be very nervous: his left knee bounces under the table, jolting against the leg of his chair. A sheen of sweat beads on his forehead and he refuses to make eye contact with you—even when you wave hello.

"Hi," you smile. He nervously meets your gaze for a second before glancing away, mirth glittering in your eyes like the sun's reflection in the summer sea.

"Hello," he mutters, and he attempts to smile back, although he's sure it looks more like a grimace. He awkwardly clears his throat, raking his hands through his hair while he tries to collect himself.

"Xiao, are you okay?" you ask, and he nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, knocking your cup of coffee all over the desk.

"Oh," he gasps, scrabbling to save his laptop and your papers from the growing puddle of caffeine. You mop up the spill with some spare napkins and try to reassure him, but your words fall on deaf ears.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," he stammers. "I was going to ask you out but I got nervous and—"

Realizing what he was saying, he snaps his mouth shut in embarrassment and slams his head against the desk, cradling his head in his arms and praying to every deity to erase his existence while you hold back your laughter. Xiao is usually ever so composed; seeing him so flustered is rather endearing.

A soft touch to the back of his hand interrupts his prayers, startling him. He peeks out from the protection of his arms to see a pink sticky note stuck to his skin. You're smiling, and the sight is enough to feed the butterflies in his stomach. The setting sun bathes the room in a soft golden glow; time feels like molten honey as Xiao slowly reads the note.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

if it's hard to talk, we can always text :)

Something in him warms at the sight of your handwriting, and he finally looks up to meet your eyes. A real, genuine smile dances on his lips, and he hears your breath catch.

Golden eyes always looked prettier under the sun, after all.

.࿔ notes. big thank you to aly, kyo, and xin for beta reading!!

#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #genshin impact fluff #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao fluff #genshin impact x reader #xiao x you #genshin impact

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ariellewm · 4 months

Text

"The Guardian Merman" A Short Story by Arielle W.M.

Author's Note: This was my first ever short story shared to the world on my Wattpad. I figured I'd share on here as well. Originally, I was planning on expanding the story further, possibly as a novel. This portion of the story would've taken place in the middle if I had worked out the story more.

Summary: Aria Woods had been using her parents' natatorium after business hours for studying. Little did she know, she wasn't alone. An otherworldly, beautiful song vibrates throughout the facility. Aria had heard of this song before, two years ago to be exact. She explores the natatorium, hoping to find the mysterious being that is using the facility.

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

Dusk descended on the small coastal village of Jade. Local attractions in town began to close for the evening, including the family-operated Olympic natatorium. During the warmer months, it served as a facility for swimming tournaments and a place for families to bring their children to learn to swim. An Olympic-sized pool with a diving area was at the center, along with a small splash pad that children enjoyed. Many youngsters were spending the waning rays of daylight splashing and swimming in the cool, turquoise waters. A sudden announcement would be made over the intercom, notifying visitors that the natatorium would be closing for the evening. The whines of adolescents filled the complex. Spring vacation has officially ended.

The last of the families exited the building, with the parent’s daughter locking the front doors. Arianna, who also went by the nickname of Aria, occasionally volunteered at the natatorium, answering emails, checking in visitors, and registering them for swimming lessons. After her breakup with her ex-boyfriend of two years, helping at the facility kept her distracted. He was found cheating on Aria with another who came from the big city. The drama of it all had caused an uproar in the little town, which died down, as in most cases. This, however, wasn’t the real reason she helped at her parent’s natatorium.

The facility after closure provided her a quiet place to study undisturbed. Sure, there was the library just a few blocks away, and the neighborhood coffee shop was another option. Unfortunately, the library had already closed for the day and the coffee shop had closed earlier in the day. And with a house full of screaming and bickering siblings, studying at home wasn’t an option either. So, she persuaded her father to let her stay after dark some nights to study and finish any leftover college homework she had.

The phone on the circular desk rang, alerting Aria as she closed the reception area. She picked up the phone after the second ring and said, “Hello?”

“How late are you staying tonight, missy?” Her father asked over the phone.

Tugging her cardigan sleeve, she exposed her leather watch, which showed the time of 6:32pm, “I probably won’t be back until close to midnight.” Aria’s deadline for her essay on increasing water levels was Tuesday. She was close to being finished but needed more time to finalize everything before submitting it to her professor.

“I thought you’d be done with that research paper by now.” Her father said, “It’s getting close to that deadline.”

“I’m aware.” She sighed.

Ever since taking an interest in oceanography, she never realized how difficult her classes would be. Already within the first few months of the spring semester she’d written more than in the entirety of high school.

Aria tucked one side of her wavy brown hair behind her ear, staring at the open binder in front of her. She flipped through her written work, “I’m almost done. I just need to put down my conclusion and type it all out.” Aria shut her binder, staring blankly at the nearly empty parking lot in front. The family had just finished loading cargo and had begun to start up the car.

“All right—just text me when you do leave. You know how I am when you stay out late.”

“Yes, dad.”

“I’m leaving through the back. Don’t stress yourself too much.” Aria hung up the phone. Finally, she could work in peace at last.

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

Aria had moved upstairs to her father’s office soon after the sun had completely set. The oak desk had plenty of space for her laptop and papers, along with a far more comfortable chair to sit in. The view of the rocky beach lit by the moonlight from the office was equally breathtaking. It was a full moon and was clear enough to watch the stars dance in the night sky. But she had a paper to finish, stargazing would have to wait.

“No... this won’t do…” She aggressively pressed the backspace key repeatedly, not satisfied with her last paragraph. Leaning back against the leather chair, she studied the last few hours of everything she had typed on the document on the laptop. Her eyes lingered on the corkboard in the corner of the office, where her parents’ excursion photos were pinned. They’ve traveled all different parts of the world, learning about different cultures and trying unique cuisines. As a family, they rarely ever got to travel outside of their state. She longed to see what lied beyond the rocky shores, exploring the oceans and seas.

She groaned in frustration, rubbing her head until her cellphone interrupted her thoughts. It vibrated against the oak, its screen facing down. Aria picked it up, accessing the home screen. “Huh, how long has it been since I last looked at my phone?” Aria noticed a message alert from one of her best friend’s, Katheryn. Opening the message to read,

Hey Aria! Haven’t heard from you in a while! Hope you’re doing ok! :D Was hoping to get you out to join us for karaoke tonight at the bar! I’m also inviting Kai out as well :) Let me know if you want to come! :D

Kai was another of Aria’s best friends in her small circle. He was still new to the small harbor community. He was well-known in the small town for his activities such as beach clean-ups and helping at the town’s monthly farmers markets with Aria.

Why am I not surprised? Aria slightly blushed at the thought, shaking her head. This wasn’t the first time Kat attempted in inviting Kai out. He wasn’t the type to go out late and party like the rest of her friends. Kat always sensed something between the two of them, even when Aria was still with her ex.

Aria had started working on her assignment when the message was sent. It was nearly 10 o’clock when she glanced at the digital clock on the desk. She’d have no chance of finishing and going out with her friends as much as she wanted to. She instantly texted back,

Heyyyyyyyyy! I’m sorry not replying. This class is kicking my ass with this assignment. Maybe we can meet up for coffee tomorrow? I’ll pay this time :)

Sending the message, she continued with the other notifications that had popped up during her time writing. Likes, app updates, reminders about the essay… She rolled her brown eyes at the thought of the reminder, oh wait...what’s this? Aria spotted a memory post that her mother had tagged in. She clicked on the status, which led her to a local news website with an article from two years ago,

21st Birthday Celebration Turns Horror

What was meant to be a memorable celebration turned out to be a nightmare filled bash. A rented yacht filled with young adults was trapped in a sudden, unreported storm. The massive yacht was struck by lightning, according to eyewitnesses aboard, causing some to fall overboard.

Arianna Woods was one of many victims who fell off the yacht and was lost at sea when help arrived. She was later discovered washed ashore hours earlier, unhurt. “What a miracle!” Doug, Arianna’s father, wept during the interview after the update on her daughter’s survival, “We thought she was taken by the ocean. Were just glad Aria’s safe and unharmed.”

The remainder of the article focused on the others that survived. Scrolling down the page, she spotted that there happened to be an update a week after the incident. It read,

We are given word that a witness had spotted something swimming away from the victim. This short clip was recorded and sent to our channel agents as well as YouTube. Many believe that this was edited to appeal to a broader audience...

Her eyes were drawn to the brief video, and she clicked on the play button. It showed her lying on the sand, gradually waking up from the emergency personnel alerts. She replayed it back, noticing the blurry figure in the water swimming away from her. Her attention was drawn to the color, as it had an unusual red hue to it.

Katheryn had replied,

I figured tonight you’d want to release some tension after dealing with that jackass of an ex.

She just HAD to bring that up… Aria’s stomach dropped at the mention of her ex. Just then, another text was quickly sent,

Prob not a good time to mention “him’” :( I’m sorry.

I’m doing better now. I should get back to my essay though. She lied through her texts. Her head was overwhelmed with memories from her last relationship, Aria imagined herself once more. At the restaurant where they were to celebrate their two-year anniversary. Instead, she witnesses him with another woman, happily enjoying each other’s company. A twinge of rage and loss causes her to storm out, run to her car, and storm off.

Aria put her phone down, screen turned off, so she wouldn’t be distracted. Her fingers slid across the keyboard, attempting to type anything down. All that her mind could think of was her broken heart, shattered and slowly being put back together.

“Argh!” Great, my train of thought is a mess! She mumbled to herself, Perhaps I should go over my notes again and—

A honeyed berceuse reverberated throughout the building, all the way to her father’s office. It was beautiful yet hypnotizing. For some reason, it sounded familiar to Aria. “This voice,” she closed her eyes, breathing more slowly, “where have I heard this before? It’s so...so…”

Slowly, the silver moans ceased. Having broken free from its intoxicating spell, Aria opened her eyes and shook her head. “Come on, Aria, the place is probably haunted like everyone says it is in town.” No one had ever died at her father’s natatorium, though. At least, that’s what her father told her. “You are so close to finishing this essay…” Attempting once more, her fingers gently tapped at the keyboard. She took a deep breath and was about three words in when the angelic soughs coaxed her once more.

Aria’s eyes fell, leaning back against the leather chair. Focusing on the vocals, it was masculine, yet at the same time, soothing. As quickly as it started, Aria sighed as the singing faded, “Maybe dad forgot to turn the speakers off.” Knowing her father, he always had the tendency to forget things. Searching through her father’s drawer, she found a spare small black flashlight along with an extra set of keys to open the main doors to the pool area.

It could also be teenagers who managed to sneak in to utilize the pool. This would happen a lot during the summer months, with her dad spotting a pile of used towels and empty bottles of beer lying on the marble flooring every morning. He got so furious that he installed surveillance cameras around the facility, including the pool area. At least in her understand, there hadn’t been any incidents of break-ins since.

Her sandals clapped on her way down the stairs through the long corridor. The enticing voice echoed yet again. The sound was getting stronger by the time she got toward the main entrance to the pool area. She fumbled with the multiple sets of keys, finally pressing the silver key into the door’s hole. As she slowly opened one side of the heavy door forward, a loud clank was sounded. The flashlight pointed inside the pool area. And just as she did, the ethereal lullaby ended.

“Hello? Is anybody here?” Aria stepped inside, allowing the heavy door behind to shut loudly. Her light scanned the large space. The rectangular, massive pool was dimly lit, quiet and still with no sign of anybody having been in the water. The moonlight hung above the circular glass ceiling above, providing some light on the water’s surface. Aria made her way down the pool edge, every few seconds pointing the light at the bleachers next to her. Each row was empty, with no signs of extra clothing or trash left about. Her light then focused on one of the many security cameras that pointed directly at the pool. Something seemed off,

Does Dad realize that he never turned them on once he installed them? Aria decided to check the other cameras. Every single one of them had no light indicating that they were on. Dad is not going to be happy about this…

Her back was turned when her ears caught up on something that had breached the surface moments before diving back in. Startled by the unexpected disturbance, she quickly directed the light at the water. What the hell was that? She puzzled herself. Aria’s gaze caught on to the glow in one corner of the pool. It wasn’t the usual violet light that emitted from the pool, but rather it had a ruby shimmer. She approached the strange glow. Whatever it was had stayed submerged in the water, staying still. Aria was rather impressed with the fact that it could keep its breath in. Her flashlight flickered before completely going out on her. She hit it multiple times to see if it would turn itself back on, which it didn’t. Damn it. No.

Deciding to investigate more, she leaned in closer to the pool. She was careful not to slip into the abyss, for the pool was very deep. Through her eyes, she couldn’t tell if she was looking at a tail of a gigantic red fish or a large red sea serpent. The rippling water made it challenging to tell as she examined it. Small bubbles floated up to the surface as the creature quickly swam toward the human. Aria stumbled backward, landing on her buttocks on the hard marble floor. She was out of breath, dazed and terrified. The creature that had breached the surface was no ordinary fish, it seemed more humanoid than anything she’d ever seen.

It turned its muscular upper frame towards the frightened Aria. She quickly drew back toward the bleachers, still in awe of its presence. Her thin cardigan was tinged with the coolness of the steel against her back, not helping with the goosebumps that soon developed. There was no doubt in her mind that the humanoid was male. He had a well-defined chest and broad shoulders. The creature had ears that protruded like fish fins, like an elf. The glowing golden eyes that stared down at Aria were almost enough to pull her in. She was certain that this creature, this thing, had been the one that lured her here. Now that it got her attention, Aria’s mind thought of what this creature might do to her next. Scenarios from horror films started to cross her mind, where the girl is snatched up by the monster. Aria gulped at the thought of it.

Slowly swimming toward her, it was getting closer to the pool edge. She flung the dead flashlight at the creature, hoping to keep it at bay. It noticed the object and dived back into the water, quickly avoiding it. The flashlight splashed hard in the water as the ‘monster’ rose back up, turning to see the flashlight gently float to the bottom. It turned back to Aria, “H-hey, what was that for, huh?” Confusion filled its golden eyes, blinking before pointing behind him, “You could’ve knocked me out with that.”

It spoke up. Aria was left transfixed by the fact that the creature had just spoken in her language. Her stomach dropped and her heart began to race. She finally let out a cry of fright, “Ahhh!”

“Sssshhh!” The monster shushed her, “What’s the matter with you?”

“Y-you can talk?!” Aria stuttered, still frozen in place.

“Of course, I can—listen, will you just—”

“You were going to eat me!”

“No,” he sighed, annoyingly, “I wasn’t going to eat you. I don’t eat your kind. I was just going to—hey!” Aria had discovered a stack of towels behind the bleacher behind her and threw one of them at the creature. It managed to hit him as it dropped into the pool, absorbing the water. “Will you just listen to me, Aria!”

Her mouth dropped open, “H-how do you know my name?” She swore she heard him curse under his breath before speaking up.

“Aria, come on, it’s me…”

Still slightly confused, she pulled herself up from the bleacher behind. Her consciousness noticed familiar details in the “monster” from its tanned complexion to his once gold-dazzling eyes fading into a deep hazel. His slick, dark brown hair was in a loose man bun. Upon closer inspection she spotted glimpses of crimson scales around his clavicle and toned arms. His upper arms also had smaller fins like his tail fins, gold fading to back at the tip.

His charming face was lit up with a warm smile. That smile alone made Aria realize who the strange sea creature was, “No—no it can’t be…”

“Yes…”

KAI?! She couldn’t believe it. Her best friend of two years was the “monster”?! Stunned by the revelation, Aria drew back slightly. It almost felt as if her skin felt paler than before, “I-I…”

“Listen, I know this is all new, but if I explain…”

“You have to go!”

“Wait, what?!” Her best friend watched as she weakly walked back toward the double doors. Kai frowned, “No, no please! Argh, just...wait Aria, come on! I haven’t explained myself yet!” He swam gracefully to catch up with her as she made her way down the pool’s edge.

“Explain what? That throughout our friendship, you never bothered to tell me you’re a mermaid that’s been using my father’s facility.”

“MerMAN.” Kai corrected, getting closer to the latter of the pool.

Aria began to fumble with the keys, continuing down to the end of the space, “However you got in, you better get yourself out. You’re lucky the cameras aren’t working—or however long they haven’t been working. God forbid they’d see what I just saw. A mermai—merman...in a natatorium, of all places! They’d think I’m nuts!” She had her back turned, closing in on the door. Just as her hand pulled at the handle, something moist and smooth held her forearm. Swiftly, she turned to notice Kai was out of the water, back to his normal human self… bare.

Aria blushed cherry, turning away, “DUDE!”

Kai, realizing he was naked, covered himself quickly with his hands, “S-sorry! My kind can’t exactly blend what we wear when we transform. Our clothes will— “

“I get the point.” Aria stopped him going into further detail.

His attention was immediately diverted to the remaining towel. With one hand still covering himself, he awkwardly grabbed it and turned around to wrap it around his hips. Aria shifted her gaze back at her friend for a brief period as he did so. She noticed his well-structured back, his muscles flexing slightly. He certainly had the physique of a model, she had to admit, after seeing him shirtless. When Kai swung around, Aria quickly looked away and went back to opening the door.

He begs her again, “Please Aria, I really ought to explain myself.” He gestured to the bleachers.

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Kai went on to explain how his kind had been living among humans for quite some time. Many of them migrate every so often to new countries since they age slower compared to humans. He’d been to many countries, mainly ones near the oceans and seas. When they reach human ‘preteen’ years, they can form legs to travel on land. The only issue is that every full moon, they must visit large bodies of water or risk becoming ill overtime.

Throughout his conversation, Aria was puzzled by one thing, “Of all places, why the natatorium?” It made one side of her brow rise. “You do realize that there’s a massive ocean at your discretion?”

“You know the fable of the merfolk luring lost souls to their deaths?” Kai said, his gaze fixed on the pool.

“Y-yeah?”

“It’s not entirely true.” Kai answered, “We utilize our vocals to help people lost at sea. The sirens, our darker cousins, are the ones to be concerned about.” He appeared uneasy while speaking about their species; his brows furrowed, “The sirens have a far higher, more seductive voice than we do. I’ve seen them use it firsthand. The humans succumb to their will, killing them in the process.” Aria felt goosebumps run down her arms and up to her neck. She couldn’t imagine being possessed by a siren. Even the notion of being ensnared horrified her.

Kai straightened himself, his gaze set on the moon, “I discovered this place to shield my voice from others. Every full moon, I’d fill it with music. And tonight, I drew you here.”

“Well, at the very least, you’re not a siren creep. I would’ve been dead by now.” Aria spoke up.

“Yeah, and if I wasn’t there to save you the second time around ag—shit.” Kai stopped himself.

Aria cocked her head to the side, “Huh?”

“Nothing,” Kai coughed, shrugging off what he just said, “it’s nothing.”

There was stillness in the room. Aria’s mind began to wonder what Kai had meant by saving her a second time. She’d known him for a while now, but what events had he been there for her? There was the second encounter with her ex with another woman, Kai shielding her away from them. But what on earth was she in such dire need of help that she almost died? Then it hit Aria like someone had tripped her into the deepest of oceans.

A flashback made its way to her mind many years ago, an event she never wanted to relive again. “Oh my god,” she muttered to herself as she rose from the bleacher. Aria took a moment before turning herself around, facing Kai, “It was you… you were the one who rescued me.”

“Aria—I—.”

“It was you!” Aria placed both hands on her forehead. I can’t believe it. After all this time, I wasn’t losing it!

“Aha, ha,” She laughed to herself, “This is absolutely insane!”

“Aria?”

“I thought I had too much sea water at the time of what I saw. To convince the authorities of what I truly saw that day.” Her mind had flashbacks of her talking with the reporters, trying to hide her secret about the mysterious man. She knew any mention of it would’ve caused a stir within the community.

Kai slowly rose out of the bleacher as she continued, “That video that went viral—that was real! Someone really did see something in the water! Oh, God—.” Her stomach suddenly twisted from the overwhelming realization that something else happened that day. She covered her mouth and gasped at the thought of it. Kai was growing worried for her, “Aria? Are you—”

Her eyes moved up to Kai’s, removing her hand, “M-my first kiss…” She pressed her fingers against her lips, “was with a merman?” She could remember the silky touch of lips touching hers right before losing consciousness. She lost her footing from behind.

“ARIANNA!” Kai reached out just as Aria had lost balance, falling into the frigid water. A big splash resonated throughout the natatorium. She flared her arms up, attempting to stay afloat moments after she hit the water. Struggling, she then began to sink into the depths.

“Shit!” Kai quickly removed the towel wrapped around his waist and dove in to rescue her a second time.

“You’re studying the oceans, yet you still don’t know how to swim?”

It was true; Aria had never learned how to swim. Especially in the deep end. Her eyes blinked rapidly before being startled by Kai’s appearance, who had a hold of her in the water, bridal style. His merman form was present along with the slits in his upper neck and gills, enabling him to breathe underwater.

“Hey, hey, hey—it’s alright.” He calmly spoke, taking care not to lose his grip on her, “I’ve got you.” Swimming toward the latter, as they got closer, Aria leaned into the railings. Her shaky arms were still in an aftershock, almost drowning a second time. She gripped the cool iron rails, pulling herself up from Kai’s strong arms. Turning around, she sat upon the marble, her feet still on the second step of the latter. The natatorium’s air conditioning was blasting chilly air into the room, and her clothes began to grow cold on her. Aria’s chattering teeth and shaky hands struggled as she took off the sticky, wet cotton cardigan off, throwing it to the side.

Aria began pressing her bare hands against her wet skin, attempting to keep warm. It felt like she had turned into an icicle from how cold her father had kept the pool’s temperature at. It must’ve been nice earlier for people enjoying the icy water during the day. Goosebumps were seen along her arms and legs, still having a hard time keeping warm.

“Oh, you’re freezing. Here,” He pulled his arms out of the water, his hands hovering near her, “Let me pull the water out.”

“What are you...” Aria’s eyes widened. Streams of water were coming off her body. Right before her eyes, she couldn’t believe it. Kai’s hands were extracting the water as one was twirling an orb of water. Her garments, which were completely soaking wet, had reverted to their previous dry appearance. His hand and fingers lifted, drawing his gaze to Aria’s drenched locks. Slowly, her hair was smooth and dry as the water evaporated out of her. The prolonged stream of liquid from her hair had gathered into the clear orb, plunging back into the water.

“Y-You’re a water bender?” Aria was amazed by the revelation.

“I am. Almost every merman and mermaid wield this sort of power.” “Interesting.” Aria leaned back, her arms behind her.

“So yeah,” Kai changed the subject, “I was the one who saved you that day.” He swam beside the latter, one arm on the marble and the other wrapped around the railing. “At the time, I was just passing through the Atlantic.”

“Traveling from where?” Aria questioned.

“The Azores—and before that, Sicily, the Greek islands—I’ve pretty much been around the world twice in my life.” Kai was staring out toward the pool once more, and Aria was taken aback by how much he’d seen. She longed to one day travel outside her modest seaside harbor town. Aria was envious of him.

He returned his attention to Aria, who looked to be staring into the now calming ripples, “I hadn’t seen a human for many weeks at sea, so seeing a yacht full of people piqued my attention. I was hidden from the human eye, so no one would notice me. Then, just as I was about to keep moving, I noticed you.” As memories poured in, he grinned, “You were so vibrant and cheerful, dancing and singing with your friends. It almost made me want to join in. Then those scheming sirens showed up.” He tensed, eyebrows furrowed, thinking of the horrible turn of events.

“It was them?”

“Sirens have a stronger connection to magic than most merpeople like myself. Not only with their vocals, but they are known to summon storms and lightning at their will.” That would explain the random lightning strike on the yacht that day. Aria reflected, thinking back on that day. After that moment, she remembered falling overboard into the depths below.

“As I was defending the humans, I quickly noticed you in the abyss. Two males were coming after you—I couldn’t let them get to you. I raced over to your aid, using my water bending to push them aside.” Kai’s cheeks flushed unexpectedly, scratching the back of his neck, “And that’s when I kissed you.” Aria’s head shot up, returning her attention as Kai added, “It was for survival purposes—enabling those we kiss to breathe underwater.”

He continued, “I carried you back to shore and soon after made sure you weren’t badly injured. To my surprise, you weren’t. But because of what happened, your body was suddenly in shock. So, I soothed you with my singing, hoping to calm your nerves.”

Aria’s mind flashed back when she heard that familiar angelic voice in the dark void. She could hardly open her eyes as the dreamy song eased her. At that moment, she could’ve sworn she had died, greeted by a divinely enticing voice that called her to enter heaven.

“I never left you—I couldn’t leave you.” Kai’s eyes were bright and golden, “I fled, however, as someone had spotted me in my form. I conjured a mist quickly before the human snapped a picture or recording of me. Emergency personal arrived, as I expected, and assisted with your needs.”

He’s just how I imagined, Aria playing with her hair, listening to his story, a guardian angel—no, a guardian merman. He rescued me, of all people.

“Jade Town wasn’t part of the planned settlement, but I opted to stay anyway. Seeing that Jade was a small town, I hoped to find you. I wanted to know that you were doing fine. Eventually, that night at the fair is when Katheryn introduced me to you.” Aria remembered that day. It was the first night of the summer festival. It was the biggest festival the small port town ever hosted out of the twelve months of the year. She remembered how shy Kai was in the beginning, hesitant and nervous. Gradually, he would open to her, and they would become the best of friends. They even did activities in town, such as volunteering at the farmers’ markets every Saturday.

“At the time, though, you--”

“I was in a relationship.” Yes, Aria was dating her now-ex-boyfriend at the time. Both were new to the relationship at the time, being that they were already on their second date. Looking back at it, Aria had a remembrance of how much of a jerk he was toward Kai. Roughly patting him on the back over winning a carnival game, shaking his hand aggressively, to name a few instances. It almost seemed as though her ex was growing jealous over the two of them spending time together.

“Yes, the asshole—I mean, I’m sorry.” Kai looked over to see Aria had chuckled at Kai’s remark. “I-I’m allowed to say that now, right? Because he really was an asshole to you—to me and everyone in our group of friends.” Aria chuckled once more.

“I’m being serious!”

“I know you are.” A slight smile appeared on Aria, “You can say whatever you want about him.”

“I really contemplated leaving after about two years, seeing that you were serious with that jerk.” Kai adjusts his body against the pool wall, both arms now resting on the marble surface.

“Where would you go?” Aria’s frown was present. She hated knowing for a fact that he’d leave her, one of the two good friends.

“To the Caribbean—maybe Costa Rica—but didn’t end up leaving in the end.” Kai turned his head in Aria’s direction and said, “I didn’t want to leave my human best friend behind. Especially with the turn of events that happened afterwards.”Aria’s heart dropped at the thought of the breakup.

He knew bringing it up was going to bother her, he could tell by her change of expression. Even the way she was now gripping her upper arms, rubbing up and down. It appears Aria was playing back the moment she caught her ex with the city girl, at the same restaurant where they were supposed to have their second anniversary dinner.

“That night, when you visited me...I had already finished packing. I already had a plan in place. I was going to completely leave the town without any word. Pretend I died or something in the lines of that.” Kai said, “Kat texted me about you—she was concerned about you not responding back to any of her texts. Then I heard the knock—and there you were, red and in tears.”

He pushed himself away from the wall, grabbing on to one side of the railings. His hazel gold eyes stared up at Aria, whose browns were welling up, “You ran into my arms, crying and wanting someone to comfort you. Something that jackass never gave you in the first place.”

“Kai.” Aria’s lips trembled slightly. She was trying to hold herself together. Strong emotions were growing.

Kai held either side of the railings, “Never...in my years of existence, had I fallen for someone. Someone like you, bright and pure of heart. I could’ve mistaken you for being a mermaid. But you’re nothing like them. You’re more than just that.” His hands reached higher over the railings, meeting eye to eye with his crush, “I’ve wanted to tell you for the longest time. I was just...argh, I just didn’t know how to express it. And I knew if I had opened my heart to you earlier, it would’ve been inappropriate since you were with someone else at the time. Even then, telling you at your lowest wouldn’t be helpful. I wanted to give you time to heal.” He brightened up, realizing he had admitted himself to her, “...time for you to enjoy life and be happy. Like that day on the yacht. Dancing, living life to the fullest. That’s what I wanted to see again...Aria?”

Her lips trembled even more, her eyes watering up quickly. Trying to figure out the next thing to respond with, she couldn’t. Instead, her voice cracked as emotions flooded her face. It had been building up to this point, the last few months being the worst. Wet tears began to flow down her plump cheeks.

“Aria? Aria—hey look at me.” Kai calmly spoke, using one hand to wipe the longest strain with his thumb, “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” “N-no, it’s not.” Aria uses one of her hands to wipe the other side quickly before dropping it back down. She mumbled, “I h-hate when I’m l-like this.” Her breathing was unbalanced, and she was unable to speak properly. Slowly, she was revealing to her best friend that the event that took place months ago had deeply affected her. Add to that, the fact that Kai had just confessed his feelings to Aria. Something deep within Aria’s heart knew Kai had longed for her... but not to this level.

Low hums emitted from Kai. It captured Aria's attention, drawn once more to the angelic voice. Smiling at her, he reached out, brushing a strain of her hair away from her face. Her tears suddenly stopped running. Her breathing was stable, her lips didn't quiver.

"There, see?" Kai reassured her, "Like nothing ever--" Aria had reached out to him, both splashing back into the water. Lips clashed, surprising Kai in an instant under the water. Quickly, he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer. The kiss deepened as both descended into the water. Aria made sure not to damage the gills around his neck as she wrapped her arms around him. With one push of his tail, they rose back up to the surface. He gracefully swam toward the pool wall, still enveloped in the moment.

Kai kept her upright, pressing his body up against her and trapping her in place. She could feel the smooth scales against her legs, dangling in the water. Her heart was racing faster than normal. One of his hands grazed one side of her body, trailing up to cup her face. Their lips parted as they both looked into each other’s eye’s. Aria noticed how much brighter Kai's golden eyes were from before, almost hypnotizing. She was pretty sure her eyes were glowing with the same attraction.

His glowing eyes faded as Kai shyly tried to break the moment between them, “I... I probably shouldn’t have…” Aria once again shut his mouth, pecking against his soft lips. He chuckled, taking his hand away from her face, placing his fingers against his lips, “Or perhaps I should’ve kept on singing since you like the sound of my voice that much.” His voice suddenly turned husky, staring back at Aria.

A deep blush formed on Aria's face. She couldn't deny it, it was true. His voice was something otherworldly, hypnotizing and beautiful. It soothed her emotions and her anxiety. Everything she was overthinking about, her ex, stress in school, all were forgotten in that moment. Speechless, she felt like Kai had her under his spell.

"I've waited so long," Kai said, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb, "to kiss those sweet lips of yours again."

She gulped before quietly answering, "I've waited for you too."

Kai chuckled once more, taking in her cute response, leaning into her to kiss her more passionately than before.

A few seconds later, Aria broke the kiss. Kai sighed, “What’s wrong?”

“Can you promise me something?” Aria asked, her arms still wrapped around his neck.

Kai smiled, brushing through Aria’s wet hair, “Yes? What is it?”

“Promise me you’ll stop coming to the natatorium. The last thing my father needs to know is someone has been sneaking into the facility for singing practices.” She chuckled.

His lovely smile grew, “I won’t be needing to come here anymore. Now that I have you to sing to.”

They both enjoyed each other’s company throughout the entire evening.

Upstairs, in the lone dark office where work still needed to be done, Aria’s phone lit up. Texts were left unread as the evening grew late:

Katheryn

11:29pm - Coffee sounds great btw! :D Meet up around 9am?

12:10am – Btw, have you heard from Kai? Haven’t heard from him tonight. Tried to get him out.

12:22am – :) K going to bed. Have a good night!

Dad

10:30pm – Hey missy! Hope you’re getting some work done!

11:44pm – Just checking up on you. Hope a siren didn’t put a spell on you.

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