All Mine

All mine 🎀

♰ ARCH!VED II ￤ DANCING IN THE DARK, HAWKS¡!

ABOUT. in which, keigo dances with a phantom in the dead of night. ghost¡reader. set in the 1990s. romance with a pinch of slight angst. wc of 680+

NOTES. written in the reminders of @killyzury, in her love for keigo, and also of the elegant phantom romance.

the solemn tunes of an old piano rang through the corners of the high ceiling hall from a vinyl record.

moonlight seeped through the window and casted a glow into the marble floors of the large hall, the floor occasionally shining under the influence of the moon.

the soles of keigo’s shoes tapped against the ground, emitting a rather clacking sound that could be heard also echoing throughout the hall. he moves around, dancing with grace, swaying his body along the broken tunes of the music.

it was as if someone was seated on the old piano chair, moving their fingers against the broken keys of the old and dusty piano. an instrument who was left in the dark to rot and find solace in darkness’ companionship.

she's here. keigo knows you're here. he could always feel your faint presence lingering around, eyes gazing as he glided across the hall. thus he patiently awaits for you to approach him. when you do, he's all over you.

keigo could always see the ghostly servants of darkness. he could always feel them around him, talk to them even. it was a blessing of a curse that he had to bear with ever since he was a child.

once so familiar with them, now even seeking the comfort and familiarity with a ghost girl who lives along the walls of this old and abandoned castle.

your touch felt so real to keigo, the man could hold you forever even though your skin is colder than it should be.

he sometimes forgets you are not in his world, but in another. a world so lonely and deafening that it has you crawling back to this world just to seek for your own solace, your own sanctuary which you can delve into.

woe to keigo takami who thought that maybe, just a slight chance in his fate, that he could find you in the lonely world you once used in and pull you out of it. though, his life has to come to a halt. and you wouldn't want that to happen. it is all so selfish.

warm fingers laced themselves with cold ones, a stark contrast between the living and the dead. his hands are resting on your hips as he pulls you close to gently sway you back and forth, side to side.

“greetings, m’lady,” softly greeted keigo who flashed you a smile so charming you wished you were as alive as he is in this charming so your fingers could trace along the curve of his smile.

“good evening,” you replied, your voice almost like a soft melody in the background. only keigo could beat you. he has always been the only soul who hears your melancholic cries. “may i ask what this song is?” you asked, slightly tilting your head to the side in mere curiousity.

it will be a series of deceit if the man did not find your little head tilt endearing. he'd be living in a world of lies by then. keigo responded immediately, as if he did not want to keep your words hanging in the air for too long.

“truth to be told. i have no idea. i take whatever is on the shelf and play it. this happened to be one of the records i found in this castle.”

“so you simply took it and claimed it as yours?”

“not claim, borrowed,” he corrected you as you furrowed your eyebrows. “all right, you borrowed it. make sure to put it back. i want to reserve this place as much as i could.”

the young takami smiled. “will do, m'lady.”

as the moon watches every sway, every spin, and every flow of your ruffled long skirt, the essence of time had been lost long ago. in this very moment where keigo dances with you in the dark, moonlight glow, he prays to the heavens that this would never end.

the more he holds you in his arms, the more you draw him closer to your world. until then, you will never stop dancing with keigo takami in the dark.

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price would be strangely possessive over his assistant.

referring to her as things that really aren’t work appropriate at all. “swee’eart,” “dolly,” “sugar.” once, a “baby” slipped through his teeth, but he was switching the subject before she could really catch on.

it’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it was he started tacking “my” in front of his pet names. “my angel,” “my love.”

even when she wasn’t in the room — it was impossible to know he was talking about a colleague with the way he spoke about her. “my woman’s always on my case abou’ shit like that — cholesterol levels, sugar intake. fuckin’ bullshit, but i do it to make ‘er happy.” or “can’t stay long, lads — got my lady waitin’ on me.”

in the summer months, her skirts get a bit shorter and her tops a bit tighter. he doesn’t blame her, the AC is shit and the heat can be suffocating. what does bother him, though, is the way his men ogle her as they stroll past her desk. how they’re coming up with excuses to visit her throughout the day.

it’s an easy enough fix. “why don’t ye come work in my office for the day, lovey?” he’s already collecting her paperwork. “keep an old man company, would ye? i’ve got a nice little fan too, keep ye nice an’ cool.”

though the job came with benefits, perhaps more than an assistant should be getting, price didn’t think it was enough. when her phone started to slow and the screen cracked, he left a new one on her desk. didn’t bother mentioning it came out of his paycheque. if she complains about her outfit — all my good clothes are in the wash — he’ll take her shopping, doesn’t let her worry about the totals. and, hey, if they end up at a lingerie shop, no one has to know, right? he’s just being a good boss. it’s only crossing a few boundaries when he gets her to model it for him in the fitting rooms. when she disappears behind the curtain, john adjusts himself in his slacks — it’s a natural reaction. on that note, it would make too much of a fuss if he were to correct the worker when she asks if his wife needs any help.

when day turns to night and she’s refusing price’s suggestion of hitting another shop, he pulls into a nearby restaurant, insists on treating her to a glass of wine to end the night. finding out she’s a lightweight is a pleasant discovery — two glasses in and her skin is warm to the touch, she’s giggling and hanging onto his every word. he likes her like this, he decides — but it’s not safe to leave her alone. no, she should stay with him tonight. another few sips and she’s agreeing, changing into one of her new lingerie sets and falling into john’s bed, dozing off with his hand splayed over her tummy, beard tickling the back of her neck.

it’s been too long since he’s had a woman in his life. his wires have gotten a bit crossed. you can’t blame him, can you?

pov: he's above you, you're below him.

watch me wrap my legs around that man's waist and go to town.

☆ *⁠. ━━ 𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑒 ୨୧ ```1 8 0 0   ⌇

𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ. ⁺◟she /her. . .〞 16+ ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

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